“So why are you here? Why now?” I ask. I frown at her, my fingers tightly clasped into fists at my sides. She shakes her head and shrugs hopelessly.
“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” she admits. “I want to do what’s right for Allie. I wasn’t going to find you at all, and then I realized how selfish that was. Not only to her but to you. That little girl in there is amazing. You’ve missed out on so much, Luke. And she’s been through so much…” Her voice trails off as she fights back the tears. “She deserves to know her father, and you deserve to know her.”
I shake my head and sit back down. I feel numb. I don’t know what to think or what to say, so I don’t say anything. I repeat the words over and over in my head.
She’s my daughter.
My daughter.
I have a child.
I’ve had a child for more than eight years and I never even knew it.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I glance at her. “I’m not being rude; I just don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know what to say or how I’m supposed to respond to this.”
“It’s okay. It’s a huge shock, I understand that. If you need time to digest all of this, that’s fine.”
She pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen and then scribbles something down on it. She passes it to me, her hands shaking.
“That’s my number and where I’m staying. We’ll be here for as long as you need to come to terms with this.” I nod and stare at her number. “Give me a call when you’re ready to hear more about your daughter.”
She stands up and walks back inside, leaving me sitting out there, lost in my thoughts. I hold my head in my hands, at a loss at what to think. How am I supposed to process this? My heart aches for Maya. Raising a kid—our kid—alone must have been so hard for her, but then I’m so angry at her for keeping this from me.
Poor Allie.
She doesn’t deserve any of this. What do I say to her? She must hate me. I shake my head because it’s all too much.
I can’t deal with this now.
I jump when my phone vibrates in my pocket. My heart races when I pull it out because I know it’s going to be Laura.
Laura: Looking forward to seeing you later for dinner. I love you.
I laugh as frustration, anger, pain, and a fuck load of other emotions fight to control me. It’s the first time she’s said she loves me. Now I have to go home and tell her I have a child? How fucked-up is that? This whole situation is a mess. One I have no idea how to fix. Before anything else, I need to speak to Laura, because I don’t want to hide something like this from her.
How the fuck am I going to tell her about this?
Chapter Twelve
Laura
It’s after ten when I finally drag myself out of bed. I’m shocked that I slept so late, because I was half expecting to wake up when Luke went to work in the early hours of the morning. I don’t know why I can’t just let him sleep. Probably because every time I see him lying there, I can’t resist kissing or touching him.
My stomach churns as I force down a coffee. I can’t even think about food, because I’ve decided that I’m telling him today. Now that the decision has been made, I grab my phone to text Luke to arrange dinner before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: Dinner tonight?
Luke: Sure. I should finish about six. Anything wrong?
Me: No, I just want to talk. Have a good shift.
I rummage through the freezer to see if I can avoid going shopping. Unless I plan to serve him out of date chicken and yogurt that is growing its own yogurt, I can’t. I frown and look around the kitchen. Maybe I should just order takeout, I say to myself. Let’s face it, my cooking sucks hardcore, anyway, and cooking under stress will just make things even worse. Pizza makes the best “I can’t have kids” discussion food anyway, I continue my with my inner dialogue,
Throwing myself down on the couch, I text Becca to see what she’s up to.
Me: What’s up?
Becca: Not much. I’m off for three days because I have a movie to be on set for next week.
Me: Want to come over?
Becca: Sure. Lunch? I can get subs from Marcos?
Marcos is the place they use on set where she works for lunches and they’re fucking awesome. They’re also hideously expensive, so it’s something we only have once in a while.
Me: Perfect. My treat.
It’s only eleven and I’m already feeling anxious. If I don’t find something to distract myself with, I’m going to drive myself crazy. I glance around, embarrassed at how messy my apartment is. Tidying should probably be my priority, but any motivation I had for cleaning went out the window when I slept in. Who am I kidding? The motivation was never there to begin with, because I hated cleaning with a passion.
I can spend the day cleaning, or I can go and visit Iris.
Iris wins, but too bad for me, she’s not home.
I shake my head, because she’s always home. I vaguely remember her complaining about a lady from a community outreach program who’s been trying to get her out of the house to do her shopping. I trudge back to my apartment, slowly coming to terms with the fact that it’s clean or sit around and stress out.
The thing with cleaning is that once I start, I can’t stop. I guess that’s the power of distraction. It’s like I’m possessed. I even rearrange the living room, moving the couch and the TV over to the other side of the room to take advantage of the beautiful views I have.
By the time Becca turns up just after twelve, I’m wrecked. I open the door, accept the sub she hands me, and start devouring it before we’ve even sat down.
“Thanks,” I say, in between mouthfuls. I should have asked for two.
She stops in her tracks when she sees the living room.
“Been busy, I see.” She smirks. “You hate cleaning with a passion. The only time you do it is when you’re trying to avoid thinking about something.” She smiles at me. “Or someone.”
“How would you know if I hated cleaning?” I grumble.
She’s right, but I hate that she knows me so well.
“Ha, because I saw some of the things that crawled out of your bedroom when we were kids? Dude, I was scared to sleep in your room for fear I wouldn’t wake up.”
“Overreact much.” I sniff, lifting my head.
“Oh, come on. You got away with it, because you were always sick.” She giggles.
We walk outside onto the balcony and sit down to eat. Well, Becca eats, because I’ve pretty much finished mine. I sit with my back against the wall and close my eyes, feeling as relaxed as I’ve felt all day, while Becca crosses her legs and carefully unwraps her sub.
“So, does this thing you’re trying not to think about have anything to do with talking to Luke?” she asks.
“I’m telling him everything tonight,” I admit. “And I’m scared out of my mind.”
“Good.” She smiles at me and reaches for my hand. “Well, not the bit where you’re scared, but the telling him part. For what it’s worth, I think you’re overreacting. He’s going to be fine. He likes you a lot. Sure, it’s going to be a hurdle and probably a shock, but he’ll get over it. You’ll get over it together. I’m sure of it.”
“I wish I was that confident,” I say.
I glance at her, hoping for a subject change.
“How’s work going?” she asks.
I sigh, relieved. I swear that girl can read my mind sometimes.
“Good. Did I tell you about the research project I’ve applied for?” I ask. “If I get it, I’ll spend six months in Switzerland, working on a fertility study.”
“That’s really cool,” she says, sounding genuinely happy for me. “But it’s a long time to be away from your family… and Luke,” she adds, his name rolling off her tongue like an afterthought.
“It’s only six months,” I protest. “Not to mention the fact that this is my dream. It’s what I’ve been waiting for.”
“I know, but exactly how long have y
ou spent away from him since you guys got together?” I frown at her know it all smirk.
“Well, that’s hardly the same, considering we live together,” I retort. “And the way our hours clash all the time, you’d be surprised at how little time we actually do get to spend together.”
Besides, he might not even be an issue then, I think to myself.
“Hey, when’s his place ready?” she asks.
“Any day now.” I frown, not liking how that makes me feel.
“You don’t look thrilled at the idea of him moving out.”
“I guess because I’m not.” I shrug. I like things the way they are. “I hate the idea of him moving out, but I feel like I can’t ask him to stay until I’ve told him that I can’t have kids.” I pause. That made more sense in my head.
Becca frowns at me. “What does him living here have to do with having kids? Unless it’s a requirement on your lease agreement?” she teases. I glower at her.
“No, I just mean that asking him to stay is a big deal. It’s pretty much asking him to move in with me. It means things are serious, and if they’re that serious, then this conversation should have already happened.”
“I guess there is some skewed logic in there somewhere.” She shakes her head. “So just tell him, then ask him to stay?”
“That’s my plan. But he might not want to stay after hearing what I have to say.”
“If that happens, then you weren’t meant to be together in the first place,” she says softly. “I’m sorry, but if he can’t look past this, then he’s not the guy for you.”
I know she has a point, but it’s not always that simple.
“So, how are you really feeling?” Becca asks, as if reading my mind. “Not about Luke. I mean in general.”
“I’m okay.”
“I call bullshit,” she replies. “Come on, Loz. I’m the one person that you can whine to without feeling bad about it. Take advantage of me. I’m all yours.” She spreads her arms and nods at me.
“Fine. I’m pissed off and angry. Then when that subsides, I get upset, terrified and jealous and convinced I’m going to end up alone with a thousand cats. Happy?”
“Not really. I hate cats,” she replies. She sighs and wads up her sub wrapper into a tight ball, tossing it at me. “Maybe that’s what you need to tell Luke,” she says softly. “Be honest, show him that you’re hurting too. Don’t take all of the emotion out of it and make this seem like nothing. You can’t have kids. That sucks just as much for you, as it does for him.”
“But I’ve had thirteen years to get used to the idea.”
“And how’s that worked out for you?” she asks. I frown at her, not answering. “Look, all you can do is be honest with him. The rest is up to him.”
“I know.” My heart races as I force the next sentence out. “I’m just terrified of losing him, Becs.”
“I know you are.”
She crawls over to me and gives me a hug, then she wipes away my tears.
“If he’s not the guy, then I’ll marry you and we can have two thousand cats.” She pauses for a second, her brown eyes sparkling. “But just so we’re clear, I draw the line at fingering you again.”
I groan and push her away. “Are you ever going to let me live that down?”
“Nope. Probably not.” She grins.
We move inside when the clouds threaten to pour down with rain, and for the rest of the afternoon, we laze on the couch, watching TV and talking. One of the things I love about Becca is that she can distract me from anything. And she has, because before I know it, Luke is due home.
“I better go,” Becca says. “Unless you think me being here—”
“After last time?” I snort. “Go.”
I smile as I walk her to the door. She gives me a hug and kisses me on the cheek.
“Call me if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks, and thanks for coming over.”
I shut the door and sit back down on the couch, tucking my legs up under me. I’m shaking, I’m so nervous. It’s the not knowing how he’s going to react that that gets me the most. I tap out a text, reminding him about dinner, signing it with I love you. I press send and then realize what I’ve done. I stare at the message and laugh, because it’s the first time I’ve ever truly been honest about how I feel.
I love him.
I’ve hit that point, which means I definitely should’ve told him a long time ago.
Luke: I’m looking forward to it too. Work is crazy, but I’ll be home as soon as I can.
The minutes tick by and six becomes seven, which turns into eight.
Before long, I’m sitting out on the balcony at nearly nine in the evening, staring off into the darkness. To be honest, I’m relieved that he got held up at work. I know I still have to tell him, but even avoiding the conversation for one more night sounds good to me right now. I don’t even hear the balcony door slide open until he’s standing there, in front of me. I glance up at him, my heart pounding, because I’m not prepared for this. I shiver uncontrollably, only just realizing how cold I am. He walks back inside, returning moments later with a blanket.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks. “You’re freezing,” he adds, wrapping it around my shoulders. “Are you okay?”
I nod, my heart racing as I build up the courage to tell him. He sits down next to me wrapping his arms around me.
“I need to tell you something.”
I glance at him, because he took the words out of my mouth. The expression on his face scares me so much, that for a moment I forget about my own problems. Something is seriously wrong.
“What is it?” I ask, frowning at him. My heart races as I run through all the worst possible scenarios in my head.
“I don’t even know how to tell you…” He shakes his head, looking down at the ground. “This whole thing is a mess.”
“What is?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”
I reach for his hand and wrap my fingers around his. He’s so tense and he won’t look at me. It’s like he’s in shock.
“I just found out… something.” He takes a deep breath. “How am I supposed to tell you this?”
“Just tell me,” I urge him. I’m not sure how much more I can take before I start trying to shake it out of him. Something? What the hell is something?
“I… I have a daughter.”
With that one sentence, my heart stops beating.
My hand slips from his as I stare at him, my whole world stopping for one tiny moment. I hear nothing of the sounds around us, just the beat, beat, beat of my heart thumping wildly in my chest. I breathe in, forcing air into my lungs, because if I don’t actively think about breathing, I’m going to forget and pass out.
He has a daughter?
A child.
I lift my gaze to his, but he still can’t look at me. I shake my head, words completely abandoning me. He’s a father. He has a daughter. I look at the ground, still unable to form a sentence or even think about what this really means.
“What…”
I cough, clearing my throat, and then I try again.
“How… What are you talking about? You have a daughter that you didn’t know about?”
I string enough words together to qualify it as a sentence. He nods absently, as though he’s trying to figure it out too. He stares down at his hands and shakes his head again.
“I had no idea she existed, until today.”
“How?” I ask.
“It was after my dad died,” he begins. “I met Maya in London. She was there from Germany, with her sister, Abbey. We spent three weeks together, which was apparently long enough for me to father a child.” He laughs bitterly and leans his head back against the wall, staring up at the dark sky.
“And she never told you? How did you find out about her?” I ask. “That must make her, what, nine?”
“She’s eight. Abbey came in to the hospital today. She’d been looking for me since…” He glances at me. “And
yes, she never told me. Maya died in a car crash six months ago. Her parents were killed too. That poor kid has nobody other than her aunt.”
“And you,” I whisper.
“And me.” He shakes his head and laughs bitterly. “God, I can’t even fathom what she must think of me. She must hate me for not being there for her.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him, as my hand tightens around his. He glances at me and forces out a small smile.
“I’m so sorry to spring all of this on you. And like this? I didn’t know whether to tell or not…” He closes his eyes and breathes out heavily. “At least until I had time to process it myself, but I didn’t want to keep something so major from you.”
“Thank you for telling me,” I say. His words slice through my heart. “I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you.”
“The biggest struggle is feeling like I’ve failed her. All this time, she was there, and I never knew.” He lets out a growl. “My first reaction was anger. I was so, so angry at Maya for keeping her from me. I mean, how messed up is that? How can I be angry at a dead woman?” He laughs.
“Do you know why she didn’t tell you?” I ask softly.
He shrugs. “Abbey said something about Maya thought it would be easier that way. For everyone. But how was it easier for that little girl to think that her father didn’t care about her? How was that easier for me?” He shakes his head and runs his hand through his hair. “I’m such a mess.” He glances at me. “I’m sorry for ruining your night.”
“It’s fine,” I say.
I wrap my arms around him and hug him, while trying to process it all. We sit on the balcony, neither of us saying anything. At one point, I think I fall asleep, and then I wake up and remember… he has a child. This is such a nightmare. I can’t let myself think about what this means for us, because if I do that, I’ll lose my grip on everything.
“We should go inside.” He stands up and extends his hand, helping me to my feet.
I sit down on the couch, hugging a cushion, while Luke disappears into the kitchen. He comes back a few minutes later with two beers.
“It was this or some funky looking yogurt you should probably think about throwing out.”
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