Page 15 of Secret Baby for Dr. Billionaire

“Very good, baby.” I showered her with kisses, her cheeks painted with tearstains. But at least she had stopped crying now.

I remembered how helpless I’d felt the first few months Sofi and I spent together, and she would cry her lungs out at night.

Sofi was teething. I was sure of it. She was drooling nonstop, and her skin was flushed from the spike of a fever that developed overnight. She had been crying nonstop for the past hour, and it was starting to get to me.

“I know. I know,” I whispered, rocking her in my arms as she belted out her lungs in sobs. “We’ll get you a teething ring tomorrow. I promise you.”

My paycheck wouldn’t arrive until the end of the month, and I still hadn’t started looking for other jobs. The teething ring didn’t cross my mind as essential for Sofi because she was only four months old. Now, I was suffering the consequences of my casual attitude.

“C’mon, Sof,” I begged, even though I knew that it wouldn’t help. I kept on rocking her, hoping that the sensation would lull her to sleep. Thankfully, my neighbors in my tiny Queens apartment hadn’t complained yet today. I lived beside an elderly woman who had trouble hearing and a call center agent who worked until the late hours of the night.

It was only six p.m. on a Saturday, and I was ready to call it a day. Times like this always made me want to call someone for help. And it was always Clyde who’d cross my mind.

I would fantasize about what would have been Sofi’s life if her father had stepped up. He didn’t even have to stay for me. I imagined I had someone here doing the dishes while I consoled my daughter. I imagined not having that guilty feeling when I bought something for myself because that tube of lipstick should have been a pack of diapers for Sofi, and the money spent for that bottle of perfume should have been added to buy Sofi’s formula.

I didn’t know how single mothers did it. How they’d survive a day of their babies crying in their arms, not knowing what they needed, having zero clue how to console them. If I counted how many times I had broken down since my pregnancy, I could fill a damn river.

What was even worse, was that not only was I not providing enough financially for my daughter’s needs and wants, but my body decided not to participate either. My doctor said I had insufficient glandular tissue, limiting my milk production. Meaning I only breastfed her for two months before we switched to formula. The transition took a toll on me, and Sofi’s stubborn attitude about accepting the bottle only made me feel more worthless.

I couldn’t help the tears from rolling down my cheeks and the thick sob that came from my chest. I couldn’t even call it a night because I had broken down.

Sofi sucked at her fist, trying to find comfort from the sensation of it on her gums. And when it didn’t comfort her, she only cried even louder.

“I should’ve taken the check from your father if I’d known you’d be this stubborn, Sof.” It was my greatest what-if. What if I had taken that check from Clyde when he offered it? What if I had just swallowed my pride and my self-worth and gone along with it? But I was Sofi’s mother, and she got her stubbornness from me. My pride wouldn’t have lived with the fact that Clyde thought of me as a gold digger he met at the bar. I didn’t want his money. But I could sure use some of it right now.

Sofi had gone silent in my arms. Her loud cries turned into soft sobs and mewls. And I continued to swing her in my arms as I debated whether or not I should pick up the phone.

My eyes spotted the silver thing on the dining table by my purse and the small 7-Eleven paper bag that consisted of my dinner—lasagna and two pieces of stale garlic bread.

It had been two weeks since I last attempted to call Clyde. I knew that he’d blocked my number because every time I dialed, it would go straight to voicemail. But I’d always hoped that by some odd miracle, he’d answer and say he was sorry. Which was why when times with Sofi got hard, a relapse would always happen, and that moment of weakness always ended with me picking up the phone.

When Sofi was asleep, I set her back in her bassinet, closed the door to our room, and, with tears still trickling down my cheeks, grabbed my phone and redialed the number.

“Hi. You’ve reached my voicemail. I’m not available at the moment. Please leave a message or call my secretary.”

It was the same voicemail message I’d been listening to since I announced that I was pregnant. And the sound of his voice only made me weep even harder.

Now, as I was cradling her back to sleep in her arms, my anger at Clyde bubbled back up. It’s not that I completely blamed him because of how hard it was for me, but he could’ve simply softened the blow if he told me to fuck off nicely.

If he was scared of the fact that he had gotten me pregnant, imagine how I was feeling. I had to actually carry the baby inside me and push it out of my vagina. It couldn’t have been worse for him, and I could think of a million reasons why.

***

I put Sofi on her feet when we got out of the elevator, and she gripped my finger as she started walking towards our penthouse door the following day. Sofi was sporting a dolphin beach hat, and her white swim diapers peeked out along the sides of her blue and white striped bathing suit.

Sofi had woken up at the butt crack of dawn and I decided that it would be a good idea to check out the sunrise. Thankfully the weather was warm, and Sofi didn’t have a problem splashing on the shore and playing in the white sand with me.

The sunrise was breathtaking, and the feeling of the warmth of the sun in my skin gave me more courage to get through anything. It was a new day after all, and I could start fresh again. That’s the greatest thing about a sunrise. It always reminded me that, while the past might have been a shit show, I now had a clean slate to start again. And if today decided to be horrible, I could always start again tomorrow.

When I left my penthouse earlier, I was careful not to make a sound, and my constant checking at the peephole helped me make sure that I wouldn’t bump into Clyde in our shared lobby. So far, the universe had my back. But not for long.

I halted dead on my feet when I spotted the thing on my door. My eyes grew wide in horror, and I didn’t know how to feel about the fact that Clyde had made contact.

There it was on my gray door. A purple Post-it note. The same kind he had used to leave his number on back in New York.

I took a step closer to the note with caution, scooping Sofi up as if the note would explode at any second. My heart was racing, my throat going dry as I frowned at the neatly written words. Sofi was pulling at my gold necklace without a care in the world. Baby, your father just made contact.

I’m sorry about last night –Clyde.

---