I knew how she felt.

My heart was crushed too.

Twenty-Three

April

How had I not seen this coming?

Devastated, I stood crying at the front door, waiting for my tears to run dry, but they refused. Eventually I turned off all the lights, locked the door, and dragged myself upstairs.

If you’ve never cried after a breakup while brushing your teeth, let me tell you—it’s horrible. You’re watching yourself in the mirror, blubbering with a mouth full of foamy toothpaste, thinking that this is the worst you’ve ever looked and it’s no wonder he doesn’t want you.

I put on my pajamas and curled up in my bed, going over the last ten days again and again in my head. What had I missed? Where had I gone wrong?

At first, I was convinced it had come out of nowhere, but the more I sifted through the events of the previous week—or at least the last twenty-four hours—the more I could see that it hadn’t.

The restaurant debacle. The nightmare. The news story. Losing his coaching offer. Discovering Chip—his lefty—was his son.

Admittedly, it was a lot.

But he didn’t have to run away! And he wouldn’t have, not if he felt for me what I felt for him.

That was the sad truth of it. He hadn’t felt what I felt. He hadn’t imagined a future for us, not really. He’d just been playing with an idea. Playing with my heart. He’d told me right from the start he wasn’t interested in a serious relationship, hadn’t he? Nothing that would lead to love, marriage, a family.

And I’d been so blinded by the idea of him wanting me, by the seductive notion that I was enough to change his mind, to break through his walls, to show him his best was yet to come . . . well, it wasn’t the first time I’d been irresponsible with Tyler Shaw.

But it would be the last.

I’d taken a risk opening my heart to him, and when it was time for him to take a risk for me, he’d bolted.

I deserved more.

The truth of it was right there in front of me, and yet . . . I cried for him all night.

In the morning, I texted my sisters.

Hey. Sorry for the 6 a.m. text, but I need a hug. Anyone who can come over for coffee this morning is encouraged to bring tissues.

Within minutes, responses were coming in.

Meg: OMG I will be there as soon as I can.

Frannie: Shoot! I’m at work already! Are you okay?

Me: I don’t know.

Chloe: OMW.

Sylvia: I have to get Whitney from her sleepover at 8 and then I’ll come over!

Forty-five minutes later, I was sitting across from Meg and Chloe at my kitchen table, telling them the entire story. When I got to the part about the letter and the photograph, they both gasped.

“Can we see it?” Chloe asked.

Nodding, I got up from my chair and went over to the kitchen counter where I’d placed the envelope, letter and picture tucked back inside. I placed it on the table in front of them, then went and poured myself another cup of coffee.

A second later I heard one of them gasp. “Oh my God! It’s Tyler in high school! But with your skin!” Meg exclaimed.

“And Dad’s ears!” added Chloe.

I would have smiled if I could. “Yep.”

They were silent as they read the letter, and I made my way back to the table. I studied their faces as they read—Meg’s brow furrowed and serious, Chloe’s jaw hanging open in disbelief.

When they finished, they looked up at me. “Wow,” breathed Meg. “That’s . . . a lot to take in.”

“God, April. You must be just—I don’t even know what you must feel.” Chloe shook her head. “He’s been right here. For months. At our old school. Playing for Tyler’s old team.”

“And Tyler has been working with him one-on-one,” I told them.

Meg sucked in her breath. “Jesus. Does he know yet?”

I nodded, plucking a tissue from the box on the table. “Yes. This is the part where I might have screwed up. I opened the letter right before going to work. I was already kind of upset because of that stupid news story. Not so much for me, but for Tyler, and because Cloverleigh and our family had been dragged into it. But learning about Chip was a whole other level of holy shit, what is my life?”

“I bet,” Chloe said.

“I sort of gave myself the day to figure out how to tell him,” I went on. “I knew he was going to freak out—he’d already made it clear he was not into meeting his biological son, although he was supportive of me wanting to establish contact. He understood why it was important to me.”

“Chloe said he’d made the decision to move back?” Meg asked.

“Yeah. It’s been so crazy I haven’t really had time to update you guys. But yes—he was planning to move back.” I felt the tears coming again. “Until last night.”

“What happened?” Chloe sat up taller in her seat.

“I’d given him a key to my place so he could come over while I was at work. I knew I’d be late, and I didn’t want him to have to wait up if he was tired. I’d taken the letter with me to work, but apparently the photograph fell out, and he saw it on the kitchen floor when he got here. On the back is Chip’s full name—he figured it out.”

“Wow,” Meg said again. “That had to be a shock.”

“What did he do?” Chloe asked.

“Exactly what I feared. Freaked out. Went back to his hotel and packed his bags. Booked a flight back to California.”

“He left without even saying goodbye?” Meg looked shocked.

“No, he was here when I got home. He said goodbye.” The memory of it had my tears spilling over, and I blew my nose. “He said a lot of things.”

Chloe reached across the table and rubbed my arm. “Like what?”

“He’s scared. He thinks if he doesn’t leave, people will put it together—if I don’t hide the fact that I’m Chip’s birth mother, he says people will do the math and figure out he’s the father. We’re all over the news together.”

“In all honesty, he’s probably right,” Meg said gently, picking up the photograph again. “The resemblance is really strong. It’s a small town. And everyone knows you guys were close back then.”

“I guess you’re right,” I said, reaching for another tissue. “And he just isn’t ready for that. He doesn’t want Chip to know. He says he’ll just mess up Chip’s life. He thinks he ruins everything he touches.”

“And what do you think?” Chloe asked.

“I think he’s using that fear as an excuse.”

“How so?” Meg tilted her head.

I blew my nose again before going on. “Deep down, he’s so scarred from the way his career ended, he thinks he’s a failure as a man. As a human being. He thinks he can never live up to anyone’s expectations of him, so he’s refusing to even try. He thinks I don’t see the real him. But I do, you guys,” I wept. “I do see the real him. And he saw the real me. I thought he felt the way I did. I thought we had something worth fighting for. How could I have been so wrong?” I folded my arms on the table, dropped my head onto them, and cried.