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On Phoebe’s first birthday, when Rachel asked me out to dinner, I agreed, thinking it was the natural next step for us.
She was charming; I was polite. And it didn’t take long before we were finding solace in the other’s body.
Memories rolled around in my mind and I wondered if this was it. But…after experiencing the greatest love of my life, it couldn’t be.
It only took a few months for me to end it with her. Though I was respectful and promised it wouldn’t affect our co-parenting, I didn’t miss the way she looked at me, or the way her fingers gripped my arms—willing me to stay.
Ultimately, I left.
I wasn’t supposed to be with her, and I was a fool to think I could’ve been.
All through these major life events, Noa was there. When I woke up, when I went to sleep, when I was happy, when I was sad. She lived and breathed, if only in my memories.
I wanted her to know Phoebe, to experience the joys of parenthood—with me.
Her ghost was more real to me than anything Rachel and I experienced in our short-lived romance.
Dexter
I didn’t knowwhat I was going to say as I pulled into Rachel’s parents’ driveway. The sun’s rays glared off the top of my car and I exhaled as I pulled my key from the ignition. It was time to address the past, something I’d avoided doing—even when Rachel acted inappropriately.
But I wasn’t going to be the guy who sacrificed peace of mind for peace with my child’s mother. Not anymore.
Not with Noa and another child on the line.
Phoebe was riding her tricycle in the front yard and I greeted her with a smile and a kiss. She tried to ask me to play with her, but I assured her that when her mother dropped her off, I had fun plans in store. Her eyes pleaded but the sound of her grandmother offering to take her for ice cream had her forgetting all about me as she rushed to her.
Rachel’s mother stood from watering her plants as I neared.
“Hey, Nan. Where’s Rachel?” I asked, my hands on my waist and my eyes on my feet before I looked up at her again. I could only imagine what I looked like. Tired, dirty, and a little on edge. If she saw it, she didn’t mention it.
“In the kitchen. I’ll take this one off your hands,” she answered, smiling down at Phoebe as the little girl jumped up and down in front of her. “But first, we have to wash up.”
“Thanks,” I told her before I headed inside and took the sharp left that would land me in the kitchen.
I heard Phoebe rush upstairs as I caught sight of Rachel. She was at the sink, washing dishes. When I called her name lightly, she dropped the plate she’d been working on, shattering it.
I rushed up to her when I heard her suck in a breath. “Did you cut yourself?” I peered into the sink, watching as she reached for the pieces with a nervous laugh. Sure enough, red liquid made its way down the drain.
“It’s nothing,” she said as she dumped the ceramic remains into the trash. She grabbed a rag and covered her hand before leaning over to turn off the water. When she faced me, she looked fatigued—and I wondered if she knew why I was there.
She had to have known this day would come. I’d been dealing with Rachel long enough to notice the calculation in her eyes. She was sweet. But she was the kind of sweetness that rotted you, like sugar did teeth.
There was always something beneath her that made it impossible to know what she was thinking.
But she deliberately lied to Noa. I didn’t have the full story, but in the current situation, it didn’t really matter to me.
“So, you told Noa I asked you to marry me.” I sat at the kitchen table, afraid I’d pace a hole into the ground if I didn’t, and she opened her mouth. “That wasn’t a question, Rachel.” She closed her mouth quickly, like she’d been taken aback. “Why’d you do it?”
She clenched her cloth-covered hand and eyed the window where I could hear her mother puttering around outside, undoubtedly waiting for Phoebe. Her eyes flicked back to mine.
I was growing impatient. “Thatwas a question,” I bit out.
“I can’t do this, Dex. I can’t talk about this with you right now.” She looked at the cracking linoleum and blinked a few times before moving to return to the dishes.
The sound of Phoebe bounding down the steps and rushing out of the house had me pausing before I continued. “You can’t talk to me? You owe it to me, Rachel,” I whisper-shouted.
How could she have done this to me?
