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CHAPTER 9

BIG IDEAS

WILDER

I nformation washes over me, dragging me away in the undertow.

Memories of Ashley keep me company as I drown. She was something of a steady fling, someone I saw when I came back to town for the summers in college. We met through mutual friends from her hometown, about an hour away, and hit it off. Hung out at parties, hooked up. I remember her smile, her sense of humor, how smart she was. But I haven’t talked to her in years.

About seven years, if I do the math.

“Why didn’t she tell me about Cricket?” I croak, my throat full of sand.

Paul shakes his head, his brow furrowing. “I only just found out it was you myself.”

Patty stares at her hands as they fiddle with one thumbnail. “It wasn’t my place to tell either of you—it was hers. You’d just moved to Los Angeles when she realized she was pregnant, and she thought you’d do something stupid if you found out, like ask her to marry you or move home. Or try and convince her to leave.”

“That wasn’t her call to make.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Patty replies. “But she made it anyway.”

No one speaks for a long moment.

Paul clears his throat. “I think you should have a paternity test done, just to be sure. But seeing the two of you next to each other, I don’t know that there’s much of a question.”

Patty looks sick. “I’m so sorry we brought her with us, but she hasn’t been alone since…” She clears her throat. “Cricket could have been home with her mother when the fire took her, but she was staying with us. Thank God we didn’t lose them both.”

Another shock I’m trying to process—I did know the girl who died a couple towns over. Very, very well.

Paul picks up where she left off. “There are some things that need to be discussed and decided on right away. Ashley drew up a will after Cricket was born that made her custody wishes known. Ultimately, she wanted you to raise Cricket.”

I cannot seem to fully grasp what is happening, so I sit silently in the hopes one of them will say something that’ll make it all make sense.

Patty continues. “Her worry was that you…well, you didn’t seem to be very serious. She mentioned there were a lot of girls in and out.” She shifts in her seat through a beat of silence, her face apologetic. “So, she stipulated that if you weren’t either in a committed relationship or married, she wanted us to have primary custody of Cricket.”

Paul lays a hand on his wife’s. “I have to admit, we’re relieved to meet Cass. Don’t get me wrong—we would do anything for that little girl and to honor Ashley’s wishes. But…” He shakes his head at the coffee table. “I’m looking down the barrel at my seventieth birthday, son. I can’t chase her around the backyard or teach her how to play ball. We don’t have people in our lives with kids her age. Just grandkids. We…we can’t give her the life you and your wife can. But I have to say, Wilder…we don’t know you, and neither does Cricket. Ashley was a smart girl, and we trust she knows what’s best for her daughter. But she didn’t know you either, at least not who you are now. If for any reason you don’t live up to your end of the bargain, we’ll fight for Cricket. And we’ll get her.”

It’s too much. I lean forward, pressing my face into my hands.

Paul moves on and is telling me about the standby guardianship Ashley set up for them, then on about establishing paternity and going to court to figure out custody before ultimately shifting into to how they live in a retirement community and she can’t live with them there, but they’ll sell their house and move if I can’t take her. School is about to start—she needs to get registered as soon as possible.

When I raise my head, I feel like I’ve aged a decade.

Patty reaches into her purse. “I know it’s a lot, and I’m sorry. But this is what Ashley wanted. She left you this.”

Her hand reappears with an envelope. She passes it to me. The letter trembles in her hand.

I lean forward and take it, tearing it open with numb fingers.

My anxious eyes skim and jump through the letter, looking for answers. So I take a long, deep breath and force myself to slow down and read, starting at the top again.

Wilder-

I hope you never read this.

If I’m somehow that unlucky, I have to first say I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Cricket. If I trusted you wouldn’t do something wild like sacrifice your career for us, I would have told you when I found out I was pregnant. I had no good excuse once I heard you moved home except that I was overwhelmed and afraid. You don’t owe me forgiveness for that.

I know a lot of people who could care for Cricket if something should happen to me. My parents. Friends. Family.

But none of them are her father.

My only hangup is that you, Wilder, have always lived up to your name—a revolving door of girls and good times. Hopefully, if this ever finds its way to you, you’ve settled down and are in a serious relationship. But if not, Cricket will go with my parents. She needs stability, and you need to prove that you can provide that for her. If the timing had been different, and if I wasn’t absolutely sure you were still in love with your ex, I think we could have been something.

As it stands, none of that is true.

But I hope you’ll consider taking care of Cricket. I can see your face in hers, in her eyes, in her smile. The sound of her laughter. If you don’t fall in love with her, or if you just can’t bear the burden, then send her with my parents. Know they’ll be there for you too. They’ll support you, whatever you decide. I know she’ll be in good hands.

I’m sorry for everything, most of all that I’m not there. But you’ll know what to do.

Just trust yourself.

And take care of her, however you can.

-Ashley

I lower the letter, leaving it hanging between my knees. I drop my face to my free hand, elbow on my thigh, tears biting at the corners of my eyes.

What am I supposed to do? I don’t know what to do.

Ashley thought you’d know.

Yeah, well, Ashley hasn’t spoken to me in seven years. How right could she be?

A little girl’s laughter floats from the kitchen, a sound I’ve never heard before but somehow know, and a woman’s laugh that I know better than my own. When I raise my heavy head, I see them at the island, bent over bowls of ice cream, grinning at each other.

“I need to talk to my wife,” I finally say, the words dragged through sandpaper.

They nod. Patty squeezes Paul’s hand before she stands and puts on a smile. She heads for the kitchen and I follow, watching Cass. She finally looks at me when we approach.

I jerk my chin to my bedroom.

She nods once, then smiles at Cricket. “Be right back.”

Patty sits next to Cricket and asks her about the ice cream as Cass and I walk to my bedroom. Once she’s in, I close the door behind us.

Cass doesn’t stop until there’s a good distance between us, and when she turns, she folds her arms. Her face is touched with more concern than rage, so at least I have that going for me. Her brows have angry little brackets between them, but her eyes are soft.

“Are you okay?” she asks quietly.

“No. Are you?”

“Not even a little.” A pause. “You didn’t know.”

“I didn’t know.” I sink into the chair in the corner and bury my face in my hands, unable to process this. Any of it. Ashley’s dead. She had my baby. She never told me. That baby is sitting in my kitchen, and I’m her father.

I’m her father. And I’m supposed to take care of her. But I don’t know how.

I don’t know anything.

I feel Cass approach, sense her hesitation before she lays a hand on my back.

When my hands drop, I stare at her shoes, seeing nothing. “Ashley wanted me to take her if anything happened. Her grandparents are old, and Cricket can’t live in their retirement community for more than two weeks at a time. School is starting and they want her to get registered so she doesn’t have to switch schools. They’re too far away to commute her, it’s an hour drive one way.”

“Jesus.”

“There’s more.”

A pause.

“Because I was so wild when we were together, Ashley has a stipulation in her will that I have to either be in a committed relationship or married and able to provide a stable home environment for Cricket. And I have to prove it in court.”

“What…?” she asks quietly.

“Here.”

The letter is still in my hand. I offer it to Cass.

As she’s reading, her hand moves to her mouth. Slowly, she sits on the ground, leaning against the chair I’m in. I currently have zero permission to touch her, but I want to. I thread my fingers and squeeze, twisting a little to keep them occupied.

“Married.” From her lips, the word is flat, thin.

“Married.”

When she looks up at me, I can’t meet her eyes. Instead, I stare at my callused fingers.

“I’m going to take a test or whatever, but you saw her. She’s mine. And if she’s mine, I have to take care of her. I want to take care of her.”

She doesn’t answer.

I huff, standing, pacing across the room. My hand slips into my hair when I stop. “But the only way I can do that is with you. I need my wife.”

Instantly pissed, she stands. “Your wife didn’t even fucking know she was your wife until a half hour ago.”

I look at her, as earnest as I ever was. “I never thought that piece of paper mattered.”

“Says the guy who never fucking mailed it.”

“You know what I mean, Cass.”

She draws a breath that is pure fire, but swallows it instead of unleashing it on me. “I was literally at a church, standing at the pulpit, about to marry someone else. You might have thought of me like your wife, but I thought of myself as Davis’s wife.”

“Fuck Davis.” I spit the words like a curse.

“And honestly fuck you too, Wilder,” she spits right back. “You owe me a divorce, not a fucking guilt trip into helping you.”

Something in me cracks open and seethes with frustration and love and desire as I stalk toward her. An idea sparks, then catches fire as the divine kicks open a fucking door, the window all but forgotten. This time, I bum rush it.

“You just said to me you wish we’d stayed married—well, guess what? We are, for better or worse, just like we promised. I need your help. I’ll give you your divorce”—bile climbs up my throat at the word—“but will you help me with Cricket first?”

Her jaw is set, her green eyes hot for a hundred reasons, most of which are bad news for me. “ Married? Wilder, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“They can’t keep her without having to sell their house, Cassidy. They’re retired, aging. I can help them. I can help all of them. But not without you.”

“You are crazy . So, what? I’m supposed to pretend to be your wife? Move in here? We’re supposed to tell our friends and family and the whole goddamn town that we’re married after I was just humiliated at the altar by another man?”

I nod. “Just until I’m able to establish paternity and custody in court.”

When she blinks, her lashes flutter. Her pretty mouth is partly open. She looks like she wants to skin me alive.

“You’re insane, Wilder.”

“Why?”

“Because A) I’m not ready to even date someone, never mind marry them, never mind be a mother . B) I don’t owe you anything, and C) you lied to me.”

“Thing is, A) Davis doesn’t count—you never loved him like you loved me?—”

“You don’t even know me anymore?—”

“B) We’re still married, despite it all, plus we’d only be pretending, and C) let me make it up to you. Stay with me here, and I’ll atone for my sins. Help me figure out how to be a dad, how to help Cricket. Give me time to get the legalities in order. I’ll sign the papers. But I can’t have that little girl out there without your help.” I’m somehow almost flush against her, my breath disturbing her hair when I talk.

Her eyes snap between mine, her body tight. Her face hard with defiance. But behind the incredulous resistance is my salvation.

Hope.

She exhales fire, rolling her eyes as she turns away from me and puts space between us. “You are un-fucking-believable.”

“I know.”

“And crazy.”

“You do that to me.”

“Oh my God, stop, ” she whisper-hisses. “I am so mad at you.”

Everything in me is darkness as I stalk toward her. “What do you want me to do, Cass?” In a heartbeat, I drop to my knees at her feet. Her face opens up with shock. “You want me on my knees?” I grab her by the hips, my fingers digging into her flesh as I look up the line of her body, pull her so close my chin grazes her stomach. “I fucked up when I let you go. I fucked up when I didn’t send the papers, and I fucked up when I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry. I wish I’d made a hundred different choices, but I’m here, now. And I know I have no right to ask you for help, but I don’t know what to do. So I am on my knees, begging you, Cass. Please, will you help me? I’ll give you anything. Just say yes.”

She searches my face, a war behind her shining eyes, and for a moment, panic seizes me. She’s going to say no. And then what?

Then I lose it all.

My hope sinks, dragged into the depths of me by my own selfishness. I lose it all. And what about her? I’ve asked her for the impossible, the unreasonable. I look down, close my eyes. Press my forehead to her for a fleeting moment before I stand.

“I-I’m sorry, Cass. I shouldn’t have asked this of you. I shouldn’t have put you in the middle of this…this…I don’t even know what the fuck it is, but it’s too much. I can’t believe I?—”

“I’ll do it.”

I blink at her. “You’ll…what?”

“I’ll do it,” she says again, the words hard, resolute. She looks away. Swallows. “You missed six years with her, and I don’t want to be the reason you miss any more. You’re right—you can help her and Ashley’s parents. And so can I.”

In a moment so thick with the pain of the past and the wounds of the present, my triumphant rise of emotion is almost too much to bear.

“Thank you.” My unsteady voice catches.

Her eyes shine with tears as she steps away, reaching for the doorknob. “But this ?” She points her finger at me, at herself, back again, “This is all pretend. There’s no you and me, and there never will be.”

And she says it with such conviction, I almost believe her.