I swallow hard, knowing that’s what we did minus the pregnancy part… I hope.
“So you have a kid?”
“Yep, she’s almost twelve.”
Layla finishes her drink as if nothing is amiss. I’ve barely touched mine and have suddenly found that I’m not very thirsty, though my mouth is parched and my tongue feels numb. I can’t even begin to describe what I’m thinking or feeling. I do the math quickly, using Noah’s age when I found out about him. They’re about a year apart and as I mentally tick off the months in my mind all I can see is Josie’s face as she hears the words that I may have another child. This will kill her and end us. We have been unable to conceive another child and to hear that a fling – one that I went to days after breaking up with her – could have possibly had my baby because I was stupid will kill her. She’ll leave me and I’ll deserve to be alone.
Maybe if I don’t ask if I’m the father, she’ll never bring it up and I’ll never have to tell Josie. Of course, that will never work because the guilt will eat away at me and I’ll end up caving. My life, as I know it, may be over. She will maim me, stringing me up by my toes in the basement.
No that would be too easy. I can see my wife looking me in the eyes and telling me to get to the fuck out. She won’t even bat an eyelash. It won’t even matter that this happened while we were broken up.
“Liam?” Fingers are snapped in my face, breaking me from my train of thought.
“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” I adjust myself in the chair, seeking some sort of comfort, but finding none.
“My husband… he didn’t want to be the father to another man’s child and the night he punched you in the club, he said he was done with my ‘ways’.” She waves her hands dismissively in the air as if it’s no big deal. My life is falling apart, tearing away at the seams and she’s acting like this is just another day for her.
“Do you have a picture of your daughter?”
“Yeah, sure,” she says, as she digs through her purse, pulling out her phone. My palms are sweating as she swipes through her photos looking for the one that is going to seal my fate. Fuck, I need a shot... or fifty... to get me through this.
Layla slides her phone over for me to look. I wish I was the observant type and could tell if this child is mine or not, but I can’t. She has brown hair, hazel eyes and could look like Noah… maybe. I’m not sure. Hell, I stood next to my son in the bathroom and saw him in the mirror, but never fully looked at him until he told me he’d seen me kissing his mom on TV. Staring at the girl now, she looks like Layla, and that’s probably because she’s standing next to her. She takes her phone back and locks the screen, ending my viewing session. Part of me doesn’t want to know if this is my child and would rather go back to Beaumont in the dark, but the other part of me needs to find out. As much as it would hurt Noah, he’d have a right to know that he has a sister.
“What’s her name?” My voice is low, broken and barely above a whisper. My life is fucked. There’s no fixing this unless I lie, and I’m not about to do that. Layla doesn’t answer, nor seem to even acknowledge that I asked a question. I want her phone back. I want to look again, to study the photo or maybe multiple ones so I can compare. Put her daughter and Noah side-by-side and see if they match.
At this rate I’m Dad of the fucking year. I’ve missed both my children growing up, coming in after most of the hard stuff is done, but being there for the ever so lovely teenage years.
“Are you feeling okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine,” I stammer. “Why didn’t you… keep in touch?” I wanted to ask her why she didn’t tell me, but chang
ed my mind at the last second. This answer will be easier to hear rather than a meaningless excuse.
I hate to think of where I’d be in life right now had she told me. I know I would’ve gone home for Mason’s funeral and developed a relationship with Noah, but it’s unlikely Josie would’ve given me the time of day. She’d be married to Nick now and probably pregnant with their child because he has no problem getting his wife pregnant. I, on the other hand, can only conceive children when I’m eighteen fucking years old. Sterling is going to be so proud of me when he hears I fathered another child.
“This business makes it hard, and you didn’t exactly have a likeable manager. What happened to her anyway? Better yet, where the hell have you been? I heard you went all rogue and moved out of LA.”
Right now I want a strong, stiff drink that’s going to knock me on my ass and make me forget about how screwed up my life is. I need to numb my brain and keep it from over thinking.
“My best friend died, and I went home for the funeral. Going home changed a lot of things for me. As for Sam…” I run my hand over my hair and sigh. There was a time in my life when I liked Sam. It wasn’t anything like what I felt for Josie, but the feelings were still there. What I couldn’t deal with were the lies and how controlling she was. She just couldn’t let things happen organically between us. My biggest mistake was leading her on and telling her that we’d try right before Mason died.
“When you go home after being gone for ten years without keeping in contact with anyone, you learn a lot about yourself and the people you left behind. I had a high school sweetheart who I had broken up with days before I met you.” Layla’s eyes go wide with understanding at what I’m telling her. “Anyway, I was home and shit started falling into place. We have a son that Sam knew about but hid from me. Once I found out, I terminated my contract with Moreno Entertainment and put down permanent roots back home - bought a house and all that grown-up shit we’re supposed to do.” I sigh, thinking about how everything changed after that. “Sam, she grew desperate and sabotaged our tour. We lost a lot of money, sued Moreno Entertainment and are still waiting for payment. Two years ago, I married my girl and a couple days after, Sam killed herself.”
Layla covers her mouth in shock. I would, too, if I were hearing this for the first time, but the shock of hearing about it doesn’t even come close what it was like actually living it. Sam harassing Josie was a nightmare – telling her that I was going to take Noah away from her, showing up at our house with nothing but lingerie on. Her destruction of our tour was the last straw. Something had to be done.
“Anyway, shit’s crazy right now. The band isn’t making any money. We all have families to support. We’re out here to help Trixie, but I’m hoping I can work a few deals and get us some headliners or something.”
“Do you guys still want to tour?”
Nodding, I finally take a drink of whatever it is that Layla made. “I miss it. I miss being on the road and performing. Right now we do a few sets at the local bar and my wife’s café, but it’s not the same.”
“I know what you mean. After I had Naomi, shit got hard. Touring with a baby was stressful, but I didn’t want to leave her. I also didn’t want to quit partying, but something had to give. So now I write music. My songs are selling to artists bigger than I ever would’ve gotten, so I still feel successful.”
All thoughts have turned back to her daughter when she says her name. It’s fitting that her name is similar to Noah’s. It’s showing me how much of a fuck up I am and makes me wonder what the fuck Josie is even doing with me. I put the glass down and take a deep breath.
“When I can meet her, Layla?”
“Who?” she asks. I hate that she’s playing dumb. It’s the most annoying thing when women do this. She knows exactly what I’m referring to and still won’t come out and say what I don’t want to hear.