Chapter Thirty-One
Maddox
Everly ran out of the house, and I hesitated in the doorway. She said she had to leave, but the pure terror in her expression made me worry for her drive home. I decided I would call her in 20 minutes, and hopefully she’d give me a chance to explain. I understood completely why she left, and why the painting freaked her out, but I still didn’t know what else to do or say. If she wanted to be with me, this was the only package I could present.
“I’m sorry, man,” Nick said. “I didn’t know she was going to react like that.”
“You didn’t think she’d be a little freaked out that a child wants her to be her mom?” I whispered. Abby was staring out the door, where Everly had run. Nick held up his hand.
“Don’t be mad at me. You keep Everly all to yourself; how are we supposed to know what she’s thinking?” Nick said, and I couldn’t help but agree with him.
“You’re right,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“She hates it,” Abby said and looked at the both of us with fresh tears in her eyes. I shook my head and tried soothing her, but she started crying even more. “It’s ugly, Everly hated it!” She ran toward the stairs, and Nick and I both watched as she stormed up to the second floor. I flinched as she slammed her door shut.
“Shit,” I cursed. There were two upset women in my life, and I had no idea how to make either of them happy. I’d never felt so helpless.
“Maybe this was for the best,” Nick suggested. I looked at him, not sure I wanted to hear the rest of his opinions. “Abby wants a mother. It’s not fair to anyone in this situation to be with someone who doesn’t want that. It’s not fair to Everly.”
I raked my fingers through my hair and took a deep, calming breath. “She just needs time to think,” I said. “Finding out that way would be a bit much for anyone.”
Nick got ready to leave, and he paused for a moment.
“Are you convincing me, or yourself?” he asked and then without another word he left, closing the door a little too hard behind him. I sighed, frustrated and lost, without a single idea of what to do. Of course, I’d check on Abby first. But then what? What was going to solve this problem?
I knew that this was going to happen one day, that I would have to have a serious talk with Everly and her expectations for the future. She didn’t want children, and I was fine with that. Abby was more than enough for me, but I wasn’t sure if she would be a deal breaker for Everly. At the end of the day, if it didn’t work between us, then I would gladly stand beside Abby and promise that nothing would ever come close to the love I have for her. We could make a life without a mother, or possibly try again one day.
I groaned. I didn’t realize this was going to be so difficult.
I knocked softly on Abby’s door, listening to the sniffles on the other side.
“Go away!” she yelled. I tapped again and opened it. “I said, go away.” Abby ducked under the covers as I entered her room. I tried soothing her by rubbing her back through the blankets, but she huffed and shoved my hand away.
“Am I ruining your sense of trust?” I asked, hoping to get a chuckle out of her.
“Betraying,” she corrected me. “Now go away. I don’t want to talk to anyone ever again. She hated my ugly painting.”
“Abby,” I sat on the edge of the bed. “No one hates your painting.”
A tuft of blonde hair popped out from beneath the comforter. “Everly hates it. She ran away.”
“Did she tell you that she hated it?” I asked. Abby squirmed on the bed, and finally her head popped out. Her blue eyes were covered in a thick layer of tears, and they slid down her face as she sniffed and wiped her arm beneath her nose.
“No,” she admitted. “She didn’t say she liked it.”
“So if Everly didn’t tell you to your face that she hated it, why do you think that?” I asked.
“Because it’s ugly,” Abby said.
“Did you know that Everly was feeling really sick all night?” I asked again. Abby shook her head.
“She’s sick?”
“Yes, she is. And she thought she was going to throw up, and didn’t want to ruin your beautiful picture. She might not have even seen the picture, to be honest. Would you rather she throw up on your painting?” I asked, trying to find the straightest and most innocent lie to help Abby feel better.
“No,” She shook her head. “I don’t want her to be sick on the painting.”
“Good,” I said. “So how about we let Everly get better, and then try showing it to her again? In the future?” I suggested. I would find a way to deal with Everly before then. Abby nodded.
“So it’s not ugly?” she asked.
“It’s beautiful,” I said and offered her my hand. “Come on, follow me.”
Abby slipped her tiny, clammy hand in mine and followed me down the stairs. I picked up her painting that she had thrown onto the ground, and led her into the kitchen, stopping in front of the fridge.
“This painting is so beautiful I’m going to put it right here on the fridge,” I said. “So everyone can see it. It’s a very special painting to me, sweetheart.”
Abby giggled and wiped off the rest of her tears. I picked her up and held her in my arms as we both admired the painting. The three stick figures had giant smiles on their faces, and the sun was shining brightly high above them. There were two cars parked on the side of the house, one a sports car, the other a van. Everly’s stick figure was wearing black pants and a white button-up shirt. I smirked, the typical outfit for a chef, and I was wearing my usual gray business suit.
We looked like a happy family, and I had to admit, I liked how it was making me feel. If only I could get Everly to come around. My heart was cleft in two thinking there may be no way to move forward with her.
“I’ll show her again,” Abby said. “Do you think she’ll like it?”
I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want to crush Abby’s hopes of having a mother.
“I hope so,” I said honestly. “I really hope so.”
Abby fell asleep on the couch moments later, and I took the opportunity to clean the kitchen. I scooped the lasagna into a container and set it in the fridge. I would reheat it for me and Abby later when she woke. Until then, I decided to attempt the lava cake myself and started chopping the blocks of chocolate.
It had been a while since I’d made a lava cake, and I had to look up one of the crucial steps. I wished I could have watched Everly make it, how her thin fingers moved around my kitchen as if she owned it. The sweet smell of her hair, always still dampened from what I presumed to be a shower before she arrived, mingling in with the scent of hazelnut and cake batter. She would glance at me with those bright green eyes that curve just slightly at the edge and smirk, asking if I was brave enough to mimic her actions.
I called her, the third time within the hour, but she didn’t answer. I didn’t want to annoy her, but I wanted to know that she was home safe. I sent a text and finished making the lava cake. Abby woke just as I was placing it into the oven, and I reheated the lasagna for us.
Abby approached the table with curious eyes. “Everly made this?” she asked as I pulled her chair back. She climbed up in it and her tiny feet dangled.
I lowered myself beside her and smiled. “She did,” I said. “And then she got sick, so she couldn’t finish it.”
“It’s better than yours,” Abby grinned. I chuckled and took a bite.
I savored the taste for a moment. “I guess it is,” I said, shoveling in another bite.
It didn’t take long to finish my plate, and Abby had eaten her fill before asking if we could watch a movie together.
I started it and served up a delicious lava cake. The movie was possibly a little too scary for Abby’s sake, but she braved it like a champ. I hadn’t realized the show would have so much violence, and turned it off early.
“Uncle Nick isn’t still letting you watch his movies, is he?” I asked as I glanced at my phone. Still no response.
“Maybe.” She yawned in my arms. “They’re not scary. It’s all make believe.”
“That’s a yes,” I murmured. “Stop watching horror movies with Uncle Nick. No wonder you’re getting nightmares every night.”
“They’re bad dreams,” Abby said. “Not nightmares.”
“That’s the same thing,” I said. She finished the last bites of her cake and then I carried her upstairs. We got ready for bed together, brushing our teeth as she sat on the bathroom counter.
“Is Everly feeling better now?” Abby asked. I laughed and checked my watch.
“It hasn’t even been five hours,” I said. “You have to at least give her a day.”
“I just want to show her my painting,” Abby said and finished brushing her teeth.
“She’ll see it soon enough,” I said. I only hoped that she wouldn’t run away again.
I helped Abby change into her pajamas, and kissed her forehead as she crawled into her bed. I smoothed out the covers over her, tucking her in tight around her arms the way she liked it.
“What do you want for breakfast?” I asked. Abby closed her eyes in concentration.
“Peanut butter coconut French toast,” she said.
“Did you just pick three random ingredients?” I asked. “I’ve never made that before.”
Abby smiled up at me. “I want you to make it for Everly.”
I nodded and brought the bed sheets up to her shoulders. “We’ll see if Everly is feeling better. If not, I’ll make it just for you, okay?”
She nodded and closed her eyes. I returned to my room and sat on the edge of the bed with my phone in my hand. Everly hadn’t answered my text, and my worry was growing with each passing moment.
I called her one last time, and left a voicemail.
“Hey, Everly,” I started. “I wanted to make sure you were home safe, and apologize for tonight. If you want to discuss it, I’m available whenever you are. I made the lava cake, and it was delicious. And your lasagna reheats well.” I hesitated, the pregnant pause becoming more awkward as the seconds passed. “Thank you for dinner and dessert, and again, I’m so sorry about earlier. I hope you’re safe at home. Goodnight.”
I hung up and sat my phone on the dresser. What was I supposed to do now? I checked the text message I’d sent, and realized Everly had at least read it. I was relieved knowing that she was just ignoring me.
The door opened, and I looked over to see Abby standing in her pajamas holding a stuffed animal.
“Scared?” I asked. She nodded.
“Can I sleep with you, Daddy?” she trembled, and I decided no more horror movies for her, ever. I scooted over and made room for her at the edge of the bed.
“Come here, sweetie,” I said. She crawled beneath the comforter and rested against me.
“I’m not scared,” she said as a tree branch thumped against the window. She squealed and pulled the blanket over her head.
“Of course you’re not,” I said. “They’re just bad dreams, after all.”
We lay in silence for a while, and just as I was about to drift off into sleep, her voice startled me awake.
“Did my mommy run away?” she asked. I blinked. It took me a moment to realize she was asking about her actual mother, Chelsea, and not Everly. I kept myself from groaning. Just what this night needed, a conversation about that gold digger. “Did she run away like Everly?”
“Abby, baby, your mom did leave,” I said. I was always careful about how I spoke about Chelsea. Abby didn’t need to know the whole truth, not just yet at least. “But it had nothing to do with you. She loved you very much. She left because she didn’t like me.”
Abby turned around so that she was facing me. “My mommy didn’t like you?”
“She didn’t,” I said.
“Then she’s not my mommy,” Abby decided. I bit the inside of my cheek.
“You don’t have to say that, honey,” I said.
Abby squished my hand in between her hands. “But I love you, Daddy, and if my mommy didn’t like you, then she’s stupid. Anyone who doesn’t like you is stupid.”
I chuckled and moved her hands onto the bed. “Thanks, baby. That means a lot.”
And it did, I realized as Abby fell asleep. At least I’d always have Abby, a daughter who didn’t seem to give her biological mom a second thought and would love me unconditionally. It made me feel so much better, but as I glanced at my phone on the table, I realized that despite what Abby said, I was still going to have to fix things with Everly. I only hoped she would let me.