Next Door Daddy

by Amy Brent

  The baby was gone. It had been a girl. The pain that had come with the knowledge that she was no longer alive, would never see the light of day, had been as much of a surprise as it had been unbearable. I’d never wanted to be a father, but I’d never wished the child dead. This was unfair. This felt like some kind of punishment for doing the wrong thing, but I hadn’t been punished. It was an innocent child that had taken the fall, and it was unfair.

  I put my hand on Camille’s arm. I’d been sitting here like this since I’d found out. She was warm but there was no life, not really. She wasn’t here. She was somewhere far away, caught up in the web of sorrow and despair and agony of what had happened.

  A police officer knocked on the door before stepping into the room.

  “Mr. Owen, may I talk to you for a moment?”

  I nodded. The police had been in and out of the room since I’d arrived. It was about Marina. They’d arrested her. She needed a lawyer. I wasn’t going to pay for one. She’d hurt the one person that made me feel alive. She’d murdered a child. I didn’t know her. I didn’t know the woman who was my wife.

  “The court date has been set for two weeks from now. I just wanted you to know.”

  They didn’t have to tell me. They kept me updated, anyway. There was something so painful about losing a child the world grieved with you.

  “Thank you, officer.”

  He looked at Camille. “How is she doing?”

  “No better.”

  He nodded. He was the man that had taken Marina into custody. He was one of the first on the scene.

  “We’re all rooting for you, for her.”

  I nodded. I couldn’t say thank you. My voice caught in my throat and if I spoke or even looked at him I would start crying.

  A woman that looked a lot like Camille arrived two days later. She had the same skin, the same hair, the same mouth. Her eyes were gray and she wasn’t smiling. When she saw Camille she clapped her hands to her mouth and started crying. I got up.

  “Are you Camille’s mother?”

  She looked at me and nodded. She touched her daughter’s leg through the covers.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t understand.”

  I walked out of the room and poured her a cup of water at the water cooler. She took it from me when I walked back into the room and took a sip.

  “Did Camille tell you about the baby?”

  She shook her head, cheeks still wet. I nodded and pulled a chair closer for her.

  “The baby wasn’t hers.”

  I started at the beginning and told her what Camille had done for us, how she’d ended up pregnant, how she lost the baby. Her mother cried the whole way through and my heart went out to her. I put my hand on her shoulder.

  “I’m truly sorry for what your daughter has suffered. I will do everything in my power to make sure she comes out of this and finishes her degree. She only wants to make you proud.”

  The mother, her name turned out to be Tracy, nodded and kept crying. There was nothing more I could do and I felt helpless and in pain. I couldn’t change anything. All the money in the world couldn’t save people.

  She opened her eyes the next morning. I was the first person she looked at.

  “The baby,” she croaked in a voice that was almost non-existent. I looked down at my hands. My lack of answer was enough. When I looked at her again, tears ran down her cheeks. I put a hand on her leg.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  She closed her eyes and nodded. I didn’t know what to do. I felt so damn helpless I wanted to scream.

  “You mother is here.”

  Her eyes widened, fear in them. Just as I said it Tracy walked through the door.

  “Oh, my darling,” she said, crying again. “You should have told me.”

  I left the room, leaving them to talk. There was a lot to say and I was sure I didn’t have to be present for the two of them to make amends.

  Three hours later Tracy popped her head out of the door and said Camille was asking for me. I stood up. Tracy walked to me.

  “You are a good man,” she said. “I don’t always agree with her choices, but you have been here for her when no one else would.”

  She patted my hand and walked away. I wasn’t sure what to say. I walked into the room. Camille’s eyes were puffy from crying and her hands were on her stomach. I ached for her, feeling her loss and her pain.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”

  I sat down next to her and took her hand. She squeezed it and that small display of life meant more to me than she would ever know.

  “Where is she?”

  I knew who she meant. The baby. They kept her for us.

  “We should name her before we lay her to rest. I’ll arrange a funeral if you’d like.”

  She nodded. That was all we said about it. I changed the topic.

  “Marina has been arrested. There were witnesses on campus that saw what she did. She’s been charged with assault and first-degree murder.”

  Camille swallowed.

  “How are you?”

  I looked at her, frowning. After everything, she was asking about me?

  “It was your baby too.”

  I swallowed down a lump in my throat. “I thought I would lose you. I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t make it.” My voice cracked and I swallowed again, taking a deep breath. “You’ve come to mean very much to me, Camille. More than anyone before. It might be too early to say this, but I nearly lost you and life is too damn short.”

  I hesitated.

  “I’m in love with you.”

  I watched her face, trying to gauge her reaction to my words. Her face was soft and she cried again, tears rolling down her cheeks. I gave her a tissue.

  “We’ll get through this together, okay?”

  She nodded. “Together is the only way we’ll be able to do it. I’d like that.”

  It wasn’t an admission of her returned love, but it didn’t have to be. She wanted me with her, to work through this together, and that was all that mattered. We could work out the rest at a later stage when everything that had happened had been laid to rest and we could find it in us to move forward.

  I was still holding her hand. She turned on her side, wincing, and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and I let her slip back into sleep. Even when she drifted off her fingers still squeezed mine. She didn’t let go, and I didn’t move. I would sit here so she could hold onto my hand for as long as she needed me. I would only let go when she did.

  Camille

  18 months later

  Getting over the death of an unborn child is just as hard as getting over the death of anyone who’d been something in your life. I’d thought it would be easier to move on. It wasn’t. I thought it wouldn’t mean so much to me because she hadn’t been mine, but I’d been wrong about that.

  Mark and I had sat down and we’d named her Breanna. They’d brought her to me in a shoebox, so tiny and frail. She would have been a beautiful child. She’d never belonged to Mark and Marina. She’d belonged to me, and it had been hard letting go.

  Mark had arranged a ceremony for her. Sharon, my mother, Mark and me were the only people that had attended. I wouldn’t have been able to cope if there had been more. My mother had understood what it meant to me. She’d been there for me in a way Mark would never have been able to understand.

  The college had understood what had gone wrong – maybe they’d felt guilty that this had happened on their campus – and I’d been granted an extension. It was a semester later than all my peers, but I was finally graduating.

  I was in a room at Mark’s new house where I was getting ready for the ceremony. He’d sold the house he and Marina had shared and he’d bought this one. It was just as luxurious but it was smaller, cozier. More like Mark.

  My mother helped me with my hair, pinning it to the side. I wore the black toga and she was emotional. Everyt
hing about the gambling had come out and she was even more proud of me that I’d done something about it rather than run back home.

  It didn’t make sense to me. In my eyes, I’d just messed up.

  “Mark is going to be here, soon,” she said. I lived here with him. Mama had flown up for the ceremony. She didn’t like the fact that Mark was so much older than me, but she understood that we had been to hell and back together and even she couldn’t deny that something like that forged bonds no one could break.

  “Thank you for being here,” I said and hugged her.

  Mark honked his horn outside the house and we walked out. He came early from the office especially. He got out and opened the car doors for the both of us.

  “You look great,” he said before I got in, kissing me on the mouth. “I’m so proud of you.”

  I smiled and got in the car. We’d been able to move on and I was happy. I was happy with him. I was happy with my life.

  The ceremony was long and boring, with speeches about greatness and tenacity and all that. Our class valedictorian made a speech about moving onward and upward and in it, she mentioned me and how I’d risen despite the odds. It was strange with all the attention on me but I smiled and nodded and hoped they would look away soon.

  When I received my award mama and Mark went crazy. Sharon was there, too, joining in on the fun.

  Afterward, we went to a restaurant, the four of us. It was a posh place, the kind that we’d been going to more often since Mark and I had started dating officially. The staff all knew Mark. I was the young new girlfriend that they’d started getting to know, too, and I got nods and smiles from all around the room. They led us to a private table in the back where the other diners were far enough removed that I didn’t feel like a celebrity. The word of Marina and what she’d done, and what had happened to me, had come out and a lot of people knew me.

  Marina had been sentenced to thirteen years in prison. I hadn’t followed the case. Mark had gone and come back with a sense of closure.

  “I want to make a toast,” Mark said after he ordered champagne. He looked at me.

  “To Camille, who had gone against all odds and come out ahead anyway.”

  Sharon and my mom lifted their glasses and we all drank champagne. The evening was beautiful. Before dessert, mama and Sharon got up.

  “You’re leaving already?”

  Mama nodded. “I’m tired.”

  “And I have a work in the morning.”

  I got up and hugged them both. “Thank you so much. For everything.” I didn’t know where I would have been without them. Mama walked away but Sharon lingered, putting her hands on my face and smiling at me. It was strangely emotional. When she left I frowned at Mark. He shrugged.

  We sat down.

  “Can I order for us?” he asked. I nodded.

  Mark flagged a waiter and picked up the dessert menu, pointing and discussing. The waiter nodded. “For the lady, I’d like your Special,” he said. The waiter smiled.

  “Of course.”

  He disappeared. Mark poured me more champagne and I laughed.

  “At this rate, you’ll get me drunk.”

  “This is just to celebrate.”

  “Another glass?”

  He shrugged. The plates with dessert came. They placed a masterpiece in front of Mark with a chocolate sculpture that looked like it had taken days. I got something similar, except it was with sugar. Underneath the webbed dome of crystallized sugar, instead of cake, sat a black velvet box. I frowned and looked at Mark.

  “What’s this?”

  He shrugged. I lifted the sugary dome and pulled out the box, opening it. In it was a ring with a diamond the size of a pea. My mouth dropped open and I looked at Mark. He’d gone down on one knee next to me.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Oh, God. I was at a loss for words. This was crazy. This was… a dream come true. I smiled, tears stinging the back of my eyes. I nodded.

  Mark took the ring and slid it onto my finger. He got up and kissed me. The waiter removed my plate and replaced it with a dessert similar to Mark’s. I laughed, overwhelmed, and we dug in.

  Life is never predictable, and often our choices lead us in a different direction that we ever could have imagined. If I hadn’t lost all my fortunes in a stupid Blackjack game I would never have met the love of my life. We’d been through so much together, the bond between us was stronger than any relationship either of us had ever had.

  There were still times when I thought of Breanna and then I ached for her, craving the feel of her inside of me again. She would always be my first child, but when Mark and I married I wanted to try again. I wanted children of my own, children I could tell about the little girl that should have been.

  But I only wanted to do it when Mark was ready to be a father. I wanted us to be happy together. There was still a lot of time. After all, I’d only just graduated.

  We had the rest of our lives together, and I looked forward to it.

  MY Mr. Dark

  1

  Nicole walked into the club at almost 10:00 PM, her dark eyes scanning the crowd. She'd just gotten done a grueling twelve-hour shift at the hospital, and she was looking to unwind. Most nights she didn't have the energy to go out after such a long day, but tonight had been different. Several gunshot victims had been rushed into the emergency room in critical condition. Two of them hadn't made it, and the third was still in intensive care. After a scene like that, the thought of being home alone in her tiny, quiet apartment was more than Nicole could bear. If she was alone with nothing but her thoughts, she wouldn't be able to get the sights from the emergency room out of her mind.

  She needed to drown the horrifying images out with some hard drinks, some loud music, and if she was lucky, maybe have some dance with a fine looking man.

  She walked up to the bar, running her fingers through her long mass of dark curls. She hadn't taken much time to make herself up that night since she didn't have the time or the energy for a big makeover after such a long and crazy day. She was wearing jeans that hugged her ample hips and did a nice job showing off her well-rounded ass. She had a low-cut, loose fitting top that showed off plenty of her caramel skin. And she had brought a confident attitude that she showed off by flashing a dazzling smile at a few of the young gentlemen she passed. Hopefully, one of them would be enraptured enough to offer to buy her a drink.

  Nicole stood by the bar for a bit, leaning against the wall and casting seductive glances at any cute guy who walked by. A couple of them stopped and offered to buy her a drink, but she could tell within the first few sentences that came out of their mouths that they weren't worth her time. The first guy actually said, “Heyyyy there, good looking,” while eyeing her up and down, and she'd simply rolled her eyes at him for being so cheesy. She didn't care for guys who were so obvious when they were hitting on her. It generally meant they didn't actually respect her, and they were only looking to get laid.

  The second guy was a bit more smooth, at first, saying that he'd love to get to know her better. But then, when she showed the slightest interest, he'd asked if she wanted to go someplace quiet, which was usually code for “someplace we can fool around.” She wasn't that easy, and she'd told him so. Though she'd at least gotten a free drink out of him before she told him to get lost.

  She was about to give up on finding anyone worth her time when a rather fine looking man dressed to the nines walked into the club. His black pants and blazer had to be professionally tailored; by the way, they fit so nicely onto his fit, muscular body. And he wore a white silk shirt with the top few buttons undone, giving her a glimpse of his manly chest. He had dirty blonde hair and a light tan; making her wonder if he spent a lot of time outdoors. He looked like the athletic type.

  She was still eyeing him, and liking what she saw, when he glanced her way. She caught his eyes, and a small smile spread across his lips. She held his gaze long enough to show her interest, then looked away coyly, waiting to s
ee if he'd return her interest. A moment later he started crossing the room towards her.

  “Hello there,” he said, flashing her a dazzling smile.

  “Hello yourself,” she said. She held her breath for a moment, hoping this guy wouldn't turn out to be a creeper like the others she'd spoken to that night.

  “I'm Horatio,” he said extending his hand. “And may I say, it's a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a lovely lady as yourself.”

  Nicole felt her face heating up. She took Horatio's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Nicole. And I think the pleasure is mine.”

  Being called a lovely lady, she thought, was way better than, Hey there, good looking.

  “What are you drinking?” Horatio asked, nodding towards the bar.

  Nicole took a sip through her straw, finishing off the drink so he could order her another. “Mojito.”

  “A lady after my own heart,” he said. He nodded to the bartender. “Two Mojitos, please.”

  While the bartender was mixing their drinks, Horatio asked, “So, Nicole, what brings your lovely self out to the club tonight? And please tell me you came here to dance.

  “Oh? And why is it so important to you?” She smiled sweetly at him.

  “Because if you don't agree to dance with me,” Horatio said, placing a hand over his heart, “I think I might just leave here a broken man.”

  She laughed, shaking her head. It was a bit of a corny line, but from the smirk on his face, she was sure he meant it all in good fun. “I never dance with a man I haven't first shared a drink with,” she said.

  “Well then,” he said with a smile, “you'll have to sit with me and have a drink.” He accepted the two drinks the bartender handed him, then led Nicole over to a table in the back, where it was a bit quieter. The music on the dance floor was loud enough that they wouldn't be able to talk out there, and Nicole definitely wanted a chance to get to know this man better.

  “Do you always come here trying to charm the ladies off their feet?” Nicole asked.