Chapter 28

Christian

I set my coffee down with a heavy clink, the dark liquid inside barely touched. I stare at it, the weight of everything pressing down on me—the cops driving Hailey home yesterday evening, my mother doing the opposite of what we’d agreed to. My head throbs, hence my drinking coffee in the middle of the day.

Franklin could have hurt Hailey, and it kills me that she thought that was something she needed to handle herself. Honestly, it also kind of kills me that I feel that way.

I watch Addison play on a blanket on the floor, and my phone rings. It’s my mother. At least she didn’t just walk in this time.

I answer and can barely get a word in edgewise for the first couple minutes. Mom has so much to say about this magical event her planner is putting together. Finally, she pauses to take a breath, and I bring up the extensive guest list she’s concocted for the party.

“Christian, darling, you worry too much,” she says, brushing off my concerns. “Everything is under control.”

“Mom, Addison just got out of the hospital,” I remind her. “She’s still recovering from a terrible cold, and she’s probably going to have heart surgery before we get to the party. We can’t have her surrounded by strangers.”

“Strangers?” Mom scoffs, unfazed. “They’re our family and friends.”

“Friends who could make her sick again,” I press, hoping to get through to her. But it’s like talking to a wall, a well-dressed, immovable wall.

“Your daughter needs to build her immunity,” she counters. “And besides, I’ve arranged everything. I’ve got everything covered.”

Her tone says she’s dug her heels in, and no amount of reasoning will budge her. I clench my jaw, trying to keep my cool as she goes on to lay the blame for Addison’s health issues squarely on Hailey. “She’s coddling Addison,” she insists. “Carrying her everywhere. The girl will never learn to walk at this rate.”

“Mom,” I interject, but she barrels on, steamrolling my objections.

“These are people who’ve watched you grow up, Christian. They’re eager to meet your daughter and celebrate her first year.”

And suddenly, it’s all clear. There’s no way to work this out, to come to compromise, to provide the information that will help everyone understand. One party here doesn’t want to compromise, so that makes it impossible. But this is too important to just let my mother have her way.

“Listen,” I begin, steeling myself for the confrontation. “The party will be small. Just Dad and Tasha and their family and—if you want—you.”

Her silence tells me she’s poised to argue, to insist on having things her way as she always does.

“This is Addison’s first birthday,” I continue. “It isn’t about you. It’s about her. She shouldn’t be overwhelmed, especially not after being in the hospital.”

The silence continues, heavy and electric. My heart races, thumping a fierce rhythm against my ribs. Standing up to my mother, possibly inviting her wrath… It’s a gamble.

“That will not happen,” she declares.

“Mom, it’s not up for discussion. Addison needs something small, something intimate. I am her parent, and I am making the call.”

She scoffs. “Why are you so determined to ruin your life?” Her words cut deep, suggesting my choices are the blueprint for disaster.

I draw in a breath. “I’m doing what’s best for Addison. Your party is canceled.” My voice is firmer now, more certain than it’s ever been when speaking to her. “We’ll have a family gathering, as we originally agreed. You’re invited, if you want to come.”

A big blowup ensues, but instead of feeling awful, I realize she sounds a lot like a toddler—worse than a toddler. I can’t imagine Addison ever behaving like this. I don’t back down, so she moves back to attacking Hailey, and at that point, I’ve had it.

“Mom, you should know that Hailey treats Addison like her own. She loves my daughter, and she’s spent enough time caring for her to know what’s best for her.”

“Fine!” she hisses. “Ruin your life. But remember who tried to stop you.” She hangs up.

I still can’t fathom how not having a big, splashy birthday party is equivalent to ruining my life. But nonetheless, it’s a hollow victory.

I glance over to where Addison is still lying on the floor, her little hands gripping a teething toy, manipulating it with intense purpose. She looks up at me, so proud of her hard work, and for a moment, the noise in my head fades, and it’s just me and her. My daughter. My reason for all of this. I know I’m making the right choices.

As I watch, Addison discards the toy, rolls from her back to her stomach then keeps going. With a grunt of effort, she suddenly sits up, all on her own! She’s grinning. She knows she’s just accomplished something great.

I scoot myself down next to her and reach out, gently placing a hand on her back to steady her, but she doesn’t need me. Not right now. She’s sitting tall, smiling with pride.

“You did it, sweetheart,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion.

This is it. This is what being a father means. It’s not just about protecting her or providing for her. It’s about being here, witnessing these moments that shape her, that shape us. It’s about being part of her journey, one milestone at a time.

I swallow hard, blinking back the tears that blur my vision. She’s so small, so vulnerable, and yet she’s showing me just how strong she can be. And in that strength, I see all the possibilities for her future. All the things she can become. We just have to keep her safe and give her the chance she needs.

I brush a hand through her soft hair, trying to focus on my pride rather than fear. “I’m so proud of you,” I tell her. “You’re growing up so fast.”

Addison babbles in response, a soft sound that makes me smile.

“Hailey!” I call. “Come quick!”

I lean down and kiss the top of Addison’s head. “I’ll always be here for you,” I whisper. “No matter what.”

Hailey rushes in. “Everything okay?”

Addison sees Hailey, lifts her arms, and says, “He he he he he.”

My eyes widen, and Hailey’s do too. What did she just say? “Yes, that’s Hailey,” I tell her.

Hailey covers her mouth with her hands.

“That’s not even why I called you in here,” I tell her through a huge smile. “Addison did this all on her own,” I say, presenting her like a prize.

A grin as wide as the Grand Canyon erupts on Hailey’s face, and she pulls out her phone to snap a few pictures. “You did it!” she says. “You sat up! What a big girl!”

Then Hailey’s arms encircle me. Her touch is gentle, a stark contrast to the harshness that transpired earlier with my mother. “What’s wrong?” she murmurs against my shoulder, her concern piercing through my defenses. “You’re not jealous she didn’t say dada first, are you?”

I narrow my eyes and give her a playful swat. “Of course not,” I tell her. “I stood up to her today,” I say. “My mom. For the first time, I wasn’t afraid to make the right choice, even if she didn’t agree.”

Hailey shifts so I can see the pride shining in her eyes. “Your mother is a lot of things, but she loves you, no matter what. You’ve always been enough.”

I nod. In her embrace, something shifts inside me, settles into place. I feel whole, not fragmented by fears and insecurities. It’s a completeness I’ve never known, one that only Hailey seems able to bring.

“We’re going to keep the party small,” I tell her, the words flowing more easily now. “Just my dad and his family, us, and maybe my mother if she comes.”

“Sounds perfect,” Hailey agrees.

We talk quietly, discussing perhaps inviting Davis and his wife, and Cordelia and her family. These are simple plans for a celebration that feels true to who we are, and what Addison needs, not what my mother demands.

I’m jolted awake the next morning by a persistent pounding on my front door. The clock says it’s just after six thirty as I untangle myself from the warmth of the bed and Hailey’s soft limbs.

I open the Ring app on my phone, and a delivery driver is there. “Can I help you?” I ask over the intercom.

“I have a delivery.” He shows the envelope to the camera.

“Can you leave it on the step?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. You need to sign for it.”

“I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Stay,” I murmur to Hailey as she stirs, her eyes concerned. “It’s probably nothing.”

But the knot in my stomach tells me otherwise as I pad to the door after throwing on a pair of joggers and T-shirt. When I swing the door open, a man with disheveled hair and indifferent eyes greets me, envelope in hand.

“Christian Bradford?” He doesn’t wait for confirmation before thrusting the envelope at me. “You’ve been served.”

My hands shake as I take the envelope. The process server turns on his heel and leaves without another word, leaving me staring down at an envelope from a lawyer’s office.

“Christian? What is it?” Hailey’s voice floats down from the bedroom, laced with sleep and worry as I step back inside.

“Give me a minute,” I call, trying to keep my voice steady as I break the seal.

The legal jargon swims before my eyes, but the accusations pierce through, sharp and clear. Full custody . Lack of presence . Raising Addison with a nanny instead of family . My heart clenches at the mention of Hailey, whose words have been twisted into weapons against me. Taylor’s demands scream from the page—money, a home, a life equal to what I’ve provided here for Addison.

“Damn it,” I curse, crumpling the papers in my fist. I knew this would happen . How did everything spiral out of control so quickly?

Hailey appears beside me, her hand light on my arm. “What’s wrong?”

“Taylor,” I say, the word tasting like bile. “She’s suing for full custody.”

Her face pales, her eyes scanning the document as I hold it out. Her reaction is a mirror of my own—shock, pain, betrayal. But beneath it all, I can see her gathering herself, preparing to be the support I need. “We’ll figure this out,” she says.

I want to believe her, to lean on her like I have these past months. But a poisonous thought slithers into my mind, dark and consuming. Maybe she’s what’s left me in this position. Hailey, with her plans to leave for Europe, her temporary presence in my life… How could I have trusted her with my daughter’s care? In my quest to fill the void, to find solace, have I jeopardized Addison’s future?

“She’s taken me out of context,” Hailey protests, still reading the document. “She makes it sound like I was complaining. I was never.” Emotion laces her words.

“I understand,” I lie, squeezing her hand before letting go. No reason to start an argument before I’ve thought this through. “I just… I need to think.”

She nods, giving me space, and the distance between us grows tangible. Have I been a fool to let them grow so close, knowing the inevitability of her departure? Trust, once unshakable, now trembles on a precipice. Hailey is the wrong person to care for Addison, not because she isn’t capable or loving, but because she’s not permanent. And in that clarity, I realize the hard truth. I can’t do this anymore. Not with everyone judging me from the outside, finding fault and using it to take my daughter away.

With every second that ticks by, the pressure mounts, and the fear of losing my daughter eclipses everything else.

I stride into Hailey’s room, her eyes already red-rimmed from crying. The words feel like boulders in my throat, but they tumble out with a force I can’t control. “You have three hours to get your things and leave. You’re fired.”

Hailey gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes brimming with fresh tears. “Please,” she pleads, her voice cracking. “Why? What do you think I…?” Her eyes widen. “Taylor cornered me. I thought we were just having a conversation. I didn’t tell her anything about how you care for Addison. I didn’t mean to give her ammunition.”

I shake my head, a cold numbness seeping through me. “It doesn’t matter. You talked to her. You gave her a chance to make this claim. You were the wrong choice from the start, and I knew it.”

“Please, I—” Her words break off as a sob overtakes her.

“Go,” I say, turning away to shield my face from her anguish. I can’t watch her crumble; it’s too much. But even as she sobs, my resolve firms. This pain is necessary. For Addison. For the broken trust that can’t be mended.

The sound of shuffling and soft weeping fills the house as Hailey moves through the rooms, collecting the pieces of her life she’d woven into ours. It’s a tangible dismantling of what could’ve been a future together, now packed away into bags and boxes.

She walks past me to the door, a duffel bag slung over her shoulder, her face streaked with tears. Our eyes meet for a fleeting moment, and the hurt in hers is almost enough to make me falter. Almost.

“Goodbye,” she whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Goodbye,” I manage, though my voice feels detached, foreign.

The door closes behind her, and I’m left in the echoing silence of the house with the weight of decisions made and paths irreversibly taken.

Outside, I watch through the window as Hailey hesitates on the front steps before requesting a rideshare on her phone. A few minutes later, a car pulls up, and she gets in without looking back. As it drives away—away from me, from us—I tell myself this is for the best, that the sharp sting in my chest will dull in time.

I did this for Addison.