Ashton's POV
Back when I used to help Mum take care of my siblings, she would tell me that taking care of children who aren't your own is much easier than if they belong to you.
She was right.
I've never heard Reina cry before, and when the tears and loud wails begin reverberating around the room, I stand static for a moment. I have more than enough experience consoling children, especially when Harry was a toddler (he cried non-stop). But with Reina...it's a completely different experience, because it's not obligation that sends the signal to my feet to walk towards Reina; it's natural parental instinct. And I think that's what scared me for a second because it's too natural.
I peel Reina's hands away from the doorknob as she desperately tries to open it to follow after her mother. She flails her arms and jerks away from me before dropping to the floor, her cries growing in volume as she cries for "Mama." She sits there so defeated. Her cheeks are wet and small ringlets are stuck to her face.
I've always heard how it hurts parents when they have to hear their child scream or cry. Whoever came up with that is also right, because my heart feels just as heavy as it does when I see Emmie cry.
I kneel down to Reina. "Mama will be back," I say, but her cries drown me out. It feels so odd having to refer to Natalie as "Mama." It doesn't fall off the tongue right, and it definitely isn't helping Reina calm down. She tries to push me away at first when I pick her up and stable her on my hip. "It's okay," I assure her, wiping the wetness from her chubby cheeks with my thumb.
"Why don't we go play with your new toys in the living room? Emmie might steal your elephant if we don't," I joke, winking at Emmie.
"Nooooo," Reina whines, and I panic for a second, thinking that I just made it worse, but her loud cries soften to whimpers as I carry her back into the living room.
Emmie picks up the stuffed elephant from the floor and hands it to Reina, who hugs it close to her chest. "It's mine," she says.
Emmie chuckles. "Yup, it's all yours."
I almost don't want to put Reina down. This is my first time holding her and I want to soak up every precious second of it because it could be my last, but Reina squirms in my arms and I reluctantly place her back on the floor.
"What do you want to play with?" I ask her.
"Uhm..." Reina doesn't finish her answer. Instead, she runs out of the living room and down a hallway on the opposite side of the house.
Emmie and I follow behind her, venturing into parts of the house that could lead to Narnia for all we know. Natalie should have given us a tour of the house. Then again, I think we were all a bit too distracted with Reina, so we didn't have time.
Down the hallway, Reina pushes open a door that was left slightly ajar and walks inside the room. We follow after her and while Emmie steps further into the room, I stay in the doorway and examine what appears to be Reina's bedroom.
The walls are painted a pastel blue, and a white tree silhouette wall decal peeks out from behind the white toddler bed pressed flush against the side of the wall. It's cute, but I could probably paint a better one for her. One that's not manufactured. One that's unique for her. But I don't dwell on it. I'm happy to see that there's not an over-display of pink everywhere. The only sources of the color are from curtains covering the window and the pillows on Reina's bed. I'm not sure if Reina had a say in how her room should be decorated, but I will give props to Natalie because this is something I can imagine us designing for our daughter.
The room is divided in half—the right side reserved for sleeping and getting dressed and the left side for playing. A cubed shelving unit on the left has different colored storage containers on the bottom two shelves. The top two shelves are filled with children's books that aren't arranged in any particular order. After being with Emmie this long and watching her work in the library, seeing the lack of organization of the books in Reina's room is a little annoying.
I focus back to Reina who is standing by a plastic toy kitchen angled in the corner of the room. She opens the fake oven where an array of plastic kitchen accessories and miniature food spills out from. That's one way to put your toys away, I guess.
"Come play," Reina says, picking up a plastic muffin pan and handing it to Emmie.
Emmie sits on her knees by the toy kitchen and rummages through the oven spillage for the plastic muffins that fit in the holes and places them in the pan. "What do you want to make?" she asks Reina, who pulls out plates from the pile and drops them into the fake sink to get them out of the way.
"I don't know," Reina answers, sifting through the toys.
"Do you want to cook something?" Emmie asks.
"Okay."
"What do you want to cook?"
Reina babbles something incoherently, and Emmie glances over her shoulder to me with an expression that asks the question, "What the hell did she say?" I shrug and Emmie turns back around to face Reina.
"Okay, let's make that," she says, agreeing to whatever Reina suggested.
I finally step inside the room and attempt to sit down on the other side of Reina, but she stops me.
"No, you sit," she says, pushing me back towards the bed. "Sit. I cook."
I do as she demands and sit down on the toddler bed, half-expecting it to break beneath me but it doesn't, thankfully. This is the second time my daughter has pushed me away. I should be offended again, but the way she did it this time was too cute.
She rejoins Emmie and they begin looking through the pile of toys and opening the fake refrigerator for ingredients, which Emmie helps organize. Reina tells Emmie what to do and what not to do. Like put a plate with plastic vegetable in the microwave, and to wash the dishes. And with every order, Emmie gives it her all.
"You're a natural with her," I say, admiring how well she gets along with Reina.
"You think?" Emmie says, briefly turning to me, unconvinced.
I nod. "Have you ever babysat before?"
Emmie takes a plastic frying pan from Reina who tells her to hold it for her, which she does. "I helped Julia babysit some neighborhood kids a few times when we first started high school. But I've never babysat a child as young as Reina."
"I would have never been able to tell," I say, complimenting her.
She places the frying pan on the stove when Reina tells her to and she watches as the toddler begins dumping plastic foods in the pan to "cook."
It seems like anything Reina does puts a smile on my face. I could watch her all day. I love the little facial expressions she makes as she concentrates on cooking. She gets frustrated and little wrinkles line her forehead and nose and she purses her lips. She definitely gets that look from Natalie. Then her expression switches to satisfaction and a smile that resembles mine appears. I could look at her all day and find all the traits she shares between me and Natalie.
"You're really getting into playing with that kitchen," I tease Emmie, who's turning the dials on the stove and pressing the fake numbers on the microwave.
"You have no idea how much I wanted one of these when I was a little kid," she says. "This was always my go-to toy in kindergarten and I would get upset when another kid played with it. My parents couldn't afford one back then, so the only time I was able to play with one was at school."
"Well, you have another chance," I say. "Knock yourself out."
I like the way Emmie looks at Reina. She looks at her like she looks at me. Always with eye contact and always with devotion. She reserves that look for those she loves. If her parents are looking down on her right now, I hope they can see what I see. And I hope they know that what I see is because of them. She learned how to love others from the best. She'd make a great mom one day.
With both hands, Reina shakes the frying pan over the stove, and then shouts, "It's done!"
Emmie grabs a small plate from the only cabinet above the sink, and Reina pours her concoction onto it. A few pieces fall off, but she quickly picks them up and places them back on the plate, but not before demanding that they stay in place. Plate in hand, she trots over to me and presents her "meal" to me. A slice of fake lettuce, a hamburger patty, a cluster of grapes, and if I'm not mistaken that's a piece of toast underneath all the plastic food. I have no idea what this is or what she intended to make, but she is so fucking adorable that I don't care.
"Is that for me?" I ask.
"Uh-huh," Reina says, placing the plate in my lap. She takes a step back and her curious eyes watch me intently as she awaits my reaction.
"It looks delicious," I say. I pick up the plastic hamburger patty and pretend to eat it, adding obnoxious sound effects, which Reina gets a kick out of. It's impossible not to smile when she giggles. "I love it."
Reina takes a step forward and grabs the plastic grapes from the plate. She holds the fruit up to my face. "Eat it all," she says, and then proceeds to shove it in my mouth.
I laugh. Emmie laughs. And Reina laughs with us. And she looks so goddamn cute hopping around with excitement.
When I finish "eating" the food, Reina returns back to Emmie, who tells her to kindly pick of her toys before she plays with anything else. Reina complies and stuffs everything back into the fake oven. They play together again, and occasionally, Reina will show me different toys and play with me for a little bit before going back to Emmie.
"Go potty," Reina says, tugging at Emmie's hand.
"You have to go potty?" Emmie asks, standing up, and Reina nods vigorously. "Ash, do you know if she's potty trained?"
The small bed squeaks when I stand. "I have no idea," I say. "Natalie didn't give us much to work off of."
Reina huffs and wobbles out of her room and further down the hallway. "Open door," she yells. Emmie and I go out into the hallway and find Reina twisting the baby-proofed doorknob to the bathroom to no avail.
"Someone has to watch her while she's in there," Emmie says, and I give her a befuddled look.
"What am I supposed to do? Why can't you do it? You're a girl; you know how things work down there," I say.
"Open," Reina says loudly, again.
"It's not that hard," Emmie says, turning me around and pushing me towards the bathroom. "She'll know what to do. Just make sure she cleans herself up and washes her hands afterwards." She opens the door for Reina, who is quick to run inside, and then she pushes me in the bathroom before closing the door.
Reina uses the purple step stool to reach the matching potty training seat. "No look," she says, and I turn my gaze towards the door. She doesn't have to tell me twice.
This is so awkward. I've never had to deal with this before. Not even when I took care of Lauren. Mum did all this stuff. Thank God Reina seems to know what she's doing.
"Tall," Reina says, and I instinctively turn my head to her. Her elbows are on her knees and she rests her chin in the palms of her hands. "No look!"
I look at the door again. "I'm tall?" I ask.
"Yeah," she says. "Like Daddy."
I know she doesn't know any better, but comparing me to Nathan is like driving a stake into my chest over and over. "Do you like your daddy?"
"Yeah."
"Do you like me?"
She pauses. "Yeah."
I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror above the sink and I look so stupid smiling like I just won the lottery. Maybe I did. She likes me. I can't think of a better jackpot.
"You silly," she adds.
"I'm silly?" I say, chuckling. "No, you're silly."
"Nooo. You."
She and I go back and forth a few more times, calling each other silly and feeding off each other's laughter, until the toilet flushes and Reina moves over to the sink. Even with the step stool in front of the vanity, her arms are still too short to reach the faucet handles.
I turn the water on for her, cautious of the warm temperature, and drop a pump of foaming soap into her palms. "Wash your hands really good," I say.
"I know," Reina says, lathering the soap in her hands and rinsing it off under the water. When she's done I turn off the faucet and she reaches for the hand towel on the rack and lazily dries off her hands.
"All clean?" I ask, opening the bathroom door.
"All clean," she says, hopping off the step stool and bolting out into the hallway.
Emmie is leaning against the wall by the bathroom door when I step out. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" she says. Her contagious smile adds to my embarrassment and I bow my head sheepishly. "She likes you."
I scratch the back of my neck and smile. "Yeah."
"How does it make you feel?"
"Indescribable," I say. "Reina shattered one of my fears with a single word. You know that feeling when you're so confused about life and everything seems hopeless, but then something wonderful comes around to brighten your world? That's what it feels like. I've only felt this way with one other person and that's you." I wrap my arm around her shoulder and kiss the side of her head. "It's an addictive feeling."
The corners of Emmie's lips twitch, as if she's struggling to hold her smile, because she knows when we leave I'm going to be torn. "We should get back to Reina," she says. "We don't need her to get into anything she's not supposed to."
We go back into Reina's room and find her searching through the storage containers on the shelves. She's smart and doesn't spill anything out. She just rummages until she finds what she's looking for, which is a box of jumbo-sized crayons.
"Do you want to draw, Reina?" I ask.
"Yeah," she says, waving the box in the air. She points up to the higher shelves. "Need that."
I follow where she's pointing and pull a pad of paper from the shelf that says "drawing book" on the cover. I flip through a few of the pages and they're filled with colorful scribbles and drawings of abstract stick figures. Natalie did say Reina is fascinated with drawing. She takes after me more than I could have ever imagined.
"Why don't we go sit at the table in the dining room," Emmie suggests, and Reina silently agrees by running out into the hallway.
When we get to the dining table, I pick up Reina and help her into her booster seat on the chair. I open the drawing book to a blank page and she dumps the box of crayons out onto the table. Emmie and I sit on the chairs on either side of her.
"Can we draw with you?" I ask.
"Okay," Reina says and rips out a sheet of paper for me and Emmie.
I grab the blue crayon before Emmie tries to snatch it, earning a playful glower from her and giving her no other choice but to use the green or yellow crayon. She settles for green.
Reina reaches for the red crayon and begins scribbling continuous loops and circles all over the paper. She drops the crayon and picks up the yellow one. She stops and stares at me, and then flips to another blank page before pressing the crayon to the paper.
Lacking inspiration, I peer over to look at Emmie's paper. "What are you drawing?" I ask.
"My dogs," Emmie says, coloring in the body of one of the four dogs. We should visit them when we get back to Colorado...
I chuckle at the oblong figures. "It's cute," I say. "Looks like a furry potato."
"Hey, leave my furry potatoes alone," she says, feigning offense. "Or shall I remind you that you still need to work on your potato heads, Potato Head?"
Reina presses her palm against the paper and laughs like she just heard the funniest thing ever. "Tato Head," she says between giggles. I just want to smother her in a hug.
"You're teaching my daughter bad things," I joke to Emmie, but then the realization of my slip-up hits me. Fuck fuck fuck. Emmie and I stare wide-eyed at each other and look down to Reina, but she's absorbed in drawing again. Thank God for the short attention spans of two year olds. I mouth an apology to Emmie and avert my attention to the blank paper in front of me.
I can't find a single ounce of inspiration to draw. My thoughts are all over the place as I try to figure out what the hell I'm going to tell Natalie when she gets back.
I turn to Reina and examine her drawing. "What's that?" I ask, pointing to the large circle with four lines protruding out from it.
"You," Reina answers; her eyes never leaving the paper.
"Me?"
"Uh-huh."
"You're drawing me...why?"
"Like you," she says. "You silly."
I briefly meet with Emmie's sympathetic gaze when I look up from Reina. The legs of the chair screech against the floor when I stand, and I walk off into the living room. I'm appreciative that she's drawing me, but she's making it impossible to make a decision, because she makes it so damn easy to fall in love with her and every little thing she does.
I run my fingers through my hair and pace around the living room, looking everywhere except the dining room. On either side of the TV console are two black bookshelves filled with a variety of books, decorative storage containers, and small knickknacks. They're practically symmetrical in organization except for the one of the right, which has a yellow and pink photo album sitting upright, as if on display. There isn't any other photo albums on the shelves, so this must be the one Natalie mentioned earlier.
I remove the album from the shelf and take it with me as I go sit on the couch. On the center of the cover is a square cut-out where a photo normally goes, but instead there is a monogram:
RMH
I open the cover and flip to the first page, but before I'm able to look at it, Reina climbs off the chair with Emmie's help and waddles towards me. She places her hands on the couch cushion, using it as leverage to climb up. She sits down next to me, her feet stretched out in front of her, and she leans forward, pressing against my arm to look at the album. Emmie leans forward behind the sofa and rests her crossed arms on the backrest.
"You're done drawing?" I ask Reina, but she's too distracted by the album to answer.
"That's me!" Reina says, pointing to the large baby photo above all the handwritten basic information of her birth.
Name: Reina Marie Hensley
DOB: November 15, 2013
Time of Birth: 14:06 P.M.
Weight: 8lbs. 2 oz.
Length: 21 in.
"I didn't know your middle name was Marie," I say. It reminds me of my mum. I wonder if Natalie gave Reina that name because of her.
"Uh-huh," Reina says, climbing onto my lap for a better view. "Reina Marie Hensley." I love the way she says her name. She sounds so proud of it.
I try to think of what her name would sound like with my surname. Reina Marie Irwin. It doesn't have the same vibe or organic flow like it does with Nathan's surname. "That's a very pretty name," I say, and her dimpled smile reflects my own.
I flip to the next page where two sonograms from the first few months of Natalie's pregnancy are arranged. The first one displays an oblong figure the size of a peanut. There aren't any features to it, but I'm struck by it. That's Reina. That's my baby girl. The figure in the second sonogram is a little bigger, and there's a caption underneath the picture that says, "It's a girl!"
I continue to look through the album, smiling at the cute faces Reina makes in the photos and biting my lip to keep from choking up from how beautiful she is. The first time I laid eyes on Reina, I wanted her to disappear; for her image to be erased from my memory. I was hurt. I was angry. I'd even go as far as to say that I hated her because she complicated my life more than it already is. But I was lying to myself. Because I love her. It's such a different kind of love that happened all too fast; it's unexplainable.
"Reina, do you know who I am?" I ask, closing the album halfway.
"Ashton," Emmie warns, placing her hand on my shoulder and shaking her head in disapproval.
I smile and tell her it's okay before turning back to Reina and repeating my question.
Reina cranes her neck to look at me. "Ash-ton," she says, pausing between syllables. She lets out a breathy laugh. "You Ashton."
I hug her tightly and I can feel her innocent heartbeat thumping against me. "That's right, baby girl." And I mean it, because she's completely right. To her I'll always be Ashton.
Our heads turn towards the entryway when the front door opens, and Nathan's voice echoes down into the living room. "We're back!"
Reina hops off my lap at the sound of his voice and scurries towards the entryway. "Daddy!"
I stand and place the photo album back onto the bookshelf before walking to the entryway with Emmie.
"What are you going to tell Natalie?" Emmie whispers.
I don't answer her yet. My eyes are trained on Reina and the way she wraps her arms around Nathan's neck after he lifts her up into his arms. When she pulls away, he tickles her stomach and kisses her face repeatedly. I could shower her with the same amount of affection, maybe more, but I won't receive the same reactions from her.
I may be Reina's biological father, but I'm not her dad. I never was. That role is already taken. And as much as I hate to say it, Nathan's doing a damn good job at it.
"I think you already know the answer," I whisper back.
While Nathan showers Reina with love, Natalie ambles toward us. "How was she? Did you have any trouble with her?" she asks.
"Only when you left," I say. "After that she was perfect."
"That's great. I'm glad she got along well with you two."
"Thanks for looking after her," Nathan says, joining us with Reina still in his arms. He formally introduces himself to Emmie since he didn't get a chance to during our first encounter. "By the way, Ashton, if you're free tomorrow night, do you want to come to my bachelor party? Luke is already coming and I told him he can invite the other guys as well."
"Sure," I say. Emmie and Julia will be out at the bachelorette party, and I wouldn't mind having a little fun. It'll be awkward since it's Nathan's bachelor party, but I can just hang out with the guys and ignore him or something.
"Awesome," he says. "Luke has all the info. Do you guys need a ride back to your hotel? Or I can call you a cab if you'd prefer that."
"We'll take a cab," I say. "Thanks."
Nathan asks for Emmie to watch Reina for a moment while he goes off to call for a cab. She takes Reina into the living room and leaves me with Natalie.
"Nat, can we talk?" I ask.
She nods hesitantly and guides me through the kitchen and out the sliding glass door leading to the backyard. It's cool outside, and there's enough of a breeze to make the hair on my arms stand.
"She said she likes me," I start, "I held her after you left and she calmed down so fast. Her smile is so beautiful and I wish I could hear her laugh all day because it's the most angelic sound I've ever heard. And she made me a plate of food when she was playing with the toy kitchen in her bedroom. She drew a picture of me. She sat in my lap and we looked at her baby pictures together."
"Sounds like you have a good time together," Natalie says. Her smile is comforting to the eyes, but the meek, worrisome tone in her voice reveals the fear welling within her.
"We did, well, I did," I say, shoving my hands in my pockets. "Nat, I love Reina. I don't think I ever thought I'd be able to say that, but I do. I love her so much, and if I could I would be here every day to watch her grow." I turn my head and look through the glass doors into the house. Reina is giggling wildly as Nathan returns and holds the stuffed elephant to her face. He presses the trunk to her cheeks, nose, and forehead, pretending that it's giving her kisses. He gives her a real kiss on the side of her head, and I turn back to Natalie. "I love Reina," I say. "And as a parent, I have to make sacrifices to assure that my child has the best possible life she can live. And that life doesn't include me."
Natalie's jaw slacks and she looks at me, stunned. "You don't want to be in her life?"
I shake my head. "I want to be in her life. I plan to be in her life. I just can't be an active role in it. I can't be her dad, Nat. When I asked Reina if she knew who I was, do you want to know what she said? Ashton. I'm just Ashton. That's all I will ever be to her, even when she finds out I'm her real father."
Natalie is quiet, like she's having trouble processing my choice. I don't think she expected this from me. That makes two of us. "When should I tell them?" she asks.
"I'm giving that choice to you," I say with a shrug. "You kept this secret from me for two years. I don't know how long you're willing to let it go on for them. But until then, I want you to keep me updated on her while I stay in Denver. Send me pictures. Call me once in a while, so I can talk to her. Skype me, so she can remember my face. Let her grow up knowing I at least exist."
Her lower lip is trembling and I know she wants to cry, but she's not allowing herself to. Because she knows this hurts me more than it does her, and that my pain isn't as easily consolable as hers. I'm giving up a life with my daughter for my daughter. I'm making a sacrifice that tears me apart in every possible way.
I step forward and wrap my arms around her. "We made a beautiful kid, Nat," I say into her hair. It doesn't smell like honey this time; it smells like lavender.
I don't know how long I hold Natalie in my arms for, but during this time her shoulders shake but no tears falls. Her breaths are shallow, but she silences her whimpers. She apologizes over and over, and I neither accept nor deny them.
She's physically hurting for me. She knows I won't break down in front of her, so she takes it upon herself to do it for me.
"She looks a lot like you when she gets angry," I say, trying to cheer her up. "She scrunches her nose and pouts like you did whenever we'd fight over what movie to watch on our dates."
Natalie pulls her head away from my chest. "I never scrunched my nose," she argues, but the lines running up the bridge and sides of her nose beg to differ.
"You keep telling yourself that," I say, releasing her from my grasp.
She fans her eyes and fixes her hair, composing herself before we get ready to go back inside.
The glass door slides open and Emmie pokes her head out. "The taxi is here," she tells me. "So whenever you're ready we can leave."
I stop her from sliding the door shut and hold it open for Natalie before stepping inside after her. I search for Emmie's hand and lace our fingers together as we walk into the living room. I've been ignoring it since we got here, but I finally look at my painting on the wall.
The four roses and single rosebud on the canvas didn't have meaning when I first painted it. It was just a present. But I think I found the significance of it now.
One rose for each pivotal moment in my life.
Natalie's betrayal. Falling for Emilia. Meeting Reina. The wedding.
And the rosebud...I'm still waiting for the day that decides to bloom.
Reina runs from Nathan over to Natalie the second she catches sight of her. She wants Natalie to pick her up, but Natalie says no and kneels down next to her.
"Ashton and Emilia have to go bye-bye now," she tells Reina. "Go give them a kiss and tell them bye."
Reina walks to Emmie first, asking her to pick her up, which she does. She kisses Emmie's cheek and then wraps her arms around her neck for a quick hug. "Bye," she says.
I take Reina from Emmie's arms and hug her before she has the chance to. "Be good for Mama and Daddy, okay?" I say, pressing my lips to her head.
"Okay." I don't want to let her go. I hold onto her for a few more seconds until she pulls away herself. Her hands reach up to my face and she presses them on either side of my cheeks. "Bye, Ashton," she says, and then leaves a sloppy wet kiss on my cheek.
Nathan comes and takes her from me so we can go, but she writhes around until he puts her down. Reina climbs up one of the kitchen chairs and rips a page from the drawing book out. She climbs back down and trots over to me.
"Is this for me?" I ask, taking the paper from her hand.
"Yes," she says.
Underneath all the scribbles at the top of the page is what I assume to be me; a tall circle with four lines protruding from it to represent my arms and legs. I couldn't care less that I don't have a body in the drawing because I'm too overwhelmed by her gift.
"Thank you," I say, giving her another hug. I inaudibly whisper "I love you" to her and let her go. I wave to her one last time and say goodbye to Nathan and Natalie before Emmie and I leave the house. We get into the taxi and the driver isn't too thrilled that we made him wait, but he doesn't badger us about it once we give him the address to the hotel.
When the car starts moving, I fold Reina's drawing and stuff it into my wallet. I rest my elbows on my knees and cover my face with my hands. A hand rubs my back in slow circles and I know she's only comforting me, but it's making my chest feel heavier. "Emilia?" I say, and her hand stops. "Does this make me a bad person?"
"No," she says. "You're not a bad person."
"I'm not my dad, right? I'm not a bad father?"
"You were never your dad. You're an amazingly brave father and Reina is lucky to have you."
I grip the roots of my hair. "I had to do it for her. I had to do what it takes to assure she has the best life I can give her. I had to."
"I know."
"It hurts."
She moves her hand again. "I know."
____
A/N: I hope you can see why this took a week to write (it was also because school started). But I procrastinated into the weekend just to write this. You're welcome. Now I have schoolwork to do. This chapter was one of the hardest I had to write because it's such an important moment in the story. I really hope you like it. I can't believe this story is already halfway over. There's still a lot to happen, but it makes me sad.
Please vote, comment, and share! Love you all! –Rebecca xoxoxoxo
QOTD: Who needs a tissue?
P.S. I got tickets to see Panic! At The Disco in July so that makes me happy after writing all these feels.