Page 46 of Turning Back

“At least you’ll know what it feels like.”

We both let out a long breath of frustration. When I look over at the baby, she’s staring at me, big blue eyes looking up at me like, Who the fuck is this guy? “She doesn’t even know me, Rochelle.”

“She doesn’t know Bric either.”

“Bric isn’t her father.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.”

Rochelle is silent after that. Probably coming up with all kinds of comebacks. I don’t know for sure, but I feel it. Adley is my daughter. Mine.

“I missed everything, you know. So I’m mad about you leaving, I’m mad about you never calling me, and I’m mad that I missed the birth of my daughter. I’m just fucking mad, OK?”

“So leave, then. If you’re so mad, then just leave.”

“God, you just don’t get it. I don’t want to leave. I never want to let you out of my fucking sight.”

“You make no sense.”

“I know,” I admit. “I know I make no sense. And the answer to your question is yes. I’m staying the night. I might stay every night and say fuck the rules. I’m gonna sleep with you in that fucking bed. Or wherever you plan on sleeping. In the second bedroom or on the couch. I’m gonna be there. Because I have lost all sense of… trust, Rochelle. I have become that girl. I want you to stay with me forever. I don’t want you to ever go out and get drunk with the guys again. I don’t ever want to text you at midnight desperate to know where you are. I don’t ever want to be sitting up at three AM wondering if I should call hospitals to see if you’re alive. I never want to let you out of my sight because I’m afraid, Rochelle. I’m afraid if I leave you, you’ll leave me too. And then you’ll disappear again. You’ll walk out and find another new life. Only this time, you won’t bother coming back in a year.”

Rochelle frowns. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

“That makes two of us,” I say. “I don’t know what I want from you either. I just know I have no trust. And it makes me mad. And so fucking sad. Because last year I had so much faith in who we were. What we were to each other. And so I’m mad that I lost that. I guess that’s all I’m trying to say. I’m mad that I lost you. And I’m sad that I’m now being forced to consider the possibility that we will never be that way again. That we might be over.”

She starts to cry. A stream of silent tears fall down her cheeks.

“I don’t want us to be over, Rochelle. I don’t. But it’s not really something we have control over, is it? Because I’m working off fear right now.” I stop and look at her, surprised at how easy this is to articulate out loud. “It’s all based on fear.”

I take a deep breath and let it out, waiting to see what she says to all that. I wouldn’t blame her if she told me to leave. And even though I told her I was staying, I would. I’d leave. And I might not ever come back.

Adley begins to fuss. She’s sliding down in her chair a little, looking very uncomfortable. There’s a noodle stuck to her face and her jerky fists are trying to swipe at it, with no luck.

Rochelle’s chair scrapes across the wood floors as she pushes back from the table. She sighs, wiping her tears off her cheeks with both hands, then starts messing with Adley’s high chair. “I need to give her a bath. We’re out of sorts right now with all the changes.”

“OK,” I say, almost afraid to move. Afraid I’ll spook her even more than I just did. She talks softly to Adley as she picks her up and then disappears into the master bedroom, pulling the massive barn doors closed to shut me out.

“Good going, Quin,” I mumble. “Way to go.”

I’ve pictured our reunion in my head a million times over the past year, but none of those fantasies ever included me being pissed off and her being… indifferent. I know she said sorry. I know she’s here and that’s really all that matters. But things feel… off. Like why? Why did she come back? Did she plan on staying gone for one year? Is her return just another move in the game?

The door buzzer goes off, so I push back from the table and walk over to the elevator. On screen is a guy, looking up at the camera. I press and hold the speaker button. “Yes?”

“I’m from the Four Seasons,” he says. “I was told to drop a car off here.”

“Right. I’ll be down in a moment.”

When I get down there I take Rochelle’s keys from him. “Thanks. Did you change the oil?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And wash it?”

“Yes, sir. It’s parked down a few spaces. Didn’t know where you wanted it.”

“No problem,” I say, pulling out two twenties from my wallet and handing it over. “Thanks a lot, I appreciate it.”