Frayed (Connections, #4)(66)

“I . . . I . . . didn’t want . . . I didn’t want to have to tell you, but I knew I couldn’t start this relationship with a lie. That’s—that’s why I wanted to keep it casual. I . . . I thought you’d get me out of your system and move on,” she stammers.

My eyes flare to hers, but the fire I feel is not from want or lust. “Why didn’t you tell me then? Why?”

She holds my gaze. “Because I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Then you don’t know me at all,” I spit out.

“No, I do know you. I do.”

“So what? Is this one of those half-truths? Because I’ll tell you something—you’re only fooling yourself.”

Standing up, I reach in my pocket and toss a fifty on the table. With her chest visibly rising and falling, she watches me silently. She stares at me with a blank expression and says nothing else. I look at her one last time and then walk away, leaving her sitting there. As soon as the cool air hits my lungs, I feel I can finally breathe. I pace the sidewalk with my hands behind my head and stare through the glass at her. A few seconds later she’s standing in front of me.

“Ben, let’s talk about this. I want to explain everything. It’s not easy for me, but I understand you’re upset.”

My eyes burn into hers with an anger I’ve never felt for anyone. “What exactly are you going to explain? Explain how you had a baby, my baby, and gave it up without ever telling me?” I hiss.

“It’s not like that. It wasn’t that easy.”

“Really? What part wasn’t easy? The part you skipped about informing the father?”

Her eyes drop. “Please, Ben, let’s go back in and sit down.”

“Why would you think you should tell me something like that in a public place?”

“You said you wanted to put the past behind you. I just wanted to meet somewhere neutral and do the same.”

“Are you f*cking kidding me? That is not the past.”

“It is. It’s mine.” Her voice is a whisper.

My voice is tight. “How could you not tell me back then?”

“I tried. I called you twice.”

“I remember your calls. You called and left a couple of messages that said to call you back. There was no urgency in your tone. You knew I had a girlfriend. I couldn’t call you back. That wasn’t trying.”

“I called,” she cries again, her voice fading.

I throw my hands up in the air. “You knew I couldn’t see you again. You had to know that’s why I thought you were calling. So you may have called, but you didn’t try to tell me this. Don’t fool yourself.”

“What difference would it have made if I had told you?”

“What difference?” My voice spikes up in anger.

“It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

I stare at her with coldness in my eyes. “Fuck, is that another one of your half-truths?”

“No guy wants to hear he got a girl pregnant,” she says, her voice raspy.

“How would you know what I wanted to hear when you never gave me the chance?”

“What would have been the point?”

“The point in telling me we conceived a child? The point in telling me there’s a part of me out there in the world? I don’t know, maybe that I deserved to know.”

“I’m sorry,” she cries, and closes her eyes.

I stare at her, my heart feeling pulled in so many directions I don’t know what to do. Then without another word I turn and walk away.





CHAPTER 20


Little White Lies

Bell

The dogwood trees blow in the wind and their white blossoms whirl in the air. One sticks to my arm, but I swat it off. I don’t want to make a wish on it today. I watch him, following his back as he walks away from me until I can’t see him anymore. I bolt down the street as fast as I can, running nowhere. When another blossom blows in my path, I pause for a brief moment and decide to make a wish after all. I wish for him to understand—even when I know that’s impossible. Still, I’m not sorry I told him. I know I had to. I am, however, sorry I didn’t do things differently from the start. I’m sorry about how I messed my own life up again. I’m sorry I can’t go back in time and change everything.

Feeling defeated, lost, and disheartened, I turn around and go back to the restaurant to get my things. It’s quiet inside and thank God Rocko is nowhere to be seen. Pebbles has always been a place of comfort for me. That’s why I flock here whenever I’m nervous. It’s kind of like a home away from home. When I was little, my dad would bring me here after school sometimes, just him and me. We’d sit and talk about my day, about music, and about my brothers. Rocko would join us sometimes and they’d talk about when they were younger. They were good friends, attended high school together and Rocko even played the drums for my dad when he was on the road. So after my dad died I came here a lot. I’d take a bus after school to just sit and talk to Rocko. He’s told me so many stories about my dad, good ones, happy ones—it was the way I wanted to remember him.

A brief bittersweet smile passes across my lips as I walk by the bar and look at the picture on the wall of Rocko and my dad among all the other celebrity photos. My dad was famous even if he never thought so. More tears fill my eyes and I don’t even know who they’re for anymore—my dad or Ben. I grab the package of books off the table and fumble for keys in my purse. When I go back outside I hand my keys off to the valet and wait while he quickly pulls my car up. He opens my door and I seek refuge inside. The sound of the car engine helps to muffle my loud cries.