Page 71 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
“We could look at Montessori for the first few years of school, too. Zach loves it already. We could get them on the waitlistfor that, too, if you want. Whatever they need, we’ll make it happen.”
She stared out the window, her feet perched on the dash, her knees up toward her chest.
I didn’t know what to make of that. But I couldn’t stop myself from talking now that the words were coming. “We should start thinking about nurseries, too,” I said, realizing that I’d just put myself in an awkward situation because neither of us knew what we were doing yet — whether she was going to stay living in her apartment or move in with me, whether we were co-parenting or trying to do ittogether. “We can—shit, we can handle it however you want to. I could bring in contractors to your apartment if you have a spare room, get the whole nursery built and fix up the whole place, add a clean-air system, noise-dampening walls, anything that could help you sleep, orthemsleep, whatever’s harder.”
I swallowed, bracing myself for what I was offering.
“Or I could have it all set up at mine, if you’d rather,” I rasped. “Or have a guesthouse built for you and them, or I can add an extension to the ground floor?—”
“Matt.”
The single word stopped me cold. It wasn’t loud, wasn’tangry, just tired.
I hesitated. “Yeah?”
“You don’t get to do this.”
My heart thuddedhardagainst my ribs.Please don’t mean that like I think you do.“Do what?”
Her head turned, his gaze finally meeting mine for a fraction of a second as I tried to keep my attention on both her and the road. They weren’t cold, not really, but there was a dullness behind them that made my stomach knot. “Throw money at this. Throwplans. You don’t get to decide we’re awejust becauseyou showed up one time. This isn’t some grandMatt Strathmoreproject, this is two—fuck—three people, me included.”
I lost the air from my lungs. “That’s not—Christ, Sienna, that’s not what I’m doing?—”
“Isn’t it?” she asked. “Because it kind of feels like you’re trying to build something out of plywood and blueprints and hoping that I won’t notice the foundation’s already cracked and crumbled and fuckingrotting.”
I steeled my jaw. “That’s not fair. You know it isn’t. I’mtrying.”
“No,” she snapped, lowering her feet from the dash, turning in her seat toward me. “What’s not fair is you showing upnow, acting like everything’s fine because you decided to be involved. Like that erases the fact that you fucking left, apologized, and then leftagain.”
I gripped the wheel tighter, my knuckles going white. “I came back. Both times, Sienna. And I haven’t run from this?—”
“Sure, but what happens next time you panic, Matt?”
I flinched.
“What happens when it’s the middle of the night and both of them are crying and I have a mental, fucking breakdown because the man who is supposed to be their father ran away again because he thought we looked too much likea familyfor his peace of mind?—”
“You don’t get to say that,” I cut in, my voice rising, something akin to anger but far more broken building alongside it. “You don’t get to decide how I’ll feel down the line.”
“But you don’t get it, Matt!” she snapped, her eyes shimmering as she stared me down, my gaze flicking to her every chance I could find. “I don’t have the ability to walk away from this if thatwantwere to hit me. But you do. And you’ve walked before,twice. So, I have to sit here with some kind of blind faith that you won’t just up and leave and fuckingbreakme againwhen I know damn well you wouldn’t be sitting next to me if it weren’t for them?—”
My chest felt like it had cracked open. “Sienna?—”
“Do you honestly believe that showing up to one appointment and promising prep schools and Montessori when you know I’m a teacher myself is enough? Am I just supposed to forget the last, what, four-ish months of knowing you? Am I supposed to wholeheartedly believe you won’t bolt the second it gets real again just because you say that’s the case?”
My jaw clenched. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“You say that now,” she laughed, but the sound was broken, jagged, hollow, her breath catching halfway through. “But you made me think that in Tulum. And again, in your house when you fucked me like I mattered and then basically shoved me out of your bed two seconds after catching your breath.”
“I never shoved you?—”
“Youleft.Whether that’s what you want to think happened or not, you pushed me away the moment you felt something. And don’t try to tell me you didn’t feel something, Matt, because I swear toGod?—”
“I did. I never tried to say that I didn’t.”
“Then tell me what the hell happens when one of them gets sick and I can’t cope,” she croaked. “Tell me what happens when I’m up at three in the morning, crying, and I don’t even know why. Tell me whatfuckinghappens when I beg you to tell me what we are, and you don’t have answer.”
Silence fell thick between us, the tires humming over the road the only sound filling the space between her jagged breaths. I didn’t know how to make her believe me. I didn’t know how to fix it, how to show her I wasn’t going anywhere, how to even broach that request without opening wounds I’d stitched up years ago.
