“What if I picked the wrong pieces? What if I’m not cut out for this?”
I take her face in my hands. “You can do anything, don’t ever doubt yourself… I’ve never doubted you,” I tell her sternly and she gives me a weak smile, then studies my eyes and when her breath catches, and I let her face go.
“Chris?” she asks—it isn’t accusatory but she’s asking—like she knows it’s me. I know she does, but she’s hesitant, and that’s all I need.
“Who else would I be?” I ask her playfully and she smiles tightly, and flushes with embarrassment. But there’s nothing to be embarrassed about and I want to tell her because it’s me. It’s not the right time, but it will be soon.
“Tell me a secret.” I look at her, and she’s teetering from being tipsy to drunk. I put my arm around her neck and guide her to start walking.
“What type of secret?”
“Something that I don’t know—something that you want to tell me.” Is she playing with me? Is she asking me still? Her eyes search mine, and they’re still heart-stopping, turns-a-guy’s-thoughts-upside-down gorgeous. If she wants a secret, I’ll give it to her.
“I’ve been having dreams.” She looks at me giving me one of her flirtatious grins that make me think of things I’m trying not to focus on.
“Wow… I didn’t expect that Chris,” she teases me.
“Not those type… about that night… with my biological mom,” I say trying to think of how Chris would say it. Her expression goes completely serious.
“Are you okay?" She gently touches my chest as if I’ll break. I grip her tight.
“I am. I just… things are different in the dream than what I remembered from that night.”
“You remembered that night?” she asks solemnly, and then I remember I’m Chris… he probably doesn’t remember anything.
“I mean started to remember—it’s complicated but—there’s someone else there in my dream,” I tell her and she looks bewildered.
“I mean my mom was there, and I think there was another kid and someone else but I don’t know who, but…” I rest my head on hers, my pulse speeding up just thinking about it and she hugs me tightly.
“Have you talked to Helen about it?” she asks, and I feel the calmness between us shifting and I don’t want it to shift. I don’t know why I even said anything.
“I’ll figure it out.” I try to change the subject and add on a smile for good measure. She looks confused, but I give her a quick kiss on the lips, and it’s meant to be quick but it turns into something else. I forgot how much I miss tasting her, how when I kiss her everything seems better.
“I think I’m ready to go home,” she tells me and I can see the desire in her eyes, lust clouding her thoughts. I smirk, and we head back in the club to find Hillary and Aidan, who are at the bar and look to be on their fourth drink. They’re the typical drunk people—too touchy-feely and laughing their heads off. I manage to corral all of them out of the club and into the car without having to kick anyone’s ass.
“We’re going back to my place,” Hillary announces drunkenly in between slobbering all over Aidan. Ugh when the hell did they happen?
“Where do you live?” I ask trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“Lincoln Park,” she announces and I look back at her as if she’s lost her mind.
“What?!” I don’t give a damn if they see I’m mad at this point.
“I’m not driving you guys all the way to Lincoln Park—it’s almost 30 minutes from here.”
“It is not. It’s about twenty-five minutes, but in this car, you could be there in fifteen minutes,” she argues back. “And since when did you get so familiar with the city?” she asks, and I put my eyes back on the road. I glance over at Lauren whose eyes are closed with a smile on her face.
“Fine,” I grumble.
“But I’ll need someone to drop off my car tomorrow,” she adds and I grip the steering wheel. That’ll be Chris’s issue not mine. I’m pissed to be missing any time with Lauren that I have right now even if it’s a minute.
“Can’t you just stay at our place?” I ask frustrated.
“I guess so,” she responds disappointed and somewhat irritated.
“Don’t worry, we’ll make the best of it,” Aidan tells her before bringing her attention back to him, and I change my mind.
“No, you know what I’ll take you to her house.” I don’t want to hear or see anything they’ve got going on. The highway is clear and in less than fifteen minutes after prying Hillary’s address from her drunk memory, I drop them off at her door. I watch as they both stumble in and then I peel out of the driveway. I’m finally pulling into our garage less than ten minutes later. I unlock the door and go over to Lauren’s side. I can’t help but look at her as she sleeps. She looks so peaceful and so happy—way different from the last time we were here. Then I was the broken doll she held together, and she was the only thing holding me together. She is probably the only thing holding us together now. The woman owned my thoughts, and with one look could make me make the right or wrong decision. I unbuckle her seat belt and lift her into my arms. Instinctively she wraps her arm around my neck. She’s still as light as the day I met her. I feel it all and wonder what they felt—Chris and that asshole Collin. To me Lauren isn’t just a woman who had my child, or a ticket to what some call sanity. She’s my everything. My love for her is still as raw as the day I admitted to myself that she was the one. At the time, I didn’t even know what that meant—what was the one? Then I met her and I realized the one was the person I’d fight for, the one I’d give myself up for just so she could have peace. I carry her to the elevator and each flight we go up a memory passes through my mind— of her and me—our memories, not theirs. Our first date, when we got engaged, when she said I do to me. I remember her desperate pleas for me to stay with her the day I left, when I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought the right thing was sacrifice but her pleas were torture because I couldn’t say yes. I couldn’t do the thing I wanted to do most in the world, which was to stay with her. The memories of that day still haunt me, but I’d go through it every day if it meant her being happy. Now she seems happy, at peace—but is she really happy?
I want her to be happy, but I never wanted her to be happy like this. I saw her happy with both Chris and Collin, but it wasn’t real happiness—was it? It’s complacency. I open our door and take a moment to look around my house. My home—the one I made and worked so hard for—not theirs. They’re coattail riders. I try to push my anger aside, so I look at her in my arms and that anger dissipates. We make it upstairs, and I lay her in the bed. She curls into a ball and I put a throw over her. I head down the hall and peek into the next room. My daughter’s room.
It’s pink and a night-light is on. It’s a room for a princess—my princess. I sit beside her on the bed and pick her up. She’s asleep, but it doesn’t matter. It’s been so long since I’ve held her in my arms. My blood boils at the thought that they’ve had time with her, that it’s them she knows when they had no part in creating her. She’s my spitting image, the best part of me and her mom combined. I kiss her cheek softly.