Page 5 of Everything We Left Unsaid

Of course, I remember our last phone conversation. I remember it vividly. “Yes, you said you never wanted to speak to me again and told me to lose your number.” My chest still aches thinking about her words and how much hate was behind them. I still don’t know why she was so upset. I tried to explain myself, but she just wouldn’t hear it.

“Look, if you can’t even acknowledge what you did and admit it was wrong, there’s no point in going any further here. And I think it’s best if you leave.”

I’m about to fucking snap. Her vague accusations and unprovoked anger are more than I can take. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why you’re so fucking pissed at me,” I seethe. “And I want to meet my daughter.”

Her shocked expression unnerves me. Did she think I wouldn’t want to meet my child, the one whose existence I’ve been unaware of for the last couple years? Her features soften momentarily and her shoulders relax. I’m hopeful she may be warming to the idea until a blank mask of indifference slides back over her face and her body language becomes guarded again. What happened to her? She used to be so open, so easy to read. But now, she’s erected a wall so high, I may never be able to reach her again.

“I’ll let you meet her.” I blow out the breath I’d been holding, relief washing over me. “On one condition.”

My back goes rigid. What is she going to demand from me? To leave once I see her? To never come back and stay out of their lives? I can’t agree to that. I won’t.

“And what would that be?” I ask tensely.

She smiles at me weakly, sensing my anxiety. “You can’t tell her who you are. She doesn’t know you. She’s never even seen a picture of you before.”

A sharp pang stabs right through my heart. She never even told her who her father is?

She hurriedly adds, “I don’t want to confuse her. As far as she’s concerned, you don’t even exist.”

Another blow, one I feel all the way down in the pit of my stomach. She says this all so matter of fact. She’s not trying to rub salt in the wound, but it still fucking hurts.

When she heads towards the bedroom, my palms begin to sweat again and my hands tremble. I shake them out, trying to calm myself. She’s gone for a long time and I fear she’s changed her mind. When she finally returns, her grandmother follows closely behind, unease apparent in her features. Abby’s holding the little girl, the child resting on her hip. Abby looks terrified, as if allowing me to meet my daughter will somehow cause her pain.

“Jacob,” she addresses me, her voice uneven. “This is Chloe.”

I look into her eyes and any traces of doubt evaporate. She’s mine. Hope blooms in my chest, instant affection taking root deep inside my soul.

“Chloe, can you say hi to Jacob?”

She buries her face in her mother’s shoulder, her bashfulness an endearing trait much like her mother’s. She peeks out at me from behind Abby’s neck and smiles, and I feel my own face split into a wide grin.

“It’s okay, baby girl,” Abby assures her. “Don’t be shy.”

She speaks soothingly, in the most nurturing voice I’ve ever heard. In that moment, there is no doubt in my mind that she’s an amazing mother. She loves that little girl fiercely and would do anything to protect her. But why does she feel the need to protect her from me? That’s the only possible explanation for her hiding the truth from me.

Chloe raises her head and waves at me. “Hi,” she croons in her sweet baby voice.

I wave back, not knowing what else to do. “Hi, Chloe.”

Abby tries to hide her face from me, but I notice the tear rolling down her cheek. For a moment, her pain outweighs every ounce of anger I feel towards her for keeping my child a secret. Why she felt the need to do this, to keep us apart and keep me from my daughter is a mystery. But I’m going to find out. I’ll get to the bottom of this, even if it makes her hate me.

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