Ex Boyfriend’s Dad: The Irresistible Daddies Book 3

by Kaylee, Katy

  19

  Nathan

  The time had come to begin living life again. I had gone through the periods of mourning for two people but it was time to move forward. Maybe Christina had been sent to ease me through the transition, even though in many ways she had added to the pain. I resigned myself to the belief that it wasn’t her fault, nor was it Macon’s. It just was what it was. Acceptance and moving on is sometimes the only option were given. Some people never have the chance to experience the closeness I’d felt with her.

  When it came to Macon I had to content myself with what I thought we had between us. No two people tell the same story of an event and Macon wasn’t there to justify or explain himself. Damn, why did I use those words? They suggested guilt when there was none. Macon had every right to live his life the way he wanted to, including paying the ultimate price. I loved him and I always would, but my days of controlling were over. I’d vowed that to myself from the hospital bed when I was helpless and dependent on others. Never again when I assume control over another human’s life.

  Moving forward meant getting back to my practice and I had misgivings. If my objective was never to control people, could I be a good therapist? Could I show them every option open to them, or what I obscure those I didn’t approve of? Did I have that right? It was an ethics issue, one that I had no business exploring at that point in time.

  My practice had dwindled considerably in my absence. It was okay, I expected that. I checked around and found an open position at a prison that wasn’t far from Milwaukee. My job would be to counsel the inmates. How hard could that be? I applied and my credential spoke for themselves. In fact, as I entered the outgoing psychologist wanted to know why I’d given up a lucrative practice to come and counsel those who had harmed society. My answer was candid. “Maybe in a sense I feel as though I’ve harmed society, or at least my family. It won’t hurt me to be humble and to see life from another perspective.”

  I’m not sure whether he really cared what I answered, but he had done as obligated and asked the question as I would’ve done. The job was mine and I began the following Monday. I entered a world unlike anything I’d seen before. The currency was influence, whether that was derived from having the strongest gang at your back or the right connections to get anything done you wished. It meant everything. Connections could get you a job in the laundry instead of digging ditches, so to speak. The latter got you outside, but that also meant in February when it was 20 below and the prison issued clothing totally inadequate for the conditions.

  In some ways, I grew up during that period. I saw life at a subsistence level and realize that having a lot was not always the best option. Portability was important. If your bag was filled with unneeded things, you told her to wait that cost you. Living Lane and being in the moment was perhaps the richest way to live.

  I learned about the law and I learned about breaking it. I recalled patients I’d seen over the years and almost without exception, every one of them should have been imprisoned at one time or another. It was the human spirit, to revolt against the rules. We’d all done it, myself included. It wasn’t anything grandiose like stealing a car or selling acid to kids in the school yard. It was something as simple as forgetting to report some of the cash payments that came across the desk or letting Macon drink a beer when he was 15 because I wanted him to hate the taste and avoid it for life. As the saying goes, there but for the grace of God go I. I told myself that several times a day as I listened to the stories.

  I went back by the college one late afternoon, with the excuse of using the library but I knew what I was after. I wanted to see if she was still working there. I was disappointed, but maybe I deserved to be. I had taken off and left her, leaving too much space between grief and resolution. I never considered the fact that she may be grieving for Macon, too. As well as for me and for the innocence lost. I’d always made things be about me, rationalizing that if I were strong, healthy and happy, I would be better able to take care of those weaker around me. I knew that was an egotistical point of view intended to make excuses for my behavior. When I left the building, I bent over and picked up a small pebble from the yard. I slid it down the inside of my shoe beneath my instep. As I walked, the pain reminded me to be grateful for every moment when life was smooth because you were never sure when that pebble would find its way into your shoe. It was my personal form of redemption.

  20

  Christina

  My life had finally found a norm. With the exception of a few tugs at my heart, I was content in all aspects. Michael and I had a safe and comfortable roof over our heads in enough money, supplemented by my writing, to buy everything we needed. I knew that he would go to college when the time came, which may have been the biggest gift Ellen had left me. It was a sense of contentment about the future. Life passes from one hand to the next.

  Michael has begun to toddle around, at first by holding my finger and now he’s completely autonomous. I was both thrilled at the accomplishment and frightened at the possibilities of what he could now run into or over. Motherhood had changed me. I was less selfish, less self-absorbed and I looked at the world as being a place filled with people who needed my help. I may have even developed a little God complex along the way.

  I decided to take Michael to the park so that he could be around other children and learn the way of the streets early on in life. One section was reserved for the very young with simple, safe playground equipment. I could put him at the top of the slide and hold his back with my hand as he went down its path. I held him up as he gripped the monkey bars and kept him from falling when he lost his grip. I took part in all the normal motherhood activities like asking how old another child was in comparing growth and physical capabilities. Michael fell somewhere in the middle. I suspected his strengths were going to prove to be mental and that part scared me. How would I raise a boy who was intent on mischief? The answer was simple. I needed his father; we needed his father in our lives. But that was not to be, so we learned to work around that and when I was asked what Michael’s father did for a living or whether Michael took after his father and looks, I just smiled and said he was no longer with us. Some people took that to mean that he been killed. Others thought we’d been deserted and still others…well, people thought the wildest things and it really didn’t matter.

  When we got home, I gave Michael his dinner followed by a bubble bath and clean pajamas for the night. Worn out with the unusual activity, he fell asleep within seconds and I tiptoed out, leaving the door open just a crack so I could hear him. I went into the living room and flipped on the television, cycling through the channels or nothing looked interesting. I decided it was not the television offerings, but me that was uninterested. I had loads of things on my mind after having been at the park all day. Was I prepared to be a single mother and live alone for the rest of my life? I didn’t think so. I had too much to give to a relationship. Maybe I’d find someone and get married, even have another child or two so Michael wouldn’t be the only one. There were always possibilities. Restless, I flipped off the television and the computer came into view. It drew me like a magnet and it wasn’t long before I had a glass of iced tea and the mouse in my hand. I went to the same old site, it was familiar, like a bar you frequent. Before I logged on, it occurred to me that just maybe I’d change my outfit for the night. My old subscription had expired so I signed up a new and created a phony name. I pulled a picture off the Internet, a young woman who strongly resembled me so there wouldn’t be any questions should I ever actually find someone to meet. I could explain.

  The dating site operated by offering regional possibilities. Naturally, that put Nathan into my stack of eligible bachelors. I went through the faces, one by one, ruling each went out. Some looked sneaky, some like players and others were just plain ugly, at least to me. Then came up Nathan’s face and his red dot. I let out a deep sigh and just as I was to flip on to the next face, his dot went green. He was online!

 
I felt the pain somewhere deep inside a new it was because I wanted him and he was out of reach. He had no idea it was me, my picture and profile were elusive to say the least. Still, I wanted some form of contact with him even if it never went any further than exchange of hallows. It took me three sips of the tea to decide to go ahead with it before he logged off. I clicked on his name in a message box popped up. “Hello.”

  I waited, maybe even five minutes, while he decided whether to respond. I imagined he was already talking with a dozen beautiful women closer to his age and that I would be seen as a bothersome youngster and whom he had no interest.

  “Hello yourself.” I heaved a sigh of relief. He had answered me!

  “You look interesting.” I didn’t want to give away too much. I had to be careful so that he didn’t guess it was me.

  “You look young.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No. There was someone special in my life once who was probably about your age.”

  “I see. Is there anyone in your life right now?”

  “Are you applying for the job?”

  “Could be. Tell me about yourself.”

  There was a long pause and when the message finally popped up, I saw why. He had typed an entire paragraph and I knew he was a two-fingered typist. “I appreciate your contacting me, but I’ve been out of the game for a long time and not entirely sure if I want to get back in. Actually, I was just browsing through pictures when you messaged. I have to be up early tomorrow, I have quite a drive to where I work. Maybe we can talk tomorrow night?”

  “No problem, I’ll look for you around seven.”

  I watched as his green light turned red and knew he had disconnected, so did I. I treated myself to a long hot bath and daydreams even though I knew they were unrealistic. Nathan wasn’t interested in reuniting with me. He had his chance and passed it by.

  The next evening I was online at 6:30, hoping he might get home early and log on. As usual, he was punctual and sign down at the dot of seven. The message box popped up immediately. “Good evening.”

  “Hi. Thanks for not standing me up.”

  “That’s never been my style.”

  “So, this is not an attempt to find out how much money you make, believe me. I’m fine as I am. But I just wondered, what do you do for a living?”

  “I’m a psychologist.”

  “That’s interesting. I bet you hear a lot of stories.”

  “More than my fair share I suppose. What about you?”

  “Right now I’m a stay-at-home mom and a blogger.” I knew that wouldn’t give me away and yet it was very much the truth. It made me realize how much my life had changed over the past months. “Do you enjoy your job?”

  “It has its rewards.”

  “What did he mean by that? Was he still conducting sex therapy? Did he have a new partner, someone to replace me?”

  He wanted to follow his own line of questioning. “What do you blog about?”

  “Various things. I’m sort of a ghostwriter for people who have existing blogs. I write about mommy things, helpful hints and solutions to problems. You get the idea.”

  “Mommy things? Does that mean you’re a mommy?”

  I sucked in my breath and realize what I’d just admitted. I could play it cool and deny it or I could tell the truth. “Yes, as a matter of fact I am.”

  I don’t know whether I imagined it but there seem to be a delay on his end. Maybe he was rethinking whether he wanted anything to do with a single mom. I didn’t blame him. I could be looking for someone to support my child, like so many others out there my age. Finally the box popped up. “I’d like to have a child.”

  “You would?”

  “Very much so. I had one, once. He grew up and he didn’t do a very good job of it. He was killed not long ago, murdered.”

  “Oh, my God, I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you. I just realized that’s the first time I’ve put that in writing. It seems to make it all the more real.”

  “Do you need someone to talk to? Or, because you are a psychologist, do you have that down?”

  “I’ll, that’s a popular misconception. If you’re a therapist at any level, you have your own therapist. It’s all confidential but you need a release as much as the next person.”

  “Have you ever had someone you couldn’t fix?”

  “Yes.” There was a break in the conversation again. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to say something. Then he continued on. “I couldn’t fix my son.”

  At my end I had tears streaming down my face. Of course, he had no way of knowing that any more than he had any idea who he was talking to. He was sad and I knew why, and I was probably the only person he could talk to. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what it is to lose a child.”

  “And I hope you never do. I can’t describe the pain. As long as I am telling all, I’ll tell you that I lost my wife to cancer, years ago. And more recently, I lost a girl. She was very special to me. I was ready to offer her the rest of my life when I discovered that she had a secret. At the time, it was the worst thing I could imagine and I couldn’t find it inside myself to forgive her for it. But I’ve been through a lot the last few months. I almost died, a case of bacterial poisoning from airline food. I was in rehab it seemed like forever. But that’s all behind me now and I’m feeling better, back to my old self.”

  “And the girl?” I was holding my breath.

  “She’s lost to me. I really can’t tell you why or how it happened. I found out one of her secrets and before I had a chance to bring it out in the open and talk with her about it, she was gone. She just disappeared. Then I lost my son and I left the country for a while, you know, to get my head together, as they used to say. Now I’m back, and I’m working, and I know she’s out there somewhere and I hope she’s happy. I have to let her go.”

  “Why?”

  “I owe it to her. You see, she was about your age and I was enough older that I smothered her. I stole her youth. I blamed her for things she wasn’t responsible for and I didn’t have the balls to admit that it was me who failed her. Now, it’s too late to tell her because I don’t know where she is.”

  “Have you tried to find her?”

  “I went by where she used to work, but she’s not there anymore. No one seemed to know where she’s gone. She hasn’t come looking for me either, so I think it’s pretty much history. It’s a shame. I wanted to share my life with her.”

  A new wave of tears were rushing down my cheeks as I typed, “It sounds like you still never.”

  “I always will.”

  “Why are you on the dating site? It doesn’t sound like your heart is open to anyone else.”

  “That’s true, it’s not. I guess I just come on here to talk to someone. It’s very quiet when you live alone. That might sound strange coming from someone who listens to people talk all day, but when you think about it, it’s them that gets to do the talking.”

  “I get that. Let’s pretend for a moment that I’m her. If you could tell her one thing, what would that be?”

  “That you are her? I guess I’d say, come back to me. I miss you and I want to start over. None of the past matters. We can get through this together.”

  “Wow. That’s pretty heavy.”

  “Yeah, I guess it is. It’s one of those things, you know. You had to be there to really understand. Listen, I’m taking up your time when you could be chatting with a dozen other great guys. Why don’t I let you go?”

  “There are no other guys. I’m fine right here. That is, if you don’t mind talking to me.”

  “No, you’re great to talk to. To tell you the truth, that’s exactly what I need. I need a friend, a female friend but without the intimacy part. Someone to do things with, like go shopping for groceries, go see a movie, I’d fix her car and she fixed me dinner. That kind of thing.”

  I was choking on my end but I finally put the words on the screen. “I’m up for something like that.
”

  “You are?”

  “Sure. You sound like a nice guy and I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together here.”

  “Would you like to meet? Maybe just for a friendly casual dinner? I promise that’s as far as it’ll go.”

  “I’d like that. Where and when?”

  “You pick the place and the time. I’m home by six in the evening and I have my weekends open. You’re the one with the child.”

  “What about Saturday evening at eight? The little supper club on fourth Avenue called PD’s?”

  “We’ve got a date. I’m going to sign off now and make myself something for dinner. I see you at PD’s.”

  “Goodbye.”

  Was I out of my freaking mind? Nathan wasn’t looking for me. He was only talking to me because he thought I was someone else. I just confessed I had a child. He’s not stupid. When I show up he’s going to know and then he’ll have control over me through Michael. What the hell am I going to do?

  I didn’t care. I wanted to see him.

  21

  Nathan

  What in the hell have I done? I don’t want another woman in my life to complicate things. Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone? Did I really think I had enough control over myself to not ruin another woman’s life? If she looked anything like her picture, I found her attractive and I like the way she listened. She was young, as young as Christina. I might think I was in charge of the relationship when in actuality, she might fall for me. There was no way for me to tell what might happen. I started toward the computer to leave her message and call the whole thing off. I knew she’d hurt for a few seconds but then she move on. If I met her for dinner we might actually get along and sooner or later, the question of love and sex and marriage and all that goes with it would come up. It was inevitable. If I turned her down then, it would destroy her. Or, it would destroy me. I needed time. I needed to let at least a couple of years go by so I would be grounded and in my right mind. I was pure reactions — there wasn’t an original plan in my head. I turned the computer back on and brought up the software.