by Morgan James
Deep down, I knew the answer to the question I was about to ask. But I wanted to know—I needed to hear it come from her mouth. “And her father?”
I held my breath, suddenly terrified to hear the answer. I wanted her to say it out loud, yet at the same time I didn’t want to acknowledge the possibility.
She bit her lip and glanced at the ground before meeting my gaze again, moisture clouding her eyes. Her voice was whisper soft. “She’s yours.”
For a moment, everything went completely still around me, and I felt my mind go blank with shock. I misheard her—I had to have. Yet, I’d held the proof that what she said was true. I inhaled deeply and speared Lydia with a sharp look. “You need to explain what the hell’s going on. Right now.”
Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her face twisted into an expression of remorse. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
“You didn’t...” I gave my head a little shake, still trying to digest everything. I had a kid. “What the fuck, Lydia? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
She flinched at my words. “I tried!”
“You tried?” My eyes narrowed to cold, angry slits. “Explain to me how the hell you ‘try’ to tell someone they have a daughter?”
“Please, I—” She reached one hand toward me, but I evaded her grasp.
“Tell me, Lydia, because I’d love to know. How could keep this from me?”
“I don’t know!”
I refused to be moved by the tears welling in her eyes. “I can’t fucking believe this.”
I’d missed out on everything. Lydia’s pregnancy, my daughter’s birth, her first steps... My throat tightened as cold settled in my bones. I fought to keep my voice even as I spoke. “You condemned me years ago, chalked me up as bad husband material. And now you’ve hidden my daughter from me?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“You did, Lydia. You had every fucking chance to tell me, but you never said a word. How could you?”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and despite my anger with her, my chest tightened at the sight. “Please, Xander, I swear I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t take her away.”
I stared at her, rooted to the floor as her words sank in. “Jesus, Lydia. Do you really think I’d do something like that? You really think I’m so horrible that I’d take a little girl away from her mother?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “I can’t be here right now. I need to leave. But we are not fucking finished, know that right now. You don’t get to make the decisions anymore.”
I stomped through the salon, and the women scattered as I made my way toward the front door. My entire body felt hot with anger, fit to burst. How the fuck could she do this to me? I replayed the moment in my head over and over again, seeing those blonde locks and big gray eyes for the first time. I couldn’t believe I didn’t figure it out sooner. She was an exact fucking replica of both of us—mostly me—and it was like a spear to the heart. How the hell had I not known I had a little girl? How could Lydia not tell me? It was the ultimate betrayal, and I was tempted for a moment to turn around and confront her again, but I forced myself to walk out the front door before I did something stupid.
Out on the sidewalk, I seethed. What she’d done was completely unacceptable. She’d had a million opportunities to tell me about the baby, yet she’d been too much of a fucking coward. In that moment, I hated her. I wanted to lash out and hurt her, and I felt the need to physically restrain myself. Pulling the deck of cards from my back pocket, I shuffled them mercilessly. Pedestrians veered in a wide arc around me as I glared straight ahead. I probably looked like a crazed person, a scowl on my face as I pushed onward, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
A thousand thoughts bombarded my mind, echoing in my ears and drowning out the sounds around me. I’d missed everything. Lydia’s pregnancy, the birth of our baby girl... Jesus. I scrubbed a hand over my face. In my fury, I hadn’t even thought to ask the little girl’s name. Guilt prompted me to turn around and go back, but residual anger pushed me to keep walking and blow off some steam.
I drew in a deep breath, forcing my heartrate to calm. Anger warred with confusion, and my fury won out. I’d missed almost an entire year with my daughter, and I wanted to punish Lydia for keeping her from me. One thing was for certain though. I was never going to miss another day in my baby’s life, whether Lydia wanted me around or not.
The monotonous act wasn’t nearly satisfying enough. My trigger finger twitched, and my hands ached for the familiar weight of a pistol. Still too pissed to think clearly, I did the only thing I could do at the moment. Spinning on my heel, I headed down the street to where my truck was parked and hopped behind the wheel. I needed to channel some of my negative energy, and I didn’t want to be alone. Steering onto the main road, I headed toward headquarters.
Thirty minutes of navigating through bumper to bumper traffic later, I turned into the parking lot behind the large brick building and cut the engine. Closing my eyes, I tipped my head back against the seat and remained there for a long moment. A thousand thoughts flitted through my brain. I traveled back in time to those first few months after we had parted. She’d emailed several times. Why hadn’t she given any indication then? She asked to talk, but nothing more. How could she keep something like that from me? Why the hell hadn’t she said anything?
Rationality slipped away as anger took hold again. My jaw clenched and my eyes popped open as my fingers gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles white with tension. I forced them loose and took a deep breath before climbing out of the cab. I jiggled my keys anxiously as I rounded the building and shoved the front door open. Connor’s little sister, Abby, sat behind the reception desk to my right, and she pasted on a smile as I stepped inside. She opened her mouth to speak, but then closed it again upon seeing my expression.
Dismissing her without a thought, I strode down the hallway toward our offices. I made my way to the very end and stopped at the last door on the left. Con sat at his desk, head bent as he watched something on the tablet in front of him. His eyes lifted to mine as I walked inside and shut the door. Steepling my fingers together, I pressed them to my mouth and leaned against the cool wood of the door. I took a deep breath before meeting his expectant gaze. “Hit the range with me?”
Barring the rifle that had been an extension of myself for the past twelve years, I needed the familiarity of a weapon. I needed the weight of it in my hands, needed to feel the recoil, the smooth coldness of metal. It was the only stress reliever I knew, and it grounded me in a way nothing else could.
As if sensing something was not quite right, he nodded silently and stood. I followed as he moved to a door on the wall to my left, which housed QSG’s small armory. Con tapped in a five-digit security code, and the door let out a soft beep as the lock disengaged. We grabbed our guns and ammo, then locked up. We remained quiet until we made it out the back door and climbed into Con’s truck. The silence pressed in on me, the weight of it like lead over my shoulders, the words clawing at my throat, desperate to be let loose.
I wasn’t particularly close to Con, but I needed to vent to someone and get this off my chest. He was a marine, but we’d served together on a couple different missions overseas, along with another member of QSG, Blake Lawson. While working together, we developed a sort of kinship and we had stayed in touch. Though we’d conversed through dozens of emails about him forming QSG, I really knew little about him. Still, I knew I could trust his opinion. I knew he would listen without judgment. Blowing out a hard breath, I pushed the words from my lips. “I have a kid.”
Con’s face remained impassive, and he just waited for me to continue.
I shook my head, still trying to wrap my mind around the thought of the little steely-eyed blonde I’d held for the first time this morning. It had taken a moment for me to process exactly what I was seeing, but looking at that little girl was almost like being transported back in time. Packed away in a box somewhere, I had baby photos that look
ed identical to Lydia’s daughter. My daughter.
I started from the beginning, telling him of my stupidity in Las Vegas. A few minutes later, we sat in silence, absorbing the information. There wasn’t much to the story, since Lydia hadn’t shared much with me. In her defense, though I hated to admit it, I hadn’t stuck around long enough to really listen. I planned to rectify that in the near future, but I wanted to do so with a clear head. My mind was still in a bad place, and her betrayal hurt my heart more than I thought it could.
A look at Con told me he wasn’t surprised in the least. I knew he was jaded from a previous relationship, though I didn’t know the whole story. He sat there quietly, the only indication of his agitation the slight drumming of his fingers on the steering wheel. Taking his eyes off the road for a second, he threw me a look. “And?”
My lips curled up in a smirk, though I felt no humor. “I didn’t choke the life out of her, if that’s what you’re worried about,” I remarked dryly.
He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Why?”
I read between the lines. Why had Lydia not said anything? That same question had played on a loop in my mind over the past half hour. “I have no fucking idea. It’s—she’s—a kid, for Christ’s sake. That’s not something you should keep from someone.”
“That’s pretty low,” he agreed. “How old?”
Fuck, I had no idea. “Young.” I thought back to how long ago that’d been, mentally calculating the months between my cousin’s wedding and now. “One, maybe?”
He didn’t say anything, only nodded. The gesture pissed me off. “What?”
“Nothing. When did you get back?”
A little over a week ago. “Doesn’t matter. She still should’ve said something.”
“Not arguing. What kind of woman keeps a father from his kid?”
Hearing Con’s disapproval was both gratifying and unsettling. Part of me wanted to speak up in Lydia’s defense, while the rest of me still wanted her to hurt, too, just the way I did. Still, I’d liked her at one point and was still technically married to her. I couldn’t stomach the thought of anyone speaking badly of her. “She emailed a couple times.”
“Hmm.” I shot him a glare, and his gaze flicked to mine before meeting the road again. “So, maybe she tried?”
“Trying isn’t the same thing as doing,” I snapped. “She should have tried to call or email every day until I answered.”
Even as the words left my mouth, I knew I was being unfair. I should have reached out to her before now. If I had, maybe we could’ve avoided this whole ordeal. I tried to see the situation from her point of view. It couldn’t have been easy for her to find out that she was pregnant while I was half a world away. Would I have told someone that kind of information via email or phone call? I would’ve loved to say yes, but I seriously doubted my conviction. How could you drop that kind of bomb over the phone?
Con turned into the range, and we hopped out of the car. Dark thoughts plagued my every step, dragging me down. I didn’t know who I was more pissed at—her or myself. I was furious at Lydia for keeping the baby a secret. But, like the idiot I was, I’d ignored her emails, scared of what she had to say. While I’d reluctantly signed the papers to annul our marriage, I’d never dreamed something like this could have happened.
I didn’t like to admit it, but as a man, my word was everything. I took pride in accepting responsibility for my actions, and I’d let her down by being a coward. It was one thing I had always promised I would never do, yet I had when the most dire opportunity presented itself.
A few hundred rounds later, I felt better both mentally and physically. The exertion had helped to focus my mind and release the tension I’d been carrying in my muscles all morning. We’d both made mistakes, and now we needed to be accountable for our actions. Tomorrow I would go speak with her, and we would have a rational conversation about everything that had transpired. I couldn’t take back what had happened—but together, we could change the future.
Chapter Seventeen
Lydia
The near-slam of the door punctuated his exit, and I slumped back against the wall as tears poured down my cheeks. A sob welled up in my throat, and I covered my mouth to keep it from escaping.
I swore my heart threatened to stop beating when I saw Alexia in his arms. It was the worst possible scenario, and I’d run a thousand of them through my mind. For nearly the past two years, I’d wondered how I would tell him about his daughter if I ever saw him again. I never wanted him to find out like this.
Inwardly, I seethed. I was furious with the entire situation—with Xander for never responding to my emails, with Gwen for not following directions and putting us in this predicament. But the truth was, the only person truly responsible was me. I knew I should’ve come clean with him before but I was so worried about his reaction. Rightfully so, I guessed. While I’d played it out over and over in my head, it was worse than I ever imagined—so much worse. I didn’t blame him for being pissed at me; I deserved every ounce of his anger.
Forcing myself to calm, I took a deep breath and swiped the tears from my cheeks. A dozen emotions swirled in my stomach. Guilt, sadness, anger, humiliation. I knew Xander hated me for what I’d done. But it’d never been intentional—surely he knew that, right? Somehow I’d make him understand.
I fanned my face, knowing my cheeks were blotchy and red. Drawing in another breath, I tried to clear my muddled mind and ventured out into the salon. Gwen was still by the front desk speaking with Brenda, and I approached quietly, my eyes on Alexia.
I took her from Gwen’s arms and cuddled her close. Beside us, Gwen shifted awkwardly, wringing her hands in front of her, her gaze pinned to the floor at her feet.
Desperately trying to rein in my anger, I spoke in a low, calm voice. “I need you to please explain to me exactly what happened.”
“I...” Gwen began, then trailed off, biting her lip. Her gaze moved to mine, searching imploringly. “I left her in the back for just one second. I wanted to grab her sippy cup from the fridge before we left. I didn’t want to carry her through the salon and risk him seeing her, so...”
I inhaled sharply through my nose. Well, that hadn’t worked out at all the way she’d planned. “It was less than a minute, I swear.”
I briefly closed my eyes, forcing myself not to lash out at her. Gwen was only a year or so younger than me, but she didn’t have kids of her own. She had no idea what could happen in the blink of an eye. I also couldn’t discount the fact that this was mostly my fault. I met her gaze. “I know she’s barely one, but she’s starting to climb and get more curious. She can’t be left alone, especially not back there where she can get into something and get hurt.”
I searched Gwen’s eyes to make sure she understood, and she nodded vigorously. “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”
I sighed. “Thank you. And I’m sorry, too, for putting you in this position.”
From behind the counter, Brenda spoke up. “You know we don’t mind having her, honey.”
I shot her a grateful smile. “I know. But she’s my responsibility. Maybe I really need to look into day care.”
I’d initially discarded the idea because of the cost as well as some of the horror stories I’d heard. When Darlene had offered to stay with her, I’d jumped at the chance. Unfortunately, it had come back to bite me in the ass—big time.
“What are you going to do?” Brenda’s voice was soft, and I knew she wasn’t referring to day care.
I slid one hand over Alexia’s pale locks, and she snuggled against my shoulder. Closing my eyes, I pressed a kiss to her forehead before meeting Brenda’s worried gaze. “For right now, I think I need to go home. I’m sorry to keep doing this to you guys, but—”
Brenda held up a hand. “We’ve got it covered. You need this. You need to be with her.”
Brenda was right; I did. All I wanted to do was go home and cuddle my baby close, let her sweet laughter push away the worry and fear that hov
ered over me like a thick, dark cloud.
He’d glared at me like I was lower than dirt, and I felt like it. I felt horrible for keeping it from him, for depriving him of all the little moments I’d been able to capture over the past year and a half.
MUSCLES COILED WITH tension, my body was wound so tightly that the jingling of the bell over the door made me jump. Dread congealed in my gut, and my heart skipped a beat. In that moment, I hated the tinkling sound that had once seemed so cheery and welcoming, because this encounter would be far from either of those things. I didn’t even glance over—I didn’t have to. We opened barely fifteen minutes ago, and we didn’t have an appointment scheduled until 11:30. I knew exactly who I would find in the doorway.
I focused my eyes on the computer screen in front of me, desperately trying to maintain my composure as he drew near. I felt him more than saw him, as if his presence was larger than life. He seemed to fill the entire room, and it sent a tingling sensation through my body. I swallowed hard, willing my heart to slow where it thudded painfully in my chest. I was sure Xander could hear it pounding from where he stood barely three feet away from me. I briefly closed my eyes as he cleared his throat, the sound both demanding and understated.
Reluctantly, I glanced up into those blue eyes that did funny things to my insides. I withdrew my fingers from the keyboard and curled them into fists by my sides, steeling myself for the conversation ahead. After the way he left yesterday, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be even remotely civil. Fire filled his eyes, and I had to fight to keep from taking a step backward.
His voice was pitched low. “We need to talk.” I nodded, unable to speak over the lump that had formed in my throat. He stared down at me for a moment then tipped his head toward the back of the salon. “Is she here?”
I shook my head and swallow it before speaking. “No, she’s at home with Darlene.”
He lifted an eyebrow, his inquisitive gaze demanding I explain. “Darlene is a neighbor,” I offered. “She watches Alexia during the day.”