That’s a loaded question, though she asks it like it’s anything but. There are many facets to an answer to a question like that. Of course I want Rosie to be happy. I guess I always thought?—
“Say it out loud,” she instructs. “What you’re thinking, say it out loud.”
“Fine,” I growl. “Yes. Of course I want her to be happy. I just wanted to be the one she’d be happy with.”
“But if you two don’t end up together, will you be able to let her go?”
My skin itches below the surface and my knee starts jiggling again. My gaze swings toward the door and as my breathing quickens, I gulp down some air. But all I want is to run out that door.
“Beck?” she calls, her voice sounding distant.
I bring my attention back to her. “Fine. Yeah, I guess I have no choice but to let her go. If she thinks this rich douchebag can make her happy, who am I to stand in her way.”
“Good.” A small smile appears on her lips, and I can’t help but feel like she’s won, and I’ve somehow lost.
“But I didn’t ask to see you today because of Rosie. I mean…not really. I needed to see you because I have a daughter. And I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do with her.”
Dr. Sam blinks at me.
“I didn’t mean it like that.” I push my finger and thumb into my eye sockets with too much force. “I just mean…I don’t know how I’m supposed to react. I don’t know what to do or say. And what if—?” I stop talking while a thousand scenarios spin through my brain and my heart rate picks up. “What if she doesn’t like me. Or worse—what if I don’t like her?” I feel like an ass the second the words escape me. Dropping my head, I scoot to the edge of the couch and contemplate my abrupt exit strategy again.
“Those concerns are justifiable. Having a child, being a parent, is a tremendous responsibility. And with your background, it’s rational to be apprehensive.”
Clasping my hands together, I rest my elbows on my knees and glance up at her. “I never wanted to have kids.” Guilt rips through me. “I mean, with my dad, my childhood…And Rosie didn’t think she could even have kids what with her medical condition. But then she told me she was late, and the test was positive. She had it confirmed by a doctor. And I was…excited. We swore we were gonna be different than our parents. We would be better.” My eyes burn as they gloss over. “I mourned that baby.”
There’s silence in the room, only that damn diffuser humming again.
“Now that you know, that she survived, what do you want to do with this information, Beck?”
I scratch at the scruff on my chin and sniff. “I think…I think I want to meet her. And maybe get to know her.” I shrug. “She looks like me. Maybe she has some of my other traits too.”
“I think that’s a good idea.”
I nod.
“I’m glad you asked to come see me today. And I think we should follow up next week.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” I stand and make my way to the door, but then take a detour and yank the diffuser cord from the wall. “This isn’t a fucking Bath & Body Works,” I grit out.
Dr. Sam’s laugh trickles out the door after me.
My knees lock and I wipe my sweaty palm down the front of my pantleg while I stand on Dottie’s back porch, stalling. I loosen and tighten the grip on the stuffed mermaid doll in my hand. I purchased it from the Seashell Bookshop before I headed over here.
Glancing down at it, suddenly it doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel like enough. How do you show up to meet your daughter for the first time with only a doll?
The door creaks open, the result of saltwater air and time. I startle, jerking my attention up, not knowing if it will be Rosie or the little girl.Mylittle girl. It’s Rosie who is standing in the open doorway. She smiles and my racing heart stalls in my chest. And dammit, just her smile can help calm my rattled nerves.
But it doesn’t take away the years of anger and deep hurt I feel.
She tucks a strand of dark auburn hair behind her ear as she pushes the door open fully. “Come in.” It’s the same hair I’d once pushed my own fingers through, except it’s a bit darker, the red tone muted, and I’m not sure I like that.
She steps aside, allowing me to enter. Dottie’s home is filled to the brim with not only memories of her, but of my youth. Of Rosie and me. I glance around but don’t see any sign of Charlotte.
“I know I should’ve called first, but ya know, you should’ve told me I had a kid,” I say harshly, flicking her a stony look over my shoulder.
“Okay, guess we’re even then.” Even though I know it’s sarcastic, it still scrapes my skin.
“Not even close, honey,” I grit out, narrowing my eyes.
