Page 77 of Because of Her

After a few shaky starts, I tell her everything. All the bits she knows, like the teenage crush and the friendship, and his daughter. And all the bits she doesn’t, like how we’d spent the night together and how much I enjoy spending time with Maisie.

I sob into her shoulder. “I think I ruined my chance.”

“Your chance at a family, or your chance with Callum?” Mads whispers into my hair.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.”

With her hands on my shoulders she pushes me up to look into her eyes.

“Because you haven’t blown your chance at a family. If this is just about how you want to be a mum, you need to suck it up because your time will come. And everything that happened with Callum was the giant leap the universe needed to give you so you could realise what you wanted most.”

I feel the indent of her manicured gel nails on my shoulders as she squeezes them.

“But I have a feeling all of this is more specific than wantingafamily. I think you want to be part of Callum’s family.”

My mouth opens to rebut, but instead of words, only a sob comes out, and I realise she is right. I never wanted to adopt with Blake because I felt as though that baby, child, would never really feel like mine. I felt like I would have to pretend. Having a family that way is beautiful, but it doesn’t feel right for me. It never did and it still doesn’t.

What feels right, is stepping in with Callum and Maisie. Being anextraparental figure for her, not the main one. Being in a relationship built on so much friendship and history that we accept one another’s flaws and baggage unconditionally.

I want it so bad, and now I’ve acknowledged it, it hurts. Somehow even worse than before.

“What do I do?” I sob.

“Talk to him?”

A snort escapes, threatening to become a laugh I’m not ready for.

I pull away from my sister and stand, reaching out a hand to help her off the bench. We finish our walk in silence, my head still racing with all the what-ifs.

Walking up the first flight of stairs to my apartment, the loud clack of a door opening sounds from above me. The air in the stairwell is dank and silent, but the opening brings in a lightness I can’t explain. Until I hear the unmistakable giggle of a five-year-old.

My heart beats too many times, or skips a beat. I can’t be sure what it’s doing wrong, but it certainly isn’t behaving like it should. The effect steals my breath, and despite taking the stairs at a leisurely pace, it feels like I’ve been out for a run. I slow down, knowing when I turn the bend I’ll come face to face with Callum.

I’m not ready. I just realised I want to spend the rest of my life with the man coming down the stairs, and his daughter. But I’m not ready to tell either of them that. I freeze, contemplating turning back down the stairs and hiding in the first floor corridor.

But before I can make up my mind, Maisie swings herself around the corner, giggling as she hangs on the rail with one arm and flips her legs out behind her. Her right arm is still in a sling, but she pulls off the move with a surprising amount of grace. It’s part cartwheel, part leap, part pirouette, and all adorable. She giggles as her feet find the floor again.

Her face lights up when she sees me. The joy in her face catches me off guard and I fight to wipe my discomfort off my face.

“Cassidy!” She drags out my name with her grin. “Did you see my spin?”

“I did.” I manage to add a joyous tone to my voice. The pitch raised to match the smile painted on my face. “It was very cool.”

Callum stands behind Maisie. Arms crossed, the soft ballerina doll hanging by his side.

“Callum,” I choke out through the knot forming in my throat.

He growls in response, and my insides swim. I remember that growl. How good it felt against my core. But I also remember how strained it was when his daughter was hurt at the park, and how painful it felt when I told him I had to go. How forced our interactions since then have felt.

A blush rises up my neck and I attempt to cough it back down. I think of my sister’s ultrasound, of her growing child and the family she will have. I think of what Callum and I could have been, about how I could have fit into his family. I think of Maisie, and of how easily we got along and how nice it was to be a part of her life.

Love mixes with grief, swirling around in the pit of my stomach. I can’t hold it in, but I don’t want them to see.

“Sorry.” The word barely comes out as I rush past them to retreat inside my apartment.

CASSIDY

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