Chapter 16 016
RYAN
Emily left us alone in her office.
She did it gently, like she was afraid sudden movement might shatter something fragile between us. She gave me a small, careful smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes—murmured something about giving us privacy, then stepped out and closed the door behind her.
The soft click of the latch sounded impossibly loud.
I placed Zara on my lap, her small legs dangling over my thigh, her socked feet swinging absentmindedly. One of her tiny hands toyed with the top button of my shirt, twisting it back and forth as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room. She smelled like vanilla cookies and strawberry shampoo—sweet and warm and safe.
I couldn’t stop looking at her.
Every time I thought I’d memorized her—those long lashes, the way her nose crinkled when she concentrated, the tiny freckle high on her cheek—something new caught my attention and stole my breath all over again. She was real. She was here. Sitting on me like she belonged there.
Maybe she did.
I lifted my hands slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted to. She didn’t. I cupped her face gently between my palms, my thumbs resting lightly on her cheeks.
Her skin was impossibly soft and warm.
For a long moment, we stayed like that, just breathing the same air. No rush. No words. My heart was beating so hard I was sure she could feel it through my chest.
Then she broke the silence.
“Are you my daddy?”
The question landed quietly—but it hit me like a punch to the ribs.
My throat closed instantly. I sucked in a deep breath, forcing myself not to react too fast, not to scare her. My hands trembled, so I lowered them to her back, holding her steady against me.
“Why do you ask that, princess?” I asked, my voice careful, softer than I’d ever heard it.
She tilted her head, thinking hard. “We have the same blue eyes,” she said seriously. “My friend Jodie has the same eyes with her daddy too.”
I nodded slowly, my chest tight. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to escape me. “That’s… that’s a very good reason.”
She watched me closely, big eyes searching my face like she expected me to have all the answers. Like she trusted that whatever I said would be true.
I swallowed hard.
“Why don’t we wait and ask your mommy, hm?” I said gently. “She’s really good at explaining things.”
Zara scrunched her nose, clearly weighing that option. Then she nodded once, decisive. “Okay. Okay. I’ll ask Mummy.”
Relief and pain hit me at the same time.
I smiled at her, even though it hurt. “Good plan.”
My phone rang right then, the sound sharp and jarring in the quiet room.
I froze.
Slowly, I pulled it out of my pocket.
Mom.
Zara leaned closer, curious. “Who’s that?”
“My friend,” I said quickly, not trusting my voice with anything else. “She’s really nice. Do you want to say hi?”
Zara’s face lit up instantly. She nodded hard. “Yes, yes!”
I answered and put the call on speaker. “Hey, Mom.”
Her voice came through warm and eager, layered with barely contained emotion. “Did you see her already?”
I looked down at Zara. She was staring at the phone like it was something magical, like a tiny window into another world.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice cracking despite my effort. “She’s with me now.”
Mom sucked in a sharp breath. “Can I see her? Please?”
I glanced at Zara. “Would you like to say hi to my friend?”
“Yes!” she chirped.
I switched to video and angled the phone so Mom could see her.
The second Mom’s face appeared on the screen, she broke.
Tears flooded her eyes instantly, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh my sweet girl…”
Zara waved enthusiastically. “Hi!”
Mom laughed through her tears. “Hi, baby. You’re so beautiful.”
And then—
The screen went black.
The call ended. Just like that.
I stared at the phone, confused. Then frowned and called back.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
Declined.
Again.
Declined.
My chest tightened painfully.
I lowered the phone slowly and set it on the desk like it suddenly weighed too much to hold.
Zara’s face crumpled.
Her bottom lip trembled, then wobbled. “Does she hate my face?”
Something inside me broke clean in half.
“No,” I said immediately, my voice thick. I shook my head hard. “No, princess. Of course not. No one on earth could hate your pretty face.”
Her eyes filled with tears anyway. “But she went away.”
“She didn’t go away because of you,” I said quickly. “I promise. She’s just… surprised. Happy surprised. Sometimes grown-ups get so happy they don’t know what to do.”
Zara sniffed. “Really?”
“Really.” I wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb. “She loves you already. I swear.”
But the tears kept coming.
Quiet at first. Then louder. Her little body shook as she cried, clinging to my shirt.
I tried everything.
I rocked her gently, murmuring nonsense. I kissed her forehead, her hair, her temple. I whispered silly things about blue-eyed princesses who ruled cookie kingdoms and never had to go to bed.
Nothing worked.
She cried harder.
Panic clawed at my chest.
I didn’t know what she liked when she was upset. I didn’t know her favorite song or her favorite stuffed animal. I didn’t know how she liked to be held when she was scared. I didn’t know when she’d taken her first steps, or what her first word had been.
I didn’t know anything.
I couldn’t even make her stop crying.
The realization hit me like ice water.
I stood abruptly, Zara still in my arms, and carried her out of the office.
Emily was standing just outside the door. The second she saw Zara’s tear-streaked face, her expression changed completely. She reached for her without hesitation.
I handed Zara over, my arms suddenly empty.
Emily gathered her close, murmuring soft, soothing words into her curls. “Hey, sweet girl. What’s wrong?”
Zara hiccupped against her shoulder. “His friend hates my face.”
Emily’s eyes flew to mine.
I looked away.
She rocked Zara gently, moving side to side. Slowly, the sobs softened to sniffles, then quiet breaths. After a few minutes, Zara slid down from her arms and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand.
“I wanna play with the other kids.”
Emily kissed the top of her head. “Go ahead, baby. Stay where I can see you.”
Zara ran off toward the little play corner near the front window.
I couldn’t look at Emily.
I stared at the floor instead. “Excuse me,” I said roughly. “I have to leave.”
She stepped closer. “Ryan. Wait. What happened?”
I shook my head. “I can’t… I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be a dad.” The words tasted like ash. “I couldn’t even make her stop crying. She asked if my mom hated her face. My mom hung up on her. And I just sat there. I don’t know what she likes. I don’t know anything about her. I missed everything, Em. Everything.”
Emily reached for my arm. “Hey. Look at me.”
I didn’t.
She squeezed gently. “You’re not supposed to know everything right away. You learn. Together. That’s what being a parent is.”
I shook my head again. “I don’t think I can ever be a good father to Zara.”
She went completely still.
I pulled my arm away. “I’m sorry.”
I walked out before she could stop me.
I didn’t run. I didn’t jog. I just moved fast enough to put distance between me and the look on her face.
I climbed into my car and sat there, hands gripping the steering wheel.
I didn’t start the engine.
I just sat.
And for the first time since I’d seen those test results, I let myself feel the full weight of what I’d lost.