I arrived at Spencer’s place and spotted Kirby’s luxury SUV in the driveway. I dreaded seeing Kirby, but at least I was supporting Spencer. My lover was waiting for me on the porch. He smiled and greeted me.
“You look nice,” he said, reaching for my hand.
“Thank you.” We went inside, and as we entered the living room, I glanced past him and spotted Kirby on the sofa. He jumped up as soon as he saw me.
Suddenly, I sensed that this wasn’t going to go in my favor. I was beginning to feel like an outsider, particularly with the looks the men were exchanging.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“Kirby’s needs to talk to you,” Spencer replied.
I frowned. “About what?”
His breath hitched. “The secret I’ve been keeping for him.”
Spencer’s secret was Kirby’s secret? I didn’t like the sound of that.
“Maybe you should sit down,” Kirby replied. “Because we... I have a lot to tell you.”
“I’d prefer to stand.” They were both standing, too, with Spencer’s shiny red piano in the background.
He gently asked me, “Can I get you anything?”
“No.” I didn’t want a soft drink or whatever he was offering. I just wanted to hear what his mentor had to say. I clutched the chain strap on my purse, pulling it tighter against my shoulder.
“Try to keep an open mind,” Spencer said. “And please, give Kirby a chance.”
I zeroed in on the older man. He shifted his weight, moving from one foot to the other.
“A chance at what?” I asked him.
He replied, “To be your father. I think I might be your dad, honey.”
I stared at him, unblinking, unmoving. Was I going into shock? Nothing made any sense. “That’s impossible. I was eleven years old when you met my mom.”
“I knew her before then. I had an affair with her about nine months before you were born. But I never told anyone about that affair, and neither did she.” He reached into his pocket and removed a crumpled envelope. “I have a letter that your mom wrote to me during that time.”
My blood roiled in my body, in my heart. My breath stuck in my throat. I was too livid to look at Spencer. I kept my focus on Kirby, on the enemy. “Did she tell you that I might be yours? Is that what’s in the letter?”
“No. The only reason I wanted to show it to you is because of when it’s dated.”
“A date that proves you might be my dad?” That he’d slept with her nine months before I came along? I felt queasy now, dizzy and sick. I didn’t want Kirby to be my father. I wanted Joel to be my daddy. The man my mother was supposed to have loved.
“I suspected that you might be mine on the day I first met you. I took one look at you and felt an overwhelming connection. But I couldn’t be sure, so I kept my feelings to myself. Then, earlier this year, I came across the letter and all of the pieces seemed to fit.”
I locked my knees to keep them from buckling. “How long has Spencer known about this?” I still couldn’t bring myself to look at him.
“I told him right after you two started seeing each other again.”
“I’m sorry,” Spencer interjected. “But I couldn’t tell you about it, Alice, not without betraying Kirby’s confidence. It needed to come from him.”
I didn’t care what his excuse was. He’d known the whole time we were lovers, and that wasn’t fair. I’d never felt so betrayed. I ached so badly, I wanted to scream.
Kirby said, “I’m hoping that you’ll agree to take a paternity test. In my heart, I believe that you’re mine. But I want for both of us to know for sure.”
Was he kidding? There was no frigging way I was submitting my DNA for him. “You’re not my father.”
“I think I am,” he countered softly.
I shook my head. I couldn’t let him be my dad. I just couldn’t. “If you were, my mother would have told me.”
“Maybe she didn’t know for certain herself. Or maybe she knew and just couldn’t face it. With the way I seduced her, she hardly stood a chance. She was a sweet lady, and she deserved better.”
“You’re despicable.” I hated him more now than I ever did.
“I know, and I’m sorry for hurting your mama the way I did. But I’ve been trying to right my wrongs.” He clutched the letter that was still in his hand. “I really want us to be family.”
“Family?” I shot back. “Give me a break.” I hated him, but now I hated my mother, too, for her part in the lie. Was there anyone I could trust? Anyone who’d been truthful? I finally looked at Spencer, with his dark eyes and strong-boned features, with his tall, tanned body and white tattoo. “As for you, my boyfriend, my lover.” I mocked those words. “I never want to see you again.” Before I collapsed into tears, I turned on my heel and headed for the door.
I rushed outside and accidentally dropped my purse, the contents spilling out of it and littering Spencer’s porch.
“Alice.” I heard his voice from behind me. He’d followed me out.
I was already on the ground, trying to gather my belongings. He knelt to help me.
“Don’t,” I said, firing my pain at him. “Just don’t.”
He didn’t listen. He stayed there, insisting on helping me. My things were everywhere. I grabbed my lipstick before it rolled off the porch and into the dirt.
“I’m so sorry.” He handed me my wallet, his voice turning raw. “I never meant to cause you harm.”
I started to reject his apology, but he kept talking.
“Kirby didn’t tell you right away because he was concerned about what your reaction would be. He asked me to help him get closer to you, and he left it up to me, as to when I thought you’d be ready to hear it. I didn’t know what to do. But after I started having deeper feelings for you, I thought the time was right. I wanted to make everything better, to get it out in the open. I swear, I only had your best interest at heart.” He paused, with his voice still raw. “When I was doing the DNA search for my dad, I kept thinking how strange it was. Me looking for my father, when Kirby could possibly be yours. I know how hard this is for you, but I think it would benefit you to know the truth, to take the test to see if he’s your dad.”
My pain and anger intensified, his explanation falling on deaf ears. I tersely said, “You conspired with him the entire time you were with me.” I shoved my wallet back into my bag. “I should have known better than to trust you.”
“I was just trying to bring the two of you together. And then later, I was trying to figure things out with you and me, too.” He rocked forward on his knees. “Please, don’t leave. Don’t go.”
I pushed his hand away when he tried to reach for my compact. “Why? Because you might love me? Sort of like Kirby might be my dad.” I scoffed at both scenarios.
He watched me, his face shadowed, his eyes hooded. “I can’t help how confused I’ve been. But don’t give up on us.”
“Us? There is no us anymore.” I couldn’t bear to be needed by him or wanted by him or anything that involved his disjointed feelings for me. “I can’t be with you.”
I crammed the rest of my belongings into my purse. I didn’t know if I was Kirby’s daughter. I didn’t know anything, except that deep in my battered heart, where it hurt the most, I still loved Spencer.
And for me, that was the most devastating part of all.
Thirteen
Spencer
I watched Alice leave, hating what I’d done to her. I hated myself, too. These past two years of self-exploration had just turned to self-loathing. I’d hurt the woman I loved.
The minute she was gone, I recognized my feelings, understanding them fully. I was desperately, hopelessly in love with Alice McKenzie. But I couldn’t jump on my Harley and chase after her. How hypocritical would that be? I couldn’t return to the house and write
a song about love and redemption, either. This wasn’t one of my bullshit compositions, garnering praise and winning awards. This was my reality, my failure, and even my music seemed like a farce now.
I’d kept a secret from her that I shouldn’t have kept. Mr. Right wouldn’t have made a mistake like that. He would’ve known the difference.
Kirby came outside and approached me. There was a moment of silent reflection between us.
I spoke first. “I lost her. She’s gone.”
“I’m so sorry,” he replied quietly, shamefully. “This is my fault.”
“No. It’s mine.” I wasn’t going to let him take responsibility for my actions. “I could’ve refused to keep your secret.”
“And I should’ve left you out of it altogether. I involved you in something that put you in a difficult situation. I created a hardship for you and Alice.” He leaned against the porch rail. “It’s obvious that you love her.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“That isn’t true. She needs you.”
“What? You’re the authority on love now?” I gave him a frustrated look. “The last time we talked about love, you said you weren’t the best person to give advice.”
“I’m not. But I know love when I see it.”
“That doesn’t mean I can make it work. What she needs is the man she’s been dreaming about. And I’m not him.”
“I think you are.”
I wasn’t going to listen to him. His judgment about me was clouded. Alice had seen the true me: the jerk who’d hurt her. “She deserves better than what I can give her.”
“She deserves to know how you feel.”
“No, she doesn’t.” By now, I was craving a drink. God help me, but I wanted to belt down a quick, hard shot.
I turned away from him, afraid that he would read the craving in my eyes. Intent on keeping my expression steady, I stared out at the arbor embellishing the walkway.
But instead of falling silent, I said, “Did I tell you that she offered to help me search for my dad?” I barked out a cynical laugh. “While I was withholding information about who her father might be, she wanted to unite me with mine.”
“You were only trying to protect her. To keep my secret until the time was right to tell her.”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out. Not just for Alice and me, but for you, too.” I released a rattling breath. “I’m sorry she refused to take the DNA test.”
“She has a lot to deal with.”
“More than enough.” She’d chosen to end it with me, and I could hardly blame her. All I could think about was the bar in my living room, beckoning me, offering to numb the pain.
I kept staring at the arbor, focusing on the vines creeping up and around the woodwork. I sensed Kirby studying my profile. Was he analyzing me?
“Maybe you should come home with me, son.”
No way, I thought. No effing way. I didn’t want him being my watchdog. I turned toward him again, as if I had nothing to hide.
“Thanks for caring,” I said, trying to sound grateful, the way I’d always been in the past. “But I really need some time alone.”
He squinted suspiciously at me. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you?”
“Of course not.” I wasn’t going to admit that I was on the edge of destruction. I had to make Kirby believe that I had myself under control. After what had just happened with Alice, I didn’t want to involve him any deeper than he was already was. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to fall off the wagon. Either way, I couldn’t handle being around him right now.
He grabbed my shoulders, almost as if he meant to shake my disease out of me. “Are you sure I can trust you?”
“Absolutely,” I lied through my teeth. “I just need some space.” I turned the tables on him. “What about you? Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” He squeezed my shoulders. “I really wish you’d come home with me.”
“I understand your concern.” I preyed on his kindness, telling him what he needed to hear. “I’m not naïve. I know how something like this could affect my sobriety. That I could freak out once I’m alone.” I looked him straight in the eye, determined to seem strong and true, as honest as a broken man could be. “But I swear, I’ll call you if I get even the slightest urge to drink.”
He released his hold on me. “Promise?”
“Yes,” I lied again, anxious for him to leave me alone with my pain. Because, really, what difference did it make? Whether I got drunk or strayed sober, Alice would still be gone.
And I would still be missing her.
* * *
As soon as Kirby got in his SUV and drove away, I paced my living room with my eye on the bar. I hunted it like a vulture, getting closer to the drink I craved.
On the night Alice and I first hooked up, I’d poured rum over us in the shower, dousing our naked bodies with it. Was that the liquor I should have now?
Hell, yes, I thought.
I uncapped a bottle of Bacardi and inhaled it, remembering how intoxicating it had smelled on Alice’s skin—like oak and molasses, heady and sweet.
Maybe I could guzzle half of it and take a sloppy bath with the rest. I could keep my clothes on if I wanted to, drenching them, too. I could do whatever absurd thing I felt like doing. There was no one here to stop me. No prying eyes. Not even the dogs. I’d taken them to the rescue earlier.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I took another desperate whiff, my hands quaking, my breathing coming in short, addictive bursts. I couldn’t help but think how good the rum was going to taste, how buzzed I would get, how much I wanted it.
I sank to the floor, clutching the bottle, debating, with a sickening feeling in my gut, whether or not to take a drink.
I opened my eyes, shame coiling inside me. Was this what I’d reduced myself to? A liar? A cheat? A coward? A pitiful drunk, feeling sorry for himself?
I caught my reflection in the glass panels on the bottom of the bar, and my shame deepened.
I didn’t do it. I didn’t let the alcohol pass my lips. I didn’t bathe in it, either. I got up off the floor and recapped the bottle, returning it to the bar. But I was still shaking, still trying to catch my breath.
Now what? I asked myself. What was my next brilliant move?
The answer knocked against the walls inside my brain. I knew exactly what to do. I got my phone and called Kirby.
He answered on the second ring. “Spencer?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” He already knew who it was, obviously. My name would’ve appeared on his screen. “I lied to you earlier. I was having terrible urges when you left here. But I managed to get through it.”
“Oh, thank God.” His breath rushed out. “Do you want to come to my house now?”
“I’d rather stay here.” In the place I called home, I thought. “But I need to attend a meeting.” To share my feelings with the group, to admit that I’d almost relapsed, using the woman I loved as an excuse to crack open a bottle.
“The next meeting isn’t for a few hours.”
“I know.” We both had the schedule memorized. “But if you want to hang out with me until then, that’ll be okay.”
“I’ll be right over.” Relief sounded in his voice. “I’m so glad you called me. Should we dismantle your bar when I get there? Pour all of that temptation down the sink?”
“No.” I stated my case. “It’s imperative for me resist it on my own, not remove it from the equation. Besides, I can’t pretend that it doesn’t exist.”
“That’s not what I’m asking you to do.”
“Yeah, but that’s what getting rid of it would feel like to me.”
“All right. We’ll do it your way. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.”
As I waited for Kirby, my house seemed eerily quiet. I
decided to bring the dogs home. I had time before Kirby arrived to get them. I grabbed a jacket and left through the back door, taking in the crisp Tennessee air.
It felt good to walk, but I was still overcome with emotion. I needed to write a song for Alice, telling her how sorry I was, telling her that I loved her. I was wrong about my music being bullshit. My work was an extension of myself, the good and the bad, the light, the dark, the man, the musician, the recovering alcoholic.
I didn’t know if she would ever forgive me. But I wanted her to know how I felt about her. She was my heart, my soul. As clichéd as that sounded, it was true.
I couldn’t erase the affair Kirby had had with her mother or take away the possibility that he might be her dad. I wasn’t a miracle worker. I was just a guy who loved her.
I had no idea how long it would take for me to create a song like that. A few days? A few weeks? The rest of my life? I couldn’t attest to anything anymore, except how much she meant to me.
I made it to the rescue and found Cookie and Candy in one of the fenced yards, playing with Pete. The three of them ran over to me, and I knelt to greet them. Pete nudged me, and the girls danced in happy circles, looking like dust mops. I smiled at the memory of Alice calling them that. I missed her so much, I could barely breathe.
I didn’t want it to be over, but the choice didn’t belong to me. Once I offered her my heart, she would have to decide what to do with it. For now, all I could do was pray that I hadn’t lost her for good.
* * *
I didn’t go straight home after the meeting. I headed to a neighborhood rife with specialty shops. I had a compulsion to buy a loose black diamond, a stone to remind me of Alice. A talisman, I thought, something to bring me luck.
There was only one jewelry store, a quaint little place near a music shop I frequented. I liked the vibe of this part of town.
I entered the jewelry store and approached the front counter. An older man glanced up from beneath his glasses. He resembled Albert Einstein, with his electric white hair. I imagined him having the perfect stone, just waiting for me.
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