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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: FIX IT

OWEN

Sitting on my couch, I stare blankly at the black screen of my TV. I’ve been here in this same position since I managed to drag myself out of bed about an hour ago. I hardly slept a wink last night. My mind was in a riot as I struggled to process what I learned yesterday. Truth be told, my thoughts are still in a state of total chaos.

Millie is my daughter.

It’s hard to decipher how I feel about that revelation. Part of me is terrified. This is such a huge, life-changing thing. I’m a dad… no, not just a dad. I’m Millie’s dad.

I can’t deny that I’d had suspected it, but I’d told myself over and over again that it couldn’t be true. Stacey wouldn’t keep something like that from me. She wouldn’t keep my child from me. But apparently she had. All these years, she was raising my daughter by herself, and never even tried to let me know she even existed.

What do I do about this? I don’t even know how to begin to make any sense of this situation. I’m a father… and Stacey never told me.

I love Stacey… and I love Millie, but if I’d never come to Denver, would I ever have learned about Millie?

That thought is like a punch to the gut, striking me harder than any other I’ve had so far. There’s a very real chance that Stacey would’ve kept my daughter from me for the rest of my life, and that thought is devastating. I can’t even say I’m angry at Stacey. I’m just hurt that she’d keep something so important from me.

Suddenly, my phone starts to buzz, making me jump in my seat. I dig it out of my pocket and frown when I see Elise’s name flashing across the screen. For a moment, I consider not answering. I’m really not in the right headspace to talk to anyone right now, but curiosity gets the best of me.

“Hey, Elise,” I say when I accept the call. “What’s going on?”

“What the hell are you doing?” she snaps. “You’ve been ignoring your father’s calls, haven’t you?”

I blink, caught off guard by her sharp voice and anger. “What are you talking about? Why are you yelling at me?”

“Damn it, Owen! You keep promising to take care of things, and I thought you getting out of Canada was supposed to buy us some time, but now my dad is talking about moving up the engagement announcement. Something is going on, and you blowing off your father is only making it worse.”

“Remind me why I’m the one who has to tell both our fathers that we don’t want to get married?” I ask in a firm tone. “Why can’t you be the one to do it?”

“You know why,” she growls. “I need to protect Rebecca. If my father found out about her… he’d do whatever he could to keep us apart, and you know that. I’m not going to risk losing the love of my life because of this bullshit.”

I hesitate to reply. She’s got me there. I know her father would not react well to finding out that his daughter not only doesn’t want to blindly obey him, but is also in a happy, healthy relationship with another woman. He’s too old-school in his thinking… too prejudiced and misogynistic.

At length, I sigh and say, “All right, I promise I’ll handle it. I really will.”

“You swear?”

“Yes, Elise, I swear.”

“All right,” she murmurs. “Please, Owen, just… just don’t put this off too long, okay? I’m getting worried that it’s going to get beyond our control before we realize it.”

“I promise, Elise,” I tell her in a softer tone. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Rebecca.”

“Thanks, Owen. Talk soon.”

She hangs up and I drop my phone on the couch next to me. Shit, I hadn’t expected that. I’ve been so wrapped up in Stacey and Millie and getting myself settled in Denver that I’d been able to push the whole engagement fiasco out of my mind. I can’t keep ignoring it, though, and now I have so much more to worry about. If Elise is so worried about what her father is capable of, what about Gerald? If he found out about Millie and Stacey, what might he do to them?

By the afternoon, I’m still a fucking mess. I’m not sitting on the couch anymore… I’m lying on it, staring up at the ceiling. I feel almost paralyzed by everything weighing down on me: Millie, Stacey’s lies, Elise’s fears, and my stepfather’s infuriating expectations, not to mention the potential threat he could pose to my daughter.

Fuck, it’s so weird to think like that. That Millie is my daughter. That I’m a father.

That I’ve missed so much of her life already.

I picture her first steps. Stacey, probably standing there with her phone, ready to capture the moment. Millie’s tiny legs wobbling, arms stretched out, eyes lit up with determination. I should’ve been there, cheering her on, holding out my arms to catch her when she stumbled.

Her first words. What did she say? Was it “Mama,” most likely? Did she try to say “Dada” even though I wasn’t around? Did Stacey sit with her on the couch, coaxing out each sound? The thought twists something deep in my gut.

Then there’s her first day of school. I see her in my mind, standing there with a little backpack too big for her small frame, holding Stacey’s hand. Did she cry when Stacey left her in the classroom? Did she smile nervously and wave goodbye? I don’t know, and it kills me.

The birthdays I missed. The cakes, the candles, the wishes I wasn’t there to hear. What did she wish for? Did she wish for me? Or did she not even know I existed back then?

The games, the Ice skating recitals, the bedtime stories. All the little things that make up a childhood — things I’ll never get back. I wasn’t there to hug her after a bad day or tell her she’s brave when she’s scared.

I rub my hands over my face, trying to block out the images, but they keep coming. Millie’s laughter, her tears, her milestones—all of it, lived without me.

Shaking my head, I force these thoughts aside. It’s all too gut-wrenching to consider right now.

I need to confront Stacey, but I’m not mentally prepared for that yet, so the next best thing is to try and determine how Gerald will react to all this. He wouldn’t go so far as to arrange for any physical harm to come to Stacey or Millie — I’m pretty sure — but there are other ways he’d try to ruin their lives. Emotional manipulation, financial attacks… anything to keep my “bastard” child from ruining the pristine Weston image.

My phone suddenly buzzes again, startling me, and I scramble to pick it up from where it’s lying on the floor. For a moment, I think it has to be Stacey, and my heart races with a mix of dread and excitement. The excitement quickly vanishes, when it’s Gerald’s name flashing across the screen and not hers.

What the fuck? It’s like I’ve somehow managed to conjure him just by thinking about him too much. I don’t want to answer, but I think about Elise and how upset she was when she called this morning, and I release a long groan and accept the call.

“Gerald,” I say in a tight voice. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” he snaps, sounding pissed. Not that I was expecting anything else. “After blowing off my calls for weeks, all you have to say is ‘what’s up?’”

“I’ve been busy with the team,” I say, knowing he won’t believe me.

“Don’t bullshit me, Owen,” he scoffs. “When I agreed to let you go to the States, the expectation was that you continue to fulfill your duties to this family. Just because you aren’t here doesn’t mean you can avoid them.”

I grit my teeth, irritation flooding through me. God damn it, I really can’t deal with this right now. There are more important things I need to be focusing on than this asshole. Unfortunately, I’m not naive enough to really believe ignoring him will make him go away and leave me alone.

Still, I’m too on edge as it is and my temper gets the best of me. If I’m going to unleash my anger on someone, why not Gerald? Honestly, all I’ve wanted to do over the years is lay into him about how he’s totally fucked up my life, so this is going to feel really good.

“I’m not even a Weston,” I hiss. “Your family’s drama shouldn’t be my problem.”

“Enough of that!” he barks. “Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, you are part of this family… legally, if not biologically.”

“I didn’t ask for that! If you’d tried adopting me in the States, I’d have been considered an adult and you wouldn’t have been able to without my consent. It’s total bullshit that I’m forced to be part of your family just because eighteen is still considered underage up there. It’s a fucking technicality, nothing more!”

“A technicality is all I needed.” His voice goes cold and I feel a shiver travel up my spine. “You can refuse to go by the Weston name, and you can try to run away to the States, but you can’t escape your obligations to this family, Owen. To me! I pulled you and your mother out of a life that would’ve been spent scraping by, paycheck-to-paycheck. I’m the reason for every opportunity available to you. Do you really think you’d be where you are with your career if not for me? Not a chance! You owe me everything you have, Owen.”

“I don’t owe you shit!” I shout, squeezing my phone so hard in my fury I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. How dare he! Throwing his money in my face and acting like he’s my goddamn savior. Asshole! “I’m where I am because I’ve worked hard and have the talent. Maybe you made it easier for me to get noticed early, but I’d have made it here, with or without you and your fucking money.”

“You ungrateful little prick.” Gerald’s voice is getting louder. Angrier. Just like mine. “You’re going to do what’s expected of you and marry Elise. That’s it. If you continue to fight me on this, you will regret it.”

It’s always the same. If he doesn’t get his way with me, he starts to make threats. They’re never specific, but I can read between his words: Fall in line, or he’ll toss my mom to the curb. He’s enough of a bastard that I believe he’ll do it, too.

I’ve spent so long doing everything I can to protect my mom’s happiness and uphold my promise to my dad…but now I’m realizing that I’ve neglected to uphold the second part of that promise. Dad wanted me to be happy too, but I wasn’t happy. Not until Stacey came back into my life and realized how much I still felt for her.

I sacrificed my own happiness to keep Gerald from breaking my mother’s heart.

Who the fuck cares anymore, though? I’ve more than enough money to take care of Mom if Gerald leaves her. Yes, she’ll be devastated, but once she finds out she has a granddaughter…

“Gerald, you can go fuck yourself. I’m done with you and your bullshit.”

“You son of a bitch…”

A sudden knock on my door steals my attention.

Without thinking, I hang up on Gerald and toss my phone on the couch. There will be repercussions for that later, I’m sure, and I cringe thinking of what those will be, but I’ll worry about it later. I’m done with our conversation.

I cross to the door and look out the peephole. My heart stops when I find Stacey standing out in the hall.

I immediately grab the doorknob and yank it open, sweat breaking out along my brow. Stacey’s eyes go wide as she stares up at me, almost like she’s surprised I answered the door. She looks exhausted. She has dark circles under her eyes and her face is even paler than usual. She’s dressed in yoga pants and a black sweatshirt, and her hair is hastily pulled back into a messy ponytail that’s already halfway fallen out.

“Oh, hey,” she says sofly, her fingers fidgeting with the sleeves of her sweatshirt.

For a moment, I just stare at her. I’m so worked up from my conversation with Gerald — and still so confused and heartbroken about being kept from Millie — that I’m not sure what to say to her.

“Hey,” I finally reply, choking on the word as conflicting emotions swirl through me. She looks so pretty in her thrown-together outfit. I want to grab her, kiss her, rip those clothes off, and slam the door in her face — all at once. I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

She hesitates a moment, her eyes darting around nervously, before asking, “Can I come in? I… think we should talk.”

Swallow, I nod and step to the side to give her room to come through the door.

“All right.”

With tentative steps, she walks inside. I shut the door behind us and we silently make our way to the living room. Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, the quiet stretches between us, the tension thick and awkward. I don’t know what to feel right now, let alone say.

At length, I murmur, “How’s your grandma?”

She blinks, seemingly caught off-guard by the question.

“She’s doing well,” she assures me. “I stopped in to see her before I came here. She’s exhausted and weak, but the doctor says she should be just fine. She had surgery to put a stent in, and that went well.”

Relief washes over me. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

“Thank you.”

Silence settles between us again, and this time I don’t break it. I wait to see how she wants to begin the real conversation we need to have.

At length, she clears her throat and murmurs, “I needed to come over and… and explain, um… everything.”

“Okay,” I nod, but I don’t say anything more, letting her continue to take the lead.

She gazes down at her hands, her fingers twisting together nervously in her lap.

“I wanted to tell you about Millie,” she says softly. “Really… ever since you came to Denver. I’ve just been so scared that you would take her away, or that you wouldn’t want anything to do with her, and?—”

“Why would you think that?” I ask, stunned by her words. They hit me like a physical blow. Does she really think that little of me? Why?

She tilts her head and appears thoughtful. She doesn’t say anything. Her silence is more than I can bear, especially after what she just confessed to thinking about me, so I blurt out my feelings.

“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out you were pregnant?” I say. “Why keep this from me for so long to begin with?”

To my surprise, she jerks her gaze up to meet mine, her eyes blazing with sudden anger.

“I tried!” she exclaims. “I called you that day I took the test. I left you a voicemail telling you how much I needed you. You never called me back. I’m assuming you didn’t even listen to it, or didn’t get it somehow, because it’s obvious now you had no idea about Millie. All these years, though… for all these years I thought you did hear it and had just left me behind to raise our baby, without a word. And the next day after I tried to call you, you weren’t at school and I went to your house, but you were gone! I tried to call and text you, but your phone was off for so long, and don’t even get me started on that fucking letter…”

Suddenly, it clicks. Son of a bitch! I know exactly why I didn’t get her voicemail.

“I swear to you, Stacey, I didn’t get your message,” I say, my anger toward her beginning to drain. “I didn’t even know you called.”

Her jaw tightens, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Can you tell me how you missed it, exactly? I want to believe you, but I left you a voicemail, Owen. I told you I was pregnant. I told you everything. And then… nothing. Not a word from you. If it wasn’t for how you’ve been since you’ve been back, frankly, I wouldn’t believe you.”

I lean forward, my elbows resting on my knees. I picture Gerald holding my phone away from me. What did that fucker say, when he stole my future away?

“New life, new phone.” Those were the words.

Rage burns through me, scorching my veins as it heats my blood. All these years, a single fucking voicemail would’ve changed everything for me and Stacey. If I had only taken my phone with me when I went upstairs the night Gerald and Mom told me they were getting married. That fucker would never have gotten his hands on it.

The audacity of that asshole. The entitlement. He really thought he could lie to me, control me, and keep me away from my child and the woman I love.

I sigh. “Listen, Gerald took my phone before he dragged my ass to Canada. When I finally did get it back, there were no message. All I can say is that he must have seen the voicemail and deleted it. Then, when I tried to call you, your number was disconnected. I thought you had blocked me.”

She blinks, her brow furrowing in confusion. Her lips part but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she’s too shocked. It seems like everything we thought about each other back then is evaporating into thin air.

“My life was hell back then,” I continue, my voice thick. “Gerald controlled everything—where I went, who I talked to, what I did. I hated him. I hated what my life became. I had no say, no control. The only thing I could do was put on a show. Pretend I was happy, pretend I was okay, just to keep my mom from falling apart.”

Stacey’s expression softens as she gazes at me. I take a shaky breath, pushing through the lump in my throat to continue before I lose my nerve.

“I finally left,” I say, choking up as my emotions overwhelm me. “I begged for a trade and ended up here. And you know what? I don’t care about any of that other stuff anymore. Gerald, my mom, Canada — none of it. The only thing I care about is you and Millie.”

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t respond. I press on, desperate for her to understand.

“I love you, Stacey. I never stopped. And I love Millie. I’d love her even if she wasn’t biologically mine. She’s an amazing kid and you’re an amazing mom. I’m not going to take her from you. It’s the opposite. I want to be there for her, in any way I possibly can, and I’m just beating myself up that I’ve already missed so much… so much of her life…”

Her eyes glisten, but she shakes her head. “I don’t know if I can trust you, Owen. Not completely. You left once — what’s to stop you from leaving again? And if you do, it won’t just be me this time. Millie will get caught in it too.”

Her words cut deep, but I nod, understanding where she’s coming from. “I swear to you, Stacey, I’m not going anywhere. I’ve put up with Gerald for this long because I promised my father on his deathbed that I’d take care of my mother and make sure she was happy. However, I forgot that there was a second part to that promise…that I am happy as well. It wasn’t until your grandma had her heart attack that I remembered that. Being in the hospital, it all came flooding back. I’m going to uphold my promise from now on — fully. I’m done with Gerald and his family, and I’m going to keep Millie far the fuck away from them as well. I have no intention of ever going back to Canada, Stace. I’m staying right here, with you and our daughter.”

Her lips part like she’s about to say something, but I don’t let her. I lean forward and kiss her. Suddenly, our years apart don’t matter. The misunderstandings and lost time are insignificant at this moment. It’ll all matter again in the morning, but right now, I just want her.

She doesn’t pull away. Instead, she melts into me. Her hands clutch the front of my shirt. The kiss deepens. The tension between us snaps.

I pull back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Let me show you how much you mean to me. Let me prove it.”

Her eyes meet mine and there’s a beat of breathless silence before she whispers, “Okay.”