“That’s great.” I handed her a glass of milk and when I slid into a stool at the counter, she followed.
She took a sip of her drink then reached out a hand to touch mine. “Thank you, Skye.”
I chuckled. “It’s just milk.”
She laughed. “No, I mean for the rescue, for letting me stay here, for—”
“Hey,” I squeezed her hand. “It’s all good. Trust me. I know that shadow of loneliness you feel. Like the rug is being pulled out from under you and you’re not sure what to do. We’re all not fortunate to have a savior who’d understand. I was lucky I had one and now I can be one for you.”
She bit her lower lip before she asked, “where’s your baby’s father if you don’t mind my asking?”
I stared at my glass for a moment. “Married. Happily, or not, I can’t tell you but I hope he is.” When I looked up, it was to find her frowning. “I know. Confusing right?” My laugh lacked mirth.
“You sacrificed your love for him, didn’t you?”
I nodded, suddenly too overcome with emotion to speak. Turning away, I glanced out the window and wiped the corners of my eyes before the tears spilled.
“May I ask why?” she asked softly, squeezing my hand.
I looked at her. “He’s my brother. I obviously couldn’t be with him.” I didn’t know why I did it, but the words fell from my lips, hoping a stranger to my life would understand.
Surprisingly, Paris did. “Oh, babe.” She slipped off her stool and hugged me from behind.
This time, I let the tears fall unchecked. “You don’t think I’m sick?” I whispered, staring at my glass.
She moved around to face me, her hand on my shoulder. “Why would I?” She shook her head. “I always say I’m too young to understand why love works the way it does and anyway, who am I to judge fate and the way she works. We all make mistakes. Some good, some bad and some, just too fucked up for anyone to understand but hey, grab every moment by the balls, I say.” She shrugged making me smile. “My grandfather always told me to never judge anyone for their decisions because we have no idea what they’ve been or going through unless we walk a day in their shoes.”
“Good advice.” I smiled.
“Does he know about the baby, though?”
“No.”
“And you don’t plan on telling him?”
“I don’t plan on messing up his life,” I choked on the words but swallowed hard to let the ball of emotion clogging my throat slide back down.
She moved to sit again. “And the savior you mentioned. Is he some hot dude that’s making you happy, keeping you occupied, giving you the womanly feels?” She wiggled her brows, her smile mischievous.
I laughed. “Yes, to the hot dude and yes, to the making me happy but everything else, no. He’s, my father.”
“Oh.” Her brows jumped to her hairline. “He knows about you and your brother?”
Sighing, I rose and taking both glasses, I washed them as I spoke. “He doesn’t. When I left home, he respected my wishes not to return. He’s a man who loves me wholeheartedly because not once did he question me about my son’s father, what happened at my brother’s wedding or why I never wanted my brother to know my whereabouts.” I turned, reached for the dish towel and dried my hands. “When I found out I was pregnant, I was working on a cruise liner. I never had all the usual symptoms and was able to work without complications until I began showing. Thankfully, I’d befriended the doctor on board, and she took care of me. Then I began showing and knew my time on the ship was about to end. One day after the ship docked, I called my father.”
Instead of being upset, my father was excited, and I decided he’d developed the ‘I’m a grandfather’ disease. When I told him I didn’t want to go back home, he was a little surprised and when I asked him not to tell anyone, especially my brother, he’d gone silent for a whole minute before agreeing without questioning my decision.
What he made of it, I had no idea because he met me a few weeks later and without questions, brought me to Blue Haven, a town he’d discovered during a movie shoot. “He bought this house with money from my trust fund, and I began making a life for myself here. You’ll meet him soon, he visits when he can.”
“Can’t wait.” She yawned. “Now, I’m going to get some sleep and you should do the same.”
“I will. Put your number in my phone in case I need to call you.” I tipped my chin at my phone lying on the kitchen counter where I’d left it when I walked in.
“Sure.” She picked up the phone and looked at me. “Girl, did you not hear your phone ring, there’s like a dozen missed calls from your father.”
Frowning, I crossed the floor and took the phone. I checked the missed calls. “Shit. It was around the time I was in the bath, and I didn’t check my phone since.” I knew I’d heard something then but ignored it. That earlier dread was back in place, creeping up my spine as I dialed my father.
Instead of leaving, Paris leaned against the counter, her face matching the worry I felt.
