“Give me time, he may very well be soon.”
Roberto shakes his head. “Do you plan to tell your mother?”
“About the baby?” I ask. He nods. “No.”
Roberto knows my mother wants grandchildren. And unlike my father, who rots in the ground where he belongs, she doesn’t care about the sex. She was lucky to have boys because God only knew what would have happened otherwise with a father like him.
I don’t seem to be lucky to have a boy straight off. Though, I can’t deny that Wren is the perfect blend of her mother and me.
“So, what do we do?” Roberto asks.
“I don’t know.”
His eyes shoot up at my words.
I always know what to do in any given situation, but with her, I never know.
“Is Joey still with her?”
“Yes.”
“For how long?” he pushes.
I slam my hands down on the table. “Enough! Fucking enough. I know what you’re doing, Roberto. You want me to see that I should end it. That this isn’t what’s right for me. I get it, I fucking do. But guess what?” I stand, leaning over the table. “I don’t give a fuck what any of you fuckers think. All I need to do right now is figure out what I am going to do. It’s not every day you get told you are going to be a father.”
“Twice,” Roberto says, turning and leaving.
Fuck.
Chapter Four
Sailor
Joey stays for days, which turns into weeks, then into months. He leaves at night and comes back during the day. He drives me wherever I need to go, but we hardly speak. More so him than me. I ask questions, but I get nothing in response. It must be his punishment for not telling Keir about the pregnancy.
If it is, he’s not telling me any different, so I can only assume.
I haven’t heard from Keir. I’m not sure if that’s a blessing or not.
Wren and I have managed to find a routine that works for us. At first, I was stressed, with little to no sleep, and constantly wondering if everything I was doing was right.
Raising a little human is hard.
Harder than they can ever prepare you for.
And I tried to prepare myself.
I read every book I could lay my hands on and went to every class I could get into.
Wren sighs as she opens her eyes, and I can’t help but get lost in them. She is perfect. Literal perfection wrapped in front of me, and she’s all mine.
It hurts to think about all the others before her that I lost. Would they have looked like her, with the same long lashes? Or would they look like him, my dead husband? Leaning down, I kiss her head and tell her how beautiful she is, and how much I love her.
Somewhere amongst those words that float from my mouth, I lose track of those thoughts that plague me and put all my energy into Wren.
Utter perfection.
Mine.
My parents left a week or so ago. They came to meet Wren and help me out a little bit. And even though they waited to come, I’m glad they did. It gave me enough time to bond with my girl.
Six months to be exact.
Of nothing but her and me. Oh, and Benny, and sometimes Joey.
Keir disappeared just as quickly as he had come back. I haven’t heard from him, but I know he has eyes on me. Joey, to be precise.
I’ve gone to work a few times to see Henry. He’s asked me out a few times, which I didn’t expect, but I turned him down because I don’t see him that way.
Henry doesn’t realize it, but I’m saving him from a lifetime of problems.
Because that’s what happens to me—trouble always follows.
And who knows what Keir might do, I don’t want anything happening to Henry.
Carrying Wren on my hip, I walk to the front door and pull it open. The first thing I see is the black car that’s always parked at the curb. But this one is different, and a shiver racks through me as I realize…
… I’m under no delusion that he’s going to leave me alone anytime soon.
Now he knows I have his child, I had hoped that would be the end of it since Wren is not a boy. But as I watch him get out of his car—two black shoes followed by two strong legs in a designer suit—I know he isn’t going to leave. Ever. He will just keep coming back, again and again.
Wren looks at him, and I wonder if that’s the way I looked at him. Fear mixed with curiosity. If so, I was doomed from the beginning.
Condemned.
Cursed.
Fated.
He’s wearing glasses, and his hair is slicked back to perfection. His jacket somehow is crisp and doesn’t look like he’s worn it for a few hours on the drive here. Because I don’t live down the road anymore. I live many towns away. Obviously, that’s still not enough distance between us if he can just show up whenever he wants.
It’s been months since I’ve seen him, but I wish it were longer.
Wren makes a sound, and I pull her up farther on my hip. I look like shit compared to Keir.
My shorts probably haven’t been washed in…
… well, I am not sure.
My hair’s in a messy bun that was thrown up early this morning.
My shirt is sporting the remains of Wren’s food from earlier—pumpkin I believe.
I bite the inside of my cheek as he gets closer to me. When he stops, I take a deep breath to prepare for what he’s going to say. And why on earth does he have to smell so damn good?
I smell like pumpkin.
Pumpkin.
He smells like he just stepped out of a high-end men’s store.
Fucking luxury.
Asshole.
“Didn’t expect to see you.” Words manage to leave my mouth, and he lifts his sunglasses from his face so I can see his dark eyes—the exact same dark eyes my daughter has—and he looks from me to her. She curls into my arm as he stares at her, and I watch as Keir offers her a small smile.
“Can I come in?” He nods to the house.
I’m so shocked with how polite his words are, that he repeats himself as I gape at him without responding. “Sailor, can I come in?”
“Um… sure.” I step inside and hold the door open. Keir follows me in, and his eyes assess the place again. “Why are you here?” I ask, glancing back out the door, not seeing any sign of Joey. I shut the door with a bit of hesitation and remain frozen in front of it.
“Is there not somewhere we can sit?”
Yeah, the couch is full of toys as well as the floor. He eyes the mess, then looks back to me. I walk to the kitchen where the four-seater table is located and nod. He pulls a seat out and sits. Why does his presence take up so much space in this room? It’s not his place, so it shouldn’t feel like he has complete control. Yet, as always, it does.
“Why are you here?” I repeat. Wren stays where she is, face stuck in my shoulder but watching him. She’s interested, and I don’t blame her. I watch as his eyes flick to her, then back to me.
“It’s time.”
“Time for what?” I ask, confused.
“Time for you to come home.” His words shock me so much my head pulls back.
What on earth is he talking about? Then it clicks. My free hand clenches and he notices. He sits back, ready for what I’m going to say.
“I am home. Now, if you would kindly fuck off, that would be appreciated.” I point to the door, and he makes no move to leave. Instead, his hand lifts to the table and he starts tapping his fingers, one at a time over and over again.