Wait For You

Chapter 20: In vain, allow me to tell you how ardently I love you.

𝔍𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 " 𝔓𝔥𝔬𝔢𝔫𝔦𝔵 " 𝔗𝔞𝔱𝔢

Twice in my life, I'd thought I was going to be a father.

The first time, I was sure my life would fall apart. I had barely started a company and was with a girl I barely knew and certainly didn't love. The prospect of spending the rest of my time with her crushed me. The idea of being a father was hardly ever on my mind, to be honest.

In truth, I spent my time thinking about what my days with her would be like. We'd fall into the sort of mindless rhythm as two people bound together not by love but by our responsibility to the life that depended on us.

It was true that when the miscarriage had happened, I'd been relieved. But now, as I thought again about being a father, of having that new precious life in my care, I wondered if my reality had changed in the years that had passed since then.

Because now, when I thought of this child, I didn't think about the responsibility as a crushing weight on my freedom. Instead, I looked around my cold, unfeeling apartment and realized the warmth of a child—of a family—was exactly what I needed.

Barely twenty-four hours had passed, and already I was imagining where to put the cradle, what I needed to get rid of, what sorts of things I'd need to read up on. I wasn't scared. I wasn't anxious. Despite being angry and devastated by the loss of Grace and her lies...

I was excited.

Deeply excited at the idea of taking my child to Central Park to play chess or catch. To help him with his homework and put him to bed at night.

Before, I had been broken. The kind of person who wouldn't make a child's life any better, no matter how hard I tried.

I couldn't think about that now. Soon I would have to get my lawyer involved and see what sort of custody arrangement we could work out.

No matter what, I was going to have to see her again. To bring her back to the city for her doctor's appointments and to speak with her about the kind of life we would develop together for our child.

Rather than feeling trapped by the idea of her, though, I felt like I was missing a limb. Seeing her again would make me feel all the love, all the need, all the completeness I was desperate to shove back down. I couldn't forgive her, not after everything she'd done. But if I saw her again...

Well, how could I turn her away?

I couldn't. Because the fact of the matter was that I still loved her. Heart, body, mind, and soul, I still loved her, and there was nothing even my most determined thoughts could do to change that.

Flexing my fingers, I pushed myself off the sofa just in time to hear the gentle whoosh of something as it slid across my floor.

I frowned, following the sound until I found a white envelope with my name scrawled on it in perfectly neat, very familiar handwriting. There was no address. Even if there were, I knew the mail carrier would never deliver a letter like that.

I picked it up, strode to the door, and swung it open just as Grace was pressing the elevator button in the hall.

"Stop," I called out, my pulse hammering.

She spun around, her cheeks a full flush of color and her ponytail nearly hitting her in the face.

"Everything is in the letter," she murmured, her eyes glassy with tears. "You said you didn't want to see me, and...well, I want to respect your wishes."

The way I hadn't respected hers, my conscience repeated.

The elevator dinged open behind her, but I held up a hand.