Secret Daddy: A Second Chance Romance

by Scarlet West

  “Um, well, it starts next week,” I said. “We still have to wait for the equipment and props to arrive.”

  “I see,” Tom said. “In which case, are you free to have dinner with us? Tonight?”

  He looked at Trina, and then he looked at me. I felt my stomach clench. Anticipation warred with dread in my heart. I paused, thinking about my answer carefully.

  “I guess,” I said at length. “What time is dinner?”

  Tom shrugged. “Seven o’ clock?” he asked. “I’ll have to phone Alex and see if she’s got the cooking started,” he added, reaching into his pocket for his phone.

  Alex was his wife, a sweet girl with brown hair and a welcoming smile. He had met her during college and they seemed well-suited. It amazed me to see Tom settled down.

  “Alex?” Tom asked, standing from the couch and walking into the hallway for his call. “Hi? Are you home yet? I just invited Drake and my sister for dinner, and…”

  I heard his voice getting more distant as he walked and then lost interest, as Trina turned to me.

  “How is the…”

  “Is the work…”

  We both spoke together. I chuckled and leaned back on the couch.

  “You first,” I said.

  She blushed. “I was going to ask, how is the life in New York?” She said. “I mean, if you live in New York, full time, that is…” she trailed off, and I had the first realization that maybe she felt as awkward as me.

  “I do,” I nodded. “I have an apartment there now. Not too close to the theater district, though,” I chuckled. “Too pricey, and besides, I’d never sleep.”

  “I see,” Trina sighed. She had a wistful look on her face, and I realized, with some shock, that she’d probably never left Illinois. “It sounds so glamorous,” she said.

  “It isn’t,” I chuckled. “Well, when you’re covered in make-up that’s melting under the stage-lights, burning up with heat in a costume with shoes that are a size too small and stiff, you don’t feel so glamorous.”

  She laughed. “You have to wear makeup?”

  “Sure,” I nodded. “With the lighting so bright like it is, if I didn’t wear any makeup, I’d look so pale people’d think I was half dead.” I chuckled.

  “I never thought about it.”

  “I wouldn’t have, either, if it hadn’t happened to me,” I explained, laughing as I remembered a funny incident from acting school.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “Well, I was in my second year, and we were putting on a play about…”

  “Hey! Guys!” Tom appeared, grinning broadly. “I just talked to Alex. She said that’d be great. It’s six-thirty now, so if we leave now, we can get there by seven? She said that dinner is almost ready, and she’s got more than enough for two more guests.” He beamed.

  “Great,” I said. I looked at Trina. She looked away.

  “I don’t think I can make it,” she said softly, giving him a look.

  “I see,” Tom said quickly, seeming to catch some sort of hidden message that was meaningless to me. He nodded twice. “Sure, Trina,” he said. He looked at me. “You coming?”

  “Um, well, I…” I trailed off, hesitant. I didn’t want to be rude. At the same time, though, I had been traveling nine hours. The only reason I had been okay with the thought of dinner, was the fact that Trina was attending. With that gone, the thought of a long evening seemed suddenly very tiring.

  “It’s okay,” Tom said, compassionately. “I get it if you’re too tired. Trust me. We can do it another night, right Trina?”

  “Yeah,” Trina said, with a tight smile. “You’re right.”

  I placed my coffee cup back on the tray and stood, brushing my hands down the front of my jeans.

  “You have to go?” Tom asked.

  “Um, yes,” I said. Why argue, when he had already made the excuse for me? “I really am tired.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Trina? I guess I should take our sleepy guest back. The Kingsley, yeah?”

  “Yes,” I nodded slowly. I heard Tom cross the room to the hallway, getting his coat as I watched Trina.

  She was sitting at the coffee table, still, her hands on her lap. She looked sad, a small frown creasing her brow.

  “Trina?” I said.

  “It’s okay,” she said, catching the unasked question in my voice. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “I get it,” I said, with a soft chuckle. “I understand tired.”

  “Good,” she said in a small voice. “In which case, have a good night Drake.”

  I smiled. “Goodnight Trina. I’ll see you soon,” I said, my voice tight.

  “Right,” she said, avoiding my gaze. “See you soon.”

  I waited, just looking at her as she looked at her feet. Neither of us said anything. I felt as if my heart shifted in my chest, the silence stretching awkwardly between us.

  “Hey, Drake?” Tom appeared in the door, shrugging into his jacket. “You coming?”

  Trina’s head shot up and she met my gaze. Our eyes held for a long moment. Then she looked swiftly away, turning to her brother in the doorway.

  “See you tomorrow, Tom,” she said.

  I followed her out of the room and then to the front door, where I waited for Tom to get into his car before I jumped into the seat beside him. Trina stood on the step. She was looking at her shoes again, her posture strangely downcast. I felt a sudden sorrow, and I stuck my head out and waved.

  “Bye, Trina,” I called.

  “Bye, Drake.”

  As I rolled the window up again, I was surprised to find myself blinking. Ridiculous, I thought, what memory can do.

  I knew it wasn’t just memory, though. It was feeling. My feelings for Trina were still as strong as they had ever been.

  3

  Trina

  “Oh. My. Goodness.”

  I didn’t have anything else to say. I couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. In fact, I was in shock. I couldn’t have been more stunned if I had come home and a million dollars on my doorstep.

  “Tom could have warned me.”

  I sat down on the couch, my legs suddenly tired. I should have guessed Tom would do something like that to me, after all, he was the sort of person who loved surprises. Not to mention he really had no reason to believe that seeing Drake wouldn’t have been a welcome one.

  My body was vibrating, and it wasn’t all nerves. I had not forgotten how amazing he was in bed, and nor, it seemed, had my body forgotten its response toward him. I could feel a familiar long-forgotten wetness between my legs and my heart pounded as if I had run uphill.

  I was still hopelessly attracted to him. I wasn’t sure whether to be amused or worried by that. It was ridiculous, but my stomach tingled with pleasure, just thinking about him. My phone made a noise and I reached over and looked at the screen. It was a text-message from my brother.

  Drake asked for your phone number, so he can stay in touch. Okay?

  I sighed. Why not?

  The request was typical of my brother. So excited about seeing his high school buddy again, he wasn’t thinking about the impact the contact would have on me. I had no idea myself what effect it would have, I thought, feeling glum.

  Sure, I texted back, without really knowing why I did it.

  When it was sent, and I scrolled back to home, I noticed the time was six-thirty. It had only taken just over an hour, the whole visit. It was almost time for my daughter to get back from Skyler’s, and the thought of Millie suddenly made my mouth go dry.

  I had been so dumbstruck by Drake’s sudden appearance at my door that I hadn’t even thought about the repercussions of his stay in town. I wasn’t sure what to do. If he was going to be in town for six weeks, it would be nearly impossible to keep him from discovering Millie. He didn’t know about his daughter because I hadn’t been able to find him to tell him back when she was born. But now, he was going to be so close at hand. Did I tell him now? And what would that loo
k like if I did?

  His life and career were in New York. Did I introduce him to his daughter only to have him take off for another ten years and break her heart? No, I wouldn’t do that to her. But what if he wanted to be a father to her? Would I have to agree to letting him take her to New York with him for weeks at a time? And what if I was able to keep her hidden from him for these weeks? Would she hate me if she found out at some time later that her father had been so close, and I’d never let her meet him?

  I was so incredibly fucked right then, and I didn’t have the answer. And it wasn’t like I could ask anyone for advice, because no one knew Drake was her father. I’d let everyone believe it was a one-night stand. I shook my head in frustration.

  One glance in the reflective surface of the kitchen window showed me a long oval face with high cheekbones, wide blue eyes and a wide-lipped mouth. I had never thought of myself as pretty, not exactly. I had also never understood why some of my school friends talked jealously about the way I looked. To my own eyes, I was fairly plain and ordinary-looking. A female version of Tom.

  Now, as I stirred the sauce I was making for dinner, I found myself looking at my reflection critically. How much had I aged, those ten years? Had my best features weathered them? Or was I just a pale, faded single mom the way I sometimes felt?

  “He looks incredible,” I said out loud, miserably.

  Just thinking about it made my heart beat faster. Athletic, handsome, confident. Those three things epitomized Drake, when I’d met him. They still did now. He was good-looking in a way that made my blood stop. I got chills just recalling how it felt to lean against him, feeling that lean, strong body press to me, his arms wrapping me tightly.

  I blushed, realizing it had been a long, long time since I had been intimate with anybody. Amelia took up a lot of my time and energy, and it was hard to have relationships with a little girl in the house. If nothing else – the awkwardness, the inappropriate moments and the risk of her walking in on us – I didn’t want to risk bringing somebody into space I shared with her.

  The last time I so much as kissed someone was five years ago.

  It seemed insane, now. I could barely believe it; especially given the way my body was lighting up simply thinking about Drake and the effect he had on me.

  “How have I done that to myself, for so long?”

  The thought made me blush, even though there was nobody there to hear or see me. I bent over the pasta, stirring it and thinking hard. My embarrassment even contemplating sex surprised me.

  My father’s reaction to my “mistake” had been catastrophic. He’d raved about it for days, stood up and left when I entered the room, told me I was a slut and a fool. I hadn’t realized it, but his condemnation of my pregnancy had left me with a deep, profound sense of shame. A wrongness toward my own body, toward intimacy, toward myself.

  “It’s time I worked through that,” I told myself.

  I looked up at the reflective window pane, directly into my own eyes. My reflected self stared back, unwavering. She looked strong, confident. Resolute.

  It’s time.

  I finished preparing the pasta, opened the warming drawer of the stove and slipped the pots inside, waiting for Skyler to arrive with my daughter. She usually left at seven, which meant she’d be home in the next fifteen minutes.

  I settled on the sofa to wait.

  Curiosity overwhelmed me, and I found myself Googling Drake Stone. An article came up, something in Theater magazine about a part he’d played. I read through the glowing prose and found myself grinning at it.

  “…an electrifying performance by a strong male lead, whose voice is one of those truly memorable moments of theater…”

  Reading the complimentary article, my cheeks hurt from smiling. I felt a sort of delicious guilty possessiveness, as if I had eaten the last slice of chocolate cake in a famous café. That was my Drake they were talking about, the man who I knew more intimately than anyone, and who knew me the same way.

  Interrupting my thoughts, the doorbell rang. I walked briskly downstairs, opening the door for Skyler and my daughter.

  “Mommy!” Amelia burst in, throwing herself at me, arms clasped round my hips. I grinned and held her close. She sounded happy.

  “Hey, Trina,” Skyler said, grinning at me. Her hair was drawn back in the same tight ponytail, but she’d changed into jeans and a loose top. She looked relaxed.

  “Hey,” I said. “You have time for a quick coffee?”

  Skyler shook her head. “Sorry, I can’t. Later in the week? I want to chat, but I have to hurry back, or Randall might starve to death.”

  “Randall’s a chef,” I reminded her, grinning. “I’m sure he can manage in the kitchen.”

  “It’s not his night,” she said, grinning. “Besides, after cooking all day, I can’t possibly let him cook all day at home, too. One night a week is hard enough.”

  “True,” I nodded. “See you on Thursday, maybe?” “Great,” she said. “At two?”

  “Perfect,” I nodded. Thursday afternoon was my day off. It was the least-busy day in the salon, and we always closed round one.

  “I’m hungry, mommy,” Amelia protested as Skyler waved and shut the door.

  I chuckled. “Dinner’s cooked,” I said. “It’s waiting for us.”

  “Hooray!”

  Amelia vaulted up the stairs ahead of me, the sound of her feet pattering their way up echoing back to me. I went up more slowly. She made me feel old.

  Twenty-eight isn’t old. It’s still so young.

  It was a thought that hadn’t occurred to me for a very long time. Seeing Drake made me remember.

  He’d looked at me like he used to.

  I shivered, though it was a delicious shiver. I hadn’t realized how my perspective had been altered by my life, by my daughter’s age, by my father’s censure.

  “You’ve been judging yourself.”

  “What’s that, mommy?” Amelia said, pausing in the doorway as I came up behind her. “You said something.”

  “Just talking to myself, sweetie,” I demurred. “It’s a habit.”

  “It makes you sound kinda cuckoo,” she said with a grin.

  “Well then cuckoo, cuckoo,” I intoned like a clock. It made her giggle. The sound, high and playful, flooded the apartment like sweet music. I sat down on the couch, watching her. My heart was too full to speak.

  She was the light of my life.

  With her hands out, she was swaying from side to side, watching the fabric of her dress shift and swirl around her. Just watching her filled my heart with wonderment. A little grin played across that full-lipped mouth, and her green eyes were downcast, filled with focused interest. She was in her own world.

  She looks so like him, it hurts.

  As I watched Amelia dancing by herself, I wondered again how Drake would feel, if he knew.

  I didn’t know.

  “Come on,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s time for supper.” I stood up, striding to the kitchen. I felt restless, though I couldn’t say exactly why.

  “What’s wrong, mommy?” she said. “Did I do something wrong? You sound angry.”

  I sighed. “I’m not angry.”

  My voice came out harsh and grating, belying my words. I shook my head, feeling drained. Too much had happened in the past few hours, and I was exhausted. I needed time by myself to think things through.

  “You don’t sound happy,” Amelia countered, walking over to the cupboard under the sink. I heard her scrabbling through the baking tins and things and decided it was best not to interfere.

  “I’m fine,” I said, carrying the empty pots over, to wash them in the sink. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m sorry I was snippy. Mommy’s just tired, that’s all.”

  I set the bowls down silently on the table, took my seat and tried to make myself cheer up. When I looked up from my pasta, my daughter was watching me with serious eyes.

  “Auntie Skyler said that you work too hard,” she said.
“And that you have to take a break sometime.”

  “Auntie Skyler doesn’t need to be talking about me like I’m not there,” I said, the irritation noticeable in my voice.

  I saw my daughter slump in her seat and I felt suddenly guilty. Amelia might be wise beyond her years in many ways, but she was only nine. I was being moody and difficult and there was no way she had the capacity to understand it and not take it personally. .

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” I said gently. “Some weird things happened today. I need to talk to your uncle Tom about it.”

  He’s the one who got me into this mess, after all. He can get me out of it, for a change.

  “Uncle Tom!” my daughter’s heart-shaped face lit up brightly. “Is he going to come over to visit?”

  “I hope so,” I said, thoughtfully. “Maybe he and Auntie Alex can visit for dinner tomorrow.” I was planning it out as I told her, making arrangements in my head. It would be good to be able to talk to Tom about it.

  Without Drake. Ideally, without my brother’s wife, too. I need to talk to him, alone.

  But what do I want to say to Tom, after all?

  I didn’t know what I could tell my brother. He had no idea Drake was Amelia’s father, and I’d set that in place intentionally. But at the same time, I couldn’t have him hauling up my long-forgotten past every five minutes. Just seeing Drake had taken its effect.

  I felt like my life had just been turned upside down. Every decision I had ever made – keeping my daughter’s father’s identity hidden, staying in Bridgeway, never telling Drake – was questioned.

  “What weird things?” my daughter wanted to know.

  “I’ll tell you one day,” I said, my tone non-committal.

  “When I’m older?” My daughter’s green eyes rolled at the question. She hated it when I told her that.

  “Not that much older,” I said, smiling to try and soften the statement.

  “You always say that.”

  “I know,” I said, looking down at my bowl. I had almost finished my dinner, but my daughter was eating sporadically, without much interest. I realized how much I’d upset her, how weirdly I was behaving.