Chapter 12
Christina
Katie woke from her nap, we made and ate dinner, watched TV, had a bath, and she eventually went to sleep for the night.
I can’t help thinking that I’ve made a clusterfuck of this new chance at a better life.
I thought saying nothing was playing it safe.
Now I can see how wrong I was about that.
Slate never came back and no one checked on us or spoke to us this evening.
I worry that his family is as mad at me as Slate is. Who could blame them if they were.
I can’t help but replay everything Slate said.
He’s right that my failure to find him and let him know about having a daughter caused him to miss out on every single milestone in her life so far.
I get why he’s pissed. The thing is, his parents missed out on seeing their first grandchild born, holding her as a baby, seeing her grow up during the last few years.
They have just as much right as Slate to be mad.
It’s a shame because I really adore Slate and his family.
I sit on the edge of the big bed that Slate and I shared only last night.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I think about all the mistakes I’ve made.
That’s when I hear boots on the steps. I recognize how he walks and that’s how I know that he didn’t totally abandon us.
He’s coming back. What he’ll say after thinking the situation over, I can only guess.
I hear the door to our suite open, and he pauses in the main area.
I hear the soft click as he locks it behind him.
I sit, staring at the bedroom door, waiting to see if he’ll walk through it.
I needn’t have worried because he appears a moment later.
He’s wearing the poker face he normally reserves for everyone but me.
Seeing his clear blue eyes boring into me like that fractures something deep in my soul.
He shuts the door quietly behind him and stands there for a moment, with his arms loose at his sides. He doesn’t come closer or try to sit down. He keeps his distance like he finds being near me suddenly repulsive.
“Did you talk to your family about me?” I ask quietly.
“Yeah, of fuckin’ course I did. We don’t keep secrets from one another in this family.” His voice is low and rough. “They all know Katie is my daughter now.”
He jerks his chin at me. “Is she asleep for the night?”
“Yes. We made dinner here rather than going downstairs. To be honest, I didn’t want to face anyone.”
He runs one hand through his hair and then rubs the stubble on his jaw. The gesture lets me know he’s exasperated with me. He walks to the dresser, empties his pockets, and stands there for a few seconds looking at his reflection in the mirror.
“I can’t believe I had a daughter this whole time and never knew.” His voice sounds more defeated than angry.
“I was scared,” I admit in a tight voice. “I didn’t know how deep all of this went or who was involved. I didn’t want you to get pulled into this mess.”
He snorts under his breath, frustration surfacing. “You should have trusted me to fuckin’ handle whatever was a threat to my child, even if you didn’t think I would come for you.”
“I know,” I whisper. “Don’t you think if I could go back and do things differently, I would?”
“You keep saying things like that, but you’ve not given me a single reason to believe anything you have to say,” he says.
“I know you eat danger for breakfast with milk and sugar. But I’m not you. Terrified people don’t always make the best decisions.”
His tone turns clipped. “You say you were scared. Fine, I can get my head around that. Having lived with it in darker places than this clubhouse, I’ve known my share of fear.
But you let me walk into danger blind. You let me believe someone else was Katie’s father.
Fear doesn’t justify or excuse keeping everything to yourself until someone else drags the truth into the light. ”
I swallow thickly, feeling the kind of shame that no one should have to deal with. “I understand that now.”
“You understood it then too,” he shoots back. He runs both hands over his face. “How could you think that making decisions for both of us was doing the right thing.”
I drop my gaze to the floor, feeling sick to my stomach. “I shouldn’t have.”
“But you did. And you did it over and over again. First when you realized you were pregnant with my child and decided not to notify me. Then when you decided to go it on your own with a damn stalker after you. And then you come here and make the decision to leave me believing you were being stalked by an ex. And you looked me in the face, convinced me to give us another chance, and hooked up with me, all while deciding I still didn’t need to know I had a kid. ”
Every word he says stings, because he’s not wrong about any of it. Once he quiets, his chest rises and falls as he tries to get ahold of his emotions.
I close my fingers around the edge of the mattress. “I was wrong but I’m trying now. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
“No,” he repeats. “I’m done giving you the benefit of the fuckin’ doubt. If you want my damn trust, you’ll have to earn it back.”
Silence stretches between us. Slate leans back against the dresser, arms crossed. His eyes narrow on me.
“Just so you know, I’m getting a paternity test,” he says.
“Because you think I’m a liar, right?” I don’t know why I’m even surprised.
“No. I don’t doubt she’s mine. She looks too much like me to ever think that.” He rubs his face like he is exhausted.
“So why get the test?” I ask.
“I’ve been denied years with her. Once I get the results of the paternity test, I’m filing for joint custody. I refuse to stand by while you fuckin’ make decisions for both of us anymore.”
“I’m sorry you missed out on time with her.”
Before I can tell him that I’ll sign whatever he wants, he snarls, “Sorry doesn’t give that time back to me.”
When I don’t respond, he shakes his head slowly. “I don’t want to keep having this fight. Not tonight. I’m too tired to pick apart every choice you made. But I can’t pretend any of this is fine.”
“I’m not asking you to pretend.”
“Good,” he says. “Because I can’t forgive you for this. Not now.”
“What exactly do you want me to do?” I ask.
Slate exhales and drags a hand across his jaw. “We’re not changing anything. Not right now.”
I blink. “Meaning what?”
“You stay here. In this suite. In this bed. You and Katie stay close until we know more about your stalker,” he says. “This place is secure. The walls are thick. There are two armed brothers downstairs at all times. I’m not putting you on the far side of the clubhouse when someone is hunting you.”
“I understand,” I say, feeling more dispirited by the second.
“But we’re not together,” he clarifies. “We’re not good and might never be. Just so you know, getting back to where we were seems like a distant dream for me right now.”
A dull ache forms under my ribs. “I know we’re not and it’s all my fault.”
Ignoring my contrite tone, he explains, “We sleep in the same bed, but you stay on your side. I stay on mine. No acting like we’re something we’re not right now.”
When I don’t respond, he studies me for a long time before stating bluntly, “I don’t trust you anymore. I want to. I used to. But I don’t. It’s going to take time,” he says. “If it ever comes back.”
I swallow hard. “I hope it does.”
“I don’t know if hope is enough,” he says quietly. “But it’s all we’ve got for now.”
After another long pause, Slate strips down to his underwear, walks over, and sits on the far side of the bed. After a few moments of silence, he turns off the lamp on his side and settles down on his back.
I stay seated for another moment, unsure whether to sleep on the sofa or just sleep on my side of the bed.
Eventually, I slip under the covers, pull the blanket up to my chest, and turn onto my side, facing away from the man I love, the same one I betrayed.
My heart aches and I wish with every fiber of my being that I had made different choices.
Slate’s breathing evens out. I can tell he is awake though.
A long silence spins out between us. I begin to feel like we’re strangers again.
We lie in the same bed, not talking and not touching.
I force myself to accept that this is what a relationship looks like when trust is broken.
I close my eyes and try to sleep. I feel terrible that I denied Slate his daughter these last few years and I’m sorry that I forced my daughter to live on the run when she could have been safe with her dad.
But I also have to admit that I feel sorry for myself because for one brief moment I had it all and blew it.