Page 11 of Enemy Ex's Secret Baby

I look out at the house she’s pointing at. It’s lit up in the night with a few lights lining the walkway and a porch light that indeed shows off a yellow door under a white portico.

“Thanks for the ride,” Gillian goes on. Feels like she’s pulling her own teeth to say it.

“No problem. Always happy to get you home safe.” And it’s the truth.

She puts her hand on the door handle.

Something propels me out of the car at lightning speed. I’m not done with this yet. I’m not just going to let Gillian go inside and leave things this way. I might not be able to fix things in the blink of an eye, but I don’t want her to think I’m just a monster. We grew up together, for God’s sake.

Doesn’t she have any positive memories of me?

“I got her,” I say.

“Axel, really, you don’t–”

I ignore her and throw open Stella’s door. The little girl rubs her eyes and blinks up at me. “Home?”

“Yes, honey. Let’s get you in bed, okay?” I unclip her seatbelt and pick Stella up in my arms. She holds onto me without hesitation. I must make her feel safe. I hope I do.

Gillian appears at my elbow. “Axel, I can take her inside, really.”

“I’ve already got her,” I murmur. Stella buries her head in my neck and sighs. “You go open the door, alright?”

Gillian’s hard exterior melts for just a moment. She nods before leading me up the walk toward the yellow door. I take each step with the utmost care, making sure to watch my footing and not to jostle Stella too much as she’s already fallen asleep on my shoulder.

Gillian opens the door and holds it open for me. “Her room is at the end of the hallway. Her name is on the door.”

I step into Gillian’s little Silver Lake bungalow. The main room is a living room that leads directly into the kitchen. Even in the dark, I can see it embodies Gillian to a tee. Macrame accents, Moroccan rugs, rattan furniture. All tied together with the mess of having a kid around. There are toys and shoes littering the floor, a sink full of dishes, and the distinct smell of playdoh wafts through the air. It feels loved and lived-in. A true home.

I carry Stella down the short hallway, passing two doors that I imagine are the bathroom and Gillian’s room. Both closed. I’d love a glimpse at what her bedroom looks like. If it’s anything like the Gillian I used to know, there’s probably a mountain of unfolded clothes and candles half burnt littering the room.

Indeed, Stella’s room is marked with a personalized name plaque, the kind parents get when their babies are first born. Her name is scrawled in baby blue, accented with stars. Stella. Gillian’s little star.

I open the door, wincing when it squeals open. Stella doesn’t stir, though.

Gillian hurries in after me. “Here–” She goes to the little twin bed against the opposite wall and pulls down the comforter.

I lean down and lay Stella down in the bed. Her arms sink down to her side and she curls into her pillow with a satisfied sigh. I have to say, I miss the little girl in my arms, her heart beating against my chest. Having something to protect is a nice feeling. Better than fighting for the development of a luxury condo, that’s for sure.

I pull the blanket up over Stella softly and run my hand down her arm without thinking. That’s when I feel Gillian’s stare from across the bed. I look up, expecting laser eyes, but instead…well, I can’t quite read her look. It’s just intense. That’s the only way I can put it.

She looks away. “Um…”

“I’ll…leave you to say goodnight.”

I back out of the room and go back to the living room, unsure if I should stay or go. Before I can make a decisions, Gillian’s voice comes from behind me. “Thank you.”

I glance back at her and clutch my heart. “Are you really thanking me? The corporate tyrant?”

“Axel…I’m being serious,” she sighs.

I nod. “I know. But there’s no thanks needed.”

“No, the ice cream and the ride back and carrying her inside…it’s a lot easier to have another pair of hands. So, really, thank you.”

I bet it’s been tough having to go at it alone. Even though her family is as close as can be, I can’t imagine it’s easy. “Well, you could consider thanking me by not making my life a living nightmare?”

The softness on her face immediately dissipates. Shit. I really stepped in it, didn’t I? Me and my mouth. “Are you being serious right now? I’m trying to be nice, and you want to–”

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