“I was waiting for you,” he said when he answered. “Come over.”
“Thank you,” I muttered, my voice rough and raspy. “Thank you,” I repeated, barely louder, before hanging up.
I didn’t care who had told him or how he’d found out. None of it mattered anymore because my entire life had just changed, and it was all my fault. I’d carried shame on my shoulders for aslong as I could remember, but it felt heavier than ever. Crushing. I’d never felt more alone in it than now.
I grabbed the keys off the counter and walked to my car, heading toward Dirks’s apartment in the city.
Dirks still lived in a towering high-rise where most of the Ravens’ players stayed. With a game this week, I knew I couldn’t stay long, but I needed a break—a reprieve from the suffocating weight of the house. The drive took over an hour but felt like mere minutes. I didn’t listen to music or a podcast. I just drove in the silence.
I parked in the garage and buzzed up. The building was familiar. It was the same place Nova and I had lived in when we were married, the same one that I moved out of years ago. Any other day, I’d put more weight into what it meant to walk back in here, but I was headed up to Dirks’s floor without a second thought.
With damp hair, he stood waiting in a sweatsuit. “Come in,” he said and pushed the door open.
I nodded silently and walked inside.
His place was modern, the furniture sleek—black leather couches, a glass coffee table, and just enough decor to avoid feeling cold. I dropped my bag onto the floor next to the larger couch and sank into it.
He walked over and handed me a dark, fizzy drink in a crystal-clear glass. “It’s just soda.”
I smiled and set the drink on the glass table beside me without taking a sip. He sat on the smaller couch across from me, leaning forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees.
“How did you know?” I asked, breaking the silence. I nervously traced the edge of the cushion beside me as I waited for his answer.
He looked down and ran his hands through his hair before leaning back onto the couch. “Luna called. She, uh?—”
“What?” I demanded. “Spit it out.”
“We’ve been reconnecting. I told her Jeremy got out of rehab. She broke up with her boyfriend and moved here a week ago. I was curious if they’d contact you.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “They didn’t call me. I fucking saw Nova at Evie’s holiday sing-along.” I closed my eyes as I told him what had happened over the past twenty-four hours, including Charlie walking out on me.
“I don’t know what to do. I feel like she’s mad that I’m trying to have a relationship with my kid? That seems unfair.” I slumped deeper into the couch and put my feet up on the ottoman in front of me.
“Hmm, I don’t think I agree,” Dirks said, holding up his hand to ward off any immediate reaction. “If I can be honest?”
“Please,” I said, leaning back and bracing myself.
“You guys are technically married, and for the last few months, you’ve been acting like a married couple. She goes out with you, you’re always with her, and then—bam—she finds out you were with your ex-wife and that you suddenly have this mysterious new kid? That’s tough shit, man.”
I sat there, silent, letting his words sink in.
“I mean, she probably thought she’d have your first baby. Sure, maybe she’s not your first marriage, but she might’ve thought she’d have that milestone with you, you know? Your first kid. And then this happens...”
“Oh my god,” I muttered.
My mind spun as everything she’d said and done replayed in vivid clarity. Of course she was upset. She’d once told me thatno one ever put her first, that she was always second best. I was completely ignorant of how all of this must’ve made her feel. I’d been so caught up in my own mess, I didn’t even see hers.
He leaned back, giving me a moment to process before he spoke again. “Honestly, this break might not be the worst thing. Especially if you’re meeting Scarlette tomorrow. Gives you both a little space to breathe.”
“Yeah,” I said quietly, still reeling. “Maybe.”
The silence stretched between us. Neither of us seemed ready to break it, both lost in the weight of everything unsaid.
Dirks leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees again, studying me. “Are you ready to be a dad?”
“I’m terrified . . . I’m a fucking alcoholic.”
He shook his head, sitting up straighter. “No, you’re not. You’re sober. You’ve been sober for years. You’ve worked hard for this. Don’t diminish all the work you’ve put in. It’s normal to be scared about this big news, but don’t convince yourself you’re going to be a shit dad because of your addiction. You’ve handled it for years... for yourself.”
