I just got settled into my flight for LA, letting out a frustrated sigh as I rest my head on the glass. I saw all of the articles that came out about Maddie, and it makes me want to scream. None of these stupid, made up stories are true, but if I react and become irate it'll just make the situation worse. I have to let it go as hard as it is.

Reaching into my backpack, I go to grab my headphones until my hands hit something hard. I pull it out gently, and I realize that I'm holding the photo album that Maddie was going to show me. It's polka dot pink, a picture of Izzy's face on the center. I run my thumb over the picture.

How did she slip this into my bag? I mean, the backpack has been sitting on my barstool for days. Maybe she slid it in there without me seeing? She must have.

On the top of the album there's a sticky note that says, for you to look at to pass the time. - Maddie

Am I even ready to see this? I don't think I am, but it's intriguing to say the least. Before I can think about it any longer I flip the cover open to the first page, the breath catching in my throat.

It's a picture of Maddie in her bedroom standing by the window. The curtains are drawn, and all you can see is the silhouette of her naked, pregnant body. This must have been professionally taken.

The other pictures are of her in an open white cotton shirt, both of her hands on her stomach. These ones you can clearly see her, and my god, she's perfect. She's pregnant with my child, and I'm infatuated with all of the photos. Every single one.

She's breathtakingly beautiful.

Flipping to the next page, I see photos from the day Izzy was born. Maddie is in a hospital bed in a gown, giving two thumbs up at the person who's taking the picture. I'm assuming it's her mom.

Beside that one is of her on an operating table. There's a curtain in front of her to block what's going on in surgery, but baby Izzy is on her chest. In the picture Maddie is crying happy tears, and I find myself blinking away tears of my own.

Izzy is so tiny. Even tinier than she is now. It looks like she could fit in the palm of my hand. The chubbiest of cheeks, little tiny button nose, and the greenest eyes, just like mine.

Wasn't Maddie scared? Didn't she want me there for this? I should have been contacted about this, but oddly enough as I look at the photos i dont find myself getting angry. I'm sad, but the pictures are still nice to look at. I'm at least feeling like I was there somewhat.

If only I had just reached out to her and came clean about what Katie had threatened. Our lives would be completely different. We'd be married right now, and I probably would have gotten her pregnant again if she wanted me to. I'd have five Izzy's with her if she wanted.

On the last page though is when I find myself unable to keep the tears at bay. In Maddie's handwriting it says, for Izzy. There are pictures of Maddie and i throughout the years. When we were kids on their family's annual trip to Myrtle Beach, when Maddie had lost her two front teeth. My arm is wrapped around her, Ethan crying in the background because he didn't get this specific ice cream he wanted. I remember that day vividly.

Next to that picture is one of us at my dads house at one of our gatherings that we used to have when my mom was still alive. She's in the picture holding a glass of lemonade next to Maddie's mom as Maddie, Ethan and I are running around with popsicles in our hands.

Maddie drew a little arrow pointing to my mom in the picture and wrote, your grandma Izzy! (Who you were named after).

I'm full on crying now when I turn the page, but find myself laughing when I realize she put the picture of us from that night at Myrtle Beach when we snuck out together. I had wanted the picture with her after I realized that she might mean more to me than just being my best friend's sister. Right before I got scared of my feelings and pushed her away, I wanted to remember that night. She, however, did not. She looks miserable, a fake smile plastered to her face as she grimaces at the camera.

I smile at the memory, running my fingers over her face on the picture. Maddie Davis, the love of my life, the mother of my child, the one woman who completely turned my life upside down.

Finally, next to that picture, I see the one of Izzy and I that I sent to her the other day. It's newly glued onto the page, more handwriting scribbled from Maddie.

Your daddy! She says. The best daddy in the world!

If Maddie were here right now, I'd make love to her. I'd take her right on this plane if she were next to me. The amount of love I'm feeling for her is too much. It's almost unbearable.

Suddenly I find myself not overthinking this. I'm in love with this girl. I never stopped. Not even for a second.

I want her to be mine again.

______

The next day I arrive at the shoot. The assistants are doting over me hand and foot to try and please me when they seriously don't need to. I'm not high maintenance.

One of the assistants, Kelsey, comes into the dressing room with my coffee ready to go. She's got bright red hair, pale skin, and is extremely thin.

"Black, as requested." She says. I like the fact that she's professional and doesn't try to talk to me about anything but business. Then again, working for a place like GQ I assume she has to be like this or else she'd be fired.

"Thank you." I reply and take a long sip, sighing in relief when the hot liquid travels down my throat. I'm used to having my coffee as soon as I wake up. Waiting hours for this has been torture.

They've dressed me in a pair of ripped light wash low rise jeans the barely cling onto my hips. And of course, they wanted me shirtless for this. The makeup artist is currently applying oil all over my chest.

"Is this really necessary?" I partly laugh. My eyes pop up to the mirror to stare at myself, and I look completely ridiculous.

"Trust me." The makeup artist replies, and she gives me a flirtatious smile. "The girls will want to see this on the cover."

Withholding an eye roll, I let her finish up the job until my phone dings with a text message. It's Maddie.

Hey... she writes. I'm so sorry to interrupt your shoot, but I figured you'd want to know. I have to take Izzy to the hospital. She's had a horrible fever all night and it isn't breaking. Not even with Tylenol. Since she isn't able to keep anything down either I have to take her in for fluids. Please don't worry. I'm sure she will be fine and it's probably just a bug. Just wanted to keep you updated.

A fever? How high is it? She has to go to the hospital? Out of all times I have to be all the way in Los Angeles?

There's no way I'm letting Maddie deal with this alone. There's no way in hell that I'm going to just sit here and do nothing while my daughter is sick. Absolutely not.

"Um..." I click my phone shut, looking around the room until I find a white button down shirt from the dress rack. "I have to go." I tell the makeup artist. "It's a family emergency. Will you tell the photographer please?"

"Wait!" She calls out, but I'm already halfway out the door. "The clothes!" She shrieks.

I'm too wired to even think about returning the clothes. Oh, god! Her squishy! Izzy's squishy. I have it. She doesn't even have her favorite toy.

Pulling out my phone, I text my agent. Family emergency. I had to leave the shoot. Reschedule it for next weekend please if they agree to it. Also, please send someone to the apartment to grab my daughters turtle and have them meet me at the airport.

In seconds I get a text back. He's always been very prompt, so I'm not surprised.

Your daughters... turtle? May I ask what it looks like? Also, I will contact them immediately. Please keep me updated.

It's the turtle from Finding Nemo. I can't remember his name. It's tiny, fits in the size of a palm. Just have whoever it is bring me the whole backpack. It's on the couch in the living room. The turtle is in there.

Will do. He replies. Travel safe.