“Great,” I say. “Just fine.”
“And this new… ah… arrangement the three of you have? That’s going over well? With Quin?”
“Why would you even ask that? Quin’s always been a part of—” I almost say the game. But it’s not a game. “Our relationship. It’s a relationship now, Lucinda.”
“Do you think that’s wise?” she says. “Considering… well, you know. The reason she left in the first place?”
“Look, Lucinda, I know it was pretty confusing last year for Rochelle. Quin rejected her and she was pregnant. Her leaving devastated him, but we’ve worked through it. We’ve decided to parent Adley all together. We’re in a real relationship now. And no, we don’t know which of us is the father, OK? Jesus Christ. Why can’t people just mind their own business? We’re not getting the test. Everything is great. We don’t want to know.”
“So… you guys are OK with that… other thing?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry,” she says, shaking her head a little. “I feel like we’re not on the same page here. Did Rochelle tell you why she left?”
“We all know why she left, Lucinda. She was pregnant.”
“Well, yes. She was pregnant. And yes, it was confusing since she was sleeping with both of you at the time. But… there was another… matter.” As soon as she finishes her sentence, Lucinda realizes she’s at her limit. She’s not allowed to talk about anything Rochelle told her in confidence. She made that very clear to me when I asked her about Rochelle again last fall. So her tone changes. “She didn’t mention that, did she?”
“What matter? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’m sorry,” Lucinda says. “I’m totally out of line here. I’m wasting your time. But please, tell Rochelle to call me.” She stresses those words. Call me. “I think we need to talk.”
She turns around and walks away, leaving me standing out in the cold night, speechless, confused, and, if I’m being honest, upset.
What the hell was that all about?
Chapter Twenty-Five - Quin
By the time we get home, Adley is exhausted and ready for bed. “She should sleep with us,” I say, taking off my coat and grabbing Rochelle’s to hang it up.
“Yes,” Rochelle agrees, kissing Adley’s flushed face. She’s still red. And the hives are still there, but not as bad as they were before. The doctor thinks it will go away in a few days as long as she doesn’t scratch it. They put some cream on it to prevent that. “I can’t even think about leaving her alone in that bedroom.”
She walks off towards the bedroom and leaves me behind.
I really fucked this up. I feel terrible. My first night alone with my daughter and it ends with a trip to the hospital. I didn’t even get to make a video. I totally had that planned, but I forgot. I didn’t get one picture to commemorate our night together, let alone a video. And we did a lot of stuff together before I practically killed her.
Bric didn’t forget.
Mango allergy.
I’m not a doctor. I’ve got no idea how allergies work, but pretty much everyone knows they are hereditary.
This whole time I’ve been convinced Adley is my daughter. One hundred percent. Hell, I even talked myself into believing she had my eyes.
I slump down into one of the chairs in front of the window, trying to come to terms with this new development.
If it turns out Bric is the father… what will happen to us?
Will Rochelle feel differently about me? Will I feel differently about her? Will we stay together?
I want to say no, no, and yes. But I’ve been in a lot of plural relationships. I know how precarious they are. The dynamics are fragile. It takes a lot of self-control to avoid jealousy and confusion. And even though I don’t want to admit it, most of my clarity this time around was based on the knowledge that Adley is my biological daughter.
The elevator dings and Bric walks into the loft. “Hey,” he says, taking off his coat and hanging it up. He walks over to the chair next to mine and takes a seat. “What’re you doing?”
“Thinking,” I say, curter than I intend.
“About?”
I give him a sidelong sneer. “What do you think?”
He sighs, props a foot on one knee. “Will it change things?”
“Will what change things?” I know what he’s talking about, but I want to hear him say it.
“If she’s allergic to mango?”
“Because that would mean you’re the father?”
“I mean, look, Quin. You and I both know the chances I’m the father are probably small. I have always assumed it was you and I’m still here. So I really fucking hope you’re not gonna walk out if it turns out the other way.”
“Maybe walking out wasn’t what I was thinking?” I don’t look at him because that right there, that was fucked up. But I’ve been thinking it. So might as well just test the waters now.
“What are you saying?”
I turn a little to look him in the eyes. “If you are her father, I don’t know how I’ll feel about that, Bric.”
“So you’d want me to walk away?” He says it evenly. His tone is normal. Polite, like always. “You’d really want me to leave?” But his jaw is clenched. And when I glance down at his hands, they are gripping the chair so tight, his knuckles are white.
“I said I don’t know. But I do know I love Rochelle. You know I love Rochelle.”
He nods. But he’s angry, I can tell. “And you won’t love Adley? If she’s not yours?”
“Don’t be fucking stupid,” I snarl. “Of course, I will. You don’t turn off love.”
“So I’m just supposed to turn it off? And let you have your little fantasy?”
“Look,” I say, trying to fix my fuck-up real fast. “I’m not saying any of that, OK? I’m just saying… it will be an adjustment. I’m not sure I’m ready for it.”
“Should we not go to the allergist?” Bric asks.
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course we need to do that. We already have this knowledge, Bric. We can’t just pretend things are the same tonight as they were this afternoon. Everything has changed.”
“Nothing has changed, Quin. Nothing. We’re still the same. She’s ours. Both of them. They’re ours. Don’t fuck it up, man.”
I sigh and look out the window again.
“Come on,” he says, standing up. “We don’t know anything yet. It might not be mango. And even if it is, she might still be yours. Don’t jump to conclusions. Just come to bed.”
He waits for me. Gives me several long seconds to think this through. And when I realize he’s not gonna let me sit in front of this window feeling disappointed and confused, I stand too.
We go in to the bedroom. Rochelle is in bed with Adley, looking down at our daughter with a mixture of love and concern. Adley’s eyes are closed and she’s sucking on her lip. Rochelle watches Bric and I strip down to our underwear, and then Bric gets in one side and I get in another.