Chapter 26

Hailey

I jolt awake to the sound of Dana’s voice, her words tumbling through the half-open door. “Hailey, are you up? I have Timmy’s,” she calls.

“Give me a sec,” I call back. Beside me, Christian stirs, his eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before he slips out of bed and pads silently to my bathroom, disappearing just as Dana bursts into the room holding a box of donuts.

Her face is a storm cloud of emotion, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips quivering. She collapses on the edge of my bed, hands wringing. “It’s Tate.” She exhales. “He’s still so tangled up with his ex. I can’t do it anymore, Hailey. I want to be someone’s first choice, not an afterthought.”

I shift closer, reaching for her hand. “You deserve to be a priority, Dana.”

“I thought things would be different with him, but every time I feel like we’re finally making progress, she pulls him back. And he lets her.” She pauses, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Sometimes, I think I’m crazy for getting involved with my boss, like I’m not enough for him, and I’ll never be enough.”

I squeeze her hand. “You are enough. It’s Tate who’s trying to navigate this.”

“But what if this is all I get? What if no one ever chooses me first? I’ve spent so much time waiting for him to let go of her, but maybe I’m the one holding on to something that will never be mine. What does that say about me?” Dana’s voice falters, vulnerability replacing her usual confidence. “I’m scared I’ll always be chasing someone who isn’t fully there.”

My heart clenches. “You deserve more than this, Dana. You deserve someone who knows they want you, without hesitation.”

She nods, a tear slipping down her cheek. “I just don’t know if I have the strength to walk away. What if he does choose me someday, and I’ve already given up?”

“I know.”

“Anyway, I should get going,” Dana says, glancing at the clock with a resigned sigh. “I have an actual in-person meeting this morning. If it weren’t for this Europe trip, I swear I’d start job hunting.”

“Let’s grab drinks soon,” I suggest.

I hear the back door chime, and I know Christian has escaped without being seen. I feel relief and like crap all at the same time. I pull Dana into a hug.

“I need an update about Ray,” she mumbles into my shoulder.

“Ray?” I pull back.

“The hickey guy,” she reminds me.

Crap! I’m such a terrible liar. “Haven’t seen him much. But let’s get dinner and drinks at our favorite place tonight. We don’t need men. We’ll make a date.”

“Sounds perfect,” she smiles, the ghost of her usual spark flickering behind her eyes.

“Take care, Dana,” I say as she waves and heads out the door. “I’ll see you later.”

Left alone, I exhale slowly. I’m not even sure how to process that. I pick up my phone and scan my email. Audrey Henry, Madeline’s party planner, is coming over this morning. I have twenty minutes to get ready.

I grab Addison and put her in a bouncy seat in the bathroom, so I can keep an eye on her while I shower. I dry my hair but pull it into a ponytail.

I run my hands down the front of my sundress, nerves fluttering as I glance at the clock. This will have to do. I know Christian trusts his mother, and he wants what’s best for Addison, but I still worry, like I’m being kept at arm’s length from decisions that matter, decisions that affect what the doctor wants for Addison.

Right on time, I hear the front gate, and my stomach tightens. This isn’t just a birthday party. This is her grand gesture. For a moment, I wonder how much I’ll really be involved—if at all—probably just to help with the decorations or smile politely when it’s all set up.

As I lift Addison into her carrier, her eyes blink up at me. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

But deep down, I don’t know if that’s true. Madeline always seems to have the final say.

Audrey Henry, party planner extraordinaire, arrives, introduces herself, and walks in like she owns the place. She strides through the house and into the backyard, clipboard in hand. She immediately launches into plans for the party—white and gold, ethereal elegance, balloons, and lush floral arrangements.

It sounds beautiful, yes. But extravagant. And not what I’d imagined for Addison. I was hoping for simpler, but I know that is not Madeline.

I nod along, though my thoughts are elsewhere. Christian said we’d keep this simple, didn’t he? Dr. Cordelia specifically recommended something small, for Addison’s sake. So why does this feel like an event designed to impress everyone but our daughter?

“It’s Madeline’s vision,” Audrey says with a bright smile. “She really knows how to pull off a party.” She waves a piece of paper packed with names. I force a smile, but the unease festers. “Could I get a copy of the guest list? For Christian?”

Audrey’s professional smile never falters. “Sorry, Madeline instructed me to keep it under wraps until the day of the event.”

Her response makes my pulse quicken. I’ll have to make sure Christian knows that. My jaw clenches as Audrey’s pen moves swiftly across the paper, jotting down notes. She talks about tables, and I don’t get the impression it’s two, but closer to twenty. My radar is on high alert.

When she puts her files down and steps away to run a tape measure, I jump into action. This isn’t just about a birthday anymore. It’s about control. As Audrey turns her back, I make a decision. Before I can second-guess myself, I lean over her open file and snap a picture of the guest list with my phone. There are at least a hundred people on it!

My heart pounds in my chest. But this is about Addison, and Christian has every right to know who’s attending.

Retreating to the solitude of the living room with Addie, I send the image to Christian, along with a text.

Me: Over 100 guests—and I only have it because I stole this photo. Seems excessive for a toddler’s birthday. Didn’t you tell her what Cordelia said?

As I hit send, the weight of all those names—all those strangers—presses down on me. This isn’t just a party. It’s a production, one where Addison will be exposed to so many.

I close my eyes, just for a moment, trying to decide whether we need to return to the backyard. My heart skips when my phone rings, and I fumble for the device, careful not to upset the baby.

“Hey,” Christian’s voice comes through. “Are you sure this is the guest list?”

“Yes. She wouldn’t let me see it, so I took a picture when I had a chance, and I’m not even sure there isn’t a second page. It’s more gala than toddler birthday party.”

Addison stirs in my arms, her tiny face scrunching in discomfort. I begin to rock gently. “Dr. Cordelia said we should keep things low key, remember? For Addison’s sake.”

“Right.” There’s a pause on the other end, and I imagine Christian running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to my mother. This isn’t what she promised me.”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Just thought you should know.” The line goes dead, and I focus on Addison, who’s now gazing up at me with watery eyes.

“Shh, sweetheart,” I murmur. We start the rhythmic creak of the rocker as I read from the worn pages of her favorite book, Where the Wild Things Are. Her little hand clutches my finger, her need wrapping around my heart, grounding me in this moment.

I hear the door open and close, and I think that means Audrey is leaving without saying goodbye. This is going to be a fun party. I lean my head back and think about Europe, and I wonder how I’m going to manage not seeing Addison every day. Who is going to take care of her?

The doorbell sounds, and Addison’s eyes pop open, round and startled, but thankfully, she settles back against my chest with nothing more than a soft murmur. I rise from the rocker with careful, silent steps, set her in her crib, and make my way to the front door.

Peering through the peephole, I spot a delivery driver holding a large, insulated bag. My stomach growls in response, a Pavlovian reaction. But I ordered nothing. With a gentle push, I open the door just wide enough to communicate.

“Can I help you?” I ask.

“Delivery for Hailey,” he says. “Got an order of chicken poutine from La Belle Patate here.”

“Chicken poutine?” My eyes widen in surprise. French fries with chicken, peas, and cheese curds all smothered in brown gravy, a culinary hug of my favorite comfort food from the best spot.

“Yep, already paid for and everything.” The driver hands over the meal.

“Thank you,” I say, still grappling with the mystery of this kindness as I close the door.

No sooner do I set the package on the kitchen counter than the phone rings. I quickly answer, tucking the phone between my ear and shoulder.

“Hey,” Christian’s voice is warm. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Actually, you’re right on time,” I reply. “Just received a surprise delivery of chicken poutine.”

“Good.” I can hear him smiling. “Sorry about sneaking out this morning. Dana needed you, and I had to rush to the hospital.”

“No one has ever done anything quite like sending me lunch from La Belle Patate. It means a lot. Really.”

“Anything for you, Hailey.” There’s a pause. “You’ve been juggling so much lately. I wanted to take care of you too.”

“Promise me you’ll let me thank you properly when you get home,” I say.

“Counting on it,” he assures me before we say our goodbyes.

As the call ends, I hear Addison upstairs. “Looks like lunch is served,” I whisper, starting up the stairs to get her. For a fleeting second, I feel like everything might just be okay.

We spend the afternoon quietly, and when the weather gives us a small reprieve, we go for a walk along False Creek. Addison just watches as I talk away, pointing out what I see—Science World’s geodesic dome, the Vancouver Tigers stadium, sailboats, yachts, and greedy seagulls.

When we complete our walk, we return home, pulling in just as Dana arrives.

“Perfect timing,” I say.

Dana’s tear-streaked face greets me before I can even get Addison out of the car, and she practically falls into my arms, her body shaking with sobs.

“He wants me back,” she chokes out between gasps for air. “Tate,” she clarifies.

I nod and just hold her for a moment. Eventually, she’s calm enough to greet Addison, and we head inside. I open the door and lead her to the couch, putting Addison in her highchair with some Cheerios for a snack.

I sit beside her, my heart heavy. She’s caught in a love she can’t seem to navigate, and I see myself reflected in her turmoil.

“Does he only want me because we’re together all the time?” Dana’s eyes search mine for answers I’m not sure I have.

“Hey,” I say gently, reaching for her hand. “Do you love him, despite all the mess?”

She hesitates, then nods, wiping away tears. “I do.”

“You know, Tate has a lot on his plate. Divorce, kids… Maybe be patient with him.”

Dana leans into my embrace, still trembling. “I love you,” she murmurs into my shoulder. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Always here for you,” I whisper back, holding her tight and pushing my own uncertainty aside. I need to be strong for my friend.