Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Gray

Google had become my best friend.

How to sign “how are you?”

What do three-year-olds eat?

Toys to buy a three-year-old child.

Girl toys to buy a three-year-old.

Things to talk about with a three-year-old girl.

Stage four breast cancer.

What the hell is Yo Gabba Gabba?

Today I was going to Max’s apartment to spend time with her and Ella at home. When she’d suggested I come to her place, I automatically wanted to say no way. No fucking way I want to be stuck inside the same four walls as you—even if the place is the size of a palace. But after I gave it some thought, I realized I needed to be more flexible and do what was best for Ella. I needed to do whatever would help her open up to me, and that would probably happen best on her own home turf, rather than in a stranger’s apartment. So I didn’t fight it. My feelings for Max, my instinct to fight everything she wanted, had to take a backseat to my little girl.

My little girl.

It was truly surreal.

Max had said that Ella’s favorite thing to do was take long walks. She loved to look around the busy city from inside her stroller. So when I stopped off at the toy store up on 82nd Street—the one I passed by all the time, but never went inside—I knew what to get her the moment my eyes landed on it.

The Radio Flyer 4-in-1 Stroll ‘N Trike, in pink. It was like a stroller and tricycle all in one. She could learn how to pedal if she wanted, but it had a footrest for when she got too tired. I found myself tugging on the three-point harness and asking a teenage store clerk safety questions that made his face wrinkle like I’d just sprung a pop Physics quiz on him.

I arrived at the address Max had given me and was surprised to find it was a brownstone in Brooklyn rather than a swanky penthouse on the Upper East Side. I personally liked the quiet streets of this area, but Max had always been about the hustle and bustle of Manhattan.

I rang the bell, and Max opened the door. She was dressed in a white tank top, and it really hit me then how much weight she’d lost. When I’d seen her the other day, she’d had on a sweater. Of course I’d seen it in her thinned face, but that wasn’t the half of it. The full visual was pretty damn alarming. Her collarbones and shoulder blades jutted out—all the meat was gone. She was little more than a skeleton with skin, and that skin was sallow.

She stepped aside for me to enter. Apparently I hadn’t done such a good job of hiding my thoughts.

“It’s from the chemotherapy. That’s why I stopped it. Refractory vomiting. The anti-nausea and vomiting medicine stopped working. I couldn’t do it any more. I want to enjoy what time I have left with my daughter, not spend it with my head hanging in the toilet bowl.”

I nodded and walked in.

Max looked at her watch as we stood in the foyer. “Ella’s late getting up from her nap. She usually sleeps for an hour, but she’s a little over. I don’t wake her if she goes long. I feel like her body knows when it’s time to get up. But I can wake her if you want?”

Yes. I can’t stand here with just you.

“No. It’s fine. Let her wake up on her own.”

Note to self, nap length is determined by the child, not the adult. One less thing to Google.I felt like I should have a notepad and pen.

“I was just going to make some tea. I drag by the early afternoon. That’s why I only work mornings now. The caffeine helps me keep alert enough to watch Ella play. What can I make you?”

“Tea is fine.”

I didn’t really want to be inside Max’s place, and definitely not making small talk. But what the hell was I supposed to do?

On the way to the kitchen, I glanced around a bit. The brownstone she lived in was pretty damn nice—custom millwork, high ceilings, wide-plank, white oak flooring, glazed windows with stained glass, a shit ton of light.

“Nice place,” I said.

Max filled a cast iron kettle with water from the tap. “Thank you. It will be yours soon. I left it to you in my will.”

“What?”

She set the kettle on the stovetop and turned on the flame. “I bought it with the money I stole from you. It’s the least I could do. Don’t take under two million for it when you sell it. There’s no mortgage.”

She’d shocked me twice in the span of two minutes. “I don’t know how to respond to that. Thanks, I guess?”

Max leaned against the kitchen sink, while I stayed on the other side of the spacious center island. Distance from her was welcomed.

“There’s also ninety thousand in my savings and a term life insurance policy. I left the policy benefits to Ella, but you’re the trustee, so you can manage it for her.”

It was fucked up to be having this conversation. But when do you have this type of talk when you only have a few months to live? You never know what day will wind up being your last. No point in waiting.

“Okay. Any other legal things I should know?”

She looked me straight in the eyes. It was the first time I’d let that happen since I’d found out what she’d done. Even when she’d come to the prison to tell me my father died, I wouldn’t look at her. I couldn’t do it the other day at the park, either. But I did today for some reason. Maybe seeing her physically wasting away had given me an ounce of compassion.

“When I went to see Layla, I was curious about her—jealous, even. But I also wasn’t lying. Aiden stole all the money that we stole from you. You should get it back.”

I shook my head with a sardonic laugh. “You were really two peas in a pod, huh?”

“I’m sorry for what I did to you, Gray. I know there’s no apology big enough for losing years of your life. God knows I see that now. But I truly am.”

I stared at her. The woman had suckered me into a marriage, stolen millions of dollars, had me imprisoned for a crime she’d committed, and hidden the fact that I had a daughter for years. And yet…a part of me believed her.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Why’d you do it?” I asked.

That had been the number one thing I’d pondered over and over during the first months of my sentence—until I decided it didn’t matter, and that I wouldn’t ever move on by focusing on shit I couldn’t change.

Max looked down for a few minutes. When she looked up, there were tears in her eyes. “You didn’t really love me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I loved you.”

“You have a really fucking funny way of showing it.”

“For years I wanted you, and you didn’t see me. You saw me as your partner, not one of the women you took out and slept with.”

“I fucking married you!”

“And you still didn’t love me the way I loved you.”

“So you decided to screw one of our employees, steal money, and set me up? To what? Punish me?”

“I thought Aiden really loved me.”

“You can’t be that fucking desperate for a man to love you.”

“I’m sorry. I know it doesn’t make sense. But I was angry that after all those years of loving you, you still didn’t love me like you should have. Once we got married, I thought about backing out of what Aiden and I had planned. Deep down, I still loved you and thought maybe you would finally love me back. But you didn’t see me as the love of your life.”

I stared at her, completely dumbfounded—and too damn angry to continue this conversation. When her tears started to fall, it made me even more pissed off at myself. I shouldn’t have felt bad for her. Yet I did.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“I need to take a walk. I’ll be back in a little while.”

***

I walked for a good hour along the nearby promenade. Actually, at some point, I started to jog, then run, then sprint as fast as I possibly could. It wasn’t until I was bent over, with my hands on my knees gasping for air, that I realized what I’d done. I’d needed my breath to catch up to the speed of the shit flying through my head.

What the fuck was wrong with Max? I hadn’t loved her enough? We were fucking friends, business partners. I’d never had a damn clue that she had feelings for me. It wasn’t like she’d told me, or even made any advances in that way. I’d thought we’d gotten married on a whim, while drunk on an island vacation celebration. It was a joke at first, until she’d suggested we give it an actual try. After a bit, I’d started to settle into the arrangement. It had seemed convenient for both of us. So maybe I didn’t love her the way a man should love a wife, but that’s a reason to ruin my life?

All this time, when I’d reflected back, I’d assumed she was just pure evil. I’d had no idea that she was batshit crazy and evil. We’re talking Glenn Close, Fatal Attraction, bunny-boiling crazy here.

After I’d calmed down, I realized I needed to put this shit out of my head for the sake of my daughter. Ella had to be my priority now. I couldn’t let Max steal any more time from me. So I walked back to her house, took a deep breath, and rang the doorbell.

The little face that yelled my name when the door opened gave me strength to go back inside.

***

“Today is Wednesday,” Ella signed as she spoke. I really needed to learn a shit ton more sign language. I’d learned a few words and sentences on various YouTube videos, but Ella seemed like she had an entire language down.

“Yep. Today is Wednesday. Can you teach me how to sign that?”

Max had left us alone once Ella seemed comfortable with me. I was grateful to concentrate on her and not have another pow wow with her mother.

Ella nodded and went through the motions of signing the words again.

“Like this?”

I signed them, and she cracked up.

“No. Like this, silly.”

She did it again, and I’ll be damned if I saw any difference. But I gave it another shot anyway.

She laughed again. Apparently I’d still done it wrong. Ella folded my thumb and pinky down, bringing them to touch together, and then stopped and showed me the same position of her hand. “W.”

“Ah. I get it now. The three fingers form the letter W.”

I had no idea when kids started to spell, but I was pretty damn sure it wasn’t before the age of three. Yet my daughter knew Wednesday began with W. My chest expanded a little bit.

Ella held my hand, guiding it to draw a circle with my three fingers. “Wednesday,” she said as we looped the circle closed.

I tapped her nose with my finger. “How’d you get so smart?”

“From my daddy.”

I froze. What the—had Max told her? I thought we’d agreed it was best to wait a while, let her get to know me before we told her who I was. Or…maybe she referred to Aiden as her father. That thought made me feel sick.

“Your daddy?”

She nodded fast. “Mommy says I’m smart like my daddy.”

When she didn’t add any more, I thought it best to change the subject.

“So…it’s Wednesday.” I signed it, and apparently third time’s the charm because my performance earned me a big, toothy smile. “Do you do something special on Wednesday?”

She laughed at me again. “White. We wear white.” Ella twirled, showing off her outfit. She wore a white shirt with gold, sparkly letters that read Mermaid Life, coupled with a pair of white shorts. Her sandals were white, too.

“Oh.” I looked down at my clothes. I had on a pair of khakis and a navy polo. “I must’ve gotten my days mixed up.”

She scrunched up her button nose and began to tick off the days of the week with her little fingers. Her pointer was first. “Monday Magenta.” Middle finger. “Tuesday Turquoise.” Ring finger. “Wednesday White.”

I interrupted her by signing the word Wednesday and then winked. Her smile grew.

She kept going, ticking off through one hand and starting on the next. “Thursday Teal. Friday Fuchsia.” (Which she adorably pronounced foo-sha.) “Saturday Sage. Sunday Sapphire!” She slapped her hands down to her sides when she finished.

“You always dress a color to match the day?”

She nodded.

I really needed that fucking notebook.

“Which one is your favorite?”

“Sapphire! Blue, blue, blue!”

“Blue is my favorite color, too.” At least it was now after seeing how happy it made her. A thought popped into my head. “Do you remember Layla?”

She nodded.

“Her favorite color is rainbow.”

Ella cracked up. “Rainbow’s not a color!”

“Maybe not. But when you like a lot of them, why pick just one? Special girls can have any favorites they want.”

Max popped her head into the room. “Everything okay here?”

“Mommy, Mommy!” Ella jumped up and down. “My favorite color is rainbow!”

Max looked to me and smiled back down at her daughter. “It is, is it?”

“It’s Layla’s, too! We’re special so we can have more than one color as our favorite!”

Max’s smile wilted. “That’s nice, honey. Do you want your snack now?”

“Yes!” She jumped up and down, delivering her answer. Her energy glowed.

“I’ll make two plates.”

A few minutes later, Max returned with two small plates, one for each of us. Wednesday. White. Apple slices and peanut butter. Maybe I should’ve taken those notes in my phone.

We sat together on the floor in the living room, with our plates on the coffee table. While we were eating our apples, I noticed Ella was using her left hand to eat. “Which hand do you hold a crayon with, sweetheart?”

She raised her left hand.

“I write with my left, too. Most of the world writes with the other hand.”

“Mommy writes with a different hand.”

That’s because you take after your daddy.

When we were done with snack time, Ella asked if we could go for a walk. I had forgotten all about the stroller-trike I’d bought her. I’d left it in the vestibule when I came in. I collected our plates, and Ella and I went to look for her mother.

We found her in the kitchen, drinking a protein shake.

“Ella wants to go for a walk.”

“Oh, okay. You two have fun.”

Ella ran to her mom and tugged at her shirt. “You come, too, Mommy.”

Max’s eyes flashed to me. Ella first, I reminded myself. I gave her a silent nod.

“Okay. Let me get a sweater.”

While Max got her sweater, I showed Ella her new stroller-trike. She literally squealed. Then she took off running back to the living room. I watched from the hallway as she pulled open the end table drawer, picked something out of a box, and crammed it into an envelope. She sped back to me just as Max came back with her sweater.

Holding the envelope up to me, Ella said, “Thank you!”

Curious as to what the hell was going on, I slipped the card out of the envelope. It was a small note card with a silver Thank You printed on the front, and the inside was empty.

Max started to laugh. “Ella, honey, we’re supposed to fill those out before we give them to people.”

Ella frowned.

Max explained. “I don’t let her use the toys she gets as gifts until we write a thank you note.”

The kid was damn smart. And I didn’t need anything written. I knelt down to her. “My thank you card is perfect the way it is. You’re very welcome, Ella.”

“Can I try it?”

I glanced at Max, who nodded.

“Absolutely. How about if I push you around the block once, and then I hop on and you push me around?”

Ella let out a loud belly laugh. I couldn’t imagine ever having a bad day if I could wake up to the sound of that.

“You’re too big!”

I patted my waist. “I did gain a pound or two.”

Max locked up the house while I strapped Ella into her new ride. I guided her feet to the pedals and showed her where to put them if she got tired.

The minute we started walking, I could have let go of the handle that pushed the thing. Ella pedaled her own weight almost immediately. The stroller-trike had a canopy top to shield her from the sun, and Ella was in her own little world, pedaling away. She wouldn’t hear us talking, but I spoke low anyway.

“Does she have any allergies?”

The peanut butter snack had made me think about how many kids seem to have nut allergies these days.

“Feathers. I had her allergy tested because she got a rash from a pillow. The only thing she tested positive to was feathers.”

“Any medications?”

“No. Just a children’s vitamin every day.”

“What is she afraid of?”

Max glanced at me and looked down with a big sigh. “Me going away.”

“Going away?”

“I’ve read a dozen books on how to prepare a child for the death of a parent. Children her age don’t really understand the concept of death. They see it as temporary or reversible. I guess it makes sense, since they watch cartoons where characters are flattened by a car and then blow up to their normal size and walk around again. I tried to explain death to her by saying that sometimes mommies and daddies have to go away, even when they don’t want to. I thought she’d understand that, but a few days later, I had to go upstate for the afternoon to a business meeting, and when I told her I was going away, she started to sob. So I think I screwed that lesson up pretty good.”

I smiled sadly. “She told me her daddy is smart. I assume she thinks Aiden is her father?”

“What?” Max scrunched up her face. “No. I never introduced Aiden as her father. We broke up when she was less than a year old. I doubt she even remembers him.”

“So who was she talking about then?”

“You. I talk about her father in the general sense once in a while. She thinks her daddy is away on a long business trip. She has no concept of time and hasn’t really ever questioned it.”

I raked my fingers through my hair. “Jesus.”

After a twenty-minute walk, Ella had tuckered herself out from pedaling so much. Max looked like she had exerted all of her energy, too. I walked them into the house, and the two of them went to the bathroom. While I waited, I took out my cell phone. I was shocked to find out it was almost five thirty. It seemed like I’d just gotten here.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” Max asked when she returned.

The truth was, I wasn’t ready to leave Ella yet. There was so much to learn, so much to catch up on. Yet I also didn’t want to take over Ella’s routine and throw her off. Google had said the introduction of a partner should be done gradually—not that I was any kind of a partner to Max. But I figured the concept was the same.

“I should probably get going. I don’t want to push my luck and outstay my welcome with Ella. She’s probably pretty accustomed to having one-on-one time with you.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“When can I see her again?”

“Friday is my last day of work. I have half days until then. So my schedule is pretty flexible.”

“You’re taking time off?”

“I’m leaving. I love working—the highs and lows of the market were an important part of who I am. But since my diagnosis, I’ve known I’d eventually leave to spend the last of my time with my daughter. I can feel the changes in me coming faster now. My strength is going, and simple things are getting more difficult.”

The last of her time.

I felt a heaviness in my chest. My daughter would soon have no mother. Not to mention, as horrible as she was to me, Max was only thirty years old.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“How about the day after tomorrow? Ella has a checkup at one, but we could get together afterward?”

“Can I come to the checkup?”

“Umm… Sure. Of course. Ella’s going to have to get used to that anyway.”

Ella ran out from the bathroom, and I suddenly pictured her bigger—maybe eight or nine years old. She wouldn’t want a man at her checkups by then.

“Ella, Gray is going to leave. But we’re going to see him again really soon.”

“What day?”

The corners of my lips twitched. Even if she wasn’t mine, I’d think this kid was pretty damn awesome.

I knelt to talk to her. “Friday. Can I guess what you’ll be wearing?”

She grinned. “Fuchsia! Pink!”

I cupped her cheek with one hand, stroking her baby soft skin with my thumb. I’d done it without thinking, but it didn’t scare her away. My daughter seemed comfortable with my touch. I wondered if that was a physiological thing. I’d be Googling that later for sure.

“I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

Without warning, she jumped into my arms and wrapped hers around my neck. I got choked up as she allowed me to engulf her in a tight embrace. When she was done, she hopped away, as carefree as before she’d given me the hug—blissfully unaware that she’d just rocked my entire fucking world.

Max smiled warmly. “I think this was a great visit.”

I stood. “Me too. Take care of yourself, Max.”