Chapter 18 018
RYAN
I spoke with Aaron at length over the past week.
Twice over coffee. Three more times on the phone. Different days, different moods, same knot sitting heavy in my chest every single time. No matter how the conversation started, it always circled back to the same truth I was trying—and failing—to outrun.
I was terrified I’d ruin Zara’s life the way I’d ruined so much else.
Aaron listened. He always did. Never rushed me, never talked over me, never tried to fix things with platitudes. He just let me say the ugly parts out loud until they sounded less like monsters and more like fears.
“You’re going to be a good father, Ryan,” he said again, stirring sugar into his coffee. “You already are.”
I let out a breath that felt more like a laugh. “You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said calmly. “You showed up. You didn’t run when it got hard. You’re showing up again. That’s more than a lot of men ever do.”
I wanted to believe him.
God, I really did.
But the fear didn’t disappear just because someone named it. It stayed lodged in my chest, heavy and immovable, like a stone I carried everywhere.
Mom still wouldn’t pick up my calls.
My texts went unread. Left on delivered like I hadn’t said anything at all. I stared at my phone too many nights, thumb hovering over her name, replaying what I’d say if she answered. In the end, I always put the phone down.
I couldn’t force her to have a relationship with her granddaughter.
But I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine either.
I wanted to take Zara to the house. I wanted my mom to see her—really see her. To hold her, to fall in love with her the way I had. I wanted my daughter to know her grandparents. To know where she came from. To have roots.
But I knew better than to do that behind Emily’s back.
Not after everything.
So we went to the park instead.
The sun was bright that afternoon. Warm without being suffocating. The kind of day that made everything feel possible, like the world itself was offering a second chance if you were brave enough to take it.
Zara tugged on my hand the second we got out of the car.
“Mr. blue eyes, look!” She gasped, pointing so hard I worried she’d tip over. “It’s cotton candy!”
My heart stuttered.
Every time she called me Mr. Blue Eyes, it did that—paused, then slammed forward like it was trying to make up for lost time. She’d started saying it naturally now, without hesitation or question.
I still wasn’t used to how good it felt. It sounded so much like Dad in my ears.
The cotton candy guy smiled as we approached, already reaching for a cone. Zara bounced on her toes while I paid, excitement vibrating through her tiny body.
Pink sugar fluff on a stick.
She took one massive bite and immediately got it all over her nose.
I laughed before I could stop myself. “You’re wearing more than you’re eating, princess.”
She grinned, teeth stained blue, eyes bright. “It’s yummy!”
We walked through the park slowly, nowhere we needed to be, nothing to rush toward. Zara wanted to do everything. The carousel with chipped paint and cheerful music. The little train that circled the pond. The swings.
I pushed her higher and higher while she squealed, her laughter carrying through the air.
“What’s your favorite color?” I asked, watching her fly forward and back.
“Purple!” she shouted. “And pink! And blue like my eyes!”
Something tight loosened in my chest.
“What about your favorite toy?”
She slowed a little, thinking hard. “My doll with the curly hair. And my tea set. And my cup with the stars on it. And my bunny. And—”
I laughed. “You have a lot of favorites.”
She nodded solemnly. “I like lots of things.”
I liked listening to her talk. Every word felt like a gift. A piece of her I’d missed for three years and was only just beginning to unwrap. I wanted to know everything—what scared her, what made her laugh the hardest, what she dreamed about when she slept.
But no matter how much I learned today, there would always be the years I’d missed.
First steps.
First words.
The nights she cried, and Emily held her alone.
That ache never really went away.
By six o’clock, Zara was exhausted. She fell asleep in the new car seat on the drive back, cheek pressed against the window, tiny snores filling the quiet space between us.
I carried her carefully up the steps to the address Emily had texted me earlier. A small apartment building. Brick. Flower boxes beneath the windows. Cozy. Lived-in.
Nothing like the big place Emily and I had once shared.
She’d moved on. Started fresh.
That was good.
I couldn’t have walked back into our old apartment anyway. Too many ghosts.
I rang the doorbell, and Emily opened it almost immediately, like she’d been waiting right behind the door. Her eyes softened the second she saw Zara asleep on my shoulder.
“Hey,” she whispered. “Long day?”
“Yeah,” I murmured back. “She had fun.”
Emily reached for Zara without hesitation. I transferred her gently into her arms. Zara stirred a little, frowned in her sleep, then relaxed again.
“She had a long day,” Emily said, smiling down at her daughter. “I’ll lay her down.”
I stayed in the doorway while Emily carried Zara inside. I heard soft footsteps, the creak of a bed, murmurs meant only for her. The sound of a mother settling her child into sleep.
A minute later, Emily came back. Barefoot now. Hair loose around her shoulders. She looked softer like this. Like the girl I fell in love with back in high school.
“Hey…” she said again. “Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”
I shook my head. “She was perfect.”
Emily nodded, something unreadable flickering across her face. “Would you like coffee?”
I almost said yes.
Just to stay longer.
But the weight in my chest shifted, heavy and insistent, reminding me why I was really here. I shook my head slowly.
“Can we talk?”