Chapter 8: What Caleb Said
He was waiting outside.
Not with his lawyers.
Not with Millicent.
Alone, standing at the bottom of the courthouse steps with his hands in his jacket pockets and his eyes on the ground.
He looked up when Rosalie came through the doors.
Giancarlo moved forward slightly.
Rosalie put her hand on his arm.
"It's all right," she said quietly.
"Give me a minute."
She walked down the steps slowly and stopped two steps above Caleb so that she was looking at him at eye level.
He didn't move toward her.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," he said.
"My lawyers don't know I'm standing here."
"What do you want, Caleb?"
He looked at her for a moment.
In the flat afternoon light he looked older than she remembered.
Or maybe she was just seeing him clearly for the first time.
"I want to tell you I'm sorry," he said.
Rosalie waited.
"I know that doesn't fix anything.
I know it doesn't change what I did." He swallowed.
"I told myself, for a long time, that it wasn't as bad as it looked.
That I was managing a situation.
That nobody would get hurt." He stopped.
"I was wrong about all of it."
"Yes," Rosalie said.
"You were."
"I didn't plan for you to—" He stopped again.
"I didn't plan to care about you.
That's not an excuse.
I'm not saying it as an excuse."
Rosalie looked at him steadily.
"What are you saying it as?"
"I don't know." His voice was quieter now.
"I don't know what I'm saying it as.
I just needed you to know that it wasn't — that you weren't nothing to me.
Even if I acted like you were."
The wind moved between them.
A car passed on the street below.
"I believe you," Rosalie said.
"And it doesn't change anything."
He nodded.
He had known it wouldn't.
"The baby," he said.
"I'm not going to fight you for custody.
I want you to know that.
Whatever my mother does, I'm not going to fight you."
"I appreciate that."
"I'd like to — when the time is right — I'd like to be part of the child's life.
If you'll allow it.
Properly.
Through the right process." He met her eyes.
"I know I don't have the right to ask for that."
"No," she said.
"You don't.
But I'll think about what's best for my child.
That's all I can promise you."
He nodded again.
He seemed to have run out of words.
"Go be a father to your son," Rosalie said.
"He's three years old and he already knows you.
Start there."
Something moved across Caleb's face.
Not relief.
Something more like grief — the specific kind that comes from understanding exactly what you've lost and why.
"Okay," he said.
He turned and walked down the remaining steps and along the street without looking back.
Giancarlo appeared beside her.
"What did he say?" he asked.
"That he was sorry."
"Do you believe him?"
Rosalie watched Caleb until he turned the corner and was gone.
"Yes," she said.
"I also believe it took him until today to mean it." She turned toward the car.
"That's the saddest part."
They drove back in quiet.
Rosalie sat with her hand resting on her belly and watched the city pass outside the window.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Dara.
*I heard it went well today.
Thank you for what you said about my son.
I won't forget it.*
Rosalie read it twice.
Then she typed back.
*Take care of him.
He deserves a father who shows up.*
She set the phone face-down on her knee.
Three weeks, she thought.
Maybe less.
She had a room ready.
White walls, soft light, a small chair in the corner that Giancarlo had carried up three flights of stairs without being asked.
She had a name picked out.
May you like
She hadn't told anyone yet.
She would tell the baby first.
