My Baby, My Darling.

She was curious. I remember my mom telling me that I rarely cried as a child. I was always watching, observing. And now, watching Lydia play with the salt and pepper shakers on the wooden table inside the coffee shop, it was a surreal feeling. I still had yet to fully process the fact that Lydia was my daughter. I mean, I know it and I can see it when I look at her. But I had no role in being her father for three years. I know nothing about her so everything I see her do is the most fascinating and beautiful thing I've ever witnessed. She spills milk on herself and I smile for a good ten minutes. I must have been watching her fiddle with the shakers for a while because when I found the will to take my eyes off of her, my eyes landed on an irritated Monica standing in front of me, in the middle of a story about the rude barista at the counter.

"...I mean, how hard is it to refrain from putting whipped cream on every single drink you make. I specifically told them no cream, it's marked on my cup even." She pointed down at her cup in disbelief.

I turned my gaze back to Lydia, smiling as I watched her eyes widen upon realization that the shakers were in fact the same size.

"Dexter, are you listening?" She huffed from beside me.

"No." I said, offering my hand out to Lydia and watching as her small fingers traced over the creases of my palm. "No I am not."

"I said that they screwed up our order and so they ended up giving us another coffee, except it's black. And I know how much you hate-"

"It's fine." I said, my eyes never leaving Lydia. "I like my coffee black."

"Since when?" She asks, and I shrug.

Actually, I never really drank coffee all that much until I met Chelsea. All she ever drank was coffee, and she always drank it black. So, to appease her, I drank it black too. I never really minded the bitter taste. It complimented her. It was an acquired taste and I learned to love it. Just like I learned to love her.

Monica pulled out a chair and took a seat on the other side of Lydia's booster chair. She expertly poured the chocolate milk from one of the coffee cups into Lydia's orange sippy cup. She made sure the lid was screwed on tight before pushing it in front of Lydia. Monica was terrible at a lot of things, but being a mother was not one of then. Even though she screwed me over legally and emotionally, I had to appreciate the fact that she really does love Lydia. She just doesn't know right from wrong sometimes and that makes her do some really fucked up things.

I watched Lydia shake her head and push the cup back to Monica before fixing her gaze back onto my palm, turning it over to look at my knuckles in amazement.

Monica peered out the window and impatiently looked down at her watch, "What time did Annie say she was going to meet us here? We have to be at the judges chambers by-"

"2:30. She knows." I said.

We were having our first hearing today to discuses the repercussions of Ben's legal actions. The past two weeks, Monica and I have been meeting with lawyers and going over documents so that we could be prepared for today. And since we both have to be present because both our names are on the lawsuit against Ben, we've been asking Annie to babysit Lydia while we're at meetings. But since Monica and Annie have yet to resolve their issues, Annie purposely shows up late to pick up Lydia because she knows it will piss of Monica. And nothing irritates Monica more than when her schedule is thrown off.

"Are you sure? Because you know she's always late. And it's already 2:20. Can you call her?"

"She's on her way," I said, breaking my gaze away from Lydia and sending Monica an annoyed look.

She merely huffed and settled into her seat, taking a sip of her latte.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm here." Annie yelled, bursting through the doors of the coffee shop.

Monica let out a sigh, looking down at her watch. "You're late. You said you'd be here at-"

"Oh, will you put a cork in it." Annie rolled her eyes. "I'm here aren't I?"

"Yeah, you're here. Five minutes late." Monica muttered, looking up at Annie. "Your brother and I have to be in court by-"

"Two-thirty, I know. So why are you talking to me? You're gonna be late." Annie said, bending down to pick up Lydia and making silly faces, earning a few giggles, glorious, harmony-like giggles from my daughter. My daughter. It still takes getting used to.

"You know what? I wouldn't have this problem if you would just have the decency to show up on time." Monica said, standing up and wrapping her scarf around her neck.

Annie scoffed, "None of us would be in this problem if you hadn't tried to commit fraud in-"

"Alright, that's enough." I said, giving Annie a stern look and gesturing toward the wandering eyes that were now listening in on their argument.

She rolled her eyes and nodded her head toward Monica as if to say "she started it."

I rolled my eyes and looked over at Monica's fuming expression. She was pissed. But, to be honest, I didn't really care. Annie spoke the truth, but it wasn't right to push Monica's buttons like that in public.

I reached over to Lydia and placed a kiss on her forehead, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. When I stepped back, Monica walked up to Lydia and did the same thing, whispering a quick "I love you" and sent a glare to Annie before following me out the door.

The walk to the courthouse was short and Monica just kept babbling about how annoying Annie has been lately and comparing everything to how she acted before she left years ago, when they were on good terms and we were engaged. I tuned her out. I was more concerned with the court case, and how everything would pan out. I know that Ben is more experienced with this legal stuff than I am, so I hired my mother's old lawyer and a family friend of ours, Jerry.

Jerry was around a lot more before my mother passed away. My parents were good friends with him in college, and he would come over to a few birthday parties growing up. But now he was 50, grey-haired and hefty. And he was my best chance at winning this case. I had no doubt that Ben hired one of the company lawyers and I knew enough that their lawyers knew what they were doing, never ceasing to manipulate every loophole in the book. Jerry was waiting for us on the steps of the courthouse, in the middle of a phone call with who sounded like his secretary. When his call ended, he led us into the building and down a series of hallways as he reminded us of what we could and could not say when we got into the judge's chambers. Monica and I nodded, paying attention to every detail. Basically, he told us that he would do all the talking and we would not speak unless the judge directly asked us a question.

When he pushed open the wooden door leading to a small conference room, Ben and his lawyer were already seated on one side of the table, speaking in hushed voices. As I took my seat, Ben looked up and nodded. His expression was unreadable and I questioned whether or not the he was still the same man who drove Annie and I to the beach the night we found out our mom died. Our dad was working late yet again and Ben took the phone call from the hospital, he was the one that first heard from the doctor that she was in an accident and that someone breed to come down and identify the body. I scanned his face now and searched for any remnant of the same 17 year old that stood, staring in front of the shoreline for 2 hours while Annie and I waited in the warm confines of his car. He broke down that night. He didn't want us to see him break. Annie was asleep in the backseat and he probably thought I was too. He protected us for so many years, and I struggled to find any hint of that same teenager in the corporate suit sitting across from me. I tried, but saw nothing. He was the only one I knew that was better than me at hiding emotion.

The lawyers were arguing about a section of the contract that wasn't disclosed to us. Ben's lawyer read the document out loud and I watched as Jerry's face turned red with anger. I didn't understand what they were saying. What I know about clauses and court cases is very limited, but I knew enough about reading facial expressions to know that we were screwed.

I looked over at Monica and she shrugged, just as confused as I was.

"What's going on?" Monica said, looking at Jerry. Jerry wiped a hand over his face and gave us a distressed look.

"Your honor," he said, turning his attention to the judge, "I'd like to request for a recess."

The judge nodded, "A ten minute recess it is then. We'll meet back here." She brought down her gavel, "Court adjourned."

Ben followed his lawyer out of the room, unbuttoning the jacket of his suit in the process. The judge receded back to her office and closed the wooden door behind her.

Once everyone was gone, Jerry turned to face us. "By law, Ben legally accessed the funds. There was a separate clause that Ben signed which allowed for him to handle your mother's legal affairs. Once he turned 18, he became your mother's legal heir."

I blinked, taking in his words, "So what you're saying is that we have no case here. Our case line is dead."

Jerry took a deep breath, looking down at his pad of paper, "This was unforeseen by me. The knowledge of Ben's legal ownership of your mother's affairs has just become visible to me and-"

I slammed my fist down onto the table and Monica jumped, "Damn it. So this is what the fucking legal system has come to? People can just pretend to be someone they're not and steal millions of dollars and no one can do anything about it? Is this some sort of sick joke?"

"Dexter," Monica sighed, putting her head into her hands, "Dexter just sit down."

"No." I shook my head backing away from the table. I spun around and pushed my way past the wooden doors.

"Dexter!" Monica called out to me. I could hear her footsteps as she chased me down the hallway. I turned the corner and spotted Ben and his lawyer talking in front of the main entrance.

"What the fuck did you do with it?" I stormed toward Ben and he turned around, a look of surprise crossing his face.

"Dexter," he put his hands up.

I shoved him against the wall and he winced, rubbing his shoulder. "What did you do with the fucking money? Are you keeping it somewhere? Did you use it to pay for the wedding, for your fucking honeymoon in Italy? Is that what you used mom's money for?"

"Look, bro. Calm down." He said, putting his hand on my shoulder. I slapped his hand away and shoved him against the wall again.

"Bro? Bro?! You are not my brother. You are the sick bastard that stole my deceased mother's money and tried to screw me over with this legal bullshit. I did nothing wrong to you. I've been there for you all these years. I don't know who the fuck you are anymore but you are sure as hell not my brother."

"Dexter, listen to me. I'm only doing what mom told me to do." He looked around and saw that a small crowd was now stopping in their tracks to watch us. He lowered his voice, "Dexter the money is gone."

"Bullshit. That money belongs to Lydia and you know that. You fucking shit money. You are going to pay back every cent of that fund. Mom wanted Lydia to have that money. And I swear to god I'm going to do everything possible to make that happen."

Ben's eyes moved past me to look at Monica, confusion crossing his features before he turned back to me. "I'm doing what mom asked me to do."

"What mom asked you to do?" I scoffed, taking a few steps back and glaring at him. "You know, that's fucking hilarious. Look at you. You have become everything she hates. You care about money more than you care about your own brother. This is everything she didn't want you to be. She hates the company, and you know that."

"Hated." He said, his eyes meeting mine. "She hated the company, Dexter. She isn't alive anymore. She hasn't been for a long time."

And I saw it, that same broken 17 year old from all those years ago. I knew my words struck him. Whenever we talked about mom he would avoid the situation entirely.

I took a deep breath, my voice dropping to a murmur. "Where is the money, Ben?"

He cleared his throat, his eyes moving to look at the ground. "It's gone."

"What do you fucking mean it's gone?" I hissed.

"I mean that it's gone. I don't have it anymore."

"Well where is it then?"

He was quiet.

"Where the fuck is it?"

He clenched his jaw, looking over at his lawyer who was still so entranced by the scene in front of him that when he realize we were both looking at him, he became flustered and began to stammer his words. "The funds have gone to the foundation of company relief efforts."

"Company Relief Efforts." I said, narrowing my eyes at him as realization dawned on me. "You fucking gave the money to dad's company. Are you shitting me? That's what was so goddamn important to you, giving even more money to the company that ruined our childhood?"

"You don't know a thing about the company." He said, shaking his head in warning.

"You are damn right I don't." I spat, glaring at him. "You know why? Because that's what mom wanted. She wanted us to have nothing to do with the company. And you did the opposite of that. You used her last gift to us and you gave it to the one thing in this world he hated. You did that, not me. I don't give a shit about the company."

"Will you just let me explain? Can we talk somewhere that isn't in front of all these people?" He said.

I shook my head, reaching up to poke him in the chest harshly. "You've said all you need to say. You are paying back that money, every single cent. I may not be able to sue you for all that you're worth, but I am telling you right now, we are not family. We are done!"

I turned and pushed my way past the people crowded beside the door and I heard Monica's quick footsteps follow closely behind. I kept walking and she called out to me, asking me to slow down. But I didn't wait for her. I didn't intend to wait for her ever again.

Chelsea's POV

Morning classes are the worst kind. But I like my literature class so I don't mind it as much. It was cloudy when I got out of class and I paid no attention to the puddles I stepped in as I made my way to the car. It's come to the time of year where it rains a lot, and to be honest, this has always been my favorite kind of weather. Marc called my phone as I was pulling out of the parking lot and I had no choice but to answer it.

"I'm driving." I said, hoping I could make the call short.

"Are you almost here?" He said, not impatient but curious. I heard water running in the background and I could tell he was washing the dishes I left in the sink before I left for class this morning. Like Dexter, he couldn't stand the sight of clutter.

I pouted, "Yeah, I should be there in about five minutes. Do you have all your stuff?"

"Most of it. I just need to fold the laundry in the dryer and I'll be all set." He said, and the water in the background stopped.

"Okay, I'll be there soon." I said and hung up.

I was driving Marc back to the airport today. It was nice to have him with me during the holidays, well to have my family together during the holidays was a great feeling. It kind of filled the void what with Dexter gone, not fully, but it was part of the reason I made it through Christmas without another mental breakdown. Gabe, Travis, and Annie went back home after that weekend but Marc and I stayed through Christmas. And it was nice. I kind of felt whole again. But there was always something missing, someone was missing.

When I got back to my apartment, Marc was watching spongebob squarepants. Picture that, a 26 year old watching children's cartoons. And to make matters worse, he was laughing his ass off. God, I was going to miss him. I found myself second guessing whether or not I would still agree to drive him to the airport so he could fly halfway around the world for another 6 months.

"Ready?" I said, jingling my keys in my hand.

His eyes snapped to meet mine and he nodded, wiping a few tears from his eyes and shutting my TV off.

He grabbed his bags by the door and I grabbed the last one, the smallest one before locking the door behind me. When we passed through the kitchen downstairs, a few of the line cooks and waitresses wished Marc a safe trip and after a few prolonged hugs, we finally made it to my car.

The car ride was short and my brother fiddled with the radio stations like a child. Usually I would fight him, tell him how annoying he was being, but I didn't. Instead I laughed at his jokes and tried my hardest not to cry. He's seen enough of me crying.

"I think I'm going to ask Serena to marry me." He said when I pulled off the highway. It was so sudden, just three seconds ago we were talking about hot pockets.

My head snapped to him and I raised my brow. "What? Really?"

He nodded, a smile on his face. I had only talked to his girlfriend over the phone and said a quick hello when I caught Marc FaceTiming her. She was nice, and considering the way Marc talked about her, I know how much he loves her. It's just weird to hear him talk about marriage. In my eyes, he's still the teenage brother that locked me out of the bathroom every morning and stole my cell phone just to get a good laugh.

"I'm really happy for you. Serena is a great girl, Marc." I said and he smiled at the thought of her.

"She makes me happy." He said, staring out the window. "I'll come back and visit sometime next month and I'll bring her with me. You can meet her, officially."

"It sounds great. I'm glad you're happy. I really am."

It was quiet and he reached to turn down the radio. I looked over at him just as I was approaching the loading and unloading zone of the airport. His face was serious and I opened my mouth to ask him what was wrong but he shook his head, silencing me.

"I want you to be happy too, Chels. And during this trip, you were the happiest I've ever seen you. When we were kids, you had this spark in you. I don't know what it was, but I really envied it, you know. And over the years, I slowly watched that little spark go out. But when I came back last month, it was back and you were smiling and laughing and...happy. He did that for you. And I know he fucked up. When he was gone during Christmas, the spark was gone. I know this sounds so sappy and so unlike me. Because trust me, saying this makes me more uncomfortable than you know. But I need to say it. He fucked up, I know. People make mistakes. I'm not saying you need to take him back because I know how well you respond to people telling you what to do. But if he makes you happy, he makes you happy. That's it. That's my sappy saying of the day."

He blinked, unsure of what to do next. Suddenly, he reached his hand out and ruffled my hair, completely messing it up. And I laughed, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion.

"Okay, I'm gonna go now." He said, opening his car door, but I stopped him.

"You're a good brother." I said and his lips curved into a smile. He slung his bags over his shoulders and slammed the door shut, giving me one last wave before sauntering through the double doors of the airport. As I drove away, I felt my heart get heavy at the loss of yet another source of happiness.