Page 67 of The Addendum

She was silent for a moment. “What do you want from her, Richard? What are your expectations?”

“Expectations?” I repeated. “I have none.”

“You must,” she insisted. “You must have some idea what sort of relationship you want with her.”

“I would simply like to make her not hate me.”

“No, there has to be more. What do you see in the future? Coffee dates? Her joining us for dinner? Being part of the family? Or a Christmas card every year and the occasional phone call?”

I ran my hand through my hair. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, Katy.” I was quiet for a moment. “I can’t imagine knowing she’s out there and not having some sort of relationship with her,” I admitted. “What sort, I don’t know. But…” I trailed off, shutting my eyes. “Shit, this is hard.”

“Why?” she asked quietly.

I turned to her, sliding closer. “Because what I say could hurt you. What I want could hurt my kids. What I hope may never come to pass.”

She smiled sadly. “Maybe you have to take that chance, Richard. Say it. Tell me.”

“I want to get to know her if she’ll let me. I would like to introduce her to our children as their half-sibling if she allows it. Maybe if she can’t have a relationship with me, she can forge one with them. She and Heather are already friends.” I took both of Katy’s hands in mine. “I know I can’t be her Dad—not the way I’m Gracie’s Dad, but maybe if she would permit it, I could be her friend—at least to start. From what she said, she had a solitary upbringing. Maybe we could help make her present life a little less lonely.”

I drew in a deep breath. “What I fear is that she’ll want nothing to do with me. With us. Thinking of a child—a small piece of me—out in this world, and not knowing her, upsets me. No matter how old she is.”

Katy was quiet.

“How do you feel about this, Katy?”

“I’m worried on many levels. I’m worried about our children’s reactions. I’m worried about what this will do to our family dynamic.”

“It may do nothing if she refuses to have anything to do with me.”

She shook her head. “It’s more complex than that, Richard. She’s with Luc. He’s in love with her, and from what I’ve seen, it’s pretty serious. There’s a chance we’ll lose him as well.”

“Shit,” I muttered. “You’re right. Reed will be upset.”

“We all would be. Everyone is fond of him. He’s been part of our extended family for many years—even if we don’t see him as often as the other kids, there would be a hole.”

I stood and walked to the window, looking out on the various houses dotted around the landscape of the community we had built. All connected by one common thing—love. When Katy and I married, it was only the two of us. Graham and Laura took us into their family, but it wasn’t until I met Maddox and the other men of BAM that I found my place. My friendship with Maddox was one of the most important in my life. They had become our family, and we’d shared so many things over the years of our friendship. Lots of laughter. Buckets of tears. Hopes, fears, advice. When our kids were small, we constantly shared funny moments, worries, and much-needed wisdom. I could always depend on them for backup.

But this—this felt intensely personal, and I was lost. Unable to articulate my feelings or try to share them. I was adrift in a sea of doubt and worry.

“Are you still angry at me?” I asked, unable to turn around and look into her eyes. Katy had been patient, supportive, and far too quiet the past week. I had seen the shadows in her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking. We had both put on brave faces for Gracie and all the other younger adults who had no clue what had occurred, but we had also avoided the Hub and spending a lot of time with those who did know, somehow bracing ourselves in silence for the news we’d received today. I knew once we told them, they would rally and offer help, but there was little they would be able to do. And that conversation was nothing compared to the one I had to have with my children.

“No, I’m not angry,” Katy replied.

I spun on my heels, meeting her gaze. “Disappointed?” I dreaded that more than anything.

She held out her hand, and I strode forward and took it. She pulled me down beside her. “Richard, you didn’t know. If Juliet had told you and you pushed her away and refused to help her, I would have been, but that wasn’t the case. So, not disappointed.”

“But you are worried. About the reaction of our children.”

She sighed. “Yes. I think some will have a more difficult time with it than others. But the bottom line, we have to tell them. They have to know.” She frowned. “And you have to prepare yourself for their reactions, Richard. Each one will be different, and you have to let them feel what they feel. We have to present a united front to them and help them.”

“Are we united?” I asked, doubt still tugging at me. Fear of losing the woman beside me seemed to have taken hold in my chest and wouldn’t let go. “I can’t do this without you, Katy.”

“We are forever united, my darling. I promised until death do us part, and I meant it. I love you—that hasn’t and won’t change. But the next while is going to be rocky. I’m afraid the restful retirement you had planned is going to be a bit different.”

“I know.”

“But we’ll take it a step at a time. And I’ll be right there with you.”