Mr. Persistent Playboy, page 21
I’d had time to think, to let the revelation of her pregnancy sink in. Mixed emotions swirled within me like a turbulent storm. I never wanted to be a father. The idea of responsibility, of having a little life dependent on me, was daunting. Yet, at the same time, I missed Isla. It seemed like everywhere I went I saw mothers and babies. I thought about the day at the Edwards House, watching her hold Joseph. Motherhood looked good on her.
It dawned on me that our connection had always been more than just physical. Friends with benefits was a convenient label that no longer fit. My feelings for Isla stretched back to our high school days, a truth I had been avoiding for far too long. She had always been there, a constant presence in my life until I pushed her away.
Now, faced with the undeniable reality of impending fatherhood, I couldn’t escape the realization that my emotions ran deeper than I cared to admit. I yearned for her presence, for the comfort of her laughter and the familiarity of her smile. But the gravity of the situation weighed on me. I got twitchy thinking about a little boy looking up to me. I wasn’t the kind of guy a kid should ever think of as a good influence.
The thought crossed my mind that Isla would keep the baby, that she wouldn’t entertain the idea of adoption. I couldn’t fathom someone else raising my child. The notion sent a shiver down my spine, a cold realization of the responsibility thrust upon me.
I leaned back in my chair, fingers running through my hair as I tried to make sense of the conflicting emotions. Did I want to be a father, or was it the fear of becoming my father that held me back? The echoes of a troubled childhood lingered in the recesses of my mind, casting a shadow over the prospect of parenthood.
I glanced at the clock, the hands ticking away the moments of uncertainty. Should I reach out to Isla, confront the reality we were both avoiding? The desire to see her warred with the fear of facing the consequences of my actions. I wanted to hold her and apologize for hurting her. But to do that would be to accept the situation. Not that I could really deny it. I believed her when she said she was pregnant. She was suffering from morning sickness. I couldn’t imagine she was just making that up.
For now, I decided to let her continue working remotely. It offered a temporary reprieve, a way to delay the inevitable conversation that loomed on the horizon. The familiar ache of missing Isla intensified. I longed to hear her voice, to look into her eyes and hold her. But fear held me captive, the fear of acknowledging the depth of my feelings and the magnitude of the life-altering path before us.
The shrill ring of my cell phone sliced through the silence of my office, disrupting the swirling thoughts in my mind. I hesitated for a moment, considering letting it go to voicemail. But the caller ID revealed my mother’s name. I had a feeling she knew. Mom was like an oracle. She knew all. And the fact I told Tage and he probably told her, I was busted. I braced myself for the conversation I wasn’t ready to have. She was going to find out eventually.
Reluctantly, I answered, preparing myself. “Hello?”
“Nico, it’s your mother.” Mom’s voice carried a mix of concern and understanding and, as expected, anger.
“I know. Caller ID.”
“Do you have anything you want to tell me?” she asked.
“I’m guessing by the very question there is nothing I need to tell you because you already know.” I sighed.
“I’d like you to tell me.”
“I would prefer not to talk about it,” I replied.
Mom sighed on the other end of the line. “We need to talk about this, Nico.”
I ran a hand through my hair, frustration building. “I know, Mom. I just don’t even know where to begin.”
“Well clearly you figured out where to begin,” she muttered. “I thought you understood the rules. I have never tried to squash you and your brothers’ propensity to cat around with every pretty woman you see, but I thought I made it clear you have to be smart.”
“I know, Mom.”
It was a little embarrassing to be thirty-one and getting a lecture about using a condom from my mother. But that was where we were, and it was a lecture I should have paid a little better attention to.
“Well? What now? Are you going to marry her?”
“Mom! No! This isn’t the eighteenth century. I’m not about to get roped into a shotgun wedding. Besides, I don’t even want kids.”
“You should have thought of that before you took her to bed,” she snapped.
“I know, I know. I can replay and regret it all day, but it happened.”
“And now you’re going to be a father,” she said.
“No.”
“That’s how this works, son. You made a baby.”
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to be a father,” I said. “I don’t want to be a dad.”
“Why not?”
“I’m afraid I’ll be a bad dad,” I confessed, the words hanging heavy in the air.
My mom’s voice softened, a comforting reassurance in her words. “Nico, you pour your heart into everything you do. You’ll be a great father. I have no doubt about that.”
I appreciated the encouragement, but the truth was that I was scared. Scared of not being able to provide for a child, scared of not being able to give them the love and support they needed, scared of repeating the same mistakes my own father had made.
Despite her words, a seed of uncertainty lingered within me. “I’m still not sure, Mom. This is uncharted territory for me.”
She chuckled lightly. “It is for every new parent. But you’ll figure it out, just like you always do.”
“Dad was a horrible father,” I said. “What if I inherited his shitty parenting gene?”
“Your father made choices,” she said. “He didn’t inherit anything. You have choices here. Don’t blame your immaturity and selfishness on your father.”
Her words were harsh, but I understood where she was coming from. I couldn’t escape the nagging thought that maybe Isla had orchestrated this entire situation. Tage suggested it and now I couldn’t get it out of my head. I had to ask, the doubt clawing at me. “Is there any chance Isla arranged all this?”
“What do you mean? Are you suggesting she seduced you with the intention of having your baby?”
“No, maybe, but no. I mean, she just appeared in my life all of a sudden. Maybe she was already pregnant and needed a father or at least someone who can support her and the baby. Did she approach you and ask to work here? She knew me in school and maybe she thought she could rekindle that relationship.”
“Absolutely not, Nico! That’s ridiculous! It was me. I went to Isla and offered the job. She initially rejected it. How foolish of you.”
“What about the masquerade ball?” I asked. “Why was she there?”
“I invited her, you silly man,” she chided. “I invited her because I thought she would enjoy the evening. I certainly never asked her to sleep with you. I cannot possibly predict what woman will tickle your fancy from one day to the next. Don’t be absurd. Accept your responsibility and be a real man. I will not tolerate you abandoning that woman or that baby. My grandchild!”
Relief washed over me at the revelation. Isla hadn’t plotted some devious scheme to rope me into covering for someone else’s actions. I felt foolish for even entertaining such thoughts. “I’m glad to hear that,” I admitted, my shoulders slumping.
“But Nico, you need to stop doubting yourself. Isla didn’t reach out to me because she wanted to trap you. Don’t let fear cloud your judgment. She’s carrying your child, Nico. It’s time to step up and take responsibility.”
I nodded, feeling a sense of shame wash over me. She was right. I had been so caught up in my own doubts and fears that I had neglected to consider Isla’s perspective. She wouldn’t have reached out to me if she didn’t believe that I could be a good father to her child.
“I’ll do my best,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
“I know you will,” my mother said confidently. “And you won’t have to do it alone. We’ll be here to support you every step of the way.”
“I’m not sure Isla is going to want me to be a part of her life or the baby’s,” I admitted.
“She told you, didn’t she?”
“She did.”
“Oh no,” she groaned. “What did you do?”
“Exactly what you’re thinking,” I muttered.
“Shame on you. You need to apologize. She told you because she was doing the responsible thing. Did she demand money?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you to marry her?”
“No,” I answered.
“I’m at lunch, but I think I might stop by there and knock you upside the head before I go back to my office. You better apologize. Make this right, Nico.”
I knew my mother was right. I needed to apologize to Isla and make things right. I couldn’t let my doubts and fears destroy any chance of being a part of my child’s life. I needed to step up and take responsibility, just like my mother said.
When I finally hung up, a sense of gratitude for my mother’s support mingled with the lingering uncertainty. I didn’t think I would ever really abandon my child, but I just didn’t know how to be a father. The pressure to not fuck up was immense. What if I was emotionally unavailable and created problems for the kid? What if Isla and I didn’t get along and that stressed the kid out?
It was then that I remembered a friend of mine had gone through a similar situation, and he had used a parenting book to guide him through the process. I quickly got on my phone and searched for the book, finding it on an online bookstore. There were several books. I added them all to my cart. I needed all the help I could get. I ordered them express delivery and made a promise to myself that I would read all of them from cover to cover like I was cramming for the biggest test of my life.
My assistant knocked on my office door. “This came for you,” she said and brought me a large manila envelope.
“Thank you.”
I was about to add it to my pile of paperwork when my eyes caught sight of the name of the sender. I quickly opened it. It was about a paternity test. Isla was so confident that it was my baby that she had taken the initiative to send this.
“Wow,” I muttered. I didn’t think I would ever find myself in this position, but here I was being asked to take a paternity test.
34
ISLA
The glow of my laptop screen bathed the room in a soft light as I navigated through the virtual maze of work tasks. I was trying to type quietly to avoid waking up Joseph, who was sound asleep in the basinet next to the couch. He was having a rough morning.
Working remotely had its advantages, offering a shield from the curious glances and probing questions at the office. But I knew it couldn’t last forever. There were meetings to attend, clients to visit, real-world responsibilities that loomed on the horizon. My self-imposed exile from the office was going to come to an end. I wasn’t quite ready to lose the job. It was too good to let go. Now, more than ever I needed the health coverage and the pay.
The last couple of days had been nothing but stressful. I looked for apartments in Manhattan. I couldn’t keep crashing at Marcy’s place, especially with a baby on the way. I wanted to keep my job at the agency, which meant I needed to move. Christie was still trying to convince me to go to work for Mr. Francis. That was a very tempting offer, but there was a part of me that felt like I was letting him win if I walked away. He wasn’t going to scare me away. I had to stand strong.
My thoughts, however, kept circling back to Nico. He hadn’t reached out about the paternity test, leaving me in a state of limbo. The uncertainty gnawed at me, a constant reminder that our lives were entwined in a delicate dance of emotions and revelations. I couldn’t avoid facing him forever, and the prospect left me with a knot in my stomach.
Christie walked into the living room carrying her shoes. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she whispered.
“Yes,” I said, smiling. “Go. Go conquer the world. Me and Joseph are just fine.”
“It feels so weird to be leaving him.”
I nodded in understanding. “I know, but you have to work. We’ll be here when you get back.”
Christie walked over to the basinet and gazed down at Joseph. “He’s so precious. I can’t believe how much I love such a tiny human that I’ve only known a couple of weeks.”
I smiled at her. “You’re a good mama.”
Christie gave me one last look before heading out the door. I watched her go before turning my attention back to my laptop. I was just about to start typing when I heard Joseph fussing. I stayed perfectly still, waiting to see if he would fall back to sleep on his own.
He continued to fuss. I put the laptop on the coffee table and picked up the baby, cradling him against me as I gently swayed and bounced. “Auntie Isla is here,” I whispered. “Shh. Mommy will be back soon.”
As I held Joseph in my arms, I couldn’t help but think about Nico. Was he holding his breath, waiting for the results of the paternity test? Did he have any idea how much his absence was affecting me? I knew I had to face him soon, but the thought of seeing him again made my stomach churn.
Joseph let out a little cry, interrupting my thoughts. I rocked him gently back and forth, humming a lullaby to soothe him. As I did, memories of my own childhood flooded my mind. My mother used to sing the same lullaby to me when I was a baby. I could still hear her voice in my head, feel the gentle sway of her arms as she held me close. But those memories were bittersweet, tainted by the knowledge that she was gone, never to sing to me again. My dad, too. He was a good daddy. I wanted my own child to have a good father. Unfortunately, I had failed my child already. I gave him or her a father that didn’t want to be a dad.
I shook my head, trying to clear away the sadness. I couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, not when I had to think about the little life growing inside me. I focused on the present, on the warmth of the baby in my arms, on the way his tiny fingers curled around mine.
I stared down at Joseph. He did resemble Christie in many ways. It made me think of my own baby. Would it share the same nose as Nico and the same curious eyes that seemed to absorb the world with wonder? The future felt uncertain, but in these moments, I allowed myself to dream of the little details that would make my child uniquely mine.
The soft cooing of Joseph echoed in the room, a soothing backdrop to my contemplative thoughts. In these moments, the weight of the outside world seemed to lift, leaving only the simple joy of caring for an innocent life. But as much as I tried to escape reality, the world had a way of reminding me of my struggles. The need to face Nico was inevitable.
With Joseph lulled back to sleep, I put him in his little bed and tucked him in before sitting down to get back to work. As I navigated through work tasks, Nico’s silence lingered in the back of my mind. Did he doubt the paternity test, or was he wrestling with his own fears and uncertainties? I had not gotten the notification from the company that he had sent it in. Was he just going to pretend it didn’t exist? I was a million percent positive the paternity test would prove he was the father. I didn’t care what he did with the information, but I didn’t want him thinking I was just out sleeping with random men.
Eventually, I would have to gather the courage to confront Nico, to navigate the uncharted territory of parenthood together. But for now, I reveled in the peaceful cocoon of the apartment, cherishing the quiet moments with Joseph.
The soft breathing coming from the bassinet beside me served as a reminder of the life growing within me. Joseph’s presence brought a sense of warmth and comfort, a tangible connection to the journey I was embarking on. Like Christie said, our kids were going to get to grow up together. I hoped they could be best friends. I imagined them wearing similar outfits and getting pictures done. Getting to see Santa and maybe taking vacations together. With the way Christie and my own love life were shaping up, it would just be us and our kids. We would make our own little family.
The door creaked open, and Christie walked into the apartment. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she leaned down to kiss Joseph’s head before shrugging out of her jacket.
“Did you have a good day?” I asked with a laugh. “You look like you’re going to jump out of your skin.”
“I had an amazing day. I love my new job. Mr. Francis is already starting with the renovations. But that’s not what has me so excited.”
She walked into the kitchen and washed her hands before she came back into the room to pick up her son. She kissed his face and showered him with love before sitting down with him cradled in her arms.
“What does have you so excited?” I laughed as I shut down my laptop.
“Isla, you won’t believe what we found at the house!”
“What is it?”
Christie practically bounced with enthusiasm. “A love letter! We found a love letter in the wall!”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A love letter? From who?”
“Our great-great-grandpa to his wife!” Christie beamed.
I leaned forward, my interest piqued. “Seriously? What does it say?”
Christie got up and grabbed the letter from her jacket pocket. She handed it to me. I carefully unfolded the delicate paper, my eyes scanning the faded words.
“It’s from before they were married,” she said as I scanned the words for myself. “They had a fight, but he writes about how he’ll never stop loving her, no matter what.”
A soft sigh escaped my lips as I read the words of a bygone era, the ink on the yellowed paper carrying the weight of a love that had weathered storms. “That’s so beautiful,” I murmured.
Christie nodded, a wistful smile on her face. “Isn’t it? It makes you believe in enduring love, you know? Through thick and thin.”
I smiled back at her, but a bittersweet ache settled in my chest. The image of my great-great-grandfather professing his unwavering love contrasted sharply with the complexities of my own situation with Nico. Why couldn’t he love me like that? The question lingered, a quiet whisper in the recesses of my mind.
