CHAPTER 3 #2
Playboy must hear them because he stiffens slightly. “You got pregnant to spite her because she was diagnosed with fertility issues and told conceiving naturally would be virtually impossible.”
My head snaps up and I’m completely flummoxed.
He did not just say that. Did he? No. No way.
Someone makes a sound kind of like a dying cat. I have no idea what it means, but it’s surprisingly perfect for the moment.
Playboy opens his mouth, like he’s about to repeat the same ridiculous sentence, but I hold my hand up to stop him.
“In a moment, I hope you’ll be able to appreciate the depth of just how fucked up what you just said to me is,” my words are ice.
Ryker steps forward and clears his throat, I look toward him and try really fucking hard to soften my face; he is the President after all. I must not quite achieve it because he holds his hands up, his eyes soft. “I’m not going to defend him, but you don’t need to do this here either.”
My shoulders slump slightly and some of the worry tightening my chest loosens. “He has called me out time and time again. He’s dropped little comments here and there. He’s done it privately. He’s done it publicly. This is the stage he chose.”
Ryker nods and steps back, the kind of gesture which gives permission and power. In this kind of place, it matters.
I appreciate that he’s not pulling me back or trying to put me in my place. I’m very aware that I’m a guest here. My issue isn’t with the SOMC, it’s with Playboy and the viper wrapped around him.
I’m not sure I can look at Vanessa right now. I’ll lose whatever composure I have left.
But I make myself do it. Tears are glistening in her eyes, but they don’t fall. My face softens and she sees it. Instead of giving in, she lifts her chin. Just slightly.
Just enough.
I’m sorry. I love you. I would choose you again and again.
I whisper the words to my daughter with my heart. There’s no doubt that she feels them. As I look at her, I pause. She deserves to have her privacy. She doesn’t deserve to have the reality of her existence used as proof of a person who leaves destruction and chaos in her wake.
But she doesn’t back down.
“It’s okay, Mama,” her voice is soft and resolute.
“Tell them the truth. He needs to hear it,” her voice breaks slightly and I reach toward her.
She shakes her head and turns her attention toward Playboy.
“Everything my mom is about to say is true. She has never lied to me about who I am and never will.”
My eyes slide closed, the strength in her voice feeling like a victory soaked in bloodshed. It pisses me the fuck off. How dare him. How dare her. My breathing deepens as I begin to seethe.
When I turn back toward Playboy, I swear the room takes a collective step back. Everyone except Vanessa.
“I’m not Vanessa’s biological mother. I am, if we’re talking in terms of a family tree, her aunt.”
The entire yard is silent, even the birds pause their chirping songs for a moment. As if the world needs the time to process my words.
I know the people around me do.
Playboy’s mouth opens and closes a few times. He looks befuddled. It would be cute if he hadn’t spent so much time listening to lies and muttering at me.
“Which seems like a more plausible truth—I got pregnant as a teenager out of spite to feed some twisted competition, or Lola got pregnant while making questionable choices?” I lay the question out there, but I don’t expect an answer.
Honestly, which is more likely is obvious to the point that the question shouldn’t be necessary at all.
“She said you got pregnant within two months of her diagnosis,” Playboy’s voice is weak with uncertainty threaded throughout.
I can hear it; everyone can hear it.
“No,” I shake my head, “that’s not what happened.
Lola got pregnant and the moment our parents found out they locked her down.
She was a mess the entire time and constantly complained about not being able to go out and party, but our parents were trying to give the baby the best chance by keeping her sober.
” My voice gets thready, memories of that fear spreading through me with every beat of my heart, “She stopped the drugs, as far as I know, but she still managed to get her hands on alcohol from time to time. She’d slip out and get wasted. ”
After taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. I never hid any of this from Vanessa, but I hate talking about it in front of her like this.
“Thankfully, Vanessa was fairly healthy. She was underweight, but she checked out okay. I was worried there would be long-term effects like milestone delays or some other issue, but I shouldn’t have been.
” My voice goes soft as my eyes drift away from Playboy’s chocolate brown gaze and land on Vanessa.
“From the moment I held her, I knew she’d conquer every hurdle, even if it was hard. I also knew I’d never walk away.”
“If she’s Lola’s daughter, how do you have her?” Playboy winces as he asks the question which I’m sure more than a few people are curious to know the answer to.
When I shoot him a look, his expression turns sheepish. As it should. The man should be looking for a shovel considering he’s the one digging his own grave right now.
“I was the second person to ever hold Vanessa; our mom was the first. Lola never held her,” my words are steady even though I feel the impact of them reverberate through me.
“The morning she was being discharged, we showed up to take her home. Lola was gone. We didn’t see her again for two years.
I spent that time going to culinary school and auditing business classes while caring for Vanessa.
My parents helped, of course, but from the morning Lola disappeared, Vanessa was mine.
” I look at my daughter and smile softly.
“Really, from the moment I held her, she was mine.”
The silence in the room is absolute. When I turn toward Playboy, I watch, in real time, as he tries to reconcile what I’m telling him, what Vanessa already said would be true, and all the lies Lola fed him. There’s no doubt in my mind that she dripped poison in his ear little by little.
That’s on her.
But he believed her; that’s on him.
“I made it all legal. I finalized the adoption with the support of our parents.” I swallow hard past the lump in my throat that always forms when I think of that time. This shouldn’t hurt, but it does. “I never lied to Vanessa about who she is or who I am to her, legally and biologically.”
“She’s Lola’s daughter,” Playboy says it softly, more to himself than me.
“No,” my voice is firm and echoes like a gunshot.
When he looks at me, his eyebrows pull together and I shake my head slowly.
“She’s my daughter. Lola was pregnant with Vanessa and gave birth to her.
I’ll never try and take that away from Lola.
But Vanessa is my daughter. I’ve raised her.
” I pause, a challenge ringing out in my voice as I add, “I have all of the paperwork to back me up, if you don’t believe me. ”
“That won’t be necessary,” Ryker’s voice is absolute and filled with steel.
I glance toward him to find him looking at me with a new kind of respect. I’m not sure what it means, but I give him a small smile of acknowledgement either way.
My hands are shaking and I curl them into fists to try and hide it. I’m not sure it helps much.
When I turn back to Playboy, he’s looking at me like he’s never seen me before. Really, he hasn’t.
For so long he’s been looking at me like I’m the enemy. His version of me was tainted by Lola. I wish it didn’t sting; it shouldn’t.
“When Vanessa was born, I was 17 years old. I had never had a boyfriend because every guy who showed any interest in me was manipulated by Lola.” I give him a flat look, hoping the true depth and meaning of my words sink in.
I watch the realization dawn on him, like the sun breaking over the horizon line.
If only I could laugh at the look on his face right now, but it’s far from amusing.
It’s crushing. “I didn’t know anything about babies.
I didn’t know I could love someone as much as I loved her the moment she was put in my arms. I didn’t know I could survive on such little sleep.
I didn’t know hearing babies cry, no matter where I was, would send me into a panic.
I became a mother out of necessity and love; I learned how to do it all even if I never did it perfectly. ”
“Perfect for me,” Vanessa’s voice is soft, a gentle reminder of how we’ve found our footing together.
Necessary, yes. But no less profound because of it.
Anguish washes over Playboy’s features. He opens his mouth, but I hold up my hand. His mouth closes and his jaw clenches.