Messy strokes, p.2
Messy Strokes, page 2
“But you need it, don’t you? How the hell do you expect to take care of a kid on your own?”
“I’ll figure it out––”
He scoffs. “Since it worked so well for you in the past. Reese and Riv are filming. Sonny and Dove are going on another tour. We have the room––”
“I’m not going to play house with you,” I argue.
“And I don’t give a shit. If she’s not Sonny’s, she’s my kid. Unless there was a third asshole you were screwing while we were together?” He folds his arms across his broad chest, waiting for me to deny it.
My stomach tightens into a knot of regret and disgust. For the things I went through to protect the man in front of me, though I have no doubt he’d throw it all back in my face if he knew about any of it.
Which is why he can never find out. Not simply for my protection, but for Peanut’s too.
I bite the inside of my cheek and shake my head. “No. There wasn’t a third asshole I was screwing while we were together.”
“Then, I guess I’m the father, huh? It’s not exactly hard math.” He lifts his hand, palm facing up. “Now, give me your keys.”
2
MADDIE
“What the hell did you say to him?” I seethe, trying to keep my voice steady. The tears gather in my eyes, threatening to fall as I blink them away, feeling like I’ve been stabbed in the back by the one person who promised to always have it.
“He overheard us talking, Mads. I swear we didn’t tell him on purpose,” my sister defends through my cell. She’s the only one who could’ve told Milo about the baby or where he could find me. She’s also the only one who knows Milo may or may not be the father. But I’m not sure she really cares anymore. Once she found out the love of her life––who also happens to be my ex and Milo’s best friend, Gibson––wasn’t the father, she’s never been happier.
And I’m glad she’s found happiness. She deserves it. Especially with how supportive she was throughout the entire pregnancy. Even when she found out Gibson and I had slept together before they fell in love. Even when I treated her like shit because I hate being pitied. She still supported me, helped take care of me, and was my sounding board and biggest cheerleader, making this conversation even harder.
Chewing on my lower lip, I stay quiet. Unsure what to say. Or what to do.
This is a mess.
A giant clusterfuck of regret.
And it’s all my fault.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs, taking my silence for frustration.
But I’m not mad at her.
I’m mad at myself.
I should’ve told him. About the baby. About how I felt in the first place. Before everything blew up. Before we broke each other’s hearts. Before I agreed to have a threesome with my sister’s now-boyfriend and his best friend.
I never meant for everything to get so out of control. It just…happened. Like a wave in the ocean, slowly building energy and power in the distance. You can see it coming, but it’s so beautiful, so mesmerizing, you think you can handle its strength. Until it crashes over you, leaving you thrashing in its depths and your world upside down and drowning.
Yeah, it’s exactly what happened with Milo and me. I thought I could ride the wave. Instead, it swept me away, leaving me more alone than I could’ve ever imagined.
“Mads?” Dove murmurs. “You still there?”
“He wants me…” I look down at my Peanut in my arms. “He wants us to move in with him.”
“What?”
“Yeah.”
“Milo wants you to move in with him?” she screeches.
“Demanding we move in with him is probably the more accurate depiction for what went down,” I mutter, blinking away my tears. I haven’t cried since we broke up. Not really. I’ve been too numb to acknowledge I’m a single mom and my sister’s in an up-and-coming band who will be touring across the country with her boyfriend. I’m going to be all alone. With a baby. Whom I have no idea how to raise.
“A-are you going to do it?” Dove asks, her voice quiet.
I sniff. “He didn’t leave me much of a choice.”
“There’s always a choice, Mads.”
Mads.
The name still burns, making me feel like I’m trapped between two personas. One from when I lived with my parents where I was Mads. Maddie. Or Madelyn. The rebellious teenager who couldn’t squeeze an ounce of pride from her mom or dad if her life depended on it.
And the second persona where I became “M.” Or Em. The girl who didn’t give a shit anymore. About anything or anyone. It’s the name I used when I got caught up in drugs, alcohol, and threesomes. The one I used when Milo, Gibson, and I were all sleeping together. The one I used when I fell in love for the first time before realizing the party life wasn’t for me and what I actually wanted was to settle down and be in love. I wanted to have someone accept me for me, even though I wasn’t really sure who I was anymore.
Until I met Milo and spent some time with him. Milo saw me. The real me. Or at least, I thought he did. Until I told him I couldn’t do threesomes anymore. I wanted his hands on me. His eyes on me. His smile. His dimples. I didn’t want to be shared. Not anymore. Not when he owned me completely.
But it was too late. I screwed it up, like how I screw everything up. And now, what I want doesn’t matter anymore. I have someone who needs me. And even though I have no idea what I’m doing, I refuse to let my little Peanut down.
I can’t.
“I think you should do it,” Dove decides, reading my silence for indecision. “I think you should move in with him.”
“He hates me.”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate, Mads.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a low, unsteady breath.
She has no idea.
“Let him be there for you,” she offers.
“He doesn’t want to be there for me.”
“So, let him be there for Peanut,” she argues. “You’re going to need help with feedings and diaper changes. Plus, it’ll help financially too. You haven’t been able to work your entire pregnancy, and with the medical bills––”
“I know, Dove. I’ve already spoken with Medicaid. Things will be tight, but I’m working on it.”
“Good. And you know I’m here for you, right?”
“I know. It’s…” I bite my lip and look down at Peanut. Her little lips are pursed as she sucks on an invisible binkie, oblivious to the chaos surrounding her. But I’m grateful for it. Her oblivion. She doesn’t need to know her mother’s a mess. Only how much I love her. More than anything else in the world.
“It’s a lot,” I finish, brushing my fingers against her strawberry blonde hair. It’s so soft. Like a baby chick’s feathers.
“I know,” Dove murmurs. “But you’ll get through this. You have people who love and care about you. Don’t you dare forget it, okay?”
“I know.”
“Good.”
“So, have you talked to Josh yet? About the tour?” I ask, desperate to change the subject.
“Yeah. Gibson got off the phone with him a few minutes ago.”
“And?”
“And it looks like I’m going to Europe for a few months.”
My smile is genuine as I soak in her success. “How amazing, Dove! I’m proud of you.”
“Thanks. I’m proud of you, too, ya know.”
I scoff. “Not sure there’s much to be proud of, but––”
“I’m serious, Maddie. You’ve got this.”
Do I? I want to ask. But I keep my lips pressed into a thin line.
“You do,” she emphasizes as if she can read my mind. “I’m gonna swing by and snuggle Peanut in a few, okay?”
“Sounds good. Any chance you’d be willing to bring my toothbrush and a change of clothes?”
“You’re not gonna come home?”
“Not when I don’t know where home is anymore.”
“Mads––”
“It’s fine. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Okay,” she murmurs. “Love you.”
“Love you too.”
3
MADDIE
The next three weeks go by in a blur of attempting to figure out nursing, attempting to understand medical stats, and attempting to prepare myself for Dove’s tour. I’ve been soaking up every moment with my sister, trying not to get too caught up on all the time lost between us where I could’ve been cultivating our relationship instead of damaging it. I can’t go back and change the past, no matter how much I want to.
Instead, I’ve been focusing on the present and becoming a better person, no matter how fruitless I feel like my efforts are sometimes.
I’ve also been soaking up baby snuggles like an addict. Her smell. Her little coos. The way her lower lip sticks out when she’s thinking about crying but hasn’t quite decided yet. All of it.
Milo hasn’t visited, though. Not once. He hasn’t reached out. He hasn’t texted. Hell, I’m not even sure if he has my new number. And I hate how I’ve noticed his absence when I know I should’ve never expected anything different in the first place.
Dove informed me all my things from my apartment are now in the room next to Milo’s, though. It’s the only evidence I have proving I didn’t imagine his visit all those weeks ago. She’s been bringing me freshly washed clothes anytime she’s stopped by the hospital, along with little tidbits of gossip as to what he might be thinking.
Until yesterday when she left to tour Europe.
And even though I’m happy for her, my nerves are officially shot at the realization I have to face Milo alone today. And I have no idea if he’s expecting us, or if he’s changed his mind, or if he even cares.
I feel like I don’t know anything anymore.
I look around the hospital room which has been my home for the past few weeks. The machines are weirdly quiet since Peanut isn’t hooked up to them anymore, but the hustle and bustle in the hall still brings warmth to my chest.
Is it weird how I’m almost going to miss this place?
“Is that everything?” I ask Stephanie, the nurse who’s become my go-to friend and therapist while Peanut’s been in the hospital. With her officially having a clean bill of health, it seems like I’ll have to let Steph go too.
“Yup, it should be everything,” she confirms, scanning the release papers. “And don’t forget to fill out the paperwork for her name change. Baby Girl Walker isn’t exactly a solid choice in the long run.”
“I know.” I glance down at Peanut strapped into her car seat on the hospital floor. With a petite headband and a white bow on her little head, she doesn’t look like my preemie little girl anymore. She looks older somehow. Like she’s ready to get out of here and experience all life has to offer. And I’m…not. How can I raise a baby when I can’t even decide what I should name her?
“And remember,” Steph adds, “if you want to add the father to her birth certificate, you’ll need a notarized consent from him.”
Fat chance of that happening.
“Yes,” I answer her, trying not to get overwhelmed, though it feels impossible. “I’ll remember to do it. Thanks.”
With a nod, she squats down to Peanut’s car seat. “I’ll see you around, little girl. Don’t give your mama too much trouble, okay?” Brushing her finger against Peanut’s dimples, Stephanie smiles softly and stands back up. “She really is the cutest thing ever.”
“I know.” My mouth curves up in the corner as my chest swells with pride. I might not deserve to be a mom, but I didn’t know it was possible to love someone so deeply until I held her in my arms.
“Thanks again for everything,” I add. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”
She waves me off. “It’s my job, Maddie. I’m happy to help. But don’t be a stranger, ya hear?”
Hooking my arm beneath the large plastic handle of the car seat, I reply, “I definitely won’t be.”
We walk out of the NICU side by side until we reach the hospital’s exit. The cool air hits my cheeks, but I breathe it in, letting it ground me as I face my future. Alone.
“Where’s your car parked?” Stephanie asks.
I point to the right parking area. “It’s over there.”
“I’ll wait here with Peanut while you bring the car around.”
“I can take her––”
“Sorry, Maddie. Rules are rules. I have to make sure the car seat base is installed properly.”
“Oh.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and set the car seat by Stephanie’s feet. “Okay. I’ll, uh, I’ll be right back.”
By myself, I trek across the parking lot, anxious to get my car and pick up Peanut as fast as I can.
Is it weird I already miss her?
As I scan the parking lot, my brows furrow.
Where the hell is my car?
I could’ve sworn I’d parked it––
“Over here,” a familiar, gruff voice calls.
My head snaps up, and my heart lodges in my throat as I search the parking lot for the voice’s owner. Rows and rows of cars litter the black pavement, but I don’t see a motorcycle parked anywhere. Or at least, not one belonging to the familiar voice.
The driver’s side door of a black hatchback pushes open a few seconds later, its window still rolled down as Milo unfolds himself from the car.
“M-Milo?” I stutter, confused.
“Get in the car,” he orders, slamming the driver’s side door to the dark Subaru definitely not belonging to him while we were dating.
I hook my thumb over my shoulder. “But my car––”
“Is at my place.”
Jingling the keys in my hand, I counter, “How? Dove dropped these off yesterday.”
“You had a spare at your old apartment. Now, can we stop with the interrogation and get in the damn car?”
My nostrils flare as I give in and trudge a few feet closer.
“Where is she?” he grunts, the hinges smooth as butter as he pulls open the passenger door for me.
Lips pursed, I climb inside and mutter, “She’s with the nurse.”
“Why? I thought we could take her home today.”
We.
I look back at him, but he avoids my gaze. Hell, he can barely string a sentence together because he’s so pissed at me, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Still…
I clear my throat. “They, uh, they have to make sure the car seat base is installed properly before they let me leave with her, which is a problem because…” I motion to the back seat, surprised when I find an exact replica of the one I’d installed in the back seat of my car sitting in the center seat of Milo’s. “Oh.”
Apparently, he’s thought of everything.
Without a word, he gets back in the car and shoves it into drive, pulling up to the front of the hospital.
Stephanie waves when she sees me, cocking her head to one side as she studies the man behind the wheel. The man she’s never met. The man she’s never bothered to ask about. The man I’ve never really acknowledged or accepted would be involved in this whole parenting thing because…why would he?
After shoving the car into park, Milo pushes his door open, strides over to Stephanie, and reaches for the covered car seat, snatching the behemoth off the ground as if it only weighs a couple pounds and stalks back to the car. Again, silent. And again, she looks at me with wide eyes.
“It’s okay,” I mouth to her while I climb out of the car in hopes of keeping her from calling the cops on the bastard. You’d think he was raised by wolves.
“Milo, this is Stephanie.” I wave my hand between the two of them. “Stephanie, this is Milo.”
“Nice to meet you,” she offers.
He lifts his chin, a bit of his iciness melting. “You too.”
“Do you know how to buckle her in?” she asks.
Flinging the back door open, he points to the car seat base he’s installed. “I just snap it in, right?”
Stephanie crawls into the back seat and examines Milo’s installation. “Yes, this looks great.”
His stupid muscles bunch and flex beneath his soft black T-shirt. The one sporting the Etch ‘N Ink logo, the tattoo parlor where he works, as he sets Peanut’s car seat in the base. When it clicks into place, he tugs at the blanket enveloping her and looks down at her pouty little lips and smooth, porcelain skin.
Again, he doesn’t say a word.
He simply…studies her.
I wish I knew what he was thinking. I wish I knew whether or not he’s planning to hold my sins against her. I wish I knew if he really is Peanut’s father or if I’m imagining their similarities. Their matching dimples. Their matching eyes.
I wish I knew a lot of things, but I’m too much of a coward to dig into any of them to find answers.
“What’s her name?” he murmurs, his voice low and gritty.
“I, uh…” I rock back on my heels and fold my arms, kicking a stray pebble with the toe of my white Nikes while ignoring Stephanie’s curious stare. “I still haven’t decided.”
He shakes his head, closes the back door and tilts his head toward the passenger seat. “You gonna get in?”
“Yup. Be right there.”
With a brisk nod, he turns to Stephanie. “Thanks.”
Being given a glimpse of the non-asshole side of Milo, she smiles. “No problem.”
His door slams shut.
“Well, I guess this is it,” I announce.
She wraps me in a warm hug. “Don’t be a stranger, ya hear?”
“Of course not. Thanks again. For everything.”
“Anytime.” Smirking, Stephanie adds, “And good luck with…him.”
I laugh dryly, hating how close I am to tears while praying she can’t tell I’m seconds from having a panic attack. “Thanks.”
Without another word, I yank on the handle and slip into the leather seat.
This is going to be interesting.
4
MADDIE
The silence is stifling as Milo pulls out of the hospital’s parking lot, and I’m not sure how long I can take it.
