Ajay chokes back a sob. “You have a daughter, Whiskey. One who looks just like you and I sat there wondering—”
“What our baby would’ve looked like?”
He shuffles his feet instead of answering me, which is fine. I already know that’s what he was thinking because I’ve often thought the same myself.
“I’d like for you to spend some time with her… if you want.”
I expect him to jump at the opportunity but instead he steps away from me. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Whiskey.”
“Why not?” I step closer.
“Because I don’t want to get attached.”
25
Ajay
My fingers are digging into my thighs, surely poking holes in my pockets from the ache I feel on my legs. There’s so much rage building inside of me, mostly aimed at her daughter’s father. I know what it’s like to not have a father, to know the man who conceived you wants nothing to do with you, and I can’t fathom ever being that way with my own child. I don’t even know her daughter but I want her to be mine, to give her a set of parents that care, that love her. I know I’ll love her because she’s Whiskey’s, but the thought of loving her from afar isn’t the life I desire.
Right now, all I want to do is pull Whiskey into my arms and tell her that everything will be okay. In a few short months, I’ll be gone and she can go back to her life. At this point, it makes sense for Saul to file the appeal so we can just be done and both of us can move on. The fact that I’m standing here, thinking about being a father to a little girl that I just met is ridiculous. Whiskey wants to go through with the divorce. We want separate things from life. Hell, we live vastly different lifestyles. And the fact remains that I want her as my wife, but she wants me as an ex.
“What’s so wrong with getting attached, Ajay? I happen to think my kid is awesome.”
“I don’t doubt that she is, but you don’t want her close to someone like me, Whiskey. Once we’re divorced, I won’t come around again. I can see how me being here has messed up your life enough already.”
“What if I want you around?”
“Woman, you’re toying with my emotions here and it’s late, I’m tired and…” Behind me the door to Bailey’s opens and shuts, causing me to turn around. The guys coming out ask Whiskey if she’s okay or if she needs help. One guy sizes me up and the dude is big. There’s no doubt in my mind that he’d beat my ass, so I tell Whiskey I’ll call her later and head across the street to my hotel. It pains me to walk away from her, to leave her in the parking lot, but I’m confident her employees will protect her. When I get to the porch, I turn around and stare at the well-lit parking lot. She’s not there and I can only hope she in her car and on her way home or safe back inside Bailey’s with the doors locked behind her.
Thankfully, the nighttime desk clerk of the Inn isn’t anywhere to be seen when I walk in. I climb the stairs two at a time and fish the key out of my back pocket. I had to move it there in order to play tonight. Nothing like having a rigid piece of metal jabbing you in the leg each time you push down on the foot pedal.
After unlocking the door, I step in and let it close on its own. I left the sliding glass door open earlier and decide to go out onto the balcony to take one last look at my little hometown. Once I leave tomorrow, I’m not coming back. I’m going to ask Saul to file the appeal and have the divorce processed immediately. It’s what Whiskey has wanted from the beginning and it’s the least I can do for her.
Back inside, I start to pack because sleeping right now is out of the question. Whiskey’s single and I’m leaving. It doesn’t seem to make much sense in my mind, but in my heart it does. She needs time to figure things out and I’m only in the way, pulling on her heart strings when I beg for time with her.
“You know you should really make sure the door closes when you walk into your hotel room.”
I jump and place my hand over my heart. My breathing is sporadic and coming in short bursts. “What the fuck, woman?” I manage to say. “You just about gave me a heart attack.”
Whiskey walks further into my room and takes a seat on my bed. “You’re the one who didn’t shut your door.”
“What did you do, follow me?”
She nods and a sly smile plays on her lips. “I couldn’t let you leave, not like that.”
I sigh and sit down next to her. “I have to go, Whiskey. We have a tour stop tomorrow and I need to be there.”
“When will you be back?”
The carpet of my hotel room is green with black, white, and red specks mixed throughout. I hadn’t noticed them until now, but I’d rather study them and look for a pattern than to see the disappointment in Whiskey’s eyes.
“Like I said, I’m not coming back.”
“Why not?”
“Whiskey…”
She moves from sitting by my side to sitting on the floor where I have no choice but to look at her. The last thing I want to do is hurt her, to make her suffer through anymore bullshit, and forcing her to spend time with me is just increasing the animosity she feels for me.