He shakes his head. “What papers? I’m not lying to you. Do you know how long I looked for you? I searched everywhere. I even asked your grandma for your information when I left the inn, and she said that you told her not to give it to me. Maddison, I woke up and you were fucking gone, after the best damn weekend of my life, fuck, it gutted me.” He holds his hand over his heart, and I can see the pain in his eyes.
Or maybe I’m imagining it, wishing that something is there that I don’t really see.
I squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to hold onto the control I have built up over the past ten months. Since that night. The wall I’ve formed, clearly separating me from Briggs and any mention of him, seems to be crumbling into a pile of debris at my feet.
“Maddison,” he says softly, and my eyes fly open, locking with his, “I swear to god on everything I love, which is admittedly not much, but still, I swear to you that I had no idea. You’re saying… she’s mine? She’s my daughter?”
A lone tear streaks down my cheek, and I quickly wipe it away, gathering my composure. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation or how much it would hurt if it ever happened.
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand. I don’t know how you didn’t know you had a daughter. Your name was on the paperwork. You signed away your rights, Briggs. I read your letter,” I mumble.
Briggs sucks in a shuddering breath before dropping his head into his hands, leaning over to place his elbows on his knees.
“I don’t even know what paperwork you’re talking about, Maddison. I’m just as lost as you are right now. What fucking letter? What the hell is happening?”
I’ve always been a good judge of character. A trait that has been passed down from my dad, and the way that Briggs looks right in this moment, makes me truly think something shitty has happened. That his bastard of an agent had everything to do with what happened.
“Your agent,” I whisper, my words full of realization.
“Conrad? You met Conrad?”
I nod. “I think… I think he’s what happened.”
Part of me is angry, that something so fucked up and cruel has happened, and that I’ve spent the past nine months hating a man who may not deserve my anger. The other part… well, I feel sad that Briggs has had to miss my pregnancy and watching his daughter grow in my stomach.
“Please tell me what happened. Start from the beginning and don’t leave anything out,” he whispers haggardly.
I swallow thickly, trying to push the emotions down that have begun to clog my throat. A bench in a courtyard outside of a press conference is not the place to lose it.
“I found out I was pregnant six weeks after I got home. I knew I was, before I even saw the lines of the test. My period was late, and I was sick. I couldn’t keep anything down, and my best friend, Ty, forced me to take a test. I avoided it for as long as I could because I was terrified of what I would find.” I swallow roughly before continuing, “I knew you lied to me. I knew who you were from the moment I saw you.”
“You did?”
I nod. “I figured if you wanted me to know about your hockey career, you would’ve brought it up. I work with a lot of athletes. I’m in school for journalism, and there are a lot of athletes who prefer to fly under the radar. Anyway, after taking a home test that read positive, I made an appointment. I was so nervous, I almost fainted when the doctor told me I was actually pregnant. There was no doubt… that she was yours. I haven’t been with anyone else. I knew once it was confirmed that I needed to reach out to you and tell you, but I didn’t know how. We didn’t exchange any information, and I know that social media isn’t your thing. Not after… I just, I thought it was a fling, Briggs. That’s why I asked my grandmother not to give you my information.” And the fact that I never imagined we’d have anything after that weekend until I found out I was pregnant.
Briggs nods. His eyes swim with emotion. The same emotion I’m feeling.
“So, you don’t have social media, and I didn’t have your email or contact information. I had no way to reach you aside from showing up at the stadium, and… I wasn’t doing that. I reached out to Grams, and she gave me the number she had on file for you, which turned out to be your agent since he booked your stay. I called him.”
Realization seems to dawn on Briggs’ face at the mention of Conrad.
“That motherfucker.”
I nod. “I didn’t know any other way to reach you. He didn’t take me seriously at first. Apparently, there are a ton of puck bunnies who have reached out and claimed to be carrying your children.”
He winces at my words, but I continue anyway.
“Finally, when I threatened to show up at the next place you were, unless he scheduled a meeting, he finally heard me out. We planned a time for me to come in, and let’s just say it was nothing like I expected, to say the least. When I arrived, you weren’t even there. It was just Conrad.”
This time Briggs’ jaw does drop, and he stands from the bench, clearly upset as he runs a frustrated hand through his hair, tugging on the ends then dragging them down his face. “This is beyond fucked up. I don’t even know what to say right now.”
“Conrad said he discussed this ‘situation’ in length with you, and that you decided to sign away all of your rights to the child, pending a paternity test, of course. He said that he was worried for you public image… after everything with your brother, and that you weren’t in the headspace to have this… scandal. He called our child, ‘a scandal,’ and he offered to pay me off, Briggs. He offered me a check… with more zeros than I’d ever seen in my life.”
The tears are back, threatening to spill over my lids, even though I desperately try to swipe them away. This is harder than I thought it would be.
As I speak, Briggs paces the small space in front of us, dragging a hand down his face again as what I’m saying sinks in. It’s obvious he’s been deceived… we both have.
“They gave me a letter that you wrote, saying that you were sorry, but you didn’t want anything to do with our child, and that she would have a life clear of media and publicity with you signing away your rights. As if that made it any better, our child growing up without a father. The letter said that you were sorry that our weekend ‘fling’ turned into this, and you didn’t want to speak to me. What else was I supposed to believe, Briggs?”
“Maddison I-”
I hold my hand up to stop him, so I can finish and get this out and off my chest. “They showed me the paperwork where you signed away your rights and said that if I tried to contact you again, after signing this agreement, they would have no choice than to get an order of protection against me, like I was a detriment to you. Conrad said you had been through enough in the past few years, and you were in no shape to care for a child in any way, other than financially, of course. I read the letter over and over and stared at the signed custody agreement until I couldn’t see past my tears. Never in my life had I felt so hurt. So disappointed. It wasn’t even that you didn’t want anything to do with me, but that you didn’t want our baby. We made her, together. We made a beautiful baby girl together, and you signed her away without a second glance. I turned the money down. Every dime of it. I didn’t want pay-off money, that was never why I tried to contact you. I wanted you to be present in our daughter’s life. That’s all I ever wanted. I’ve spent the past nine months hating you, Briggs. Heartbroken over your decision.”