“Contact me.”
“Yes.” Among other things. Once my accident happened, I knew I had to get sole legal custody of Alivia to ensure she ended up with the right people… Debbie and her husband, Carson. Not my family, not Trey, not foster parents. I hated that I’d taken the risk by procrastinating all those years, and I needed to finally get it done.
Despite struggling with a wave of nausea, I straightened my spine and said, “Now you know my reason to find you.”
“Not really,” he challenged, drilling those vivid blue eyes right through me. In all the years that have passed, I couldn’t forget those eyes if I wanted to. Mainly because I saw them every day whenever I looked at my daughter.
“If you want to know more, then ask me.” I folded my arms defiantly, and he arrogantly did the same while I ignored the little voice in my head that kept chanting what a big mistake this was. It’d been tormenting me since the moment I finally had his address in my hands.
Prior to that, during the weeks it took to find such information, my motives to protect Alivia pretty much drove the bus. But now that I was there, that seed of doubt that I might have misjudged him continued to grow roots in my gut.
“Okay, I’ll play,” he finally said. “Why did you fuck me that night?” My shocked expression caused a cocky smirk to tip the corners of his mouth.
A vision of what he could do with that mouth engulfed my mind. Trey’s kissing expertise had him starring in my fantasies for years to come. Between the stress that came from my family’s disappointment in me, experiencing pregnancy all on my own, and then becoming a mother, dating hasn’t been something I had time or energy for. But the more he stared, the more my cheeks flamed from embarrassment of having used him for all my personal sexual encounters through the years.
I wanted to say, Because I was a stupid kid who thought that having a wild night would open the gates for an exciting future. There I was, a college student with immigrant parents who’d sacrificed so much to give their children American educations.
My parents were extremely traditional, held family values above all else, and had raised us in a strict authoritarian manner. At times I’d rebelled, sneaking out when I was forced to stay home or pushing the envelope when I knew they would be furious.
They seemed to forever be disappointed by me. I had no proof, but my entire life I felt like I had been nothing but an inconvenience to my parents.
That created an extremely sheltered adolescence.
Things had improved for me when I’d begun dating Victor. He was a good friend of my brother’s, and my family approved of our relationship. Unfortunately, they only saw one side of the man, who could do no wrong in their eyes. With time, Victor revealed his true colors. He was careful in the way he’d threaten me just enough to evoke the constant need to walk on eggshells when together.
Our breakup hadn’t been received well. My family accused me of being immature and ruining the best thing that had happened to me.
So, when a friend I waitressed with talked me into doing something crazy for my birthday, I may have hastily jumped at the opportunity. Those concert tickets provided just what I’d needed, and Debbie having won them along with the fateful backstage passes meant it was all free.
The concert itself was amazing but partying with all those rockers afterward was surreal. For the first time in my life I felt free, independent.
That night, Debbie had focused on Devil’s Lair’s drummer and pushed me toward the bass player. When I met Trey, he was actually charming and sweet. Sure, I wasn’t dumb enough to think he didn’t have an agenda of getting into my pants… but I happened to have made that easy for him.
“It was my twentieth birthday, and it seemed a great way to celebrate it.”
“By fucking a rock star?” he challenged.
“Yes.”
“Was it worth it?” he shot right back. At the sound of my gasp, he softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know what you meant.” It was a question I often struggled with. That night, I’d effectively killed all my dreams and watched them vanish quicker than you could say faulty condom. Yet I had a gorgeous, spirited, amazing little girl I couldn’t imagine not having in my life. So how could I regret my time with Trey?
“You’re now?” My silence prompted him to add, “Twenty-five?”
“I just turned twenty-six last week.” He nodded and I rushed on. “Alivia is my world,” I responded honestly. “So, yes, it was. But at the time I thought my world was ending. The superfine tether that had kept me connected to my family snapped upon learning I had become pregnant by a stranger at twenty years old.”
My situation had devastated my parents in the worst way. They couldn’t see past the scandal or how I’d ruined my life. The plan had always been for them to return to Puerto Rico once their children had graduated, but my situation caused them to return to their home sooner than planned. In their eyes, they’d done all they could to give their children what neither had growing up in Puerto Rico. My brother accepted their sacrifices gracefully and made them proud… whereas I shamed them with my promiscuousness.
My brother, Roberto, graduated with an American computer science degree. He also left the States after he met his wife and decided to settle back home. He checked in from time to time but showed no other support than that obligatory phone call. Victor was a friend to him, and as far as Roberto was concerned, I’d screwed up the day I broke up with him.
“Anyway. As I said, she is everything to me. I’m only trying to protect my daughter.”
The way Trey fiddled with the edge of his napkin proved this conversation was way above his head. “You said you had a scare.”
“Car accident.” My mind flashed with each horrific memory. “I was on my way to picking Alivia up from preschool, as I did every day, and a drunk driver ran a stop sign.”
Trey paled a bit. “When?”
“She was three. Days went by before I was coherent enough to understand what had happened. She spent days in foster care, and it was the most terrifying experience of my life… more than the accident itself.” A chill traveled through me as I remembered waking up, alone and afraid, screaming for my daughter, panicked she was alone. Deemed to be a danger to myself, I’d had to be sedated.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Camilla.”
“It’s over, and we survived it.” Barely. “During those eleven days, my daughter was under the care of a foster parent because I’d never formally documented an emergency contact. As I healed, the nurses and doctors all claimed I was lucky to be alive.” Truthfully, I felt like I was already in hell, while each hour, each minute that passed was the worst form of torture, until I was reunited with Alivia.
Once I recovered, I had decided to erase the constant threat that news of the man who’d fathered Alivia would eventually get out. I planned to find him back then, banking on the fact that he was a hot, single rock star who would run from having a daughter. A nice clean break. But then he found love. And then he had the accident that killed his wife. After that he spiraled out of control with drugs and alcohol. The reasons not to approach him went on and on.
My stomach tightened as I waited for him to ask for details. But instead he cleared his throat and asked, “What’s she like?”