Chapter Twenty
Noah
IF I EVER had a purpose in life, it’s to make Lauren happy. Making her happy makes me happy. I never believed in true love before, mostly because the one person I truly loved was someone I thought I could never have. But now that she’s here in my arms—literally most of the time—I know it to be true.
She’s still upset from yesterday, when she got her acceptance letter. I’ll admit it’s a weird situation. Getting into Purdue University’s vet program is a huge accomplishment. We should be celebrating right now, and she should be fucking proud of herself.
But she’s right: it’s going to be damn hard to do that and have a baby. We went over the schedule of classes, and that shit is intense. Though if anyone can do it, it’s Lauren. I don’t want her to give up on her dream of being a vet.
It was one of the first things she ever said to me.
We will make it work. I look around my office in the back of the studio. I like this place, love the location … but it’s not necessary. I could move. Easily. If not leaving Ella—and hopefully me—is Lauren’s main concern, she doesn’t need to worry.
We’ll eventually end up back here. She told me her boss said she’d hire her in a heartbeat to be part of the practice, and I know Lauren wants to be near her family. Yeah, those four years she’s in school will be rough, but she can do it. We can do it.
She said she doesn’t want to think about it too much this weekend. We have the shower, after all.
I turn off my computer and pack up my camera. It’s Friday night and Lauren and I are going out to dinner. I plan to spend tomorrow packing up some stuff to move into Lauren’s house while she hangs out with her friend Rachel.
Reservations for dinner made, I get up and text Lauren to let her know I’m leaving. She’ll be out of work soon too. I lock up the studio, leaving through the back. A man gets out of a black pickup that’s parked next to my motorcycle. His eyes fall on me and my first instinct is to ignore him, not wanting to talk to anyone at the moment. I just want to get home to Lauren.
I can still feel his stare after a few paces, so I cast my gaze up. My eyes meet his and a shock of familiarity goes through me. It takes a second, but I recognize him as soon as he says my name.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I spit out, staring down my father.
He smiles, lines forming around his mouth. I freeze, mind racing with how to react. I’ve grown up to look like him, and it pisses me off. There is gray peppering his dark hair, and there’s a fucking wedding band on his left hand. Of course the bastard got remarried. Probably had a few kids too, completely forgetting about his firstborn.
“I guess I deserve that greeting.” He steps closer. “It’s been a while, Noah. Wow, you’ve grown.” He looks me up and down, nostalgia on his face.
I recoil. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I repeat.
“Heather—I mean your mother—called. She told me the happy news that I’m going to be a grandfather. Congrats, son.”
“I’m not your fucking son,” I retort, anger rising with each beat of my heart. My mom fucking called this asshole? After I specifically said I didn’t want him to know about Ella.
“Noah,” he says, frowning. “I see you haven’t changed.”
“How the hell would you know?” I want to punch him. Lauren, think of Lauren. I clench my fists and keep walking. “Do me a favor and never talk to me again.” I take a step toward my car.
My father reaches out, hand landing on my shoulder. “Noah, come on now—”
“I have things to do.”
“This isn’t just about you anymore.”
I stop, whirling around. “It’s certainly not about you.”
“And what if your daughter wants to know her grandfather?”
I shrug. “I’ll tell her he’s dead. Because you are dead to me. You died when you left Mom and I for broke. You died when you got arrested for a DUI and I had to spend my eighth birthday at the police station. Get it? You dug your grave. Now leave me alone.”
He lets his arm fall. “You’re going to regret this one day.”
“Yep, go ahead with the threats. Just like old times. Might as well get drunk and hit Mom too.”
Without another word, I get onto my bike, rev the engine, and speed away. I’m seething with anger, nearly shaking I’m so fucking pissed. Just seeing Gerald’s face brings it all back: the disappointment, the hurt. Thinking everything was my fault, believing the lies he told me, hearing him say I was a burden and didn’t care.
It was so long ago, and yet it feels like that shit just happened. It freaks me out that parents can fuck up their kids’ lives years after they move out. What if I do the same?
Wind hits my face and I twist the throttle, pushing the bike over the speed limit. I’m not going to be like my asshole father. But, fuck, what if I am even if I don’t mean to be? What if I let Ella down, can’t be who she needs me to be? I don’t know how to be a parent when my own parents sucked. And look how it’s still affecting me.
*
“I checked the registry list and almost everything has been purchased,” Lauren gushes at dinner. We’re seated outside at a Mexican restaurant, taking advantage of what could possibly be one of the few warm nights in October. “So that means we can set up the nursery completely Monday!” She smiles and pats her belly. “Ella is moving so much right now. I’m getting excited about the birth now. Excited and terrified. The doctor asked if I had a birth plan, by the way. I don’t, other than ‘don’t die.’ That’s still my biggest fear. Well, second biggest. First is something bad happening to Ella.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, watching beads of condensation roll down my beer. I felt kind of bad ordering alcohol when Lauren can’t drink, but fuck, I need it right now. I’m still mad as fuck about seeing my father and I’m trying to let it go.
For now, at least.
Lauren’s excitement for the shower is temporarily blocking her anxiety over vet school, and I don’t want to do anything to hinder that. So I don’t say anything. And even if the whole school thing wasn’t an issue, why upset her? Making Lauren happy is a top priority. Telling her about my shitty childhood will only upset her.
She’s still talking about the nursery, something about paint maybe? I can’t concentrate on her words. I’m not sure who I’m more pissed at right now: my father for all the shit he did in the past, or my mother for using my own daughter as a reason to call that prick up. Because she doesn’t care about him being involved in his grandchild’s life. She’s so desperate to get him back, even after all these years.
It’s fucking pathetic if you ask me. The man pushed her around, hitting her more than once, and did a lifetime of emotional damage and she still wants him back. I don’t want Ella around her, now that I think about it. Talk about a bad role model, right?
“Noah, are you listening?” Lauren asks.
“Uh, yeah. What?”
Lauren lets out a breath. “Never mind.” She finishes her lemonade, then gets up to use the bathroom. I look around the patio, eyes falling on a couple with a baby and a toddler. The mom nurses the infant while she eats, and the toddler sits on his father’s lap, stealing food off his plate.
Could that be us someday? Enjoying dinner with the kids, handling it like it’s no big deal? I swallow and drain the rest of my beer, then flag down the waiter to order another. I feel like a fraud, thinking I can be a good dad. I didn’t have a good dad. It’s like saying you’re a doctor without going to medical school, right? I’m not qualified to do this.
Our food arrives soon after Lauren gets back to the table. She talkative, telling me about birth stories and what to expect during labor. I smile and nod along, trying to share in her excitement.
She is so beautiful. So kind, so strong. She’s going to be the perfect mother, and she will be the perfect wife … a wife I don’t deserve. Because I can’t give back what she gives to me. I’m feeling all sorts of shitty about myself and my ability to make her happy.
“You’re quiet,” she observes. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, tired.” I force a smile and take her hand. The moment her skin touches mine, I relax. I can do this, right? Her green eyes meet mine and I give her hand a squeeze. Three words burn on my tongue, yet I don’t say them. Not now. Lauren likes fairytales and happily ever after. This isn’t the right setting to tell her I love her.
Maybe after the shower when the nursery is set up? Yeah, that seems about right. I see it now, standing behind her, arms wrapped around Lauren with hands resting on top of her belly. We’ll have just set everything up picture perfect the way she wants it. Then I’ll tell her. And then we’ll have sex of course.
I keep that vision in my head for the rest of dinner. It helps keep me from getting pissed, and it helps me from feeling like I’m going to completely fail at this parenting thing.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asks when we sitting on the couch back at her place. “You don’t seem like yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I snap without meaning to. Fuck. I put my arm around her, and she doesn’t immediately melt into me like usual. “I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.” It’s not exactly a lie. “But it’s okay. And I’m glad you’re excited.”
“Yeah, me too.” She doesn’t sound convinced. “Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure.”
“Do you care which one?”
“No.”
Lauren sighs and flips through Netflix, finding an older Cinderella-ish movie. Halfway through, she’s dozing off and says she’s going to lay down in bed. I mean to join her shortly, but end up staying up. If I went and laid down, I’d be bombarded with self-destructive thoughts, which will only further cement how fucking scary it is that a parent can fuck up their kid’s life.
I don’t want to fuck up Ella’s. Suddenly I’m terrified of messing her up for life.
At three AM, Lauren comes out. “Noah? Are you coming to bed?”
I look up from the Adam Sandler comedy I’m watching. “Yeah. Once this is over.”
“Come to bed now? I don’t sleep as well without you next to me and I’m tired.”
“If you’re tired, go to bed.”
She stands in the hall for a minute before turning and padding back into the bedroom. Immediately, I feel bad. Taking my frustrations out on her is taking a page from my own father’s book.
Am I damned to be like him?
“No,” I say to Vader, who is sleeping on the floor in front of me. I get up and slip under the covers, spooning myself around Lauren.
“I like when you hold me like this,” she mumbles, already falling back asleep. I smile and kiss the back of her neck. I’m holding her, but really, she’s holding me.