by Laura Pavlov
“I feel great.”
I spotted Jack and Harrison in a group and pointed them out to Ford.
“Oh good. There’s Hanky and Marie standing with Chanel. They must be sitting with us. I can’t wait for you to meet them,” he said as I looked up to see where we were heading.
Classical music played in the background, and the smell of fresh bread and honey filled my senses. When we approached the group, someone tapped Ford on the shoulder to say hello. I looked up to see Chanel waving me over. As my gaze moved beside her all the air left my lungs. My legs wouldn’t move. Ford turned toward me and studied me.
“Are you okay?”
Fight or flight.
“I need to go.” I turned on my heels and hurried through the lobby. I rushed around groups huddled together and ignored my boyfriend calling my name. I needed air.
This wasn’t happening.
It couldn’t be.
I pushed the large double doors open, leaned down to take off my heels, and started to run down the driveway. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew I couldn’t stay here.
“Good Christ, Harley. What are you doing?” Ford shouted, his breaths labored as his fingers wrapped around my forearm.
“I need to go.”
“You need to go where? Are you sick?”
“No.”
“Baby, what’s going on? What happened?”
I leaned forward, resting my hands on my knees. I couldn’t catch my breath. I couldn’t breathe.
Ford squatted down to meet my gaze. “Jesus. I think you’re having a panic attack. Just stop and breathe.”
He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around me, rubbing my arms and whispering in my ear. “Everything’s fine. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
This man.
He was everything good in my life.
Tears streamed down my face, and I didn’t try to stop them. I turned in his arms and looked up to see him. The concern in his eyes nearly broke me. I shook my head, wanting to tell him without saying the words.
“Baby, you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“What’s Chanel’s last name?”
“What? Reynolds, why?”
I took a few steps back, away from him. Away from here.
I covered my face as I broke down in sobs.
“Harley. You’re scaring me. What the fuck is going on?” Ford moved in front of me, holding my shoulders in place, and forcing me to look up at him.
“What’s Hanky’s name?”
“Jesus. What the fuck is going on? His name is Bryce.”
I shook my head with disbelief. “My biological father is Bryce Reynolds.”
He barked out a laugh. “Baby, no. Maybe they have the same name. Hanky cannot be your father. He’s a good man. This is a mistake.”
“Ford, that man inside there, standing with Chanel. He’s my father. That’s the man I met at the restaurant.” Memories flooded from that night, as my boyfriend took a step back and everything came together. His father’s car accident. That night in the alley. That Ford’s father had looked so familiar to me. “What was the date of your father’s accident?”
He shook his head. “June seventh. Why the fuck are you asking me that?”
“Oh my god.” I bent down and rested my hands against the cool pavers beneath my feet to stabilize myself. “Your father was there that night, Ford. He was one of the men at the table with Bryce.”
He stared at me. Studied me. Waiting to see what I’d say next. I swiped at the falling tears as sobs wracked my body.
“You saw my father the night of his accident?”
“Yes. He came out the back door with Bryce. They left together. They were arguing, but it wasn’t about you. Your dad was furious with him—about me. They were arguing about me. About him hiding me and not acknowledging my existence.”
Ford bent over, resting his hands on his knees for support. This tall, beautiful man clad in a black tux—could no longer bear what I was saying. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s the truth. And Ford,” I said, my mouth trembling so severely I could barely get the words out. “Your father did not get in the driver’s seat. Bryce did. I was there, hiding beside the dumpster. Your father demanded that they go to Bryce’s house to tell his family what he’d done. Your dad was angry. I remember being happy that at least one person acknowledged what he’d done. They were shouting as they got in the car, and they sped off. Your father was in the passenger seat when they left the restaurant.”
Ford dropped his head before pushing to stand and pulling his phone from his coat pocket.
“I need you to come pick up Harley. We’re on the east drive. Take her home. I won’t be leaving tonight, so I won’t need a ride.” His tone was icy. Distant. Jerome pulled up within seconds and Ford helped me to my feet and led me to the car. He opened the door and assisted me inside, leaning over to kiss my forehead. He didn’t speak a word. He turned on his heels and walked away. Just like that. He waltzed right out of my life.
The lump in my throat made it difficult to swallow. Tears continued to stream down my face, and I covered my mouth with my hands to keep my sobs at bay. Sadness coursed through my veins. An overwhelming feeling of loss enveloped me. The realization that everything had just changed was sinking in.
Because fairy tales didn’t exist.
At least not in my world.
Chapter Nineteen
Harley
I walked into my apartment and slipped out of my party gown and into my pajamas. I couldn’t wrap my head around the events that had transpired tonight. It was like a bad nightmare playing out before me. I made myself a hot tea and settled on the couch. The lump in my throat threatened to suffocate me. I could still remember that day like it was yesterday. The one that I now knew changed both of our lives.
My mom had cornered me outside Gramps’ house.
“You missed my graduation and now you’re asking for a favor?”
“I’m your mother. Just do this for me. I’m in trouble.”
“You’re always in trouble. It’s the only time I see you,” I said, pushing past her and walking toward my car.
“You can meet your dad. I know you’ve always wanted to. And I think he’ll actually do whatever you want. You are his child, after all. Rich fucking asshole. He owes you.”
I froze. I’d asked for years about him, but she’d never given me anything. “So, you want me to meet my father? Today. After all these years?”
“We had a deal that you’d stay away. But things change. I need the money, and he’s not responding to me. So… why not give him a glimpse of what he missed? Abandoned. Left me to deal with you all on my own.”
I reached for my mug and took a sip. The ring it left on the coffee table reminded me of my mother’s discolored teeth. I used my napkin to clean it up. The woman was so far gone. The fact that she actually believed she’d raised me by herself was ludicrous. All on my own, my ass. She’d been a shit mom from day one. We’d barely gotten by during those years when I’d lived with her, and most of the time she’d put me in dangerous situations. I’d lived with my grandparents since middle school. And there she was trying to take credit for a job well done. But I’d pressed her that day because I was curious. Why did I care about a man who’d never claimed me as his own?
“I thought you said he wasn’t reachable. Now you’re willing to give me his name. Why now? Because I’m eighteen and an adult in my own right? It’s bullshit, Valentina. You’re using me, just like you always have.”
“I’ll split the money with you,” she whined.
I turned around to look at the gaunt junkie following behind me. Like I’d ever want anything from this woman. Nope. We were long past that. I was leaving for Europe tomorrow. I’d been saving for three years for this trip. I didn’t need her help, or anyone’s h
elp for that matter. This woman had made it so that I’d learned at a very young age how to fend for myself. But, the idea of meeting my father—the man who’d knocked up my so-called mother—and then walked away from both of us. It was tempting. I wouldn’t mind showing him I was fine. I was more than fine. I was the salutatorian of my high school. I had a full ride to Berkley in the fall. I’d saved up enough cash to travel to Europe for two weeks. It would feel good to let that asshole know I’d done just fine without him.
“Tell me his name and how to find him.”
“Really, baby girl? You’ll do this for me?”
I nodded. I wasn’t doing it for her. I was doing it for me.
“Yep. Tell me what to do.” I leaned against my VW Bug, the sun shining down on my mother’s gaunt frame and greasy hair. She was a beautiful woman once. But she’d snorted enough powder to waste away. Alcohol slowly deteriorating her physical appearance. And trading sex for drugs—well, that had taken a toll of epic proportion. She was beyond help. I’d spent a decade being this woman’s crusader, but after she’d allowed her creepers to come anywhere near me enough times—I’d thrown in the towel.
You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved, right?
I’d had a lifetime of that lesson.
“Okay. So, tell him that he needs to transfer double the norm for the next few months. Just say I’m in trouble and I’ll keep up our bargain.”
“He has your bank account information? He’s been giving you money over the years?” I asked, studying her. The woman would never tell me the truth. I don’t know why I bothered asking.
“Just a few times. When you and me were in trouble.”
“You and me? As if you ever took care of me.” I shook my head and opened the car door. Why was I even engaging with her? You can’t fix this kind of crazy.
She handed me a folded scrap of paper. “His name is Bryce Reynolds. This is his work address. I was escorted out of his building, and he has security outside watching for me. But they won’t be expecting you. Just wait outside this address and follow him. He goes to dinner on Thursday nights in the city.”
I didn’t know whether to be more shocked at the fact that I finally knew his name, or that my mother had some pretty impressive investigative skills. When Valentina DeLuca wanted something, she was full of surprises. Unfortunately, she only wanted booze and blow most of the time.
“How will I know what he looks like?” I crossed my arms in front of my chest. She seemed to have this all figured out.
“This is a recent picture of him. I got it off his website.” She held up her phone and I took it from her. Studying the face of the man who’d been nothing more than a sperm donor. He was attractive. Older than I would have guessed.
I handed her the phone back. “I’ll see what I can do.”
I recall purposely not telling her that I was leaving the following day, because the woman would probably have come by Gramps’ house and robbed us for the money I’d saved for my trip. I’d learned very creative ways to hide money from her over the years. I’d had plenty of experience with her showing up three shades of drugged-up and rummaging through the house like a crazy ass. I’d made a conscious decision a long time ago not to tell her much.
“Okay. You can do this, kid. Do it for your mama.”
My thoughts kept coming, playing on repeat in my head. I closed my eyes and tried to push them away. It wasn’t a memory I wanted to revisit. I moved to my feet and paced around the room, wanting to forget every detail from that day. I’d left for the city right then because I wanted to avoid traffic. I’d done some window shopping to pass the time, and I’d tried to come up with a plan about how to approach the man.
Hey, asshole, thanks for leaving me with a crackhead.
Congrats, Mr. Reynolds. It’s a girl.
Nice to meet you, big guy. I’m here to give you the award for deadbeat father of the year.
I remember rehearsing what I was going to say, playing every scenario out in my head. But once I got there and stood beside the building like some sort of creeper—butterflies swarmed my belly. He was my father, after all. At the very least, he’d donated his sperm to make me. He’d been a willing participant at some point in the process, and I wanted to meet him.
I remember the moment I spotted him, and he moved toward the parking lot across the street. Holy hell. I could still feel the panic that coursed through my veins when I realized we were parked in the same lot. I hadn’t thought that one out. In my defense, it had all happened in a matter of hours. A lifetime of wondering had played out in a short period of time. I’d assumed I’d follow him on foot, so I had to adapt quickly. I vividly remember keeping my head down and waiting until he got inside his swanky BMW and that’s when I’d hopped in my Bug. I’d stayed a few feet back. My heart raced today as I thought about it. I’d wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans several times as I drove. I dropped back down on the couch and picked up my tea and took another sip, wondering why I’d willingly put myself in that situation. Curiosity was the best I could come up with. My sperm donor had pulled over beside the curb, and I’d followed, remaining a few cars back in the red zone. I knew he wouldn’t stay there long, as it had been the corner of a busy intersection. I could still hear the cars honking around us, as a tall guy hopped in his car.
When they pulled away from the curb, I’d trailed behind. He turned into the valet at a restaurant, and I’d followed.
I walked around to the front of the restaurant and took a few deep breaths. That feeling of panic, of pure adrenaline surged through my body even now. Nervous energy surrounded me as I thought back to that moment. And for whatever reason, I didn’t back down.
Bryce Reynolds.
Bryce Reynolds.
Bryce Reynolds.
I’d said my father’s name in my head on silent repeat over and over. The man had an expensive car and a swanky suit and a tall friend. That’s literally all I knew about him at the time. Oh, and I assumed he had kickass sperm, because, well—me.
I can still feel the cool handle on the door as I gripped it and pulled it open. I remember smiling at the hostess as I’d waltzed past her like I owned the place. But inside I’d been dying. Terrified of what would happen.
I’d spotted him and turned in the other direction, huddling near the bathroom because I’d realized there were other men at the table. Four total. It was going to be even more awkward than I’d anticipated, but it still didn’t stop me. I was like a dog with a bone that night. I’d stood there gathering my thoughts, reminding myself that I didn’t owe him anything. He’d turned his back on me a long time ago. I recall the moment I took that step toward where he and his friends were sitting. My heart raced.
Fuck Bryce Reynolds.
I marched up to the table. All four sets of eyes paused when they saw me.
“Hello, gentlemen, I’m Harley DeLuca. I’m really sorry to interrupt your little happy hour. But I need to have a word with Bryce Reynolds.” I crossed my arms and plastered a fake smile on my face.
The tall man that had hopped in the car with my sperm donor studied me. The other two chuckled. And Bryce Reynolds, aka my father—well, his face went white.
“What is this regarding?” the tall man asked.
“It’s regarding the fact that jackass here is my father. Or my sperm donor, I guess. And his cracked-out baby mama, who he left me with to fend for myself, wants more money. Shocker.” I raised a brow, begging any of them to say one fucking word.
“This is a misunderstanding. Gentlemen, please give us a minute,” my sperm donor said.
They all pushed to their feet and walked to the bar, with the exception of the tall dude. He stood off to the side, watching us. Like I was going to rob his friend or something. I wanted to flip him off, but I had bigger fish to fry right now.
“Listen to me,” Bryce said, keeping his voice do
wn. “I have a deal with your mother. What is it that you want? Money? Tell me how much, and I’ll wire it to you. But you can’t come into a public place and call me out. That’s not the deal.”
“Not the deal? I don’t recall making a deal. And I don’t want your money, you asshole. I want nothing from you. My mother, on the other hand, well, she’s your problem. And she wants money. But that’s not what I’m here for.” My bottom lip betrayed me. The man was looking everywhere but at me. He was worried about anyone knowing I was his daughter. Shame covered his face. He was embarrassed by me.
“I’ll transfer the money to her. You need to go, Hadley.”
“It’s Harley.” My voice shook. “And I’m doing just fine without you, by the way. Just fine. I’m going to college on a scholarship. And I’ve worked really hard to get where I am. I am not my mother.”
Nothing came out as planned. My big, cocky speech fell apart as it left my lips. I fought back the tears. I would not cry in front of this man. At least not in public. I’d learned how to contain my emotions over the years.
“Um, I’m sure you’re not, Harley. I’m sorry, but I can’t do this right now. I can transfer you some money though.” He pulled out his phone and opened his notes. “Tell me your bank info and I’ll take care of it. You tell me how much. But you really need to go. Now.”
My mug almost slipped from my grasp when I replayed those words in my head. I got up to put it in the sink. Heading to the bathroom, I could still recall the way that fucker glanced over his shoulder to see who was watching. He didn’t care about me. He didn’t want to know me. He didn’t care what kind of student I was or who I was as a person. He wanted nothing to do with me the day I was born, and nothing had changed that day either. I placed my hands on the counter and stared at my reflection in the mirror. The man had hurt me to my core and I still felt it today.
“I don’t want your fucking money, you asshole.”
I’d stormed away, and for whatever reason I’d walked through the kitchen and out the back door. I didn’t think I could hold it together if I had to walk through the restaurant. But I knew there was no way in hell I was going to cry in front of that man.