Chapter Thirteen
Maddox
I leaned against my door and watched as her beat-up Corolla disappeared into the night. I hoped she hadn’t noticed my abrupt mood change during dinner, but her words had been so forward and direct that I hadn’t had time to truly consider the meaning until we were walking toward the door.
Everly didn’t want children. Not only that, but she was passionate about not having children, and held to her belief that every marriage was doomed to fail. I could hardly blame her; my daughter had been created out of a one-night stand. And I couldn’t ever be sure of what would have happened had Abby’s mother stayed in the picture and forced me into becoming a parent. Would we have gotten married for the sake of our child? A relationship that would have only lasted until our hatred for one another spiraled out of control, and ended with the fragile mentality of a child suffering from our own mistakes.
Everly didn’t want children, and yet, the most important person in my life was a child.
I should have been honest with her from the start. Now, I had two lies that were beginning to spiral out of control, and they were only set for failure.
I walked over to Nick’s to pick up Abby, and she ran straight toward me for a kiss.
“My painting!” She pointed at a mess of paint in the corner. Her eyes were shining with pride as she tried explaining in her little mind what the painting was supposed to look like.
“How was it?” Nick asked.
“Sweetheart, we still have some time before bed; do you want to work on your painting a little more?” I asked Abby.
“Okay, Daddy.” She nodded and ran back to the corner. When I was confident that she couldn’t hear our conversation, I turned to Nick and told him about Everly’s opinion.
“You were against children at one point,” he reminded me. “Hell, I think at one point most of us are.”
“True,” I said and watched Abby dip her fingers into a jar of paint and spread them across the canvas. “The thought of having a kid terrified me.”
“Maybe that’s it,” Nick said. “Maybe she’s scared.” But there was a tone in Nick’s voice that revealed his hesitation. He seemed bothered by Everly’s confession, which wasn’t surprising considering how close he and Abby were.
“We’re leaving, Abby,” I said, and we both said our goodnights to Nick. He refused to ever take money from me, but he’d been watching Abby far more than usual the past week, and I wanted to repay him somehow. I waited until he was distracted with hugging Abby and then dropped a few hundreds on his counter.
“The painting is huge!” Abby said, and we walked back to our house. “But a little too green. I’ll make it more red tomorrow.”
“What was it again?” I asked.
“Christmas tree,” she said. She had been obsessed with Christmas ever since I went a little crazy with the decorations last year. “With lights and two angels.”
“Two angels.” I laughed. “Why not three?”
“Because one is a mommy, and the other a daddy,” she said. I loved hearing her talk about painting, and it always brought a smile to my face.
“Where’s the kid?” I asked.
“She’s not ready.” Abby swung on my arm. “I don’t need help, Daddy. It’s my painting.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” We entered the kitchen and I began setting a plate for Abby from our leftovers. She explained more about her painting, and I ate every word up. She was such a little artist. Maybe she was spending a little too much time with her uncle.
“This is yummy,” Abby said as she licked fingers covered in melted butter. I cracked open the crab legs for her and set the meat in a pile on her plate, with a side of lobster meat. She loved the vegetables the most, which was a testament to Everly’s skills.
“You like crab?” I asked after she begged for more.
“It’s sweet and plump,” she said. I laughed as her eyes widened.
“Just like you.” I gave her another plate, and ate the rest of the leftovers myself. Everly really was an incredible cook. Her seafood restaurant would do amazing on the pier.
“The pretty girl cooked this?” Abby asked. “The one with the red hair?”
“Her name is Everly. The chef, and yeah,” I said. “She’s good, isn’t she?”
“Yup!” Abby responded with a mouth full of food. She took a giant gulp and washed it down with juice. “Can I tell her?”
I frowned. “Maybe one day. Come on, let’s get ready for bed.”
“Already?” Abby whined, but she was already walking toward the stairs.
I helped her with her pajamas, and she sat on the sink as we brushed our teeth. She asked me to braid her hair before bed, and it ended up in a loose side braid that was already falling apart.
“I’m not tired.” She yawned and climbed into her bed. I settled beside her and picked up a book from her nightstand.
“Good, because we still have to read two more chapters,” I said, as I opened the book to the dog-eared page. I’d read Alice in Wonderland to her nearly 100 times by now, but Abby never wanted me to read anything else.
“She has to meet the caterpillar!” Abby squealed and fluffed her pillow. “Okay,” she said, as she relaxed. “Read the book, Daddy.”
I read until Abby was snoring louder than most 3-year-olds, and then spent a moment watching her breathe. She had repeated a few of the lines as I spoke, and we had a conversation about whether or not the Cheshire cat was a good guy or a bad guy. Abby refused to believe he was anything but an innocent kitty, and I felt she was too young to explain what an unreliable narrator was.
My mind was full of Everly’s words. She wasn’t wrong, in a sense, that bringing children into a world full of divorce and broken families was hard. But with Abby sleeping so peacefully beside me, her tiny hands clutching the worn pages of her favorite book, I knew without a doubt that I wouldn’t change a thing. This little girl had changed my life with her pure love and childish innocence, and no matter how much of a struggle the past few years had been, I would do it all over again.
Maybe Everly was like me, afraid of the responsibility and potential for failure. But, maybe like me, a child would change her mind.
Maybe it was time for Everly to learn about Abby.