Page 2 of The Greatest Gift

Nakul approaches our table, and the closer he gets, the more familiar he feels. And then it clicks.No way.I’ve always known that Windsor Creek was a small world but realizing that Ava dated men from the same high school years after we graduated feels weird. Nakul was a few years younger than me, part of the popular crowd. I’m pretty sure he was on the football team, always surrounded by people. The only reason I truly remember him was because his laugh would bellow through the halls, a warm, contagious sound that seemed to lighten the mood.

I wonder if he’ll recognize me but his focus seems to be on something else entirely.

“Judd, thank you for meeting me,” he says, his demeanor professional—a stark contrast from the man I briefly remember in high school. “I know this is unexpected.”

I nod, not sure where to start as I gesture for him to sit. “What do you want to talk about?”

He slides into the booth across from me, silent for several seconds as he looks down, his face shadowed with something like regret. “I know Ava must be a sore subject for you but please let me just get this out. We dated for a while and during that time I had no idea she had a child. She never mentioned Stevie or… well, you.” His gaze drifts to my baby girl who’s happily munching on the gooey mess, her eyes wide with fascination as she watches the people around us. I notice a softening in Nakul’s expression as he watches her, almost like he’s remembering something.

“I’m not sure why’d you apologize for that. Not everyone talks about their exes, Nakul.” I feel like I should be shielding Stevie from him but his presence is comfortable. Despite his size, he has this protective vibe that I definitely shouldn’t be reading into.

I want to say that dating Ava is a red flag but I’m guilty of the same thing.

Nakul sighs, nodding his head as he leans back, meeting my gaze. There’s something tortured in those eyes, something that mirrors my own. “No, but the sudden influx of money that she came into had me questioning a few things. Maybe I shouldn’t have poked around but then the certified letters talking about child support showed up and we got into a huge argument.” Nakul reaches into his pocket and unearths a small envelope. “It’s not a small sum either. I gathered what I could of what was left.”

I glare at it, then back up at him, my guard firmly in place. “I don’t want a handout.” Nakul and I aren’t close enough for him to be making up for Ava’s mistakes.

“It’s not a handout,” he replies, his shoulders falling. “Think of it as what should have been yours all along. The vacation fund, she called it. This should help, at least a little, but I know it’s nowhere near enough for what you’re dealing with.”

Curious, I fiddle with the envelope and see the familiar debit cards inside that would cover the past three months she missed. Knowing that she was fucking around with the money meant for her own daughter pisses me off. And as much as I don’t want to accept this, it would mean everything. The bills piling up, the mortgage, the endless needs of a growing toddler—it’s overwhelming and this envelope could be a small lifeline.

I tuck it away, shuffling Stevie on my lap as I then reach into my pocket for wipes to start cleaning up Stevie’s hands. “Thanks,” I mumble, feeling the word stick in my throat. I’m not used to this—accepting help, especially from someone who’s just a stranger.

Nakul nods, his gaze lingering on Stevie with a softness I don’t expect. There’s a longing in his expression like he’s missing something. It takes me a second to place it, but then it clicks—the way he’s looking at her, almost as if he’s seeing something he once wanted for himself.

I clear my throat, watching his expression shift as he notices my scrutiny. “You don’t have to stay,” I say, though the words feel awkward. “I mean, you did your part. I appreciate it.”

He looks back at me, his face unreadable for a moment, and then a small smile tugs at his lips. “I wanted to make things right. I don’t think I can make up for what Ava put you through, but I didn’t want you to think everyone in her life was like that.”

The contrast between this soft man to the one I remember from years ago plays in my mind. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, walking down the halls with a confidence and ease that I was jealous of even as a senior. He’d been a jock, an all-star with the world at his feet. And now we’re sitting here, worlds apart and yet still attached by a dying lifeline.

I hope he doesn’t recognize me, that he won’t remember those years. High school feels like another lifetime, a part of me that doesn’t exist anymore, and I don’t need reminders of it now.

With nothing else to say, the awkwardness creeping in, I gather Stevie up against my chest and thank Nakul, not wanting to stay and continue this polite charade. I weather a small smile and nod to him, just as Stevie grins at the man. “You have kind eyes,” she whispers. Her innocent words hang in the air and I feel a rush of embarrassment, her simple observation cutting through all the awkwardness.

Nakul’s expression softens, a hint of warmth in his gaze as he looks at Stevie, and then up at me. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a flicker of understanding there, like he gets it, like he knows what Stevie’s words mean in a way I don’t.

Without another word, I walk out of the café with Stevie in my arms, not daring to look back. The cold air hits us as we step outside and another shard of embarrassment hits me when I realize I left her mug on the table for someone else to clean up.

Nakul

“That could have gone worse,” I grumble, staring at the half-empty hot chocolate. My stomach twists with a mix of emotions I can barely make sense of. The sweetness of the cocoa, its comforting warmth—it feels wrong against the cold knot of regret and anger lodged in my chest.Judd Stathis.

Of all people,Judd.

Judd with his beautiful little girl and his tired, earnest eyes. Judd, who’s made a life in this unforgiving world. And here I am, sitting across from the seat he just left, feeling like fate has twisted the knife one last time.

I never thought I’d run into Judd again—not in this lifetime, not in any lifetime—and definitely not like this. He’s one of the few who escaped our hometown, who broke free from the small-town trap and managed to build something real. A nice house. A beautiful daughter. A stable life. No scandals, no bankruptcies, no rumors trailing behind him like dark clouds. Judd figured it out. He made it work.

And yet, Ava left him. Walked away from him, from their child. From Stevie—who looked up at him with those bright, trusting eyes, full of a wonder I can’t imagine feeling anymore. Stevie is even more beautiful than I thought she’d be. It’s obvious she’s happy, secure, and loved in ways that tell me Judd’s doing an amazing job—maybe even better than he realizes.

My fists clench, the sting of everything Ava did settling into my chest like a slow-burning fire. How could she leave? How could she walk away from something—someone—so pure, so good? But then, Ava’s selfishness isn’t news to me. I lived it. I fell for it. She didn’t just steal from Judd and Stevie; she stole from me, too. She played me, lied to me, twisted my trust into something ugly and cruel.

Months of my life,wasted. I planned a future with her—bought into every sweet little fantasy she spun while she pretended to want the same things. All the while, she’d already abandoned the family she once started. And I wonder now how I missed it, how I ignored the warning signs that must have been there.

I threw myself into my construction projects, working overtime to build the life I thought we wanted. She called herself a “business coordinator,” but really, she was coordinating her next post for Instagram, her next fancy outing. The truth didn’t hit me until I learned I couldn’t have children. The news was devastating, staring at test results telling me I could never have the family I wanted. In the end, strangely enough, the news saved me. Because when Ava realized there wouldn’t be a perfect little family for her to put on display, she showed me who she really was.

The worst part? The “vacation fund” she insisted on wasn’t a vacation fund at all—it was child support she should’ve been sending to Judd for Stevie. She stole from him, from that little girl, from me. For what? A shallow escape that wouldn’t last? Well, the funds are gone now.

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