Page 34 of Exclusive

So I tell him, all of it, the unedited version, crying my way through every last detail of not only that specific day, but its lasting effect on my life. I’d snuck into Aunt Laney’s closet an ornery, impatient little girl, but a totally different person had snuck back out — the conversation I’ve overheard forever changing me, stripping me bare of my identity, security… my “place” and purpose in the world to be questioned each and every day forward.

Through that vent, my ear pressed painfully hard against the metal grates, I’d learned that I wasn’t who I thought I was, who I’d been told, or made to believe, I was — my mom and dad’s miracle, created from love, wanted — but rather, the leftover product, reminder of the worst night of my mother’s life. And because my father loved her, and her selfless spirit, he inherited me as his “do the right thing” obligation.

But it was never about self-pity, never, despite sounding too damn much like just that. It’s always been about my parents and what they missed out on… the biggest of those sacrifices being another baby. That day, the conversation was born of a pregnancy scare. My mom was scared, and sad, instead of excited at the possibility of being pregnant. I think I remember her actually shaking as she and my aunts Laney, Bennet and Whitley had stood over the pregnancy test, waiting for the results, and when it came up negative — no baby — my mom sighed in relief. Relief. That I definitely remember. As clearly as what Aunt Laney said to her; ‘there’s a reason for everything, Em. Can you imagine Presley having to share or compete for her dad’s attention?’

After giving him time to process all that, I speak again, finishing up; I hope. “That was it. I knew, right then and there, what the rest of my life would, and wouldn’t, entail. And Sutton, you should’ve seen him, Daddy… he was unbelievable. He delivered a baby. A baby. By himself, in the middle of nowhere. And the brother, this little boy named Austin, well, I’m pretty sure Sutton will be his hero for the rest of his life. Hell, he’ll be mine, too.”

Dad’s eyes went wide. “He did what?”

I bob my head, and start reeling off the story even faster than my suddenly-acquired jazz hands do their thing; my amazement and admiration having not dimmed a bit. And then… I reach the finale. “So now you know everything, and why I have to let him go.”

“Um, no, Princess, I don’t. Real fuzzy on the ‘have to let him go’ part.”

Gulping down my sorrow, I give it one more go. “Dad, I already knew it, but watching him with that mom, little boy, baby… I can’t keep pretending, coasting along, wasting Sutton’s time that he could be spending looking for the woman he deserves. JT might’ve always talked about his good-off roommate, but he couldn’t have been more wrong. Once you get to know Sutton Ellis, you can’t not see — he has doting husband and father coursing through his veins. We’re talking quintessential coach of every sport, treehouse building, tea party having, never forget an anniversary and bring her breakfast in bed, family man. He’s destined for great, meaningful moments, Daddy.”

“I need a beer. There beer in the fridge?” he asks out of nowhere, heading inside. “Come on, Hank. Grandpa’ll get ya some food and water.”

I have no idea whether we’re done, or just taking an intermission, so I stay put, rubbing at my throbbing temples. I’m tempted to text Sutton, thanking him, but I resist, determined to truly go cold-turkey with the back and forth I’ve put him through for too long. Plus, in epically-timed grandeur, Dad rejoins me, carrying a big bowl filled with ice and beers, sparing me further torturing debate.

“Drink slow, there’s only one twenty-four pack in there,” he warns, as though a suitcase isn’t enough, handing me a can and cracking open his own. “Hank stayed inside, gonna have himself a nap once his belly’s full.” I quit correcting him on the dog’s name a good hour ago; he’ll just do it more if I keep letting on it bothers me. After a long swig of his Miller Lite, he turns a brow of worry lines and thinned assessing eyes to me. “I’ve liked Sutton from day one; like him even better after he showed me his balls with his visit to me, and everything you’ve told me, but now I’m gonna need you to explain why you aren’t the woman he deserves.”

“I did, you just weren’t listening.”

“I’ve listened, closely, to every word that’s come outta your mouth.”

I inhale patiently and roll my neck clockwise, then counter, and put down half my beer in one swallow. “You may’ve been listening, but you weren’t hearing me, Daddy. When I said I’d never take the sacrifices you and Mom made for me for granted, never slap y’all in the face with it, it wasn’t just bullshit lip service, I meant it. I’m not ever having kids, or a picture-perfect little family. How selfish and unfair would that be?”

He chokes, mid-drink, spraying out his mouthful, coughing so hard I jump up to beat on his back. Red-faced but recovered, he stares at me as if I just sprouted another head. “Let me see if I’m hearing you right now. So, because of the warped, cockamamie bullshit version of things you’ve built up in your head where you’re not my ‘real daughter,’ even though I’m looking right at ya and you’re looking pretty real…” he pokes me in the arm, “feel pretty damn real too, and having you as a daughter was some big hardship for me and your mama, you’re planning on paying us back by swearing off marriage and kids?”

“You’re saying it wrong, making it sound stupid.”

“That’s not me, Princess. That’s your plan; doing it all by itself. Impossible for it not to sound stupid… because it is.”

My brows and eyes go up, way up, while my jaw drops down. Way down. “Did you just call me stupid?” I shriek in shock.

He nods. “Yup.”

Flabbergasted, I plop into my chair… and pout. Crossed arms, scowl, frumped lip pout.

“Allow me to set your ass straight, on quite a few things, young lady. The second your mama told me she was pregnant, you. Were. Mine. Mine.For real. I was at every appointment, sang and talked to you through her belly every night, stood at the chute to catch you in case the doctor fucked up the pass, and was the first person to hold you in my arms. I named you. I guarded you from your crazy ass aunts. Tattooed you over my heart. Besides the woman who was over-the-moon happy to have you in her belly, you are the most wonderful, wanted, adored, sacred blessing in my entire world.”

“Daddy,” I whisper.

“Not finished. Zip it. Your mom was relieved that day, about not being pregnant, because she’d had a few false alarms and early-term miscarriages. She just didn’t want any more disappointment is all. And what Laney said, really was a joke. Appropriate, because another baby would’ve had a helluva time getting me to see anyone but my Princess Pants, but still, a joke. And that is how it all actually happened.” He heaves in and out, grabs another beer, and doesn’t come up for air until it’s empty. I’m silent, biting my lip to ensure I stay that way, and stare off into the distance.

How wrong I’d been, about everything. Literally, from start to finish, I hadn’t gotten a single thing right. Except for my ultra-wariness at parties, that part, although not rehashed today, had happened, and I’ll never regret my “guard,” or let it down. And my dog, Castello, not Hank — I’d demanded a pound mutt because that’s what I thought I was — unwanted and of unknown origin. Although wrong on my theory, he’s perfect, and I’ll never regret him either.

I glance over at my father, confused as to why he’s still fuming. And what have I learned today? If the least bit unsure, ask. “Daddy, I understand, I believe you, and I’m very sorry. Why are you still so upset?”

“I’m just struggling with how you thought you’d pay us back,” he shakes his head, huffing louder, “ya know, reward us, by denying us the things we want most; you, happy, with a loving husband, nice house, family, and for God’s sake, grandchildren! Showing your mama you appreciate her by depriving her of grandbabies? Could you of gotten that more ass backwards?”

“I, uh, I…” don’t know what to say. He’s absolutely right, but I can’t reverse twenty-plus years of one concrete mindset just like that. Can I?

“Yes, you can!” he answers what I must’ve thought… aloud. “Not sayin’ ya gotta get started on that shit tonight or anything, but I’d feel a whole lot better if you’d promise me it’s no longer completely off the table. I mean, look at Hank; one meeting and he adores his grandpa. Just think what I could do with a mini Princess.”

Amazing things, that’s what he could do, just like he had with me. But we might be getting a little ahead of ourselves here, seeing as how I’ve had a whole two minutes to even consider ever considering it, I now, thanks to my own assumptions and flighty feet, have no man in my life, and last, but blaringly, scarily, death-wish-havingly far from least — should I so much as think the word “baby” before married, actively trying Skylar is holding one in her arms — there will be the secret Hell, hidden below the Hell everyone knows about, to pay.

“Guess she better get crackin’ then,” Dad laughs, responding to yet another thought I unknowingly aired, and playing upon my competitive streak for his purposes. “I’ve got my money on you and Biggun’.” He gets in one more goad.

---