Chapter 13

Hailey

The next night—or I suppose the next morning—the clock blinks a taunting 3:47 a.m. when I finally give up the pretense of sleep. I turn on my side, pulling the blanket up to my chin, a physical barrier against the uncertainty. But eventually, as dawn seeps through the curtains, a resolve solidifies within me.

Christian called yesterday to tell me he had to stay at the hospital, but we needed to find a time to talk. What could he want to talk to me about? Does he think I’ve gotten too close to Addison? Or maybe him? I know this situation is temporary, but all I’ve ever wanted was a family. Someone to love unconditionally who will love me back. Maybe I’m pretending a little, but I don’t think that’s clouding my judgment.

Franklin’s name floats to the surface like a forgotten memory. I remember the way he made me feel at the beginning, like I was part of some grand, impossible dream. At first, his words promised a future that sparkled just out of reach. I fell for him hard, not because he told me he loved me, but because I needed to believe in the fairy tale he sold.

My thoughts move to Christian and the way he holds Addison. He doesn’t seem to know he’s falling in love with his daughter. Our day at the aquarium was fun for all of us, and I’m beginning to feel something I haven’t felt in a while. Safe . Maybe that’s the difference between Franklin and Christian.

But I know what Christian and I are. We’re here fighting for Addison together. As a unit. He’s not promising a happily ever after. He’s likely not promising anything at all. I’m attracted to him, though, and I think I know what he wants. Why is it so bad to want the same thing? Men can be detached about sex. Dana’s wrong. I can be detached too.

But I need a plan.

My mind jumps to Dana and me in a year—free. I pull the course listings from my bedside table and scroll through the real estate licensing options. It’s a tangible goal, something I can focus on.

With Addison still curled in peaceful slumber next door, I do the math on a scrap of paper. Between what I have saved already and what I’ll make the rest of this year, I can take some online courses before I leave. Then when we return from Europe, I can look for a place to hang my shingle.

When it’s officially morning, I take a quick shower, get both Addison and myself fed and dressed, and then I’m behind the wheel of the minivan. Addison is strapped into her car seat, babbling excitedly.

An unexpected chime from my phone startles me, the screen lighting up with an incoming call. Without hesitation, I hit ignore. Driving requires all of me, especially with Addison in tow, and it’s the law. “Shake It Off” comes on the radio.

“Taylor Swift is amazing,” I tell Addison. “She writes all her songs, and she’s super kind to her fans.”

My phone rings again, cutting through my chatter. A second attempt to reach me. I turn into the parking lot of the OT’s office, my curiosity piqued but patience thinning. “We’re here, Addie,” I say as I park and kill the engine.

I retrieve my phone, swipe open the notifications, and freeze when I see Franklin’s name—three missed calls. What could he possibly want now? An uneasy knot forms in my stomach, but I push it aside. He has no say in my life now. I switch my phone to silent and shove it into the abyss of the diaper bag.

“Okay, superstar, let’s get you inside.” I put Addie on my hip, and we head toward the building.

Inside the OT’s clinic, the air hums with upbeat music. Addison’s therapist, a woman whose patience seems boundless, reaches for her as soon as she sees us. As they get to work, I sink into one of the hard-plastic chairs that line the wall, my mind unwillingly drifting back to Franklin. What could he possibly have to say to me? My gut tells me nothing good.

I watch as the OT puts Addison in a bouncy swing, encouraging her to move to the music. Addison loves music and is happy to oblige. I think about my phone buried in the diaper bag. Should I check for a voice mail? I dig it out, and there are four messages, all from Franklin. The first is a hang up. In the second, he tells me curtly to call him, and the last two are demands to know where I am and that I stop avoiding him.

I don’t have the strength to deal with this. Franklin may have once been the center of my life, but my focus is now on Addison and Christian. I don’t have time for his drama. Leaving was the best thing he could have done for me.

“Addison did great today,” the OT tells me a little while later as she brings her out. “But she really worked hard. Make sure she takes it easy for the next few days.”

“Got it,” I reply, my mind already juggling plans so I can keep Addison occupied but resting. We head out, Addison’s head on my shoulder as I carry her to the minivan and feed her a bottle so she can sleep on the drive home.

The phone silently lights up with another call as I strap Addison into her car seat. I glance over, and my stomach drops—four missed calls, all from Franklin. My thumb hovers over the screen. He’s just going to keep calling … Addison’s eyes slide closed, and I finally answer the phone.

“Hailey?” Franklin’s anger is evident. “My key, it’s not working. What the hell did you do?”

“Slow down, I don’t understand.” I close the door softly and walk around to the driver’s seat. “What key? What are you talking about?”

“Are you deaf? My stuff! Where is it?” His volume rises, each word a verbal shove.

“Franklin, calm down. You took everything when you left. Including the key?” My response is steady, measured, but inside, I am a torrent of emotion, a maelstrom of anger and hurt threatening to spill over.

“Stop playing games, Hailey! You’re such a fat slob, always messing things up!”

The insult stings, but I refuse to let it show. “I won’t have you speak to me like this.” My voice is cold, resolute. I end the call, and the line goes dead, his tirade interrupted by my refusal to be his emotional punching bag any longer.

Addison’s heavy lids open as I reenter the car. “Everything’s fine, baby. Let’s go home.” I start the minivan, fingers trembling, and navigate away from the curve of the OT’s driveway and onto the open road, hopefully leaving behind whatever mess Franklin has tried to drag me into.

I drive us home and put Addison in her crib. I work on cleaning around the house while she sleeps and snack for lunch, even as I debate which frozen meal I’m going to eat for dinner.

The rain has stopped when she wakes from her nap, so Addison and I go for a late-afternoon walk along False Creek. We’re both happiest in the fresh air. There are puddles along our path, and I push the stroller through the splash zone. Addison laughs. Her giggles make me so happy.

Just before we leave, I sit her in a shallow puddle, bundled tight in her rain gear, and let her spank the water. I take pictures. Addison is a pure Vancouverite with a love of the rain, and she’s so happy just playing in the puddle.

Today is a great day.

After her bath and some time looking through the streaming service to find something I can watch, I read a book to Addie and rock her to sleep. The OT really did wear her out.

I’m just ready to watch my show when my phone lights up again.

It’s Franklin, and my heart sinks. But maybe he’s gotten the message. Things with us are not the way they used to be. “Are you calm yet?” I ask when I answer.

“You changed the locks. I need to get into the apartment now! When will you be back? I’ve been here waiting over an hour for you.” Franklin’s voice is jagged with frustration and anger.

He has lost his mind . I take a deep breath, willing my voice to be calm. “I couldn’t afford the rent after you left, so I gave notice and moved out. What did you expect? That they would just let me live there for free? My guess is there are new tenants, and the landlord must have changed the locks. It’s not my apartment anymore.”

“Moved out?” he snaps, incredulous. “Where’s all my stuff then?”

“You took everything when you left,” I respond. When I packed up the apartment, I didn’t see anything that belonged to him.

“No, I want to come over. Wherever you’re hiding, I want to check for my things.”

“Franklin, what do you think you left?” I ask. “Everything is in storage. I can look for you, but you can’t just come over. I don’t recall seeing anything that was yours when I packed up anyway.”

“Storage? Damn it, this is ridiculous!” His voice is a low growl now, simmering with discontent.

“If you think of something specific, let me know.”

Without warning, Franklin’s scream explodes. The sheer intensity of it sends a chill down my spine, his anger so palpable it feels like he could leap through the phone and strike me.

My hand trembles. “Franklin, if you keep behaving like this, I’ll have no choice but to block your calls.”

“Block me?” he scoffs. “I’ll sue you, Hailey. For everything you’ve got and will ever get.”

A bitter laugh escapes my lips, though it’s probably ill advised. “You’re going to sue me? You took all the money my grandmother left me, and may I remind you, you left something behind, but you don’t know what it is. This mess is on you.”

There’s a pause, and for a fleeting second, I hope he’s reconsidering, that maybe there’s a scrap of decency left in him. But then he shatters that hope with his next words.

“Remember those pictures we took?” He says this casually, as if discussing the weather. “I’d hate for them to accidentally appear online for everyone to see, with your name and address. And you know what they say, things live forever on the internet.”

My heart stutters in my chest. “You deleted those,” I counter, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

“Deleted? No.” The smugness in his voice makes me want to scream. “They’re safely up in the cloud. And unless you do what I ask, I’ll make sure they rain down on whatever life you’ve created for yourself. I wonder what he would think about those naughty pictures?”

I end the call without another word, feeling like I’m going to vomit. Why would he do this? I need to get over to my storage unit and see what I can find. I’m sure I didn’t pack anything that was outright his. We bought a bed together, and the couch, but we didn’t have much. There were pictures of us, but I’m sure that’s not what he’s looking for. The other furniture is antiques, given to me by my grandmother. I have her will to prove it belongs to me.

My hands still are trembling, but I force a deep breath. I can do this. I am not going to let Franklin ruin anything.

I check on Addison in her crib and adjust the blanket to cover her legs. She looks so peaceful, and I envy her serenity. My world feels like it’s spiraling out of control.

The moment I’m sure she’s settled, I walk back to the living room and let the dam break. Tears stream down my face as I collapse onto the couch. My mind races with images of what Franklin might do, the threat dangling over me like a guillotine.

How dare he use our past, our intimacy, as a weapon against me? It’s vile, a betrayal that cuts to the bone. I wrap my arms around myself, trying desperately to hold the broken pieces together.

The next time he calls, I’ll either have found what he’s looking for or I’ll demand he tell me what it is. It’s that simple. The sooner he’s out of my life, the sooner I can put this firmly in my rearview mirror.

Wiping away tears with the back of my hand, I force myself to sit up straight on the couch. My phone, abandoned on the coffee table, lights up. I reach for it, squinting at the brightness of the screen.

Christian: How did the OT go today? How is she feeling?

Me: Addison’s exhausted, but she’s feeling a little better. She went down easy tonight.

Christian: Why was your phone off? Tried calling earlier.

I hesitate, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. The truth is a twisted web I don’t want him to get caught in. He doesn’t want to know about my stupid drama. Franklin only wants what is his. He’s not threatening Addison. I just need to go through the storage unit and find what he could be talking about.

Me: Turned it off for the appointment and forgot to turn it back on. Busy day.

Christian: Understood. I should be home tomorrow night. Would love to do something with you and Addison. Maybe take some of the day’s weight off your shoulders?

A smile tugs at my lips despite the storm inside.

Me: That sounds nice. We’d like that.

Christian: Great, I’ll text you in the morning. Sleep well.

Me: Goodnight.

I power off the phone before placing it on the table.

Leaning back, I close my eyes, letting out a deep breath. Things are messy, but nothing is unmanageable. Tomorrow is another day.