It's Never Just Goodbye // Ed Sheeran

Yeah, Okay

Alice 

Late at night, with the baby passed out in the back seat, I take the two-hour drive to my old shared apartment. It may seem like an insane length to drive just to skim by a vacant place that no longer held my broken family. I'll drive by with the music playing softly and little baby snores filling the small space of the car, and I'll glance up at the dark apartment, vacant of any lights or person.

He left, though, soon after I ended our relationship. He was finally done with British girls, I guess, because he even changed him number.

The last trace of Oscar I had was a card sent to my mother's house relatively close to my birthday. It wasn't addressed to me at all, and only had my son's name scrawled on the envelope and inside the card. It said how much he loves him and how he wished he could have raised him. I respected him enough to keep it to let Finley read it when he's older. The small child deserved to know someone did care.

It would be a lie to say I don't miss Oscar. I can't say that I don't feel a twinge of regret for our broken relationship and friendship. It's a different kind of sorrow I feel than I had for Ed. I feel a certain estranged loss of someone I once knew, as if he was a distant relative I heard died. Yes, the death affected me, but it doesn't create this intense burden that makes it increasingly hard to continue my days. It fills you with a quiet sadness, but not loud enough to act upon it. You let the feelings fade and soon enough you're left with nothing.

I got a phone call around three in the morning at the end of August a year after Oscar and I ended our relationship. My child asleep next to me, his breathing shallow, as I laid there awake. The night air pouring through my open window, hot summer air. I didn't know it was him – maybe I thought it was Adam or even Oscar, but I wasn't shocked when I heard his voice.

"I have to see you." He said.

And I agreed. It was time. Almost two years later and I was ready.

He's a little over two years old when Ed knocks on the door of my childhood home. Just a little toddler with stubby legs and clumsily walking around the living room of my mother's home. The same floors Adam and I stumbled around on when we were that age.

His hair is a strawberry blonde; not as dark as Ed's but then again, not as light as mine. His green eyes are piercing, but there are specks of blue dropped in the colored irises that show the resemblance to both me and his father.

My mother opens the door for him with open arms. Offering a hug, he takes it gratefully. "How are you?" He asks before sliding out of his coat and turning to me. Just three feet away, he freezes. And even my mother knows it's not her turn to speak.

Glancing down, his eyes catch Finley and lock on him. And for nearly a full minute the room is quiet and they stare at each other. Ed's eyes are wide, but I can't exactly read what he's thinking. With shaky, rough hands he scratches his beard that had grown quite a lot since the last time we seen each other.

There is a moment where I don't breathe and I can tell Ed doesn't either. The two of us gently exchanging glances without making a move to greet each other; me on the couch and him standing by the door.

With a small nod, Ed tried to speak, "Nice work..."

My mother lets us be with a polite smile; finding her spot in her bedroom upstairs, and quietly closing her door behind her and leaving Ed and I alone. She leaves us to speak alone for the first time in forever about the arrangements of our son – our son. To allow Ed to have a moment to grasp what is happening, for the two of us to compose ourselves, and for Finley to finally meet his father.

Ed slowly and calmly, as if not to scare the child, moves to his knees. When he's eye level with Finn, his eyes go even wider. It's as if he's staring into his own eyes from when he was a small child. From where I sat on the couch, I can see Ed's eyes pool with tears.

"Hi, buddy." He utters gently, almost inaudibly.

Finn eyes him like he's a new toy; cautious but intrigued. Ed crosses his legs and take his shoes and throws them behind him, which made Finn's scrunch up in surprise, but light up at the loud noise. He holds out his shaky hands for Finley to walk to.

"I can't believe he's walking." Ed admits, laughing to hide the tiny droplet of water falling from his eyes. He pushes it away and lets Finley grab onto his chubby fingers. "I can't believe how grown he looks."

"He dances, too." I say. "Especially to..." I stop myself. The song Finley danced to didn't matter and Ed wasn't paying attention. His entire attention was focused on the son he never met, and I allowed for him to cherish this moment. Making sure I took a mental image of this special moment.

Green eyes wide, he studied Ed. "I bet." He says to me without blinking. If he did blink, he'd miss even one second of this wondrous child. He didn't want that.

I scooted off the couch and lowered myself onto the floor. On the shag, grey rug, I sat across from Ed and Finley stood between us. My hands on each side of his waist, I balanced the wobbly toddler. Finley turned to look at me.

I pointed to Ed. "That's daddy, Finn." With that one statement, Ed collapsed into tears. The sudden sob escalated into laughter, but salty tears continued to streak his face. Hiding his face from the child so Finn wouldn't see him cry, he buried his wet face into his arm.

I watched him collapse in the best way possible. It wasn't sad, no it was a time to celebrate. All the buildup, all the moments we fought over this or over us, and it finally ended years later with a fitful moment in the living room of a house we spent most of our time in when we were teenagers. The same living room we had told my parents I was pregnant the first time.

"It's okay." I whispered.

Ed nodded, lifting his head a bit. He's grinning from ear to ear, but it's evident that he's still crying. He wipes his face on the inside of his shirt, and laughed nervously again.

"I know." He tells me. "I've just been waiting for this for so long."

"I know."

Our conversation was spoken in light whispers and a giggling baby between us. If I closed my eyes and pictured this exact image, this would have been us years ago with a child we had lost. Instead of a messy little boy with scrapes on his knees and dirt on his face, it'd be an equally beautiful little girl with curly hair.

I let my hand grasp Finley's sticky one. His little chunky hands tried to wiggle free, but I held onto him, not wanting to let him go. My eyes graze over my little boy and more regret washes over me.

I apologized to Ed again. "I should've let you meet him sooner."

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I'm sorry."

"Okay." He replies simply. He takes my apology.

"Okay." I repeated after him. His hand inches its way across the carpet and he interlocks our fingers together. He squeezes. His eyes remained on our son, so he couldn't see the dainty smirk grow on my lips as I said again softly, "Yeah, okay."

*A/N, Hey guys! Let's start this out by saying I'm sorry again like I always am for taking too long on updating. This time, my excuses are pretty true, haha! I do love all of you and I'm sorry I haven't updated. 

So a little update on my life. I finished my long awaited novel. That's why I've been so busy. After two and a half years, I've finished my novel, and it's around 600 pages. I'm currently editing it by myself, but after I go over it I will be sending it off to a professional editor, and then working to get it published! 

I'm also graduating soon, which is amazing! I've been focused on school a lot. So I will keep you updated on that and my book. 

If you guys want to be my friend (lol I sound desperate) or want to keep in contact with me, all my social medias are madisen45! My instagram, kik, and snapchat are all madisen45! Don't hesitate to add me because I seriously would love to be friends with you. My twitter is madisen_elaine. Follow me and I'll follow you back. I do want to be friends! 

Comment what you thought of this very short chapter! 

Love, Madisen