Page 27 of Seven Summers Ago
It takes an extra book and an unusually long prayer at bedtime before Charlie settles down. And I had to do it all with an audience. This isn’t typically something West sticks around for, so it feels new and awkward.
But Charlie insisted Beck stay after dinner and all the way up until she went to bed. Lucky me. Though while I might be overly sensitive and irritated by his sudden presence in Charlie’sorbit, it dawns on me that maybe she’s worried he won’t be here tomorrow.
Beck follows me down the stairs toward the front door. We pass photos on the walls hanging haphazardly. Photos I’m going to be responsible for removing and dispersing somewhere. But my mind can’t handle the never-ending list of things I need to take care of during our week here. Not tonight.
The weight from the emotions of the last few days sits heavy on my shoulders and coils around my gut. We reach the landing, and I can feel Beck’s eyes on me, steady, resentful. I can almost hear his questions piling on top of one another.
We turn and finally get to the door, and I stand here, crossing my arms while he reaches for the knob.
But he pauses, and I hold my breath. “Thanks for letting me hang out tonight.”
My words come out scratchy, when I reply, “Of course. I’m glad you wanted to come. I was worried. Ya know…yesterday, when you said you didn’t want to meet her?”
Spinning around, he throws up his hand. “I was upset. Rosie, c’mon, what did you expect? You dropped this bomb on me. Out of nowhere. I go from not having a kid one day to having a six-year-old.”
“No, I get it.” Mindlessly, I rub my arm while they brace tight against my chest. “I can’t imagine what you might be feeling. But I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He scrubs a palm down his forehead and the front of his face before wiping it in the air with a swat, making me flinch. “I don’t know where we go from here. Or what happens when you leave.” He takes to pacing back and forth in the entryway. He’s spiraling. “I don’t want her getting attached. Hell, I don’t want to either. But I do want to get to know her. And she deserves to get to know me.”
The pull of the string attached to my heart is persuasive. It always has been where Beck is involved. “She does. And you deserve to get to know your daughter too.” My throat throbs as the remorse threatens to unravel me. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never taken these years from you.”
At my words, his eyes harden, growing sharper with each second that passes. “But the fact is, you did. And an apology doesn’t take that away. It doesn’t erase what you’ve done.” He swings open the door with so much force it slams against the wall. I don’t even have time to worry about the possible damage to the sheetrock of a house I’m going to have to sell soon.
He stomps outside and I hurry after him onto the porch and stay in the open doorway, my heart racing in my chest, and the tears I’ve been trying to restrain break free once again. “I know.”
Spinning around, he clenches his hands into fists. “Do you? Because I don’t think you understand the kind of whiplash I’m experiencing right now. After I thought we lost the baby, and then after you left, I made the decision I didn’t want kids. I didn’t want to risk being a bad father. And then you show up here…withmykid.”
“What are you saying?” I sniff, wiping a knuckle under my nose.
“I’m saying, you set me up for failure. I’m already a bad father because I’ve been absent for the first six years of her life.”
“You’re not,” I cry out in protest.
“Don’t,” he snaps, holding up a trembling palm. “Nothing you say right now is going to help.” He gazes at me with indignation for a moment, and maybe a little regret too. “I need time. But I don’t have it. Because again, you took that from me. And you’re leaving. I only have a few days to get to know this person. This child. My daughter. This fucking sucks.”
“You’re right,” I mutter softly.
“And you agreeing with me isn’t helping either.”
“What do you want me to say?” I step out onto the porch fully, peeking over my shoulder as I close the door behind me. “That I messed up? That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to hurt you?” My words rumble from my chest through the heartache, through the tears that are violently streaming down my face.
It’s not only me who is hurting, I know. Beck’s pain is far worse than mine and I caused it. He shakes his head solemnly. “You don’t get it. You didn’t just hurt me. You hurt Charlie. You took something from both of us that we can’t ever get back. You don’t get time back. You of all people should know how important time is.”
“You’re right.” I swipe at my wet cheeks.
“Rosie,” he growls.
Wrapping my arms around myself again, I cry out, “What? I mean it, you are. You’re right. What I did, keeping her from you, keeping the truth from you, it’s unforgivable. You have no idea how sorry I am.”
He stabs a finger at me, the glaze in his eyes obvious. “There it is. You’re right. It is unforgivable.” With that, he whips around and hurries down the porch steps.
I watch him go, sobbing silently, my heart shattering once again.
10
ROSIE
He hates me
