Unconditional
Page 69

Charlotte answers the door in jeans and a loose blouse, talking on the phone. Her eyes widen with shock when she sees me. “I…No, I need to call you back,” she says, hanging up. She steps back from the doorway and looks me up and down.
“It’s been a while.”
“Yup.” I shift, awkward. She looks older now, and I guess I do too. The laughing young woman I met in that bar has been replaced with someone softer around the edges, more mature. Her hair falls in loose waves, and there’s a new tiredness in her eyes.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
“Kaylee’s not here,” Char says quickly. “She’s at a play date. Cal’s gone to pick her up.”
“It’s OK.” I swallow, still feeling a slice at her name. “I’m here to see you.”
Char blinks, then bobs her head in a small nod. “I guess. Come in.”
She opens the door wider and I follow her inside. It’s a small apartment, bright and messy. There are photos in the hall of Kaylee and the two of them, crayon pictures and toys spilling across the living room.
They moved here after she ended it with me; I never stepped foot inside. I’ve tried to picture Kaylee’s life since then—where she lived, what her world looked like—but it was always fuzzy and unclear. Now, I look around and see a home, full of life and clutter.
A world without me.
“Sorry, it’s a mess,” Char apologizes, quickly moving to clear some things away.
“Don’t worry.” I pause, lingering on a photo of Kaylee at a kids’ party, dressed up in a pink dress, her smile a mile wide. “How is she?”
“Good.” Char gives a nervous smile. “That was last year. She’s in her princess phase now, it’s all dresses and tiaras.”
Silence.
“I’m sorry for coming by like this.” I clear my throat. “I just needed to talk.”
She’s on edge, I can tell. Fussing with the couch cushions, insisting on bringing me iced tea. I don’t blame her. I’m a ghost from a different life by now, and the last time I saw her, it ended with angry threats and bitterness.
When finally we’re seated on the patchwork couch, Char clasps her hands together. “So what’s this about?” she asks carefully.
I take another breath, and wonder where the hell to begin. I could dance around it, I guess, with small talk and excuses, but there’s only one thing I need to know, so I meet her eyes and flat-out say it.
“Why did you leave me?”
Char stops. She looks at me, but it’s clear I’m not kidding around. “Garrett…” she says reluctantly, “it’s been years now.”
“I know, but I still…I need to hear it,” I tell her, my voice twisting.
Char looks down. “I don’t know what you want to hear.”
“The truth.” I brace myself for it, the accusations, all my failure, but instead, Char looks at me with pity in her eyes.
“I just…I loved him more,” she says simply.
I stare, thrown. “You don’t have to spare my feelings,” I tell her, frustrated. “I want to know.”
Char finally smiles. “What’s her name?”
“I don’t…What do you mean?” I stumble, suddenly feeling exposed.
“You wouldn’t be here asking me this if there wasn’t somebody.” Char gives me a knowing look. “Do you love her?”
I stop. “Yes,” I admit, hollow.
“Like you loved me?” she asks.
I stare back. How do I convey in words what I feel for Carina? It’s like comparing a faint star to the burning inferno of the sun; a tiny raindrop with a tidal wave.
Charlotte’s lips curve in a faint smile. “It’s like that,” she says, like she can see right through me. “Sometimes, you just love someone more. There’s no reason you can say.” She looks down. “If I could have loved you more than him, I would have. But…” she stops. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied to you, about Kaylee. That was wrong.”
I feel a twist in my gut. “Tell me, was I a bad father?”
Char looks up. “No, Garrett. Unprepared, maybe. But we both were. We were so young. You’ll be ready next time.”
Next time. Her words spiral through me, making this real for the first time. Another chance. Another first smile, another first word. Watching the baby grow, the way I did with Kaylee. Only this time…
This time, I wouldn’t let them go, not for anything in the whole f**king world.
I rise to my feet. “Thanks for seeing me, I’ll get out of your hair.”
Charlotte gets up too. “Kaylee should be back soon, if you want to wait…”
I pause, but I can’t. Not after everything. “She won’t remember me,” I say softly. Charlotte looks away.
“I’ll see you out.”
“It’s OK. I know the way.”
I drive back to the hospital, lost in thought. I feel lighter somehow, the terrible burden of my past loosening its grip on my heart. All this time, there’s been a part of me that’s blamed myself for Charlotte’s leaving, certain I did something to drive them away. It’s taunted me, the dark specter of my own failings. A bad husband. A bad father. I told myself that if I’d been a better man, they would never have gone; too scared to ever try again in case that wretched part of me that drove them away reared its ugly head again.