No Chance by Lisa Suzanne

CHAPTER 6: HANNAH

He never held the baby—never even touched him. In fact, he made me run the little swab inside Chance’s cheek to get the sample. He left with the swab and promised to be in touch when he got the results, but I don’t trust that guy.

He left when I told him I needed to get to work. He never mentioned it, but I know he has a concert tonight. It seems like it’s all the local rock radio station has talked about for months.

And still, he came here. He seemed sincere enough, but the fact that he could so easily hump my sister and just walk away makes him...gross.

I know what my sister wanted.

I’ve read the paperwork she left behind. She never filed it, so it’s not technically legal...but it’s still her wishes and her child.

And that’s why I’m so damn torn over what to do. I can’t just hand Chance over to a stranger, but I’m not sure what other options I have.

It’s in an envelope filed away in a drawer. I didn’t want Brett to see it, but I’m not sure why. It’s not like I have anything to hide from him at this point.

I pull it out of the drawer and finger the post-it note on top of the envelope.

Need notary witness before filing.

My sister’s handwriting is neat and looks like it could be its own font. She was a planner and a bit of a perfectionist, something her scattered sister is not, but a nine-month-old inhibited her ability to complete a lot of tasks—especially ones that cost money. While a notary is relatively inexpensive, our options were a box of Cheerios for Chance plus a little extra toward the electric bill or getting a paper signed that we never really thought we’d have to use.

But it’s my job to carry out the words on the paper.

Chance sits in his highchair with a few Cheerios left on his tray. I slide the printed copy out of the envelope and read it over for the hundredth time in the last two days.

I appoint Hannah Hartman as executor of this will. Hannah is authorized to carry out all provisions of this will. In the event I die as the sole parent of a minor child, Chance Michael Pitzer, then I appoint the biological father, Brett Pitzer as guardian with the provision that Hannah Hartman will be a consistent presence in the child’s life in particular during the transfer of guardianship.

She didn’t say what to do if Brett doesn’t want guardianship. I’m positive she never thought she’d really need to rely on this piece of paper, and she doesn’t...but I do.

There’s a second page in there, too. I knew about the guardianship thing, but I didn’t know about the second page. And there’s a third page, too, but it’s addressed to Chance and it says on the front that he shouldn’t read it until his tenth birthday.

I read through the second page again.

Hannah,

If you’re reading this, it’s because I’m gone. It’s morbid to think about these things, to write about these things, but now that I have a child, the last thing in the world I want is for him to suffer the way we did. Chance has me now, but if something happens to me, you know how important it is for him to know his remaining biological parent. Someday I will get up the courage to find a way to track down Brett and tell him about his son, but if I don’t get the chance, I’m relying on you to do it. Please take care of my sweet boy. Let him keep his innocence, but let him know his father in whatever way you can. I may be too scared to do it right now, but you’re stronger than I am. Strength, right? You have it. More than you know. And just be happy. Whatever it takes. I know you hate him, but if there’s just some way you could try, for me, not to hate him...it would mean everything to me. Be happy, be healthy, be well, and know that whatever path you decide to take, whether I’m physically here beside you or not, life goes on.

Xo,

B

Chance tosses a Cheerio on the floor before he giggles and does it again, and I shake my head at him as I look fondly upon him.

I love this kid so damn much.

He’s way more than just my nephew to me. I’ve lived with him his entire life. I’m like a second mother to him. When Brie had to leave the apartment, I was the one who’d stay with him. When she had a call with a client that couldn’t be interrupted, I was the one who entertained him. I feed him and change him and bathe him and now I’m all he has left in the whole world.

And he’s all I have left, too.

I slide the letter back into the envelope. I empty the rest of the Cheerios from his tray before he has a chance to throw them, and then I wipe his tiny fingers and take him out of the chair. I buckle him into his car carrier, snap the carrier into his stroller, sling the diaper bag over my shoulder, and head on foot toward the bar.

Brie’s car was unrecognizable after the accident. It was a reliable method of transportation—my only way of getting to and from the bar, which is two miles away from the apartment. I guess I’ll be hoofing it for the time being until I can figure something out.

My feet are already tired by the time I arrive, and my shift hasn’t even started yet. I push Chance into the stock room, and just my dumb luck, there stands Hank with a clipboard in his hand, a pen behind one ear and the tip of another pen hanging between his teeth as he surveys some boxes.

“Why is there a child back here in the stock room?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me and the stroller I’m pushing.

I draw in a deep breath and wring my hands nervously. “I, uh, didn’t know what else to do with him.”

“So you brought him to work?”

Tears burn behind my eyes. Shit. I’m trying to hold it together, but Hank is about to push me over the edge. “He’s my nephew,” I say meekly.

“He’s not even your kid?” he presses.

“Well, um, I guess I’m kind of responsible for him now,” I say softly.

“Speak up, little girl,” he scolds, his tone a little mocking.

That does it. The tears spill over. “My sister died last night. She left behind this little boy and I’m all he has. I couldn’t miss my shift, so I brought him along.”

His eyes soften in surprise, and I feel Mina’s arms come around me from behind. I didn’t even know she walked in.

“Be nice to her, Bossman,” she says, her tone much stronger than mine. She squeezes me. “I’m so, so sorry, Hannah.” Her voice is soft, and the hug from behind is the most comforting thing I’ve felt all day aside from baby cuddles. “What can I do? We’ll cover you tonight. Go home. Do what you need to do.”

“I can’t miss a shift,” I say, my eyes down on the ground. “I need the money now more than ever.”

I think back to Brett’s offer to pay for childcare if it’s his kid. It’s insulting, but I don’t have so much pride that I won’t take him up on it if it comes down to it. I need a stable environment for Chance.

“I’ll pay you for your shift,” Hank says uncomfortably. “I’m sorry about what happened.”

He’s not sorry he was just an asshole to me, though.

He walks out of the stock room and leaves Mina and me alone. I turn around to face the only friend I really have. “Go home, girl. Take the night. We’ll get you back up and running ASAP.”

I press my lips together in what might form a smile in some alternate universe, but I can’t seem to force my mouth into one today. “Brett came to my apartment today.”

Her dark brows shoot up.

“He brought a DNA test with him and said he’ll be in touch with the results.”

She purses her lips. “Asshole.”

I shrug. “It’s his right. I know the truth already, and he seemed transfixed when he first saw Chance, but in his line of work...” I trail off. Why am I defending him? I shake my head. “I think it was a bad idea to tell him. Now he has the power to take him away from me.”

“What were Brie’s intentions for guardianship?” she asks. She bends over the stroller and makes faces at Chance, who giggles at her.

“Brett as guardian with the provision that I will be a consistent presence in the child’s life in particular during the transfer of guardianship.” I recite the words I’ve read a hundred times from memory. “She never legally filed the paperwork, but that’s what she wanted.”

She blows out a breath. “You could run away with the baby,” she offers.

I shake my head. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t afford to. I don’t have a car. This job isn’t enough to make rent, let alone to find childcare for a baby that isn’t mine. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You could ask Brett for money. He’s got bundles of it, I’m sure.”

“He offered to pay for childcare and stuff,” I admit. “But I can’t just ask for a handout. I won’t.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” she says. She glances up at the clock and gives me another hug. “I need to get back to it. You’ll get home okay?”

I nod. “We’ll be fine. And Mina?”

She stops on her way toward the door and turns around, her brows raised in a question mark.

“Thank you.”

She smiles before she puts her hand on the door to push it open. “I’m here for whatever you need, honey.”

She heads out the door, and despite the situation I find myself in, I’m grateful for her friendship.