“Everyone’s trying not to upset anyone, but it’s an upsetting situation, so …” A laugh slips out of me, but it’s a painful one. How do things keep getting more tangled into knots? The more I find out, the less I know. It reminds me of the uncertainty I felt when I first discovered I was pregnant with Bridget. The hormones and emotions made for the perfect storm and I felt like I was losing my balance for months. The only thing that brought it back was Robert. And the times I thought about Brody. These two men are so entangled with my life.
And Bridget’s … My own heart can break a million times, but I’m darn sure going to make sure I keep hers from getting broken along with it. Renee squeezes me before getting up to get tissues. She puts them in my lap and sits close by while I go through a third of the box, crumpling them up one by one as I look back on the last four years, imagining what Robert must’ve felt.
When my eyes are mostly dry, I look up at the ceiling and blink. “Okay. That hurt more than I thought it would.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s a mess.”
Renee snorts a little. “I would call it that, yeah.” She continues watching me, running her hand through her hair nervously. All the times she was caustic when he was mentioned, I wondered why. Concern and apology shine in her eyes. Nothing can change the past, no matter how much you regret it. With a shaky breath I stand, and find my legs to be just as shaky.
“Where are you going?”
“I have to tell them.” I should take my own advice and not spend so much time wishing I could change the past. “Well, maybe not Robert …”
My best friend shakes her head. “I imagine not. Since he’s the one who already knows.”
Renee stays quiet as I gather everything off the coffee table.
“Do you think you could watch Bridget for me?” I ask her.
“Yeah.”
I bet it broke Robert’s heart, learning he wasn’t Bridget’s dad. He never let on. All those times he came to my house and rocked her to sleep and played with her and saved me from breaking down, he knew. My heart aches with unconditional love for him.
“I’ll tell Brody first. Then I’ll talk with Robert.”
“You want me to text them for you?” Renee’s offer is as sincere as anything. She’d text anyone for me. Make any call I needed. Wouldn’t be the first time either. “I’ll rip the bandage off. I’ll do it fast.”
“I can do it.” I take a long, deep breath. Time to live up to the mantras I keep repeating to myself. A good mama and a strong woman wouldn’t shy away from doing what needs to be done. “They should also have the results by now, though. They know. If I know, they know.” I should send something anyway, right? My fingers tremble as I reach for my phone. I’m not sure what to say to make this right with Robert. I’m not sure there’s anything I can say to make it right. Sometimes you can’t put broken things back together. “I’ll message them. I need to grow up and do it.”
“I think you’ve done a lot of growing up for a twenty-five-year-old,” Renee says, pride in her expression. She adds, “Me growing up means buying Advil in advance for my hangover. Not … all this.”
Brody is Bridget’s father. I remind myself of the other half of this and it’s … it’s kind of perfect. Still, I struggle with it all.
“Why am I so sad?” I wish there were an answer she could give me that I’d accept, but there’s not. There’s not an answer in my heart, either, just a big, raw ache. “I didn’t think it would hurt this much.”
I’m not ready to meet this head-on. I know I need to explain things to Bridget. She’s old enough to notice that all the other kids in her daycare have fathers, and I’ll have to be honest with her. My baby deserves to know she has a father, and that I’m with him and I love him … but Robert.
“Sometimes I think it hurts so much because I’m not good enough for her.” The truth slips away before I can stop it. Mama guilt is a real thing and rears its ugly head. “Maybe I’m not good enough for anyone, Renee. I feel like I don’t deserve any love at all right now.”
Renee leans in and looks me in the eye. “It’s not about deserving love or being good enough. If you aren’t allowed to make mistakes, we’d all be alone.”
“I think I’ve made more than enough mistakes.” I let myself laugh a little. It feels better than crying, though I still don’t think much about this will ever be funny. “I’d like to do something right for once.”