Page 74 of Heartache & Playdates
I’d had a full genetic workup done through 23andMe after I found out that I was Hannah’s father because I had no idea what my family’s medical history was. I’d wanted to know if there were any hereditary issues I needed to be aware of.
That’s how she found me. My results hadn’t been in any public database, but she was my daughter. She must have hacked the system and then sent in her DNA along with my results to the genetics lab.
I was staring at the letter she had from the genealogist stating that I wasnotexcluded as the father and that there was a 99.99998% probability of paternity.
All my life I’d wanted to have a family.
People gave me so much credit for supporting Lizzy through her pregnancy. They acted like I was a saint or a superhero. They wanted to fit me for a halo or a cape. But the truth was, it had been selfish. I didn’t want to miss all those milestones in case I did end up being Hannah’s father. I wanted to hear the heartbeat, to see the ultrasounds, to get Lizzy ice cream and pickles at two in the morning because she was craving it. That last one never actually happened, the strangest craving Lizzy had was putting salt on a tomato and eating it like an apple. But if she had wanted a pickle and ice cream at two in the morning, I would have gotten it for her and loved every minute of it.
I’d known, of course, there was a chance when the baby was born things wouldn’t have gone in my favor and I would already be attached to the baby, but I rolled the dice anyway. It was a gamble that paid off.
I continued scanning Lina’s background check. I was going to read every word of the report from start to finish. I wanted to knoweverythingabout the daughter I had no idea existed. I needed all the information I could find before I decided what my next move would be.
As I started back at the beginning her birthday caught my eye again. 11/11. I couldn’t count the number of times Peyton had told me to make a wish when she saw the time was 11:11. And I always wished for the same thing. To marry her and have a family with her.
The 11:11 genie, or whoever was in charge of those wishes, must have a sense of humor.
30
PEYTON
Breathe,just breathe, I imagined Maddox saying the words to me as I tipped the whistling kettle and filled two mugs. I watched as the water changed from clear to a hazy brown as the leaves from the tea bag infused the hot liquid.
“I can do this,” I whispered to myself while scooping two sugars into Nonna’s cup and four into mine.
Last night, after I picked Nonna up from the senior center, I hadn’t been ready to tell her. Telling Maddox had been enough for one day. And I hadn’t wanted to break the news this morning before I left for work. That wasn’t something you just sprang on someone and then said, “Okay, well, see you in eight hours.”
But I was home from work now and we had the entire evening in front of us. Our plan was to watchThe Bachelor, but I would make sure that it was recording because I doubt that we would catch any of it.
I hooked my pointer fingers in a handle each and carried the steaming mugs to the family room. As I passed the chair that Maddox and I had made love on I felt a flush rise up on my cheeks. I felt a little guilty that we’d done the deed on Nonna’s furniture, but I’d wiped it down and sprayed Lysol on it before I left to go pick her up, so there was at least that.
“Oh, thank you, Farfallina,” Nonna cooed as I handed her the mug.
“Careful, it’s hot.”
She didn’t heed my warning and sipped anyway. Her face scrunched as her lips pursed. “Ohh, is hot.”
“Yeah.” I lowered down on the couch beside her and took a deep breath. “Nonn—”
“How is the nice boy?” she spoke over me. “Maddox?”
“He’s good.” I hoped I’d hear from him today, but I hadn’t. I was trying not to read too much into the fact that he hadn’t texted or called.
Last night after we desecrated Nonna’s armchair, there hadn’t been a lot of time to talk. I’d cleaned the chair, we got dressed, Maddox walked me out to Nonna’s Cadilac, hugged me, kissed me on the forehead, and apologized again for what I’d gone through.
Hannah’s mom dropped her off and picked her up today, so I hadn’t seen him at the school. I knew that he had a lot to process but I couldn’t help feeling disappointed, rejected even that he hadn’t reached out at all.
Not that he had any obligation to. I’d dropped a huge bombshell on him. I knew Maddox. I knew that he processed things slowly. Still, so many times today, I’d picked up my phone to shoot him a text, but each and every time, I stopped myself.
When he was ready, he’d get in touch with me.
“You know, Farfallina, love isn’t like milk. It has no expiration date.”
I blinked, snapping out of my inner thoughts. “What?”
“Joanna who I play mahjong with, she tells me her and her love were together fifty years ago and just found each other again. After all this time.”
“Fifty years?”
