Page 100 of Winning Brynn

It hurts that she didn’t.

It makes it harder to understand why she did what she did and not jump to conclusions that she is everything Leo believes her to be. But for the life of me, I can’t seem to marry the woman I know with the things she did.

Just dumping a baby on the doorstep of a man she met once with a lawyer and some paperwork that rids her of responsibility so that she could move to Bali and never mention her daughter again goes against everything I thought I knew about her.

Isabella isn’t callous. She isn’t cruel, or soulless, or selfish. She’s warm. Quiet. Compassionate and kind.

It doesn’t make sense to me.

Not every woman is destined to be a mother. It's a choice I firmly believe in. Women aren’t put on this Earth for the sole purpose of reproduction. We have value that goes far beyond that. And I don't begrudge her for giving up her child, but I do for the way she went about it.

She didn't tell Leo, and she should have.

One simple conversation would have made it easier for everyone.

With a sigh, I pull Salem into my arms and climb out of bed. "Come on, ladybug, let's change your diaper and get you some breakfast."

She clings to my shoulder and rests her face in my neck as I carry her through to the living area, holding me as if sensing that I need it. My eyes water. Resting my own head on top of hers, I breathe in how it feels to have her in my arms.

"Muh." She strokes my cheek, her fingers gently brushing over my nose, my brow, and my eyelids. "Sad."

"Oh no." I pull back to look at her. "You're sad?"

She shakes her head. "Muh."

"I'm sorry, baby girl. I don't know what that means."

She pats me again. "Muh." She frowns, her movements growing in frustration.

But I don't understand, and as much as it disappoints us both, no amount of repeating or patting is going to help me to. So, I opt for the art of distraction.

Grabbing a plushie that was left on the rug last night, I pass it to her and let her play with it as I set about getting together diapers, wipes, and fresh clothes for both of us. A ladybug-printed romper for her, and gym shorts for me that I throw on under Leo's tee. The earthy, autumnal scent of him still clings to the fabric, and it’s a needed comfort to have it surrounding me, like he’s holding me and telling me everything will be okay.

Laying Salem on the sofa, I get her changed. She holds her stuffed toy out in front of her as I do, babbling away as if in deep conversation. It makes me laugh, but it's a sound laced with sadness. Everything feels heavy now. Tainted. Forever changed.

Her mom is back, and Leo is resuming his search for a new nanny. I don’t know how many more mornings I’ll get to have with her—a fact that makes my heart sink like lead.

Once I’ve finished changing her, I tuck my hands under her arms and sit her up so she can look at me. "You know I love you, baby girl?"

She giggles, spinning her stuffed lion in her hands and chomping on his ears. She has no idea what I'm saying, but I feel the need to tell her anyway.

"I just want you to know that, no matter what, I love you. Even when I'm not here anymore, I'll still love you, okay?"

Another giggle, another chomp on the lion's ear, another inaudible babble.

I nod as if she's answered with words. "I'll take that to mean you understood everything I said and that you love me too."

She lifts her arms up and waves her hands until I reach for her again and pull her back into my arms.

"Nana."

"You want a banana for breakfast?"

She nods.

"How about banana pancakes?"

She nods again and squeals.

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