She released a breath, moving her eyes away from his and crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m sorry.” She shook her head. “I don’t even know how to explain it—”
“Try, Noelle. Because you at least owe me that.”
She dropped her arms. He was right. She did. She just hadn’t been at all prepared to do so. How could she have known when she woke up that morning that he’d show back up in her life? There was no script from which she might pull, because she’d never imagined this moment. All she had was the truth, in all its shades of gray. “I found out I was pregnant after I moved to South Carolina. I had rented a small apartment and was going to start job hunting . . .” She rubbed at her head as she cast her mind back to that time. She’d still been on such shaky emotional ground. But sitting on the shore each morning and watching the waves come in had begun ministering to her spirit right away. The decision she’d made after that night in San Francisco to move away, to start fresh, suddenly felt destined. She sensed that she was right where she should be.
Noelle sighed. “At first, I was almost in denial about the positive pregnancy test. I got the job at Sweetgrass. I loved it here, right from the beginning. Chantilly is . . . well . . .” She let out a small laugh that faded quickly. “She’s a force. But she made me feel welcomed.” Loved.
Noelle turned to him then, meeting his eyes. “I was going to email you so many times, Evan. I was.” She glanced away. “But then . . . I would feel so afraid. Even more scared than I felt just knowing I was pregnant and alone. The thought of seeing you again . . . I don’t know, it almost felt like . . .”
“Like you’d be traveling backward emotionally.”
She nodded, her heart swelling. He’d been kind to provide that language for her when she was having a hard time finding it herself, and she appreciated it so much. Of course he’d understand that. Maybe he’d thought of her, too, now and again, and maybe he’d felt the same when he had. Maybe each time he pictured her, he saw her in that cage, just like that night in the hotel room. The night they’d made Callie.
“Yes. Only now, it wasn’t only me I was thinking of. I was thinking of you, too, Evan. I really was. I thought about dragging you away from your life again—the one I hoped you were living well. What would it be like for you if you were just finding solid footing, and suddenly you’d have to figure out how to be a dad? We’d already decided that it was in both of our best interests to part ways. And I think we’re probably both better for that,” she finished softly.
His shoulders rose and fell, and he scratched his temple. He still looked confused and slightly angry. But mostly hurt. “Is she better off? Callie?”
It was a fair question and a complicated answer. “She’s remarkable. She’s smart and she’s empathetic. She’s happy, Evan.” But she’d never known a father, and if she didn’t miss that now, she would eventually.
“Who does she think her father is? Does she think he’s some guy who just abandoned you? And her? Jesus, Noelle.” He took a few steps, turning halfway away from her.
“I simply told her it didn’t work out between her father and me. She’s not even seven. She hasn’t asked a lot of in-depth questions.”
“And when she starts to? What then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’d tell her the truth. I hadn’t gotten that far.”
He swore. It was mostly under his breath, but she caught it. He turned back to her so suddenly she almost took a step back. “You robbed me,” he said. “You robbed me of her, of deciding whether or not I was capable of being a father. You took something else from me after all the things that had already been taken. And what really kills me more than anything is that of all people, of all people, Noelle, you should have known what that would do to me. That I’d already lost enough.”
Regret washed through her, icy and bitter. God, when he put it that way, she felt so ashamed. She knew he had every right to feel the way he did and that his judgment of her was perfectly justified. And even still . . . she couldn’t quite bring herself to say that she’d change it if she could. Her life wasn’t perfect by any stretch. Sometimes she was lonely. And though she hadn’t come up with any specific plan, sometimes she did worry about the questions Callie would ask when she got older and wasn’t as easily distracted by ice cream and seashells and any of her other joyful pleasures. But Noelle was at peace. She felt healed. She could think about what had happened to her without breaking out in a cold sweat. She could catch sight of an ice pick or a length of rope or even a pair of red shoes without losing it. And she could set her thoughts and memories aside, if she preferred not to dwell there, even for a moment. She was in control. And it’d been a long, hard battle, but she’d won. So perhaps she’d been selfish. But maybe not, because healing meant that she was the mother Callie needed her to be.