Page 117 of Slapshot Baby

My fingers tighten on the phone. "We're... it's not straightforward."

"How is it not straightforward? You spend almost every day with him. He takes you to dinner. He bought you a place of business. What part of that needs qualifying?"

"The part where our entire relationship is built on information he doesn't have."

"Then give him the information."

"It's not that simple."

"It is exactly that simple. You tell the man the truth about the baby then let him decide what to do with it instead of deciding for him."

"You don't understand what's at stake."

"I understand what it costs to have a good man standing right in front of you," she says, voice wavering.

"Mom, that's not..."

"Your father was charming. He was exciting and warm and he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. What he was not, is not and never will be, is reliable. I didn't know the difference at your age because nobody taught me."

I place my head in my hands.

"But you know the difference because I raised you to see it, Ava. Kai shows up and he stays. He pays attention to what you need and he acts on it without being asked. I spent twenty years wishing your father would do that."

"I know he's not Dad."

"Then stop punishing him for what Dennis did to me." Her breath catches. "Baby, I didn't raise you to be this afraid. I raised you to be brave and strong and capable and every wonderful thing you already are. But I also raised you in a home where love let you down. And I will carry that guilt for the rest of my life."

The tears come without warning. Silent, tracking down my cheeks and falling onto the honey oak floors of the studio Kai bought me because he thinks I'm someone worth investing in.

"I don't want to watch my daughter spend her life protecting herself from the thing that would make her happiest."

My throat is so tight I can barely get air through it.

She's right. I know she's right.

But knowing and doing are separated by a distance I can't figure out how to cross.

"Tell him soon, Ava. Soon. Before the secret gets heavier than the love."

We talk for a while longer. She asks about the studio layout and I describe the space. Her voice warms as she listens, and I can hear her picturing me in it. By the time we hang up, she sounds steadier.

I don't feel steadier. I feel cracked wide open.

The rest of the day is filled with client emails and appointments. I bury myself in work because work doesn't ask questions my heart can't answer yet.

By midnight, Biscuit is curled at my feet and my brain is running laps it won't finish.

At two a.m., the craving hits.

It’s a hostage takeover where sleep, comfort, and basic functioning are suspended.

Of all things, I want to eat fresh, cold, ripe mango with lime juice and Tajín.

In a city where everything good closes at eleven and everything open past midnight serves cocktails and poor decisions.

I try negotiating with myself for several miserable minutes.

You don't need mango. You need sleep. Close your eyes and think about anything other than the texture of cold mango on your tongue.