19. Daphne
“I— Pregnant?” I sit up, trying to put some space between us so I can think. “This is moving so fast.”
“I’m not asking you to let me knock you up right this second. You can’t anyway; you started your cycle.”
“But in a week when it’s over, you are? We haven’t even talked about what this is.” I motion between us. “And most of the time we’ve spent together has just been sex.” He pulls back from me like I slapped him. “No, I mean?—”
“I thought that’s exactly what we were doing right now was talking about what this is. I told you I wasn’t playing games, Daphne. I’m not interested in just fucking. I’m in love with you and I just made that crystal fucking clear so if it’s not what you want, then tell me, but it’s not because you don’t feel the same; it’s because you’re scared. We both know that.”
“Great,” I huff, getting out of bed and grabbing the shirt I took off earlier. “So since you have this all figured out, I should just go along with it? This is all your fantasy and I’m just along for the ride?” I don’t know why I’m getting so upset. The man I am in love with just told me he feels the same way and wants a life with me.
You know exactly why you’re upset. He’s right… you’re scared.
“Jesus, Daph.” He drags his hands over his face. “That’s my exact point; this isn’t a fantasy for me. If it was, I wouldn’t have involved you in my daughter’s life the way that I have. Watching you with her, watching the way she talks about you. What did you think was going to happen between us? That we’d get to know each other, have insane chemistry and mind-blowing sex and fall for each other, then just walk away? Was that your plan?” He gets off the bed and grabs his clothes, putting them on. “Tell me what you want, Daphne. Not just in your fantasy but what you want with us. I’m not telling you what to do. I told you what I wanted, but if you don’t want the same things, then tell me right now because I’ll walk out that door and I’ll leave you alone. I have no interest in forcing anyone to be with me. I’ve done it before and it doesn’t work.”
My chin quivers as I look at him, tears falling over the brim of my eyes. “I don’t know how to move on. I feel paralyzed by fear. I can’t— I don’t.”
“Hey, hey.” He steps toward me, his hands coming to my face. “I know. I understand, trust me, but I promise I’ll be here for you. I’m not asking for you to give me everything right now. I’m just asking for a chance because this, what we have, is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of love. The love of your life kind of love.”
He’s saying everything I should want to hear but instead of relief or happiness, I feel guilt and pain. I push his hands away, stepping back to wipe the tears from my eyes as anger takes over.
“You can’t just waltz into my life and think that you’re going to take over and plug me into some void in your life. I can’t replace Mira for you. I can’t replace her as Daisy’s mother!” I spit my words at him, hoping they sting because I want him to hate me.
All the repressed fear I’ve been swallowing about losing someone I love again or him choosing someone else when his excitement for me fades like Natalie mentioned comes bubbling over and the only way I can seem to cope right now is by lashing out.
“I already lost the love of my life, and you can’t replace him.”
I watch as his face falls. It’s not anger or hatred, it’s defeat… sadness. It’s like I’m watching his heart shatter right in front of me and instead of helping him put the pieces back together, I scatter them even further.
He doesn’t say another word. He turns slowly, walking toward my front door, and then he leaves.
I fall to my bedroom floor, sobbing. I have nobody to blame but myself. He didn’t lead me on or choose someone else. He didn’t make me believe he loved me, then leave once I fell for him. He laid his heart at my feet, and I stomped on it.
* * *
I stareat the pill packet in my hand, Weston’s words from a week ago echoing in my ear. I feel like I’ve been existing in a fog of emotions this last week. Every night I’ve cried myself to sleep, reliving the words I said to him, wishing I could take them back. Wishing I could deal with my past and move on from it.
I miss him more than I thought I could miss someone. He was right about our chemistry, about the connection we have… or had. I feel panic grip my chest again as I think through what I’ve done. I close my eyes, taking in several slow breaths.
You’re scared because you know he’s right and you don’t want to admit that he is the love of your life. It doesn’t mean you’re replacing Carson. He was in your life for a reason, to show you that true love is possible, to pave the way for Weston to show you what it could be.
“Miss Flowers?” My eyes pop open, Mr. Fein’s voice startling me.
“Hi, Mr. Fein.” I plaster on a big fake smile, the same one I’ve had all week, pretending that everything is okay.
“Can you follow me down to my office for a few moments?” The expression on his face makes my stomach drop.
“Uh, sure. Is everything okay?”
“We’ll discuss it in my office.”
I follow behind him as we walk in silence to his office. He closes the door behind me. “Have a seat, please,” he says, pointing to a chair across from his desk.
Uneasy, I sit down.
“I have received some disturbing information and before I come across as accusatory, I want to hear your side of things first.”
“Okay.” My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest.
“A very reliable source told me that you are having some sort of relations with one of your students’ parents?”
I stare at him blankly, my palms sweating as I twist my hands in my lap nervously. I don’t know what to say. I’m trying to rack my brain with who would have told him about me and Weston.
“Well, Miss Flowers, do you have anything to say?”
“I, um, I won’t lie about something going on between me and We—Mr. Vaughn. Clearly, you are aware and I’m sure you know who it was with but…” I try to choose my words carefully here since I’m clearly in some sort of trouble. “I’m unsure how that is any of your business, or anyone’s business besides mine?”
“To reiterate, the individual who reported this is a very reliable source and they mentioned that they witnessed money being exchanged between you two.” His face grows redder. “So while dating a student’s parent isn’t technically against our rules here at Crestwood, we do have a code of conduct and ethics we ask that everyone on staff upholds and as you can imagine, payment for favors, sexual or otherwise, is most definitely not in alignment with that code.”
My mouth falls open. Now my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I’ve never been reprimanded at my job, never so much as a single infraction, and now I’m being accused of prostitution?
“What?” I practically shout the word. “I wasn’t paid for sexual favors, Mr. Fein. I was paid because I babysat his daughter one night, and then I—well, I went on a trip with him and his family to the Bahamas where I also helped with taking care of his daughter.”
“I figured you would deny it and I didn’t want to have to do this but…” He taps on his computer, then slowly turns the screen around where there’s a very clear color image of me and Weston kissing on his yacht in a tabloid.
“Oh my God.” My hand darts to cover my mouth. I never saw any photos or headlines about us together, then again, I didn’t go looking for them.
“As you can see, I’m having a hard time not believing what I’ve been told. So you admit, you did receive payment from Mr. Vaughn while being engaged in a sexual relationship with him?”
“Yes, sir, you’re correct.” I don’t bother trying to explain again that it wasn’t for the sexual acts because there’s nothing I can do to prove it.
“Oh, Miss Flowers.” He hangs his head in disappointment, folding his hands and placing them on his desk. “I can’t tell you how sad I am that this is true. I never expected this from you.”
“I understand, sir, and honestly, I never expected it from me either. I know that does nothing to help the situation now, but I’m truly sorry.” My shoulders drop and I feel tears prick my eyes.
“While I do believe that, unfortunately we can’t let this kind of behavior go unpunished so as of right now, you are on administrative leave without pay until we fully decide how to handle this.”
“I understand.” I barely get the words out. I feel like I’m seconds away from throwing up. I stand up, exiting his office as I feel the color drain from my face. I grab a box from the supply room, filling it with my things and heading out, careful to avoid running into my coworkers.
I almost miss my stop on the train I’m so lost in thought. I feel numb as I exit the elevator and walk to my apartment door.
“Hey, Daphne.” I look to my left to see my neighbor Steve waving at me.
“Hey, Steve,” I mutter as I put my key in the lock.
“You okay? You want to come over and hang out?”
“Not tonight, Steve. I had a rough day.”
“Oh, okay.” He steps toward me as I open my door. “Well, I’m here if you want to talk or?—”
“Thanks, Steve,” I say, cutting him off before closing my door. I toss the box of my things onto my kitchen counter and drag myself to my couch.
In the span of a week, I’ve managed to lose the man I love and my dream job, all because of my own actions. I feel hopeless and sorry for myself. I curl up and close my eyes as the tears come. I don’t know what I’m going to do. I can’t stay in this apartment without a job.
My phone rings, Xana’s name on the screen, but I don’t pick up. I know if she asks how I’m doing, there’s no way I’ll be able to pretend that I’m okay. She’ll see right through me, and then I’ll have to explain to her why I ran away from Weston and how I didn’t even fight to keep my job. I know that if I went to him and told him what happened, told him that I’m positive it was Natalie who went to Mr. Fein, he’d raise hell to fix it all for me, but I can’t do that. I can’t face him right now, not after what I said to him, not after how I left him. I close my eyes, eventually crying myself to sleep.
When I wake it’s just after midnight. I pick up my phone, noticing I have two voicemails. I stretch, getting up to take a shower, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. I feel too mentally exhausted to come up with a long-term plan. I turn on the water, hoping the hot water will at least help me relax enough that I can figure out what to do in the short term.
I slide my phone screen open, hitting the voicemail button. The first one is from Xana, just asking if I want to go to look at winery this weekend with her since Ryan has to be out of town. The next is from my dad.
“Hey, Daphy Duck,” he says in the same way he’s said my nickname since I can remember. “It’s Dad. Just wanted to talk to you. It feels like this is the longest we’ve ever gone without talking. I, uh, I just miss you, kiddo.” I hear the tone of his voice change, cracking with emotion. “Call me when you get the chance. I love you very much.”
I put the phone down, my heart clenching even tighter now. I step into the shower, the steam billowing around me as the warm water cascades down my back. And then it hits me all at once like a ton of bricks. This is what I do when I’m scared or hurt… I run. I ran away from my dad when I was hurt that he moved on from my mom. I ran away from Weston when he opened up to me and poured his heart out because I couldn’t face the fact that I had moved on from Carson and was in love with somebody new. And now I’m running away from fighting for my job because I’ve convinced myself that if I don’t have anything in my life worth losing, I’ll be protected from pain and hurt.
I finish my shower and grab my phone, pulling up flights to Florida tomorrow. I find one that leaves at five thirty a.m. I book it, then pack my things. I toss and turn for a few hours before finally giving up and heading to the airport early. I have no idea what I’m going to say when I get there, but I just know that I need to make things right with my dad. I need to start by forgiving him and stop holding on to my hurt and anger. I told Xana I wanted to move on from my past, but the truth was, I was still holding on to it. But now, it’s time to fully let go.
When I land in Florida, I give the cab driver my dad’s address. I knock on his front door, holding my breath. I didn’t tell him I was coming. A few seconds later, the door opens and his face appears. His eyes grow large as a huge smile spreads across his face.
“Hi, Dad.”