Chapter Two
Lorenzo sat at a small booth near the front window of the bagel shop across the busy street from the bank where Josephine worked. Last night, she text him to set up a time for them to speak alone. He and Zoie had exchanged phone numbers, and he assumed she got it from their daughter.
Josie and I have a child.
He was still trying to wrap his brain around having a smart, cute, and precocious daughter and that Josephine was back in his life. Everything he thought he knew about their relationship had changed. Just how much of it had been as real as he thought?
The warmth of his coffee heated his palm as he tightly gripped the recycled paper cup. Last night, after declining an offer to stay with Gabe and his wife Monica, he had secured a luxury hotel suite but barely slept. As much as Zoie quickly tugged at his heart strings, he still had many questions.
And I’m going to get the damn answers.
He felt Josephine owed him that.
And so much more.
Lorenzo looked down into his coffee”s black depths, feeling his anger radiate like the steam from the hot brew.
How could she do this to me? Why would she?
“Zo.”
He stiffened at her voice before looking up to find her standing beside his table in the busy Manhattan eatery. In one swift look, he did what he hadn’t bothered to do yesterday and took her in—this woman from his past who had left an indelible mark. The years had changed her. She was still a beauty, but her inner light—that glow of peace, love, hope, and optimism–was gone. The wild hair she once wore in a soft and bouncy afro of curls was now pulled back into a tight, low bun. She wore no makeup like before. Her gray pantsuit under a matching full-length wool coat was so sensible—unlike the bold and bright colors she used to favor.
‘If she wore clothes at all,’ he thought, remembering how often she would spend the day walking around her tiny apartment naked and carefree. Laughing, dancing, and singing off-key. Just joyful.
He eyed the dull look in her eyes and the serious expression she wore as she took the seat across from him.
That Josie is gone.
“Thank you for meeting me here,” Josephine said, removing her gray leather gloves. “I don’t have much time for lunch, so this is a big help.”
Lorenzo took another sip of his coffee and stared at this woman he once believed he would love for the rest of his life—and now he didn’t know if he even liked her. Hate didn’t seem very far off. The urge to storm out and walk away from even talking to her rose, but his need for answers outweighed it. So, he stayed put.
For Zoie.
She opened the black leather tote she carried and withdrew a manila folder. “Here are some school photos of Zoie over the years...if you want them,” she said, sounding hesitant as she pushed them across the table toward him.
“Of course I do,” he told her, opening the folder to spread the pictures across the table.
There was no denying that their kid was—and would always be—adorable. His heart tugged at one picture where she wore Afro puffs and smiled, showing a missing tooth. ‘And my dimples,’ he thought.
“Is she named after me?” Lorenzo asked as he studied each image before looking over at her.
Josephine glanced out the window as she smoothed the soft baby hairs at her nape with her hand. “Yes,” she admitted with a nod and then a slight wince.
His eyes shifted down to her twirling a loose piece of her hair around her finger. That was a reminder of the younger woman he once knew. When she was deep in thought as she sketched ideas for her next sculpture, she would play in her hair as she stared into the distance.
“Where are you right now?” he would ask her.
She would smile and maybe laugh a little. “Dreaming,” she would continually say. “Always dreaming.”
Lorenzo shook off the memory that felt tender to him—maybe even subconsciously protected by him. Josephine had been his last serious relationship and his first real love. Up until the moment he discovered she hid their child from him, he had considered her the one that got away, and no other woman had ever matched what he felt for her. The love. The fun. The chemistry. Their shared passion for creating—him through food and her through art–had fueled their connection. It had been a glorious year, and then, one day, it was over.
He felt like a fool.
“Of course, I would like a paternity test,” he said, gathering the photos and closing the folder before picking up his cup of coffee.
Josephine looked at him, her face startled.
“Oh wow,” said a woman’s voice with a heavy New York accent.
They both looked up at the short and plump blonde waitress near their table. It was clear she overheard him and paused in her steps so as not to intrude further.
Josephine cleared her throat and picked up the laminated menu card from the table. “Uhm...chicken parmesan on a plain bagel and a hot chocolate to go, please,” she requested.
“Got it,” the waitress said, completing her journey to the table and looking down at Lorenzo. “Anything else for you?”
“No thanks,” he said.
Lorenzo and Josephine shared a brief awkward look when the woman walked away. He felt pain radiate across his chest. It was an emotional wound of betrayal. Both past and present.
Think of Zoie. This is about her.
“Our daughter wants me in her life,” he began.
“Clearly,” Josephine agreed.
“And I want to be in her life,” he told her, tracing the rim of the coffee cup with the tips of his fingers.
Josephine’s dark eyes took in the subtle action of his hand before looking up at him with surprise. “You do?” she asked.
“Of course,” Lorenzo said, annoyed with her.
Again, she looked astonished—even a little confused.
“Does she sneak away often?” he asked, unable to hide his judgment.
Josephine frowned and released a heavy breath. “No,” she stressed. “Not at all. She is very headstrong and smart, but I have never been so scared, and I am thankful she was safe.”
“Are you thankful she found me?” he asked coolly.
Their shared a look.
“Zo,” she said softly, her eyes filling with regret. “I didn’t even know she figured out who you were.”
“Figured out?” he snapped, sitting up straighter in the chair. “You never told Zoie who her father is? Then what lie did you tell?”
“I’m not a liar, and you know that,” she responded, giving him a stern look.
“I don’t know you anymore or believe I ever really knew you at all,” Lorenzo told her—meaning it. “Not the Josie I thought I loved.”
She cocked her head a bit to the side as she eyed him with slow blinks.
He almost chuckled because he knew the look well. It was her nonverbal version of “Oh really?” He felt like he was sitting across from the old Josie for a moment. But that faded quickly.
Josephine gripped her hand into a fist and lightly sat it down atop the black table. “And the Zo that I loved made it clear that he did not want children with me–”
“With anyone,” he inserted.
“Still, that meant for me to love you and to share my life with you was to not have children,” she told him, leaning in across the table.
Lorenzo did the same. “Which you said you were okay with,” he reminded her. “In fact, you said you didn’t want children either.”
“Back then, I would have agreed to anything to have you,” she admitted, sounding disgusted at herself.
“But you left me,” he countered.
“Uhm, here’s your food,” said the waitress.
Lorenzo and Josephine broke their stare as they both leaned back in their seats.
The server set a green paper take-out bag on the table and placed the leather check presenter beside it. “Can I get either of you anything else?” she asked as she clasped her hands.
“No, thank you,” Lorenzo said.
Josephine shook her head.
She looked relieved to leave them as she hurried away.
“My daughter—our daughter,” Josephine corrected, giving Lorenzo a brief look. “Loves their black and white cookies. I’m not sure she deserves a treat after the trick she pulled yesterday.”
He nodded in agreement. “Although I’m not comfortable with Zoie traveling the city alone at her age either. If she hadn’t found me, I wouldn’t know the truth,” he pointed out. “Would I?”
“I did what I thought was best, Zo,” she said softly.
Lorenzo gave her a frustrated look. “How?”
Josephine chewed her lips. “The pregnancy wasn’t planned, but I didn’t want to get rid of her. I couldn’t do it. Not even for you. I wanted my baby, but I didn’t want to force fatherhood on you. I didn’t want you to feel I trapped you into something you were adamant against.”
He shook his head, rejecting her reasoning. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he asked.
Josephine closed her eyes and slowly shook her head with a pained expression.
That stung him, and the pain wrenched at his gut. He clenched his teeth. It was so true that the line between love and hate was thin. “I want to take her to meet my mother and sister,” he said, sitting his empty coffee cup near the corner of the table.
“In Arizona?” Josephine asked with her eyes now open and widened.
“And have her visit me in Paris,” he added, reaching in the pocket of the suede camel topcoat he wore over a fitted denim shirt, matching jeans, and brown leather belt with a silver and turquoise belt buckle. He removed the keys to his rental car and his camel sweater knit cap, which he pulled onto his head, leaving his long hair framing his face.
“Lorenzo, I think we need to slow down a bit,” Josephine said, looking up as he rose.
“What for?” he asked, picking up the checks and removing money from his wallet to cover both their bills.
“For Zoie to get to know you first,” she said, rising to her feet as well. “You’re strangers.”
“I’m her father,” he told her before dropping the billfold back onto the table and picking up the folder of photos to tuck under one arm. “And we both want to get to know each other better.”
Josephine grabbed her take-out bag. “Zo–”
“Does she consider Brenton her father?” he asked, looking down at her.
“No, we’ve only known each other for a few years and just been engaged for a few months,” she said.
“So, what did you tell Zoie about who her father is?” he asked.
Josephine looked uncomfortable as she opened and closed her mouth several times before releasing a breath. “Basically, the truth. That she was made in love, but I was her only parent,” she said. “And that’s how God meant it to be.”
He stared down at her, analyzing and judging her in a way he never thought he would. He frowned and shook his head in apparent disapproval of her.
“She just stopped asking, and I assumed she was done with it,” Josephine added.
Lorenzo released a sarcastic noise from the back of his throat. “You and your assumptions should really part ways,” he said, stepping past her. “I’ll be in touch later with our travel plans.”
He strode to the front door and felt the bitter bite of northeast winter as he stepped out onto the street. The sound of congested traffic and construction filled the air as he walked up the shoveled path in the snow covering the sidewalk.
“Lorenzo.”
He felt her hand grip the sleeve of his coat. He wanted nothing more than to be away from her. “What?” he asked, hearing the sharpness of his tone and how unlike him it was.
Josephine moved around his body to stand in front of him. “Lorenzo, you are moving way too fast–”
“And you never moved at all, but I will know my daughter,” he told her, feeling heated enough for it to seep through his leather camel boots to melt the snow. “You claim she’s my daughter. Right?”
“I wouldn’t lie to you about Zoie being your child,” she said.
Lorenzo felt his face line with incredulity. “But you hid her from me for twelve years?” he snarked, amplifying his now familiar anger at her. “Why should I trust anything from your mouth right now?”
“Zo!” she said sharply.
“She probably thinks I didn’t want her.”
“You didn’t!” Josephine snapped, her eyes holding some of the fire from her past.
“Bullshit,” he volleyed back. “I never knew. You never gave me the chance. I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you for that.”
She stiffened as if bracing herself. “You were so clear about not wanting children, Zo,” she said.
“Enough of that!” he snapped. “I will do anything—including file for custody—to be a part of my daughter’s life. Either work it out with me, or we’ll let the courts do it.”
He shook away her touch and continued up the street, his heart pounding from a wild array of emotions. He dared a look back over his shoulder to find her standing in the middle of the shoveled path with her face stricken with emotions of her own—her fear clearly paramount.
She really doesn’t want me in Zoie’s life.
With a shake of his head, he wondered how he could have ever believed her to be the love of his life.
Maldito tonto!
∞
Josephine checked the time on the dashboard of her silver minivan as she drove from midtown Manhattan to South Orange, New Jersey. Zoie was in a recital at the middle school she attended, and she didn’t want to miss one moment of her daughter’s choral performance. Far too many times, her work had to come first, and she missed more events than she cared to admit.
Not this time.
She gripped the steering wheel as she stopped at a red light. Between Lorenzo’s threat of a custody battle and the stressors of her position as a bank manager, Josephine felt a tension headache coming on. The people crossing the street seemed to blur. Coming to a stop at a red light, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she used one hand to massage her temples with her fingertips.
When she learned she was pregnant with Zoie, Josephine had set aside her frivolity and the carefree nature of a woman consumed by her love of her art. There were days she went without food to purchase supplies and allowed herself to feed off the energy of her creativity. Her art had been her joy and passion. She did so without caring what would happen with her creations–whether they were sold or stored away. For her, it was about the creating, not the money. All that ever mattered was her art.
Until Lorenzo.
For him, she had made room in a life that was insane by most people’s standards. With him came so much love. More than she had ever known in her life.More than she had ever dared to dream to have.
Becoming pregnant meant her baby came first before anything...or anyone.
And so, I let go of the two greatest loves of my life. Lorenzo and my art.
She winced.
Neither had been easy to do but necessary.
For Zoie.
Josephine had gotten a job as a bank teller, which required no experience. For the next eleven years, she worked her way up to manager of the midtown Manhattan branch of a nationwide chain of banks. She had been determined and focused, taking all the internal exams and training for numerous certifications before being promoted a year ago. All to make more income and provide a good life for her daughter.
Her life was centered on Zoie and work—sometimes not in that order. Her days, and sometimes parts of her night at home, were filled with overseeing day-to-day operations, managing her banking team and customer service, connecting with local communities, and endless reports. She excelled at her career and recently purchased her first home, but there was none of the love and passion she had for art. None of the joy and thrill.But a starving artist wouldn”t have been able to care for a child alone.
“My career is not serving thrills, but you cannot pay the bills with excitement,” she muttered as she lightly rubbed her eyes.
The blare of a horn from a vehicle behind her evoked a jolt. The traffic light had turned green. With a sigh, she accelerated her automobile forward. The skies were dark, but unlike Manhattan, the streets of the small township were nearly empty.
Josephine was thankful to find a parking spot near the front entrance to the school. She rushed to make her way out of her minivan and across the street. Her heart pounded as she jogged up each step to pull open one of the glass front doors of the building. It always felt odd to be back in a school—especially at night. She could already hear the student musicians warming up their instruments. She pulled her tote bag higher on her shoulder as she quickly crossed the tiled floor and turned the corner to reach the auditorium. Her steps paused at the sight of Lorenzo casually leaning against the wall next to the metal double doors of the amphitheater.
Questions bombarded her in rapid-fire succession.
What is he doing here?
Who told him?
Why did he come?
And all questions led back to one answer: Zoie.
He had changed clothes since they met that afternoon. He wore a short, black, shearling leather coat over a bulky turtleneck sweater and wool cargo pants with leather boots.
‘He looks so fresh and so clean,’ Josephine thought, hating the urge to check if her hair was unkempt or her suit wrinkled. She watched him run his large fingers across his scalp and through his hair as he looked up from his phone and locked eyes on her.
‘And I bet he smells good, too,’ she thought before forcing a smile as she continued towards him, all kinds of feelings bubbling to the surface and giving her anxiety.
“Zoie asked me to hold a seat for you,” Lorenzo explained.
Damn, he does smell good. His cologne was warm and spicy—like a soft whisper instead of a loud roar.
“Hello to you too, Zo,” she drawled.
He gave her a curt nod as he reached for the metal handle to quickly open one of the doors, revealing Amanda Ingles, the school’s vice principal, standing there. It was clear she had been covertly observing them through the glass windows.
“Oops. Excuse me,” Amanda said, gently clearing her throat as she ran her fingers through her sleek black bob and gave Lorenzo a long look filled with evident curiosity.
“No, excuse us, Ms. Ingles,” Josephine said, stepping forward and expecting the woman to move out of their way.
She did.
Josephine walked inside the brightly lit auditorium.
“And you are?” Ms. Ingles asked smoothly.
Josephine whirled to find the woman had stepped in front of Lorenzo, blocking his entry.
Lorenzo took the hand the woman offered him. “I’m Zoie’s father,” he replied, looking at the tall and svelte woman.
Josephine closed her eyes and released a long breath.
“Nice to finally meet you, Mr. Rivers,” Ms. Ingles said.
“Cortez,” he corrected her. “Lorenzo Léon Cortez.”
“Oh,” she said slowly.
Too slowly.
Josephine heard the woman’s speculation. “Where are our seats?” she asked him over the woman’s shoulder.
Lorenzo gave the vice-principal a charming smile. “We better go in,” he said to her.
“Oh. Yes. Right,” Ms. Ingles said, turning to enter the auditorium as well. “Perhaps I’ll see you around the school more.”
Josephine rolled her eyes.
“Most definitely,” he assured her with warmth.
The woman blushed and giggled softly—somehow intimately. Flirtatiously.
Josephine eyed her before looking at her ex. “I came to watch our daughter’s recital, not a horrible reenactment of Love at First Sight,” she said dryly.
Lorenzo’s face was unreadable.
Ms. Ingles had the decency to look contrite. “Enjoy the show,” she said.
“Which one?” Josephine drawled sarcastically before turning to walk away.
“Ooh, no, you didn’t,” Ms. Ingles said, seemingly insulted at the jab.
“Ooh, yes, I did,” she mocked the other woman over her shoulder.
Lorenzo matched her hurried stride down the aisle. “You sure Brent won”t mind you being jealous about me?” he smugly asked.
Josephine hated how tightly she gripped the strap of her leather tote or that she was very aware of his towering height over her. “Brent has absolutely nothing to worry about,” she said.
Lorenzo released a grunt before quickening his pace to guide her to the front-row center seats. “Thank you for holding these for me,” he whispered to the couple as he sat down in the chair beside them.
The lights of the auditorium lowered.
“No problem,” the husband said.
“Aren’t you the new life of the school?” Josephine asked Lorenzo as she set her tote on the floor and removed her coat before taking her seat.
“Imagine if I had the chance to do the full six grades,” he shot back under his breath.
Game, set, match.
Josephine focused on the stage as the curtains opened. All the participating choral students were dressed in black and standing in rows atop the tapered standing risers. Her eyes searched for Zoie but widened in surprise to see the preteen step down the risers to take her spot in front of the microphone stand.
“She’s doing a solo?” Josephine asked aloud.
“That’s my daughter,” Lorenzo said with pride to the couple.
Josephine cast him a look of surprise.
Where was all this enthusiasm about being a father when we were together?
Her eyes were saddened as she quietly studied his handsome profile.
And then I wouldn’t have had to do it alone.
“Ooh. I see it. Your daughter looks just like you,” the woman replied.
“Sí. She does,” he agreed.
And she did.
Josephine had recognized Zoie”s resemblance to her father since birth.Especially his eyes and those dimples.A smile from Zoie could make her forgive her daughter almost anything—just like she had been with Lorenzo.
She would admit to no one that still loving Lorenzo while raising a child who looked like him had been pure torture at times. A constant reminder of what was and what could never be. Thankfully, she had not let her heartache affect her adoration of their child. Instead, she perhaps doted on Zoie too much because she didn’t want her to be affected by not having a father in her life.
Josephine looked to the stage and saw Zoie seek and then find them. Their daughter’s eyes brightened, her smile burst like fireworks, and her wave at them was eager. She knew their little girl had to be twice as pleased to see them sitting together.
Both she and Lorenzo waved back.
The musicians began to play.
“I want to dedicate this to my mom and dad,” Zoie said into the microphone.
“Awww,” Josephine sighed, clutching her hands under her chin.
Many in the audience echoed her.
Lorenzo sat on the edge of his seat to look up at the stage as Zoie began to sing “Hold On (Change Is Comin’)” by Sounds of Blackness in a soft soprano that was clear and sweet. He looked back over his shoulder at Josephine. “She can sing?” he asked with pleasure in his eyes.
Josephine nodded. “Better than I knew,” she admitted.
Zoie would often hum or mumble along with a song, but Josephine had never heard her sing. She also knew nothing about her having a solo. She decided to be too busy being proud rather than becoming preoccupied with her daughter keeping her talent a secret.
And when the preteen closed her eyes and released a steady and confident high note while the chorus backed her up with power, Josephine jumped to her feet. “Sing, baby!” she hollered without one care.
Zoie subtlety motioned with her hand for Josephine to sit down as she continued to sing.
With a chuckle, Lorenzo gently tugged her back into her seat by the hem of her blazer. Some of the audience laughed.
Of course, two people who were once passionate about their art would produce another creative. For Josephine, it had been primarily sculpting. For Lorenzo, the culinary arts.
And for our Zoie, it seems to be singing.
“She must have gotten that from your side,” Josephine whispered to Lorenzo without taking her eyes off their daughter.
“Mi padre,” he replied, reaching under his seat as Zoie released her final note and looked extremely relieved.
As the audience applauded, Lorenzo stood up with a beautiful arrangement of flowers wrapped in burlap and tied with a dark brown suede bow.
Josephine looked at the pure pleasure on Zoie’s face as she stooped down on the stage to accept her flowers. She quickly wrapped her arm around her father’s neck and kissed his cheek. Many women in the crowd released sighs at the sweetness of the gesture—or the look of Lorenzo.
There was no denying that Zoie wanted this relationship with her father. As her mother, Josephine wanted to give her daughter all her desires and wishes for her highest good. She just wished she could be sure that a man who abhorred the thought of being a father would not disappoint her.
“Good job,” she mouthed to her daughter with a thumbs up.
Zoie made her way back to her spot in the choir.
Lorenzo reclaimed his seat beside her.
Josephine had to ball her hand into a fist to resist the urge to pat his back in approval.
Uh oh.
Her intention wouldn’t have been flirtatious or sexual but comfortable. Familiar. And that could be way worse.
Like the past.
Our past.
Josephine sat stiff as a board throughout the performances to ensure she didn’t fall into a groove of comfort. They were two adults attempting to co-parent a pre-teen.
That’s it, and that’s all.
Lorenzo was already impacting Zoie’s life in such a short time. Everything was cute and cuddly, but what if he remembered why he had been so adamant about not being a father and pulled away from her? What if he soon found he didn’t have the patience to be around a pre-teen daughter? What then?Had time healed whatever wound made him feel that way? Or was he forced into fatherhood by the daughter who found him? Would he resent it?
It was true; the Lorenzo she had loved had been a man of his word. Honorable, honest, and loyal.
But that had been so long ago.
As the applause of the students’ family members resounded, Josephine looked around to find nearly everyone standing. The concert had concluded. She stood on her feet, and the chorus members took a bow before the curtains closed.
“Thank you for telling Zoie to invite me,” Lorenzo said as he turned to pick up his coat.
She couldn’t hide her confusion quick enough for him to miss it.
“You didn’t, huh?” he asked with a nod, then shook his head. “Now that makes more sense than you taking our conversation this morning seriously.”
“Zo—”
“I guess you didn’t give her the okay to spend the night at my house either?” he asked.
“Lorenzo, what house? You live in Paris?” she asked, her face muddled.
He frowned. “So I guess I’m living on the street while I’m in town, huh?” he asked with plenty of sarcasm that thickened his Spanish accent.
“I didn’t say that, Zo,” she said, looking around to be sure they weren’t drawing attention.
“Don’t call me that anymore,” he snapped under his breath.
“Look at this from my point of view.”
“Why don’t you look at it from mine?” he shot back.
“I’m looking at it from Zoie’s, and the last thing I will let you or anybody else do is disappoint her by leaving her after getting her hopes up for a relationship you ne-ver wanted,” she said in a harsh whisper.
“Quite the irony coming from you,” he said, looking at her with a hard stare. “I never left. You did. Remember?”
Zoie came running up to them with her flowers in her arms.
Josephine turned and pretended to root around in her bag as she blinked away tears that wanted so very badly to fall.She understood Lorenzo”s anger and contempt for her, but it still stung. It was so different from the charming, even-tempered man who had loved her.
“Zoie, can we postpone our sleepover?” Lorenzo asked her.
Josephine turned in surprise.
Zoie looked disappointed.
“How about I fly in my mother and sister to meet you, and then we all spend the weekend together?” he asked, directing his gaze at Josephine.
He was putting her on the spot.
“That sounds like fun!” Zoie exclaimed, her eyes bright and sparkling again.
So now what? Be the bad guy and look like I’m intervening between her relationship with her father and his family? And they are her family, too.
“Mama?” Zoie asked.
“We’ll figure it out,” she said, feeling backed into a corner.
“Be sure my grandmother brings pictures of you as a kid,” Zoie said as she wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. “I want to see how much we look alike. Okay?”
Lorenzo nodded and patted her back. “Anything for you, Zoie,” he told her as he looked into Josephine’s eyes.
She hadn’t missed his veiled threat.