Cutter: A Fight or Flight Novel (11 page)

My heart can’t handle how amazing he is with her. I’m sure, at any point, it’s going to burst at the seams. I can’t even control my leaking eyes when I watch them interact. So effortlessly, he’s able to swoop in and make a connection with the most important person in my life. Even after a year, she’s never been this animated with Colton. Maybe she feels something deeper with Cutter? Maybe somewhere deep down inside of her soul, she recognizes him as her father? I have no idea how any of this works, but I couldn’t be any happier.

I know I have some groveling to do, but right at this second, holding Cutter’s hand under the table, watching him with Bethany, everything is perfect. My life is complete.

Bethany finally finishes picking at her dinner, and while I clear the plates and put everything in the dishwasher, she and Cutter escape into the living room as I finish up. Giving them a little private time, I go ahead and clean the whole kitchen and when everything’s back where it should be, I tiptoe into the living room to find both of them sitting at her toddler-sized table, Cutter looking absolutely ridiculous in the miniature chair.

Leaning against the door frame, I listen to Cutter telling Bethany how she has to be good at daycare and make her teachers proud. She’s nodding enthusiastically to his gentle critiques, and it appears to be sinking in. I feel a little pang of jealousy, as he’s telling her the same things I have all year, but he’s getting through to her.

“I hate to interrupt, but I’ve gotta get little Miss Bethany in the shower,” I interject before they have time to switch to a new topic.

“Tea party, Mommy,” she whines, and I shake my head.

“Well, maybe we can finish the party later. You’ve gotta get cleaned up and in bed, Bethy-girl. Come on,” I say, waving my arm wide toward the bathroom, and with a huff and puff, she climbs out of her seat and gives Cutter a hug.

“You come back again?” she asks, looking up at him with her eyes as big as his.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he responds, and my heart melts right out of my rib cage.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Cutter, following Bethany down the hall and starting her shower. Once she’s inside, playing with the toys she demanded to have with her, I step out, leaving the door open, to talk to Cutter.

Walking back into the living room, I catch Cutter staring at all the pictures I’ve had taken of Bethany over the years. He starts at one end of the wall, where her newborn pictures are, then slowly moves down the line until he reaches the pictures of us at the beach this past summer. After he reaches the end, he goes back to the beginning and starts again.

“She’s perfect, isn’t she?” I ask, breaking the silence and startling him.

“How could you not tell me, Jo?” he asks.

The only thing I can give him is honesty. “I already told you, but I get why you keep asking. It wasn’t easy for me, Cutter. No matter what you think or were thinking, I didn’t have any help. I was on my own. I really thought I was doing exactly what was right for everyone. I never once thought I was hurting you. I wouldn’t do that, especially not to you.”

“I’ve missed so much and didn’t even know it,” he murmurs to himself.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around my middle and taking a seat on the arm of the couch. “I was trying to do the right thing, and by the time I wanted to tell you, it seemed like it was too late. I haven’t talked to Garrett and Rian since Bethany was a few months old.”

“Wait. They knew?” he asks, whipping around, face red with anger.

“No. Oh God, no. They would have never kept that from you. You know that. I texted Rian one night when I saw online that you were getting a real fight. I was so excited, and she was the only one I knew who would be excited with me. We talked for a few minutes, I assured her I was doing well, and then I never texted her again. I even changed my phone and made sure I deleted her from my contacts so I wouldn’t be tempted to call her. I was scared.”

He nods, then goes back to surveying the pictures on the wall, carefully taking in each one—committing to memory each subtle change, and the not-so-subtle ones.

“Do you want to stay and put her to bed with me?” I ask, feeling more guilty than I ever have about stealing away from Cutter all of those memories I cherish so much.

“Do you mind?”

“Absolutely not. Let me go pluck the little princess from the shower and get her into her pajamas. We’ll be out in a second. Make yourself at home.”

On the walk to the bathroom, I can’t believe how surreal it feels to have Cutter in my home—my little, tiny three-bedroom house. One bedroom is too small to even use as an office, but I do. The bathroom is fit for the tiniest of people, but the house is the coziest place I’ve ever been. This little home is perfect for Bethany and me. Now Cutter, who has muscle growing on top of muscle and seems like a giant compared to the kid I’d last seen, is here, in our safe place. And I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t still so in love with him it makes my knees weak, and watching him with our daughter only makes me fall more in love with him. This can’t end well.

“Hey there, Bethy-girl. You ready to get out?”

“Yep. See.” She spins around in a circle and I can’t help but laugh, noticing the obvious places she missed. I open the curtain more and quickly run a washcloth over her small body to make sure she’s really clean. As usual, she stands under the spray, wetting her hair, and I grab the two-in-one shampoo from the rack and wash and rinse her long blond locks.

Shutting off the water and wrapping her in a towel, I pick up Bethany and take her to her bedroom to dress her in her favorite pajamas. I pat her hair dry and within minutes under the blow dryer, her hair is dried and lying beautifully down her back.

“Do you mind if Cutter stays for stories?” I ask, wanting to make sure she’s okay with someone else getting in on our special time together.

“I like him. Can we have Daddy Bear book?”

“Of course,” I whisper into her hair as I kiss the top of her head, fighting back the tears that threaten to spill. I pull her nightgown over her head, and it’s barely to her ankles when she’s running out of the room, calling for Cutter.

Pushing myself up her bed, I snatch the book from her nightstand and place my back to her headboard. Seconds later, Bethany and Cutter come strolling into the room hand in hand. Bethany runs to the bed, bounces on the mattress until she’s in her spot right next to me, and scoots extra close to leave a spot for Cutter.

“You can sit here. I scooched to Mommy. There’s room!” she squeals, then nestles under the covers, pulling them up to her chin and waiting for Cutter to join us. He looks to me for approval and I nod and jerk my head to the side, also requesting his presence.

He takes his rightful spot next to Bethany, and I’ve never been happier that I opted for the full-sized bed versus the twin-sized. I open the book and begin reading. Each time Daddy Bear speaks, Bethany looks to Cutter for him to complete the dialogue, and after clearing his throat, he deepens his voice and gives a perfect portayal of Daddy Bear. Much better than I could have ever done.

After I finish the last page, I close the book, lean down, and kiss Bethany on the top of her head. “Love you, Bethy-girl.”

“Love you, Mommy-girl,” she responds, and turns to Cutter. “Night, Cuddo.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.” He leans down to kiss her as well, but retreats before his lips touch her hair, instead opting to give her an awkward side hug.

Cutter and I make our way off the bed and out of the room, pulling her door shut but not closed and head back to the living room. I stop at the fridge for something to drink and notice Cutter standing behind me. “Beer?” I offer.

“Yeah. Please,” he softly responds.

After grabbing two bottles, I crack the top of both before handing one to Cutter. Noticing he’s following me around, I lead us to the living room and take a seat on the love seat, and he plops down heavily on the sofa. We sip at our drinks, neither of us wanting to break the silence. As uncomfortable as it is, the conversation we both know is coming will be much more uncomfortable.

Cutter guzzles nearly all of his beer and opens his mouth. “She calls you Mommy-girl. Why?”

“Not sure. I’ve always called her Bethy-girl, and since she could talk, she would always respond with Mommy-girl. Kinda stuck.”

“It’s adorable.”

“I know.” I smile, knowing how cute it really is. Usually the parents give the kids nicknames, but it’s nice to have a nickname of my own.

“I’m really pissed at you, Jo. I’ve never been so angry with anyone in my life.”

“I know,” I whisper.

“But I get it. I don’t like it, but I do. It must have been so hard for you without any support.”

“It was. Especially when I went back to work and had to leave her with sitters or daycare. I wanted to be with her, but I had to put food on the table. I wanted to reach out to you so many times, but I didn’t know what to say.”

“You shouldn’t have kicked me out of your life. I never wanted you to have an abortion, but I was willing to let you make the decision. I wasn’t the one who’d have to carry a baby for nine months and raise it alone while I was in Vegas. That wasn’t my call to make.”

“I thought you were relieved when I said I wasn’t thinking of keeping her.” I go on to tell Cutter the story of the nurse who screwed up and led me to the decision to keep Bethany, the best decision I’ve ever made.

“I would have been there, Jo. You had to know that.”

“I always knew that, Cutter. I always knew you’d never leave me to be a single mom. But I knew you’d sacrifice every dream you had to be the best dad you could. I didn’t want that for you. From the second I met you, I knew you were destined for great things, and the thought of stealing that away seemed selfish.”

“Selfish?” he booms. We both look back to Bethany’s room and he lowers his voice to not scare her. “
Selfish
was not telling me about this little human who’s half mine.
Selfish
was keeping her and all her milestones to yourself.
Selfish
was having all these adorable stories when I knew nothing of them.”

All of the emotions I’ve been fighting since I saw Cutter rush back and the tears start streaming down my face. I try talking, but each time I open my mouth, my breath flees and I end up gasping for air. The ever-caring Cutter jumps off the sofa and joins me on the love seat, plucking me from the cushion and setting me on his lap, just like at his apartment. Rubbing my back, he forces me to hold eye contact with him while he calms me down.

“Ya gotta breathe, Jo. Come on,” he coaxes. “Breathe with me. Calm down and breathe.”

I follow his directions and eventually my breathing evens out, but I’m still not able to talk without bursting into tears again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Bottom line, we don’t know each other anymore. I have so many feelings right now and a lot of them aren’t good. I’m pissed at myself for coddling you when I should be angry, but now I feel like shit for making you cry. I’m gonna go. I’ll come by tomorrow.”

He puts me down on the couch and walks toward the door. A piece of me dies a little when his back’s to me, so angry he can’t be in the same room. “Cutter?” I call, wanting tonight to end on a good note.

“Yeah.” He stops but doesn’t turn to face me.

“You can see Bethany anytime you want. You can play the part in her life that you want, big or small.” He nods and starts moving toward the door again.

“Cutter,” I call again, and this time he does face me.

“You won’t hate me forever, right?” I ask, unsure if I really want the answer.

“I couldn’t hate you if I wanted to, Josette.” He sighs, running a hand over his close-shaven head. “It would probably make loving you a lot less relevant.”

“You love me?”

“Since the first time I saw you and danced with you at that bar to scare off that weird dude.” He turns back around and before his hand can touch the handle, I call for him again and his head drops and begins shaking.

“I love you too, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Will we figure this out?” I ask, determined to make it work.

“I sure as shit hope so, because now that I’ve met that little girl, I can’t imagine not being a part of her life.” As happy as his answer makes me, I can’t help but be a little sad that his statement has nothing to do with me. But I accept his answer. I sit back on the love seat as Cutter opens the door. Once it’s closed, I lower my head and let the tears silently fall.

I was a fool to think not telling Cutter about Bethany was for his benefit. It was, but it wasn’t. I knew I couldn’t be around him without wanting it all, and now, after all these years, I’ll be lucky just to have him be a father to Bethany. The window for me is closed, I know it. He can love me to the moon and back, but there’s no way he’ll ever trust me again, and without trust, there’s no relationship.

I’ve messed everything up.

For the last few weeks, I’ve spent nearly every night at Josette’s, having dinner and doing the bedtime routine with Bethany. Josette and I have exchanged phone numbers—properly this time—but the conversations have been limited to talk about Bethany and what’s going on in her two-year-old world. I can’t help but wonder if that’s because Colt’s got his claws into Josette deeper than she’s letting on, or if it’s because she’s playing it safe for Bethany’s sake. Both make me want to break things.

I’ve always wanted Josette, and the fact that we have a daughter together seems like it should make everything perfect, but it’s far from it. My relationship with my child is blossoming, and Josette and I have decided it’s time to tell Bethany I’m her father, but Josette’s not given me any hints she wants to explore our relationship. I guess that’s not a bad thing. There’s only so much I can worry about at one time. With another fight coming up, this one in town, I’m training all day with Garrett and spending as much time in the evening with Bethany as I can, and trying to figure out Josette would take up more time than I have to offer.

“Special delivery for Bethany,” I announce as I walk through the front door of Josette’s house without knocking.

“Cuddo!” Bethany squeals, running to greet me before I can kick off my sneakers. She grabs my leg and squeezes as tight as she can, looking up at me with her wrap-me-around-your-finger blues and smiling her I’ve-got-you-right-where-I-want-you grin.

“Do you know any little girls who’ve been wanting a new tea set? I happened to find one earlier today and I could have swore someone told me about it, but I can’t remember who,” I tease, holding out a box filled with actual antique teacups and saucers.

An old woman bought the space next to the coffee shop across from the gym and opened a resale shop. After my near-death-experience workout with Garrett, I popped in and right in front, at the register, was this beautiful tea set that looked a hundred years old. Bethany and her love of tea parties hit me out of nowhere and I knew I’d buy it, regardless of cost. And I did. Some might say that two hundred is too much to spend on some cups and plates a toddler is most likely going to break, but for my Bethany, it’s not nearly enough.

“It was me, silly. Can I see?” She holds out her arms and I place the box into them. She runs across the small living room to the little folding table Josette decorated with a fancy tablecloth cut to size and a cheap crystal vase. Bethany wastes no time ripping open the box and picking out the cups and saucers, setting them in their correct places.

“What do you say, Bethy-girl?” Josette asks, stepping out of the kitchen wearing a floor-length dress with an apron, with flour all over her face and hands.

“Fank you, Cuddo. I love it.”

“Did you get in a fight with the Pillsbury Doughboy?” I ask Josette, following her back into the kitchen. Even though we’ve not discussed anything other than Bethany and all the things I missed, our conversations have become more relaxed, almost like they were when we first met.

“Actually, yes,” she jeers. “And he kicked my ass.”

“What the hell are you making? Was I wrong in assuming we were ordering pizza tonight? That’s what I planned anyway.”

“No, we are, but I totally forgot I told the daycare I’d send in some cupcakes for the bake sale during open house tomorrow night. I have to work a half day, so this is the only time I have to do it. Wanna help?”

“Jo, I can’t cook, let alone bake. I’ll make more of a mess than you already are.”

“Okay, I’m going to say this as nicely as I possibly can. If you don’t get in here and mix this bowl of batter with your big, strong manly arms, I’m liable to buy a few dozen cupcakes from the store. Not only will I be embarrassed as shit that I couldn’t make them on my own, but Bethany will be forever scarred by this one moment in her life. Do you want to ruin Bethany over cupcakes?”

“You’re a terrible liar, but you’ve got me. Give me the damn bowl and spoon thing.” Ignoring the fact that I’m not a baker, I stir that bowl of batter with gusto, periodically glancing at Josette, who’s grinning like a madwoman as she takes those little paper things and puts them in the tin, prepping for the batter that looks pretty much ready to go.

With the back of the spoon, I gather a generous amount and smear it across Josette’s cheek, returning her evil grin. “Oops, I’m so sorry, Jo. The spoon slipped and landed right on your face. You wouldn’t want to scar Bethany for life over a little smeared batter, would you?” She just scowls at me. Well, it would be a scowl if she wasn’t hiding a shit-eating smirk.

“You’re an asshole, you know,” she says, using the bottom of her apron to wipe away the mixture.

“I’ve heard that a time or two, but a reminder is always welcome. Can’t go around getting soft and letting people forget who I truly am.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re mixing cupcake batter in my kitchen. Thankfully, it’s not bread or anything like that, then they’d know how soft you truly are.” She giggles, and I’d almost swear she’s flirting. Before I get a chance to pursue it, Bethany bounces into the kitchen and climbs onto the stepstool to survey our handiwork.

“Looks yummy, Mommy. Can I have one?” she asks, reaching for one of the tins.

“You can have
one.
” Josette emphasizes the number. “As soon as they’re cooked. You eat it now, you’ll get really sick.”

I pick up Bethany and place her on the opposite end of the counter, and we watch Josette put both trays of cupcakes into the preheated oven. She reaches for a damp rag and looks over to where Bethany and I are. “You know what, Bethy-girl, I’ve got a secret to tell you,” she says. I catch Josette’s nervous look and I immediately know where this is going. It’s time to tell her. My palms start to sweat as I wonder how this is going to work out. At only two years old, there’s no way Bethany can truly comprehend what’s going on, but still, it could hurt her, and that’s the last thing I want. I suddenly understand every move Josette made where Bethany was concerned. I get why she never told her about me and vice versa. Was her decision selfish? Yeah, it was. But was it coming from the right place? Absolutely.

“I love secrets,” Bethany whispers, leaning closer to Josette and fixing her with a stare, waiting for the bomb to be dropped.

“Did you know you and Cutter have the same eyes? They’re the exact same,” Josette divulges, and Bethany looks up at me.

“We do!” Bethany says excitedly. “Nobody else has my eyes. Mommy says mine are extra special. You extra special, too, Cuddo.”

“They’re the most beautiful eyes in the whole wide world,” Josette interrupts, fiddling with the hem of her apron. “Wanna know something else?”

“Yep!” Bethany booms, ready for more awesome secrets.

“You and Cutter have the same smile, too.” Josette pauses, gauging Bethany’s reaction, and it seems similar to the comment about our eyes, so she opens her mouth to continue, but Bethany cuts her off.

“Like family, Mommy, cuz you and me have yellow hairs,” Bethany proudly states.

“That’s absolutely right. I’m your mommy and we have the same hair, only mine isn’t as pretty as yours.”

“Is Cuddo my family, too?” Bethany looks up at me and then back to Josette for an answer, while Josette and I eye each other knowingly. Did Bethany just figure it out before we had a chance to tell her? I’ve never met a smarter two-year-old.

“Actually, yes, Cutter is your family.”

“Good. I like Cuddo. He’s silly like me, cuz we’re family.”

“Is it okay that I’m your family, Bethany?” I ask.

“Yep. I don’t have any boy family.”

“What if I told you that Cutter’s your daddy?” Josette asks, nearly losing her breath before finishing her question. My heart’s racing waiting for Bethany’s answer. The tiny girl suspiciously stares at me with a scrunched-up face, then her features relax and a broad smile appears across her lips.

“I’ve never had a daddy before,” she says, and my heart nearly shatters. “I like having a daddy.”

“Are you okay with me being your dad?” I ask, wanting to make sure I’m not dreaming.

“Do you want to be my daddy?” she answers with a question, in true Josette fashion. This little girl might have some of my distinctive features, but inside, she’s all her mother.

“More than anything,” I respond.

“You and Mommy gonna get mawwied? And have a baby broder for me?” she asks in her adorable toddler lisp. I gotta give Josette credit, this little girl is smarter and more articulate than I could have imagined.

My stomach flips and Josette’s face turns ghostly white. “No, honey, we’re not getting married and I don’t see any baby brothers in the cards for you. Besides, if I had a new baby, I wouldn’t get to spend all my free time with you,” Josette carefully answers.

“And babies poop all the time.”

“Yes, they do.” Josette laughs at the lack of filter coming from the miniature version of herself. “How about you run and play with your new tea set while we order dinner?”

“Okay, Mommy.” Without hesitation or more questions, Bethany bounds into the other room, leaving Josette and me both grasping the counter, sucking in breaths we didn’t know we hadn’t taken. I step closer to her, grabbing her hand and squeezing.

“We did it and she doesn’t hate us,” I remind Josette, who looks like she might have a breakdown any second.

“How was that so easy? I just knew it was going to be harder.”

“I thought so, too. But I didn’t take into account that we created the most amazing little girl who’s not only easy to please but smart and kind and can adapt to just about anything. You did real good, Jo.”

“No, Cutter. We did that. I’m not as calm as she is; that’s all you and your patience. Thank God, it looks like she got the best from both of us.”

Dinner passes quickly and without incident. There are no further questions about paternity, thankfully, because I’m pretty sure I’ve reached my max of emotions for the day. We all clear the table and I excuse myself to the living room to collect myself while the girls get the dishwasher loaded. Together they walk out of the kitchen with proud smiles on their faces, no doubt because they got it cleaned in record time.

“All right, Bethy-girl, it’s about time for bed. Wanna give Cutter some love before I tuck you in?”

“No story tonight?” Bethany whines, and sticks out her bottom lip.

“Not tonight, angel. It’s already past your bedtime and if you get another red card, the teacher says you’ll have to miss all playtime. So we gotta get you to bed so you can rest good and be on your best behavior tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Bethany pouts. “Can Cuddo tuck me in, too?”

“Absolutely,” I answer without pause. There’s nothing in this world that I’d rather be doing than tucking in my daughter now that she knows she’s my daughter. It’s like it’s the first time I’m really doing the daddy thing and let me tell you, it’s fucking amazing.

Despite Josette’s earlier decree about stories, I sneak one in, earning me an evil scowl from Josette. Her anger disappears when she sees how happy it makes Bethany. At the end of the book, Josette sneaks a kiss on the top of her head.

“Good night, Bethy-girl. I love you more than chocolate chip pancakes.”

“Night, Mommy-girl. I love you.” Bethany giggles.

Josette climbs off the bed and waits for me at the door. “Night, pretty girl,” I say, giving Bethany a bear hug, inciting a few more giggles, and a big kiss to her forehead. “Sleep well,” I whisper, pulling the covers up to her chin.

“Night, Daddy,” she says as if she’s been saying it for years, then rolls on her side and closes her eyes.

By the grace of God and all the lucky stars above, I’m able to make it out of her room, pull her door shut, and step into the living room before I hit my knees and let the tears fall. How two simple words can bring a man of my size to his literal knees I’ll never know, but they did. Hearing her call me “Daddy” makes it all real.

Bracing my palms on my thighs, I’m getting ready to push myself up when I feel Josette’s arms wrap around my neck and her front press to my back. “I’m so sorry I stole that from you for so long. You deserve to have heard that every day since she started talking. But I’m so happy you get it now. I’m so happy she has a daddy who loves her. And I’m so happy that I never let her call anyone else daddy, because you’re the only person in this entire world that deserves to hear that precious word.”

Another wave of emotion hits me, knocking me on my ass. Bethany said she had never had a daddy before, and I took her at face value, but I guess I assumed that Colt had stepped into that role, and that she thought of him as her dad. Josette’s words drive home the point that I’m the only man who’s ever filled those shoes. Not even Colt, that smug, deplorable bastard, has ever had my girls the way I have them now. Strike me dead right this second, I swear he never will.

They’re mine. Both of them. Once I figure out how to stop being such an emotional pussy and get back on my feet and get my shit together.