I shake my head, squeezing my eyes tightly closed. “My mother, huh?”
“Yeah. Where have you been? Why haven’t you called me? I thought after that night. I thought we—”
I start to crack at the seams. It feels like the proverbial rug is being ripped from under me. I need it all to stop. To freeze time so I can catch up to the confusion threatening to suck me into this abyss. Without thought or consequence, I raise my hand and smack him across his face, stopping any further words.
His eyes grow wide at my assault, and so do mine. I cover my mouth, holding back the devastating sob threatening to tear up my throat. What have I just done?
Before he’s able to react, I turn and run.
“I love you, Willa. I’ll never leave you.” His lips find mine as he breaches my entrance, kissing away my pain until it morphs into pleasure. His grunts and my moans collide into a melody of love, desire, and promise. I climax, holding him close, and he whispers his love for me just before he—
I shoot up in bed, the dream all too real. I’ve soaked through my shirt, hot with the lingering feel of his touch. I run my fingers down my arms, my skin suddenly too sensitive. It’s not real. But…it is. He is. And after two years, he’s back.
I reach for my water and take a huge gulp. My throat is dry, and my eyes are swollen from the tears that refused to stop once I got home and put Bria in bed. Sister Helen’s words resonate in my mind. Life has a strange way of telling us that even though we don’t believe in second chances, we all get them. But how am I supposed to forget the last two years? The betrayal I felt? The anger and brokenness I couldn’t hide from? How am I supposed to say, “Oh, wow, what a huge misunderstanding. If you didn’t write the letter I read, then my mother’s the worst kind of bitch. By the way, you got me pregnant, and we have a baby girl. Wanna do lunch some time?”
As soon as I’ve cried myself to sleep again, Bria wakes up. Seeing her little face and the same eyes and smile as her daddy sets off another round of sobs. Why is this happening to me? Is this my second chance, or is life trying to take me out for good?
It doesn’t matter. This is a big town. Trying to find anyone is like finding a needle in a haystack. Even if I want to, it’s probably impossible to locate him. Does he even live here? Is he visiting? Is he alone? Is he with someone? My mind turns and turns on a vicious wheel, unhinged and too fast. He’s not with Rebecca, but he didn’t say he isn’t with anyone else. Why didn’t I look at his finger? Because you were too busy looking at his lips, emerald green eyes—what used to be your lifeline.
In the silence of us catching our breath, my mind screamed out to him. I miss him, I love him, I want us to rewind time and never leave that damn guest house. I would have convinced him to run away. That life wasn’t about what our parents had made us believe. If I had known money wasn’t what made the world go round, I would have run away sooner—made it on my own and lived the way the normal human race did. Being free is a richer feeling than being captive.
Before I can get back to sleep, my alarm goes off. “Great,” I grumble and slide out of bed. The shower barely wakes me, and Bria has no sympathy as she cries in my ear. Maybe it’s because she knows I saw her daddy last night, slapped him, and basically gave up my chance to tell him about her and let them have a future. She deserves that, even if he doesn’t want one with me.
As usual, Carrie saves me, and I’m running to work, praying my boss is late.
“Tsk, tsk, Willa. You know I don’t like tardiness. Meet me in my office immediately.” Mr. Anderson walks by me, his stomach protruding as always, the stench of stale coffee and cigar smoke following in his trail.
“Yes, sir.” I nod and drop my purse under my desk.
“Hey!” I jump at the sound of another voice. “Oh, sorry. Someone’s jumpy today.”
I turn to Tracey. “No, yes…I don’t know. I didn’t sleep well last night. Bria was up…”
She smiles at me with sympathetic eyes. “Aw, sorry, honey. She’s still so young. They grow out of it.” I hope so. I never imagined how hard it would be to raise a baby on my own. I miss the sisters and their support. Sometimes I worry I’m in over my head. Am I really cut out to give Bria the life she deserves? “Hey, don’t look so defeated. It will get better.”
“Will it, though?” I shake my head, ashamed of my unmotherly thoughts. “I’m sorry. I know it will. I love my daughter, and I’m thankful for everything, it’s just…”
“You’re tired. I get it. I watched my older sister go through this. She was a total bitch for the first three years with her first child.”
“Oh, wow. Thanks.”
Tracey laughs. “Well, she’s normally a bitch, so that doesn’t really say much. Listen, you know I love kids. If you ever need a time out, I’m your girl. I’ll watch her, and you can frolic around town. Meet a guy. Find her a daddy—wait, speaking of, who was the guy last night?”
“Funny you ask—”
“Willa! In my office now!”
“Ugh,” I grunt. “Sorry, I have to—can we finish this later?”
“Sure thing. Lunch?”
Nodding, I take a huge breath and prepare to fight off my gross boss.
I need this job.
I need this job.
I need this job.
I chant it over and over as I gather my things and leave for the night. Mr. Anderson found any and every tedious task for me to do today after turning down his disgusting advances. I was forced to work through lunch, and now I’m running late to get home. I rush down the stairs, because the building is old and the elevator is slow, and hurry out into the busy street in hopes to flag down a cab since catching the subway will take too long. The evening air chills my face.
“Willa.”
I jerk back and drop my bag, turning to my right. Jake leans against the building, his hands hidden in the pockets of his gray overcoat. Seeing the contents of my purse spilled over the sidewalk, he pushes off the wall. “Shit. Let me help you.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.” I gather my bearings and quickly bend to collect my discarded belongings. He doesn’t listen and kneels down to assist me. Panic courses through my veins. Why is he here? How did he find me? Snatching up my keys and gum, I shove them into my purse. I reach for my work badge at the same time he does, and our hands touch. The warmth of his skin sends a rush of memories to the front of my mind. Us in the pool. Movie nights. The guest house. My eyes drift up, afraid of what I’ll see when I look at him. His tousled hair hangs in thick waves over his forehead, and I ache to reach for it, feel the silkiness between my fingers.
Shit. What am I doing?
I push back the ache to spill my truths and confess the secrets I’ve been harboring. But then I remember the secrets he’s also kept from me. “I—I have to go.” I forfeit the remainder of my things, pulling my hand back. My skin goes cold at the absence of his touch, and I frown. He nods and stands with me.
Once upon a time, I had basked in our silences—our safe place we built where words didn’t need to exist because our body language spoke for us. But now, as we stand here, his hands shoved into his pockets and mine clutched into fists, I beg for those words. I turn around to once again run away when his voice stops me.