1. Judd

Judd

Three weeks.

There are only 21 days until Christmas and I couldn’t be less ready. My gaze spills around the living room, a chaos of toys, blankets, and half-unpacked bags from Thanksgiving. Thank fuck it was at my parents’ this year because I can’t handle any more people in my space. I’m overwhelmed and stressed out but I can’t let my baby girl see that side of me.

She just turned four, the evidence of her birthday also spread out across the house. Every living person in this entire goddamn city thought it was a good idea to gift the single father every toy on the planet. I’m thankful but I always seem to be two steps behind. Between making sure Stevie has a comfortable life and keeping up with the numbers at work, I’m just barely making it.

My boss has had me running every number at Riocen Chemicals like we’re in some kind of accounting boot camp and it’s only getting worse the closer we get to year-end.

It doesn’t help that my boss is my mother who owns Riocen Chemicals because she keeps asking that dreaded question—am I okay?

But it’s just me here, trying to juggle everything without their help. With every obstacle, I slowly pull away from everyone else, trying and failing to handle everything on my own. Maybe it’s because I’m tired of hearing the same old “You’re doing great” when, inside, I’m running on fumes. Maybe it’s because I’m starting to believe that no one’s really going to love me, at least not all of me. After all, my ex, Ava, left me and Stevie both—our little family, as brief as it was, wasn’t enough to keep her around. Now it’s just me, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I’m winging it.

Stevie is perched at the edge of the couch, her curls bouncing as she sings along to one of the kid shows on the screen. She got her curls from her mother, dark and lively, the smooth bronze skin that accentuates her hazel eyes a mixture of Ava’s and mine. I had to learn all about curly hair care the hard way when Ava left. I’m still learning, if I’m honest. I don’t have it perfect, but Stevie doesn’t seem to mind, giving me her little “thank you, Daddy” grin every time I manage to get her hair up just right.

I’m not even sure which one of the shows she’s into these days but it teaches her new words so I call it a win, even for how annoying and repetitive it is. Her face lights up as she claps to the beat, repeating the words. Her r’s twist and she spectacularly messes up the color purple.

She’s far smarter than I was at that age, stringing together words to make full sentences when she wants to. I have no doubt she’ll start reading in the next few months, or at least try to as she’s already picking out words when she sees them in public.

A tight smile plays on my lips as I sag against the counter, watching my baby girl and wondering how we got here.

My focus is torn away when my phone vibrates on the coffee table. An unknown number flashes on the screen and I just stare at it, trying to remember if I’ve seen it before. I decide to ignore it and turn back to the mess, starting with the new toys scattered across the kitchen table. Dinner still needs to be made, groceries need to be grabbed, and I have to figure out where to sneak in a nap before then.

Not enough hours in the day, I tell myself.

The phone rings again, the same unknown number flashing on the screen again. Sighing, I pick up, more out of curiosity than anything else. "Hello?”

A pregnant pause follows before a rich, deep voice bellows through the earpiece, immediately apologizing. “I’m sorry to call you like this.” The voice is familiar, but I can’t place it. “My name’s Nakul,” he continues, “and I wanted to talk.”

I run through all the people I know with that name, my face turning up in a scowl as I realize he’s Ava’s newest piece. Anything or anyone connected to my ex is usually trouble and I’ve had more than enough of that over the years. It doesn’t help that I only started receiving child support checks two years ago for them to drop off the last few months. Reaching out to Ava proved to be a nightmare so I just cut myself off from her completely and only dealt with the courts.

However, something in Nakul’s voice, a hint of vulnerability or maybe sincerity, makes me hesitate. He sounds almost like he’s pleading.

“Alright,” I say cautiously, glancing over at Stevie, who’s still happily singing at the TV. “But why are you calling me?” For a moment, I wonder if something happened to Ava but there’s been a few boyfriends between when I dated her and now. There’s no reason I can think of for Nakul to reach out to me.

“Look, I… it’s complicated, and I’d rather explain in person if that’s okay,” Nakul says. “Could we meet? There’s a café near the Windsor Creek shops, I think… just a few streets over?”

I forgot how close Ava is to me, the fact that we never really moved out and away from our childhood memories. I’ve probably passed Nakul a number of times at one of those shops and have never been the wiser. Wanting nothing to do with this man, the smart thing would be to tell him that I’m not available but my curiosity is eating away at me.

Unfortunately, at such short notice, there’s no one to leave Stevie with and I can’t leave her home. Even if she was old enough, we’ve been through so much together I’d be wary of leaving her alone. Against my better judgment, I agree. “Fine. I’ll meet you there. But if this is about Ava, make it quick.”

A pang of anxiety spreads through me as I hang up. This isn’t how I planned on spending my afternoon but Stevie is more than excited when I promise her hot chocolate and tons of little marshmallows. The promise of sugar makes slipping into her favorite blush pink coat and the designer boots my sisters chipped in to buy much easier.

Stevie eagerly slips her tiny hand into mine, skipping along the sidewalk as we make our way to the café in question. There’s only one in Windsor Creek aside from the main chains that I tend to avoid.

My anxiety disperses as Stevie giggles and points at all the holiday decorations, blinking lights, and Christmas trees outside of the shops. It feels festive this time of year even if I’m having a hard time falling in love with the cheer. Even so, I plaster on a smile and nod as Stevie points out the large tree in the middle of the town center. Her pure excitement is one of the many reasons I keep going. She helps me push through the exhaustion and frustration. She makes every single moment in this world worth it.

I gather Stevie up in my arms as we step into the café to order her hot chocolate, my baby girl squealing about the snow-shaped marshmallows. I follow where she’s pointing to, chuckling as the barista fills the small mug with the winter-themed sugar. We find a booth toward the front as I sit Stevie on my lap, thankful that the barista provided us with a lid to the mug so that we don’t end up a chocolatey mess.

Knowing Stevie, she’ll still find a way for the chocolate to end up on her face.

A heavy sigh falls from my lips as I look around the small café, waiting for a man I only know by name. Calling me out of the blue has me on edge, especially during the holidays. This is the time of year when everyone always wants something. If I were just a little less stubborn and leaned on the support system I had, I wouldn’t be so distrustful.

“Both hands, Stevie,” I whisper in her ear, laughing as she grunts and tries to slip off my lap. I hold her still, Stevie reaching forward to grip the mug with both hands. The barista gave us one of the kid sizes but it’s still just a little too big for her. I help her take a few sips before I return it to the table.

“Just the marshmallows, please,” Stevie says, the ‘r’ in marshmallows all jumbled up. She also substitutes a ‘w’ for the ‘l’ in please and I can’t help the laugh that slips out. Not missing a beat, I scoop the marshmallows onto the lid that we were given and push it toward the edge of the table so she can grab them. There will be a chocolatey mess after all.

The bell over the entrance jingles as the door swings open, a gust of winter chill rushing through the café. I’m not sure how I know that it’s Nakul stepping inside but I just do. He’s tall and imposing, his muscular frame wrapped in a heavy jacket. Long, dark hair falls over his shoulders, his warm skin tone a few shades darker than Stevie’s. His eyes, a rich brown, scan the room before they land on me. He’s striking, the kind of person I’d notice in a crowd, and for a second, there’s an odd flicker of recognition.

Nakul approaches our table, and the closer he gets, the more familiar he feels. And then it clicks. No way. I’ve always known that Windsor Creek was a small world but realizing that Ava dated men from the same high school years after we graduated feels weird. Nakul was a few years younger than me, part of the popular crowd. I’m pretty sure he was on the football team, always surrounded by people. The only reason I truly remember him was because his laugh would bellow through the halls, a warm, contagious sound that seemed to lighten the mood.

I wonder if he’ll recognize me but his focus seems to be on something else entirely.

“Judd, thank you for meeting me,” he says, his demeanor professional—a stark contrast from the man I briefly remember in high school. “I know this is unexpected.”

I nod, not sure where to start as I gesture for him to sit. “What do you want to talk about?”

He slides into the booth across from me, silent for several seconds as he looks down, his face shadowed with something like regret. “I know Ava must be a sore subject for you but please let me just get this out. We dated for a while and during that time I had no idea she had a child. She never mentioned Stevie or… well, you.” His gaze drifts to my baby girl who’s happily munching on the gooey mess, her eyes wide with fascination as she watches the people around us. I notice a softening in Nakul’s expression as he watches her, almost like he’s remembering something.

“I’m not sure why’d you apologize for that. Not everyone talks about their exes, Nakul.” I feel like I should be shielding Stevie from him but his presence is comfortable. Despite his size, he has this protective vibe that I definitely shouldn’t be reading into.

I want to say that dating Ava is a red flag but I’m guilty of the same thing.

Nakul sighs, nodding his head as he leans back, meeting my gaze. There’s something tortured in those eyes, something that mirrors my own. “No, but the sudden influx of money that she came into had me questioning a few things. Maybe I shouldn’t have poked around but then the certified letters talking about child support showed up and we got into a huge argument.” Nakul reaches into his pocket and unearths a small envelope. “It’s not a small sum either. I gathered what I could of what was left.”

I glare at it, then back up at him, my guard firmly in place. “I don’t want a handout.” Nakul and I aren’t close enough for him to be making up for Ava’s mistakes.

“It’s not a handout,” he replies, his shoulders falling. “Think of it as what should have been yours all along. The vacation fund, she called it. This should help, at least a little, but I know it’s nowhere near enough for what you’re dealing with.”

Curious, I fiddle with the envelope and see the familiar debit cards inside that would cover the past three months she missed. Knowing that she was fucking around with the money meant for her own daughter pisses me off. And as much as I don’t want to accept this, it would mean everything. The bills piling up, the mortgage, the endless needs of a growing toddler—it’s overwhelming and this envelope could be a small lifeline.

I tuck it away, shuffling Stevie on my lap as I then reach into my pocket for wipes to start cleaning up Stevie’s hands. “Thanks,” I mumble, feeling the word stick in my throat. I’m not used to this—accepting help, especially from someone who’s just a stranger.

Nakul nods, his gaze lingering on Stevie with a softness I don’t expect. There’s a longing in his expression like he’s missing something. It takes me a second to place it, but then it clicks—the way he’s looking at her, almost as if he’s seeing something he once wanted for himself.

I clear my throat, watching his expression shift as he notices my scrutiny. “You don’t have to stay,” I say, though the words feel awkward. “I mean, you did your part. I appreciate it.”

He looks back at me, his face unreadable for a moment, and then a small smile tugs at his lips. “I wanted to make things right. I don’t think I can make up for what Ava put you through, but I didn’t want you to think everyone in her life was like that.”

The contrast between this soft man to the one I remember from years ago plays in my mind. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, walking down the halls with a confidence and ease that I was jealous of even as a senior. He’d been a jock, an all-star with the world at his feet. And now we’re sitting here, worlds apart and yet still attached by a dying lifeline.

I hope he doesn’t recognize me, that he won’t remember those years. High school feels like another lifetime, a part of me that doesn’t exist anymore, and I don’t need reminders of it now.

With nothing else to say, the awkwardness creeping in, I gather Stevie up against my chest and thank Nakul, not wanting to stay and continue this polite charade. I weather a small smile and nod to him, just as Stevie grins at the man. “You have kind eyes,” she whispers. Her innocent words hang in the air and I feel a rush of embarrassment, her simple observation cutting through all the awkwardness.

Nakul’s expression softens, a hint of warmth in his gaze as he looks at Stevie, and then up at me. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a flicker of understanding there, like he gets it, like he knows what Stevie’s words mean in a way I don’t.

Without another word, I walk out of the café with Stevie in my arms, not daring to look back. The cold air hits us as we step outside and another shard of embarrassment hits me when I realize I left her mug on the table for someone else to clean up.