Page 58 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

I look out of the rain-streaked window into the night. “I had a daughter.” A lump forms in my throat. It’s been so long since I talked about her, though I think of her every day.

Sadie’s pained expression tells me she already knows my story doesn’t have a happy ending. She doesn’t say anything, giving me space to tell her if I want.

“I married my high school sweetheart at nineteen after she fell pregnant. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Joined the Army that same year. The baby came early, and I missed the birth.” I watch a raindrop slowly make its way down the pane of glass for a moment before continuing. “She was so small. So precious. We named her Lily.” I laugh, a mirthless, dry sound. “Didn’t know lilies were funeral flowers.”

Sadie reaches out, placing a hand on the top of mine, her fingers soft and cool.

“She was only six months old when she died. She had a congenital heart defect. She was too pure for this world. After that, we tried to make things work, but my ex-wife wanted another child, wanted to move on and fill the space Lily left. I wasn’t ready to do that. The grief destroyed us slowly. My ex-wife eventually admitted she couldn’t stand looking at me anymore because I reminded her of what we lost. I felt the same, even if I wouldn’t admit it.” I look at Sadie then, her eyes filled with concern.

“I’m so sorry…” Sadie says, and I can tell she feels that sorry is inadequate. Most people don’t know what to say. What can you say?

I shrug. We can’t change the past. “My ex remarried a nice guy, she has three kids, and they live upstate. I’m happy for her.”

“And you didn’t you ever meet someone else who made the pain a little more bearable?”

I shake my head. “I’m a shadow of a man. Where do you think I got the nickname from?”

Sadie looks stricken. “I thought it was because you move around quietly in the shadows.”

“It is,” I smile sadly. “Only I think of the other reason.” Keen to move the subject onto less depressing topics, I talk about Owen. “He’s a good kid, you should be proud,” I say, nodding to the ceiling.

She smiles softly, her eyes filled with love. “He is. He likes you.”

“I like him,” I admit. “He’s the first kid that hasn’t made me feel sad to be around. He makes me feel like maybe my ex was right that children could heal a broken heart.”

She squeezes my hand. “I think you’re right about that.”

Enough about me, I want to know more about Sadie. “So tell me about your marriage. Why didn’t things work out between you and Ethan?”

“That’s a long and rather boring story, and for that, I think we need a drink,” she says. I nod, and she heads to the fridge. “Wine okay?”

“Sure.”

“Come on, I’m too tired to stand,” she says, leading the way into the living room, bottle of wine and two glasses in hand. She kicks off her slippers and tucks her feet under her as she sits on the couch and pours us both a glass. I hesitate, and she pats the seat beside her. “Sit. I don’t bite.”

I do as instructed, sitting down, accepting the glass, clinking it softly against hers, and taking a sip.

She sighs dramatically. “I’m afraid mine and Ethan’s story is terribly mundane and predictable. I was twenty-one when we met. He was thirty-four and worked at the bank where I did my college internship. He was in charge of the cybersecurity department. Over the next six months, he wooed me, old-fashioned and charming, sending flowers and love notes, taking me on expensive dates, buying me extravagant gifts, making me feel like the most special, interesting woman he’s ever met, the whole nine yards. I fell for it.” She laughs bitterly, shaking her head as if she can’t believe it.

“When I was twenty-three, he proposed, and when I was twenty-four, we got married. Almost immediately after that, things changed; it seemed the fun was over for him once the chase was over. I had just turned twenty-six when Owen was born. Stupidly, I thought that would bring us closer, but it only made him more distant.” She gulps her wine.

“Things continued to go downhill after that. Ethan didn’t want to have to deal with a screaming baby or a wife whose body had changed. It didn’t surprise me when he had an affair with his twenty-two-year-old secretary. I should have realized it sooner. As it was, the affair went on for a year before he left me for her.” She laughs humorlessly again. “I think I would feel better about it if I’d been the one who ended things, throwing him out and him begging for my forgiveness, saying he made a mistake.” She shakes her head. “God, it’s all such a cliché, and here I am going on about my failed marriage when you’ve been through hell.”

I don’t even think about it; it comes as naturally as breathing to reach out and place my hand on her leg. “Don’t diminish your pain like that.”

She doesn’t flinch or move away; she looks at me with big, trusting eyes, and I have to quell the urge to kiss her. “It’s humiliating, being that woman.”

“It shouldn’t be. He’s the one who didn’t know what he had. By the sounds of it, he took advantage of you when you were young and naive, and then, when he couldn’t do it anymore, when he was no longer your entire world, he did the same thing to some other woman.”

She contemplates this for a moment. “You know, I never thought of Brielle as being manipulated like I was.”

“Brielle? As in Brie cheese and Elle smooshed together?” I blurt it out, raising an eyebrow, feeling Dash’s influence wash over me.

Sadie laughs, deep and throaty, and it’s like a balm for my soul. I want to make her laugh more. “You have a beautiful laugh.”

She blushes. “After Ethan, I felt invisible for a long time. I think I forgot what it was like to be a woman, to be desirable…”

“Until?”