For two weeks now, I’ve lived on eggshells. Every ring of the doorbell, every phone call that comes through, every mail delivery—they all have me wondering when I might get served with a summons.
I’ve got Callie driving Maddox to and from school, even though he loves riding the bus, just in case Gavin tries to contact him directly.
I don’t know Gavin anymore. Maybe I never did, considering I would have bet my life on his support back then. Who knows what he is capable of now, but whatever it is, he’s got the money to do it.
I haven’t tortured myself with more web searches, and I’ve asked Callie to keep hers to herself. Dillon said he’d do a background check on Gavin and let me know if there’s anything to worry about. Thankfully, I haven’t heard that there is. I told Chris and my family what happened. I needed them to be on alert in case a situation arises. They have all agreed to be vigilant when Maddox is with them.
The doorbell rings and my stomach flips over. I walk to the window in my home office and peek through the curtains. I let out my breath and smile when I see the big brown UPS truck on the street in front of my house. I run to the door and excitedly swing it open. Randy, my long-time UPS driver, is already holding his arms open for me to jump into. He knows the drill by now. He understands that when he delivers a very large, extremely heavy box from my publisher, that I will hug him and cry happy tears.
It happens. Every. Time. Even though it’s happened twelve times before over the past five years, I still get that giddy feeling. That incredible feeling that I can only describe as one like giving birth to a child and holding him in your arms for the very first time.
My book!
Sometimes I still can’t believe I’m a published author. That I get paid to make stuff up and write it down. That I get money in exchange for doing something I love. That what I do for a living isn’t even something I consider work.
Randy puts me down and I kiss him on his cheek and then wipe a tear from mine.
“Should I put it inside the door for you, Ms. Mitchell?” he asks, leaning down to pick up the large brown box.
“Please, Randy,” I say. “And, I’ve told you before, call me Baylor.”
“Well, Baylor,” he says. “You’ll never know how much I look forward to these deliveries. It’s one of the highlights of my job. When’s your next book coming out? I want to make sure I’m not sick that day.”
We share a laugh as he puts the box in the entryway. I can hardly wait to grab a knife and cut through the thick packing tape so I can hold the new books in my hand. “It’ll be a while,” I tell him. “Thank you so much.”
“Have a great day,” he says, walking back to his truck.
“I will now.” I turn to shut the door. But before I completely close it, I see an unfamiliar car pulling into my driveway. I squint and look through the crack in the door. I focus my eyes on the driver only to see a messy-yet-perfect head of blonde hair.
Shit!
I slam the door shut.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I lock the door and grab my cell phone, fully prepared to dial Chris at the restaurant or Callie at the gym, or even 911 if I have to. And although I know it’s coming, I about jump out of my skin when the doorbell rings.
I back away from the door, walking backwards as I stare at the large, solid, deep-red double doors that separate me from him. I keep backing up until my calves hit the rear of the couch in the living room behind me.
Knock knock knock.
“Baylor, I know you’re in there,” Gavin says through the two-inch steel doors. “I saw you. Now, open up please, I only want to talk.”
I can’t speak. I can’t move. I can’t even make a call on the cell phone clutched in my hand. He’s here. He’s at my house. Is he here for my kid?
Bile rises in my throat as I hear more knocking. “Baylor,” his muffled voice shouts again. “I know about Maddox. But I didn’t back then. You don’t know the whole story. Will you just hear me out? Please?” he begs.
“I have the letter, Gavin!” I yell though the door. “The letter that proves otherwise. In fact, I gave it to my lawyer.”
My legs start working again, so I sneak around to the kitchen and get myself a glass of water to keep from throwing up. I slowly walk over to the kitchen window. The one that has a clear view of my front porch. I carefully peek through the curtains at the corner of the window. I see him standing at the door wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking very much like he did in college, with a body that proclaims sexual prowess. He’s holding a bouquet of purple orchids and my heart does a nose dive.
“Please, open the door and let me explain,” he says, with a smooth accented voice that is rough and edgy and deeply male.
Why is he bringing me those flowers? To soften me up before he slaps me with a lawsuit maybe?
Without properly thinking it through, I stomp angrily to the front door and forcefully swing it open, swearing under my breath when the door handle dents my freshly painted wall of the entryway.
“How do you manage to ruin all my great days?” I yell at him. Then I rip the flowers out of his hand, step back and slam the door in his stunned face.
I walk back into the kitchen and pull an empty box from the recycle bin. As I work on the flowers, I watch him through the window. He’s pacing around my porch, running an exasperated hand through his hair. “Baylor!” he shouts. “Don’t you owe it to me, to us, to at least hear me out?”
I go back to the front door and open it, shoving the box of smashed up, ripped up, cut up orchids at him. “I’d like you to leave,” I say. “Now!” I shut the door on him once again and go back to the kitchen to watch what he does.
He paces around shaking his head for a minute, all the while mumbling to himself. Finally, he heads back to his car and I sigh a breath of relief as I watch him walk away. Then my body betrays me and tears pool in my eyes at the sight of him leaving me again.
Once inside his car, he glances up to catch me watching him through the window.
Shit!
I jump out of his view, my entire body shaking from our brief interaction. I slide down the face of the cabinets onto the cool white tile of my kitchen floor and wait to hear his engine start. I don’t.
What the hell is he doing? I shudder to think he’s merely going to sit there and wait for me to come out. Oh, God, what about when Maddox comes home?
I pull my cell out of my jeans pocket to phone Callie. I’ll have her take Maddox to Chris’s house after school. I stop dialing when I hear the crunching of gravel, as footsteps make their way up my walk. I hear the creaking of the second step as he climbs the five stairs to the porch. There is a pause, then more footsteps walking away. Finally, his car starts and I hear him back out of the driveway. I stay glued to the floor until I can no longer hear the engine driving down my street.
I stand up and lean on the sink for support, looking out the window for several minutes to make sure he’s not coming back. Then it catches my eye—a piece of paper stuck in the handle of my front door. My heart races as I retrieve and then unfold the note that is written on the back of his rental car agreement.
Baylor,
I’m not leaving town until you hear me out. I’m staying at the Oak Leaf Hotel. I’m sure you are aware of the location as it’s one of only two hotels in town. Suite 309.
I’ll be back every day until you talk to me.
Gavin
I immediately call my mom. Where Callie and my sisters are ruled by emotions, my mom has always been the voice of reason. She is the one who gave me the keychain. The keychain he still possesses. She’s supported every decision I’ve ever made with fierce loyalty. She’s my moral compass, my greatest cheerleader, my role model.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?” she asks in that motherly voice.
It used to amaze me how my mother could know something was bothering me from a simple look or greeting. But now that I’m a mom, I get it. Even without words, I can tell when Maddox is happy, sad, bored, even hungry. It’s true, we have this sixth sense that seems to suddenly appear as soon as we push a child through our vagina.
“Gavin came to the house just now,” I say.
“Oh, Baylor, are you okay? Is everything okay? Maddox wasn’t there, was he?”
“No. I’m okay,” I assure her. “Maddox is still at school.”
“What did he want?”
“He claims he only wants to talk. He said I owe it to him to hear him out. He brought me orchids.”
“Purple?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
She sighs. “I take it you didn’t talk to him?”
“No,” I say. “I destroyed the flowers and gave them back to him. Then I told him to leave.”
“Oh, dear.” I hear a faint chuckle.
“Mo-om,” I whine.
“Baylor, you’re going to have to face him sometime,” she says. “You have a child together and whether you like it or not, he deserves to know his son. And Maddox deserves to know his father.” She sighs again and I can hear her pacing around the restaurant kitchen. “I knew this day would come, sweetie. And I know you’ll deal with it gracefully and fairly just as you’ve done in every other tough situation you’ve encountered.”
“Fairly?” I spit out. “Like how he abandoned me when I was eighteen and pregnant?” I close my eyes and drop my chin to my chest. “I should’ve called Skylar.”
She laughs directly into the phone this time. “Listen, take a day or two and think about how you want this to end up and how far you’ll go to fight this. You’ll have to compromise on some things, Baylor. We will be here for you every step of the way. If you want Dad and me there when you decide to talk to him, we’ll drive over.”
We solidify our plans for Sunday brunch and say goodbye. Then I call Callie, Chris and Dillon to let them know what happened.