Ridge

I Hate My Damn Heart

It’s seven o’clock in the evening, six o’clock for Allison, and she’s texting me wanting to talk. I do not want to talk. She’s worried that I called her boss, and she wants to back peddle—not happening. And her proclamation of love in her last text just pisses me off. She will not love me forever. She never loved me at all.

I’m in my office catching up when Stella knocks on the door. “Hey, friend. I’m glad to see you’re back but that was far from a two-week vacation. What happened?”

She’s holding little Lydia in her arms all bundled up in a pink blanket. The sight of them together always causes a flutter of pride in my chest. I’m so glad I was there to help her when she needed it.

It also makes me sad to know that I will never have a family like Ash and Stella’s with Allison. She is the first person I ever wanted to have a child with since my Chloe died with our daughter inside her. And now after judging her character so badly, I don’t think I’ll ever want to have a child again. I almost picked a deceptive con-woman to be the mother of my child. How can I ever trust my instincts again?

“I called to see if the reporters were gone and since they were, I figured we should come home. Allison wasn’t sure how long she could take off work anyway. How’s this little angel?” I say getting up from my desk to have a look at Lydia.

“She’s good, not much of a sleeper lately, at least when I want her to be anyway.” She doesn’t say this with irritation but weariness. She’s a great mother who pushes herself too hard.

“Let me take her for a while. Get some rest, and I’ll find you or Ash if I need help.”

“Oh, I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’s late, and you’ve been traveling all day. I’m sure you want to go to bed.” Her eyes are full of Stella kindness and concern.

“I’m done here, and I’m not tired at all. Go on now, rest… that’s an order,” I say with false authority. Her brow wrinkles and then it smoothes out.

“Okay, but she needs to eat in an hour. Could you come and wake me up?”

“Of course.” She hands me the baby, and her body wilts with relief. “Off you go,” I encourage her.

“One hour,” she says pointing her finger at me.

“One hour, promise.”

She rolls up onto her tiptoes and places a kiss Lydia’s cheek. “Goodbye, sweet girl. Ash is in the pool with Cannon if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, Ridge.” She turns to leave but stops at the door. She doesn’t turn around to face me when she speaks. “And when you’re ready to talk about what happened on your vacation with Allison, I’m here.” How does she do that? With all she has going on in her life and being exhausted on top of it, she is still intuitive enough to know I’m not telling her the truth.

I think Ash found the last of the wonderfully decent women on earth when he found Stella.

I carry Lydia to my desk and sit down with her eyeing me or so it seems. I have no idea how far an infant her age can see. I don’t know the first thing about babies, but I delivered this one, and I have always felt comfortable with her. It’s as if we have a special bond, and I guess we do. I was the first human to put hands on her in the world. After all, that’s got to count for something.

I’m back to living my life vicariously through Ash. I’m forever looking in from the outside at all of the good things other people have, but never seem to have for myself. At least I have a family, even if it is adopted.

“What should we do, little angel?” I ask and immediately flinch when I use the nickname I gave to Allison. Calling her angel was never a conscious decision, it just happened one day as all good nicknames do.

Lydia screws up her face like something is causing her pain, but then relaxes just as quickly. Probably gas, babies have a lot of gas, don’t they? Someone told me that once. I change position holding her closer against my chest and pat her on the butt while I stare into her shockingly blue eyes. She’s a beautiful baby for sure—more beautiful than any I’ve ever seen although my experience is limited.

As if she’s reading my mind, Lydia smiles up at me, probably more gas, but I’m inclined to take it as approval that she likes me. “We have a whole hour to hang out, pretty girl. How about a walk around your mommy and daddy’s mansion? What girl doesn’t love a mansion?”

My phone dings on my desk, and I glance over without thinking. It’s a text with an angel emoji next to the name. Allison put it there a few weeks after we met. I need to remember to delete her phone number from my contact list and block her. I don’t bother reading the message as I have nothing to say.

I stand up and begin a long tour of the Silversage mansion describing things and chatting about the trouble her brother, Cannon, has gotten into in every room. After thirty minutes, she’s fast asleep, and I decide to relax in a recliner in the family room with the television on. Lydia sleeps in the crook of my arm while I watch HBO. Ash and Cannon should be out of the pool soon, and according to Stella, Lydia will be wailing to eat in another half hour, so it’s just the two of us bonding over Game of Thrones.

I explain to her peaceful, sleeping face that she is only allowed to be in the room while Game of Thrones is on because she’s an infant, and she won’t remember any of the sex or violence. She coos and screws up her face with another gas pain at the sound of my voice, but soon her breathing is slow and even, and she is content.

I think I would have loved being a dad. Being with Lydia brings me peace, peace that Allison tried to take away from me with her thirst for success. Being blindsided is a bitch. It seems whenever my life is going well, the universe smacks me up side the head with another roadblock to happiness. My wife’s cancer, having my reputation smeared by a pop star, and now a woman trying to further her career by dragging my heart through the mud.

I give up. I’ve been single for the past ten years, and I’m still alive. Living without love isn’t the worst thing that could happen—my mother might think so, though. She has wanted a grandbaby forever, but she doesn’t press the issue since Chloe died. She understands it’s a sensitive subject, and she would never blatantly pester me about it. I know the desire to love and spoil a grandchild is there every time we see a couple with an infant. Her eyes get all glossy, and she clasps her hands together to pray that someday it will be me hauling around baby gear and doting on a sweet little thing like Lydia.

“Ridge, whatcha doin in here with my Lydia?” Cannon says entering the room taking in the scene. I don’t often have his Lydia alone, and he looks concerned.

“Stella was tired, so I’m watching her while she naps. Did you have a good swim?”

“Yeah, the water’s not even cold anymore, and Daddy made the hugest cannonball ever!” he yells and throws up his hands when he says hugest. Lydia stirs in my arms, but she’s used to her big brother’s outbursts and snuggles back in right away.

“That’s great, are you going up to get ready for bed?”

“Uh huh. Daddy’s makin’ me a bath. Why do I have to take a bath when I just got outta the pool?”

We have had this discussion before. He knows the answer to his question, but he still thinks it’s stupid. “The chlorine in the water sticks to your skin, and you have to wash it off.” He holds out his arms to look at his skin.

“I don’t see nothing.”

“I don’t see anything,” I correct him.

“Me either.” He isn’t getting it, but that’s okay. “I gotta go. When you bringin’ my Lydia upstairs?”

“In a few minutes.”

“Okay, bye.” He turns and runs out of the room because Cannon doesn’t walk anywhere.

I return Lydia to Ash forty-five minutes later still sleeping like a little log. I didn’t have the heart to wake Stella even though she made me promise. I’ll let Ash make that call.

I return to my office to shut down my computers and clean up for the night. My phone is where I left it on the desk. A little red number 1 still sits on the message button telling me that I need to read the text from Allison, but I don’t. Instead, I delete it without reading it, and then I delete her phone number and block her. There, now I am completely done with Ms. Allison Green. Now I can go back to my quiet routine-driven life surrounded by people I trust.

When I crawl into bed later, I find myself wishing there were a delete and block option for my memories, too. I may be able to cut off communication with her, but my heart won’t allow me to forget her. I hate my damn heart.