Chapter 5
Five
DEREK
Emily paces the office. Four strides and she turns around, her palms bracing her abdomen. Pulling out the phone, I study the image under the bright lights.
When Charlie handed me the phone, seeing Emily’s kids wasn’t what I expected. When I realized what or who I was looking at, heat emanated from my core. Too many questions swirl in my head. How could this happen? Emily was on birth control, and we weren’t using a second method. I know nothing is one hundred percent safe. And why the hell didn’t she tell me?
The smaller girl carries most of Emily’s features mixed in with someone else.
The older girl looks like my twin sister, Jesi, with bright blonde hair with streaks of teal, pink, and blue like a unicorn. At the same time, it’s like I’m seeing a picture of a younger me. Like a tsunami, Emily’s betrayal sweeps me under an ocean of anger, not allowing me to catch my breath. The longer Emily remains silent, the farther and farther I’m swept into a tormented sea.
“What the hell, Emily?” I growl.
She stops pacing and shuts her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
Regret won’t force me to forgive her. Who would keep a secret like this? Is this child real? Is this a scheme to take advantage of me? The last thought has me studying Emily as she stands a few feet away, shoulders back and chin high, although her foot taps against the cement floor.
“Is this real?” I measure my tone although I’m curious as fuck about what angle she’s working.
Is this fake and a ploy to get money? I don’t know her anymore, and technology can trick anyone into believing a lie.
She exhales, reaching for the phone. She plays with the screen and returns it to me. There’s a picture of the blonde girl, alone, wearing a baseball uniform. “James turned six in February. He loves playing ball and dress up.”
My limbs harden as if my blood has cooled from hot lava to volcanic rock.
James.
He.
A boy.
“You named him James?” My voice bounces off the concrete walls. She’s taken years from me and my name.
“I thought you would have chosen it.”
Running a hand through my hair can’t subdue the rage coursing through my body.
“You talk as if I had a choice. My choice would have been to know my child. If this is real.”
“And what? Give up all this?” Her arms fly up into the air as if she’s showing me what’s already mine. “And he’s real. And yes, before you ask, he’s yours.”
She’s brave enough to seem offended I doubt her.
“Were you ever planning to tell me? If it weren’t for Mark, would you be here tonight?”
“Like I said, I didn’t know. I didn’t see the posters until we were inside.” Her shoulders straighten. “I tried to find you so many times.”
Liar.
“Tried what? I haven’t seen you since Nashville.”
Her head snaps in my direction, and her chin juts out. “No, since Virginia.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Virginia? The last time I saw Emily was Nashville.
“The bar. The pool. Did the alcohol black out your memory?” she asks, her tone sharp and full of hurt.
After she left me, I drank to escape her memory. What I’ll never admit is every time my mind blurred into the welcome fog of intoxication, I fought hard not to call her. To beg her to reconsider. Each time, my thumbs hesitated over her name on my phone. But I couldn't give her what she wanted. I owe everything to Tyler who forced me to control my drinking so I wouldn’t end up a washed up has-been before we truly made it.
Emily glares at me, shaking her head with disapproval.
My knack for disappointing her is nothing new. Emily and her impossible expectations.
“Why do I get a feeling you’re about to remind me?” My voice drips with disdain. “Start talking. Or we’ll get in my truck and you’ll take me to him.”
“When I found out I was pregnant, I called. You changed your number. I contacted your father. He refused to help. After I was back in the states, I found out where you were playing. I watched your show and followed you to the hotel.” She releases a loud breath. “When I saw you and Tyler at the bar, I froze. Tyler saw me standing behind you, knowing you didn't know I was there, I know he asked you so I could hear the truth. It hurt, but you were honest with him about how much you hate me. Nothing like alcohol and thinking I would never hear you to have the truth come out.”
I dig the palm of my hands into my eyes.
I’d told the guys Emily’s name should never be mentioned. Until Tyler did. Pieces come back to me. The bar and Tyler pissing me off because I’d been doing better. I was angry. By mentioning Emily, Tyler sent me back into the hotel room in Nashville having to endure listening to Emily’s list of reasons why she had to renew her commitment to the Army and couldn’t stay and be mine, and dredging up the feelings of inadequacy and hurt. I dig deeper until the scene blasts free from where I’d buried it. She ran out after I yelled at her.
“You left,” I say like it makes any sense.
“You didn’t let me speak. You said such awful things to me.” Her voice cracks as if I were saying those things to her now. “I didn’t know you anymore. You hated me. I couldn’t risk you looking at our child the same way. Would you look at him and see me, the one person you couldn’t stand? He was so small. He needed my protection, even if it was from you. I couldn’t let him down.”
Protection?
From me?
My memory releases more images, sending me back to the bitter cold of that winter night and the stench of sour whiskey. I hadn’t been able to stop my mouth. I craved her tears as confirmation she hurt as much as I did. Those were the days I wrote Soldier On.
I pinch the bridge of my nose to ease the pressure behind my eyes and bring me back to this fucked up night. “Did you expect a welcome banner like nothing changed? You broke me. It took a damn long time to put myself back together.” A risk I couldn’t take by giving into my attraction to her.
“I wanted to know if there was any trace of the Derek I knew.”
The guy that pined for her? That night, I was trying to convince her and myself I didn’t love her anymore. That I’d moved on.
We lock eyes silently for a few beats.
She releases a quiet, mournful sound. “It wasn’t easy.”
I can’t capture all of what I missed, not knowing I have a child. All because of Emily’s impossible standards. What she couldn't find in me, she found in other men. Another memory flashes into my mind. “ Who was he?”
She inhales and crosses her arms over her waist. “Who?”
“I wasn’t going to chase you, but Tyler shoved me after you. By the time I saw you in the parking lot, you were falling into some guy’s arms. He held you, kissed the top of your head, and let you bury your face in his shirt. You didn’t hesitate to return his embrace.”
“You saw him?”
Emily glances at her bare left hand. She isn’t wearing a ring, but the action tells me enough about the man with her.
“Boyfriend?”
She pinches her eyes shut. “He was a friend then.”
Then.
“Doesn’t matter. I had a dream to chase.” My voice comes out cold as I hide how much she affects me. Hiding how much seeing her with another hurt me. I’d buried the Emily feelings, but as she stands in front of me, doe-eyed and on the verge of tears, they hungrily return like a zombie ready to devour my flesh and my soul.
Emily glances around the space, avoiding me. “I wasn’t going to beg for you to give up anything for us. But I wanted you to know. He’s happy. He lives a full life. I have more pictures.” She approaches me, and when I don’t move, she taps the ignored phone in my hand and the screen clicks on.
I swipe on the photos, zooming in and studying the curl of his lashes, the button shape of his nose, and the pink of his lips. In every photo, his smile is unfiltered, exposed to the world without care. There are a few with his sister. He’s holding her in a pose or they’re both blowing bubbles or chasing a ball. Every photo tells the same story. He’s loved. I study a photo of a younger, smaller James, and the little girl in the arms of the man I saw that night. Her daughter’s father.
My teeth almost crack from my clamped jaw.
My child believes another man is his father.
The pictures tell another story about James. Physically, he is like other kids, but as he ages in the pictures, his appearance shifts. He wears dresses with jewelry, his cheeks and lips are painted pink, his long colorful hair is styled, and his nails have color. As James ages, there are three people in the photos. Their father isn’t there.
I look up at Emily. Her eyes shine with moisture. I glance at her bare left hand.
I scour the shelves for my stash of bottled water and find two. I hand one to her. She whispers a thanks, and I watch her throat work as she drinks half the bottle.
When she recaps it, she clears her throat. “There’s no obligation.”
Only Emily can make my teeth grind this hard.
“I’m still picking up the pieces from the bomb you detonated.” I run my hand through my hair. “I may not have the best relationship with my father, but I’m not turning my back on my child.”
“I never believed you were like your father. There are things about James you should know?—”
I raise my hand in the air and she quiets. My mind snags on her words. I never believed you were like your father. I want to add, I’m not like yours either , but that’s a sure-fire way to send her running again.
“I’ll find out what they are myself.” I almost demand she take me to him, but part of me wonders how I’ll make this work with my hectic schedule.
I may not have an inkling of how to be a father, but I won’t let Emily give my son to another man again.
Using her phone, I send myself a text and her contact information pops up. After saving the number on my phone, I enter my name and contact in her phone. No excuses. I also send some of the photos to my phone.
“What are you—” She starts and stops when I lift my eyes to her.
Emily hid from me for seven years. What guarantee do I have she won’t bail town as soon as I turn my back? I can’t force her to stay at my side under my watch all the time. Come this fall, I’m leaving on tour. And I don’t live in San Diego.
Could I be a father to a child living halfway across the country?
I return the phone to her and open the office door. Security stands at the entrance and curious guests linger in the hallway. I motion for Emily to walk out and as she passes, I say, “Be at the diner at nine.”