“It means strong woman. She’s going to be just like her mama.”
Before Addy can say anything else, my parents burst through the door and wake Lola up. My mother takes her from my arms the moment she begins to cry and comforts her. I recognize the moment they fall in love with Lola as my father stands beside my mother, brushing his hand over the little bit of soft, blond hair on Lola’s head.
I’ve given them their first grandchild, one they didn’t want but are smitten with after the first five seconds. They may not have wanted me to have her, but she’ll never know that. I’m sure they’ll spoil her rotten and show her more love than she’ll ever need.
Addy leaves me to visit with my parents. While they cuddle and fawn over Lola, I take a nap and dream of sharing this moment with Wyatt. I can see the look on his face as he holds her. The look of a proud papa.
Wyatt said he wanted four kids. Two girls and two boys. We were going to live on a large lot of land in a house he was going to build for us. He even had plans to dig us our own pond, some place we could visit together and remember our past fondly.
After my parents leave, the nurse comes in with paperwork for me to fill out. I’m able to leave and take my daughter with me, but not until I name her.
Lola Grace Beech
Without thinking, I gave her Wyatt’s last name. I also listed him as the father on the birth certificate. My parents asked me to leave his name off, to distance Lola from him.
After looking down at my little girl, I realized it was time to start making decisions for myself. I may not be able to change what happened last summer, but I sure as hell wasn’t about to start making poor decisions on my own.
Wyatt’s her father; it’s a simple fact. One day they’ll meet. One day he’ll learn about her. That day may not be anytime soon, but it will happen. She deserves to know him, and he deserves a chance to be a part of her life, even if he won’t want to be a part of mine.
Grabbing the microphone off my table, I switch it on and clear my throat.
“Can I have everyone’s attention please?” The crowd hushes, some taking their seats while others remain standing. “For those of you that don’t know me, my name is Chloe Warren. I’m Beverly and Joseph’s daughter. I wanted to thank you all for being here tonight to celebrate my mother’s birthday with her. She’s an amazing woman with amazing friends.”
My words falter when I look up and Wyatt is standing on the edge of the crowd, his eyes locked on mine. The anger and hatred I found in them yesterday are gone.
The rest of my speech is a blur as I fumble over my words while trying to recover. “Um, dinner is going to be served in a few minutes if you’d all like to find your seats. Thank you again for coming tonight, and we hope you have a wonderful time. Happy birthday, Mom.”
Switching the microphone off, I let it drop from my hand and onto the table. My mother comes up behind me, pulling me in for a hug, but my eyes never leave his. It’s not until she whispers in my ear that I realize she saw him.
“What’s he doing here, Chloe?” she asks, turning my chin so she has my full attention. Her signature fake smile is plastered on her face. For show, of course. You never know who might be watching right now. She would hate it if they thought she was displeased with me.
“We need to talk.”
“No, you don’t. You have nothing to discuss with him, Chloe. You need to leave the past in the past, do you hear me?”
“I hear you loud and clear, Mom. I’m choosing not to listen to you. I’ve let you dictate my life for long enough. I’ve let you and Dad make poor decisions for me, decisions that I never agreed with. I’m not a child anymore. I’m doing what I think is right, what I should have done long ago. He deserves to know her, Mom. I know you don’t agree with that, but it’s not your decision. She’s my daughter, his daughter, and I’ve kept her from him for long enough.”
Pushing past my mother, I walk to where Wyatt is standing, waiting for me. His face gives nothing away. There’s no anger. No confusion. Not an ounce of happiness to be found. I have no idea what he’s thinking, but I know why he’s here.
Jones.
He made it happen. He got him here somehow. Now I need to do the rest. It’s now or never.
Once I start talking, there’s no turning back.
17
The Truth
WYATT
“What the hell do you want, Jones?” I ask as I answer my phone.
He’s called six times in as many minutes. I’ve tried sending him to voice mail. He calls back. I’ve answered and hung up on him and he still calls back. If this isn’t an emergency, I’m going to kill him. I told him I needed time alone, time to think. After reading Chloe’s note this afternoon, against my better judgment, I headed to the one place where I find solace these days.
The pond.
The house I built for us on the shore. The one place that holds the best and worst memories of my life. The days we spent in each other’s arms watching the sunset together. It’s also the place I found the note. The one she left me with no explanation, only an apology, before she disappeared without a word.
That note is framed, in my bedroom, hung on the wall above the fireplace. I’ve considered tossing it in, but I can’t bring myself to do it. It’s a reminder of what I used to have, of what I lost, and to protect my heart at all costs moving forward.
When I bought the land from her parents, I asked them about her. They were tight-lipped. I pressed the issue until her father told me that he wasn’t going to sell me the land if I asked about her again. Something was off with them, but I didn’t care. I wanted the land, I wanted to build the house I promised her, and they were the only thing standing between me and that dream.
We had done business before, when I bought the land for Old Town. At first, I was surprised they were selling pieces of their property. Then the rumors began to spread about Mr. Warren’s money troubles.
Gambling.
His debt was exceeding his income, and the only way for them to stay above water was to sell off their land. His loss was my gain, both financially and personally. When he listed the acreage around the pond, I jumped on it, stopping at the bank and filling out loan papers before I even called him.
“Hey, I know you’re dealing with some shit right now, but I need you to come over here. Are you at the house?”
“Yeah. I just finished the railing for the porch.”
“Well, wipe the sawdust off and get your ass over here.”
“You know I can’t go there,” I say.
He knows how I feel about seeing Chloe right now. Why in the hell would I show up at her mother’s birthday party? At her parents’ house? That is the opposite of staying away from her. That’s walking into the fire and expecting to get burned.
“Listen. This is important. If it weren’t, I wouldn’t ask you to come here, you know that.”
“Bullshit. You’ve been trying to get me to talk to her since you found out she was back in town.”
“True, and I still think you need to. In fact, there’s a very good reason that you need to. I can’t tell you what it is, but I can promise that you’ll thank me later. So get your ass here. If you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m coming to get you.”
The tone of his voice, the seriousness, catches my attention. I’ve known Jones my entire life and I’ve never heard him push for something so hard. I trust him with my life, and if he thinks that I need to be there, it must be important.
Rushing to change and get there before he sends out a search party, I’m walking across the meadow and up the Warren’s driveway as Jones is about to get in his car.
“Hey, man,” I say when he begins walking my way. “What’s so important you have me at the one place I never wanted to be again?”
“Her name is Lola,” he says.
“And who is Lola?”
“That’s what you need to find out. Ask Chloe. It’ll all make sense in a few minutes, I promise.”
Nod
ding, I follow Jones around the house to where three large white tents are set up. Chloe’s voice echoes through the middle tent, so I slip inside and try my best to blend into the crowd.
The moment our eyes meet, a look of relief washes over her. After her speech, she shares a few words with her mother, words that were said with a smile but her mannerism gave away as angry. Then she’s walking my way and my heart begins to pound against my sternum, attempting to get out and run away.
“Mama!” A little girl runs past me and into Chloe’s arms just as she bends down. “Aunt Addy gave me cake. Don’t be mad at her, I promised I would still eat my dinner.”
Laughing, Chloe stands and says to the little girl, “Come here, Lola. I have someone I want you to meet.”
My eyes are drawn to the little girl as they make their way toward me. I can feel Chloe’s stare and her uncertainty. She has her mother’s smile, but she has my eyes.
My eyes.
Why does this little girl have my eyes?
Slowly lifting my head, I make eye contact with Chloe and she nods her head, answering the only question running through my mind right now.
Is she mine?
Squatting down to her size as she approaches, I hold out my hand to her. “Hi, Lola. My name is Wyatt.”
“Hi,” she says, hugging Chloe’s leg.
“Do you think I can steal your mama for a few minutes? Would that be okay?”
“Okay. Aunt Addy!” she hollers, unwrapping herself from Chloe and walking away. “Mama’s busy. Can I have more cake?”
Laughing, I turn to find Jones and a pretty brunette watching us. Lola walks up and grabs the woman’s hand. That must be Addy. The Addy that Jones was going on and on about last night.
“Inside?” she asks, my attention drawn away from my little girl and back to her mother.
“I think that would be a good idea.”
As Chloe shuts her bedroom door, I begin to pace. There are a million questions running through my mind. Why being the most important.
Why didn’t she tell me?
Followed closely by how and when?
“Are you sure you’re okay? We can stay in tonight.”
Chloe’s face is pale. She’s been in and out of the bathroom throwing up all morning.
“No, I think I’m okay now.” There must be a look of doubt on my face because she continues. “I swear. It must be something I ate.”
“If you say so. If you throw up one more time, though, we’re staying in.”
“Deal,” she chimes, skipping over to where I am and plopping down on my lap.
The afternoon flies by. Chloe laughs and dances along with our friends down at the pond as if she wasn’t feeling like crap a few hours ago. Once the sun begins to set, I start a fire and someone starts passing out red plastic cups filled with whatever cheap booze they got their hands on.
Chloe takes a sip and instantly her demeanor changes. She stops dancing and looks over to where I am, sitting on a stump, watching her. When her eyes widen, I tilt my head and then she’s off and running.
Unsure of what’s happening, I follow after her, catching up just as she vomits behind a tree.
“Okay, that’s it. We’re leaving,” I say as round two hits her. “I need to get you home. We’ll stop at the pharmacy on the way and pick you up a few things.”
Once Chloe’s certain her stomach is empty, we walk to the car and head into town. She takes forever in the pharmacy, insisting she goes in alone. As I pull up in front of my house, I make sure she’s okay to drive herself home. If I had known she was going to get sick again, I would have driven us tonight.
She promises she’s fine, so we make plans to meet up at the pond the next morning. I want to see her, to make sure she’s feeling better before I go to work for a twelve-hour shift. Plus, I have something for her.
My plan was to give it to her tonight. I was going to pull her away from the party, down to the pond, and give it to her under the stars. She got sick before I had the chance.
Tomorrow morning I’ll give it to her. It won’t be as romantic, but I think she’ll be just as surprised.
With her leaving in a few weeks, I want to make sure she knows this isn’t over for us. A promise ring is just that. I promise to be faithful to one another until the day comes that I can buy her a proper ring.
Because I will marry this girl one day. There’s no doubt in my mind. She’s the one for me.
I stop pacing as the memory rushes over me. Turning to Chloe, there’s a sympathetic smile on her face. My anger at her for the last five years melts away and is replaced with confusion.
“She’s mine?” I ask, just to make sure I’m on the right path.
“Yes.”
“There never was anyone else?”
“What?” Her face contorts into shock as the single word slips past her lips.
“I saw you. In Denver. You had a ring on your hand and a baby in your belly. What was I supposed to think, Chloe?”
“You came to Denver?”
“I needed answers. Jones and I came down a few months after you disappeared. I thought if I could talk to you that I’d be able to find closure,” I explain.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” she says, leaning against the dresser. “I wanted to call you, I tried. I swear I did. My parents made it impossible for me to reach you.”
“Your parents? What do they have to do with this?”
Lowering her head to the ground, Chloe mumbles something. When she raises her head, I see tears in her eyes. My instinct is to rush over to her, to pull her into my arms and hold her until her tears have dried up.
One step in her direction and I’m able to stop myself.
Old habits die hard.
“What did your parents do?” I ask again, the firmness in my voice surprising me.
“They made me leave. They kept me from contacting you. I wanted to tell you. I went down to the pond, but you weren’t there.”
“I waited for you, Chloe. As long as I could.”
There’s more truth in that statement than she knows. I’ve been waiting for her since the day she left. Even after I thought she had moved on to someone else, I still waited. My heart won’t let her go.
“Telling you I was pregnant wasn’t something I could leave in the note. I figured I’d call you once my parents left me alone in Denver and explain everything, but they took my phone. I was all alone in a new city and I couldn’t even tell you that we were having a baby. I was scared to death, Wyatt.”
“Tell me now, then. Tell me everything. Start from the beginning. I want to know everything I missed. The good and the bad.”
Moving to sit on her bed, Chloe follows my lead. It takes her a few minutes, but once she starts talking, I can hear the sincerity in her voice. The sadness. The uncertainty.
She’s still the same Chloe that I fell in love with. Confident on the outside, insecure inside. Smart and kind and loving. She would never do the horrible things to me that I thought she had. Not if she were given another option. And so far, it doesn’t sound like she was.
18
Two
Sitting in my old bedroom, telling Wyatt all the details, I find myself in a familiar mindset.
Those first two months alone in Denver, I cried. A lot. I’d wake up in a fit of tears having dreamt of him. I’d see someone on campus that I thought resembled him and I’d break down.
The doctor visits were the hardest.
His child was growing inside me, and he wasn’t there to be a part of it.
After trying to reach him with no success, I gave up. Not easily. I begged my parents to let me come home a few times with plans of finding him and talking to him. They denied my requests every time and made sure I stayed put. Carmen was on watch all hours of the day, sleeping outside my door one night.
The night I planned to escape.
Addy was my saving grace, and I made sure to include her in my story. She’s the one person who kept me sane. The one
person who didn’t take sides. She was there for me, to listen to me and help me in any way she could.
When I first started to show, my parents came to visit. My father brought me my grandmother’s wedding ring and told me to wear it. They came up with the elaborate story about my fiancé.
If anyone asked, he was in the military and serving our country overseas.
That story changed when the baby was born.
He was killed in a car accident before we could get married.
That’s the story I was told to tell Lola. And I did, but I’ve also told her more than that. I told her that her grandparents wanted people to think that because they didn’t like her daddy. I’m not sure how much she understands, but she knows enough that her daddy isn’t dead.
About the time I’m getting ready to tell him about her birth, Addy bursts through my door and slams it behind her.
“Let’s go,” Addy says frantically.
“Where are we going?” I ask, moving quickly to stand.
“It doesn’t matter. You mom is on her way up here and she’s pissed.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing, I swear. It was Lola.”
My heart starts beating frantically in my chest. My little girl is in trouble. She could be hurt. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
“She’s in the car with Jones. She’s fine.”
“What did she say?” I ask, moving to the window and popping it open.
I hope Wyatt isn’t still afraid of heights because if my mother is on her way up here, this is our only escape.
“She knows who Wyatt is.”
“What?” Wyatt and I ask in unison.
“I’ll tell you on the way,” Addy says, slipping one leg out the window and onto the porch roof.
I follow her out and turn to see Wyatt standing inside looking unsure of our escape plan. Ducking my head back inside I say, “If you want the rest of the story, you need to come with us.”
“We’re not children anymore, Chloe. We can walk out the front door. She can’t stop us.”
Imperfect Love Story Page 11