Someone Else's Ocean(86)

“He told you he was madly in love with you. He didn’t leave because he wanted to. He left because he had to. There’s a difference. You didn’t get left.”

Brown eyes stared down at me as I swallowed. “I’m forwarding the phones to my cell. You look like shit and I don’t want you greeting the renters this morning.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I was up late last night.”

She slapped the top of my computer screen. “Look at me.”

Gazing up at her, I did my best to keep my chin from wobbling.

“Do I look upset?”

“No, well I really can’t tell, you look kind of scary right now.”

“That’s because I’m mad at you for thinking I would be upset. You’ve held my hand for the last year and a half.”

“I just want to stop missing him. God, just one day, I want this to go away. I don’t know how you handled it.”

“Not well, remember, I had sex in a backhoe?”

“That’s not even funny now. But I’m glad you’re happy with Toby.”

“Don’t send out wedding invites yet, we’re taking things so slow, sometimes I think we’re just friends.”

“You still haven’t had sex with Toby?” I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even asked her for an update, what was even odder was that she hadn’t offered one.

“Nope. I’m holding out. You and Ian were an amazing influence on me. And Julian is still calling.”

“Really? Julian, huh? Well don’t use me as an influence, look at me now. And your corn-fed man was the one that told me Ian would dump me no matter what. I don’t know if I’m his biggest fan.”

She tied her hair up before pouring some coffee. “Julian is brutally honest. Sometimes it gets on my nerves, but mostly I love it. And you need to call Ian. I think half of the problem is you’re still hoping he’ll come back or you’ll get back together. And that’s what’s eating you alive. You need some sort of closure.”

“I think the fact that I haven’t heard a word from him is closure enough. What if he’s moved on and I end up embarrassing myself?”

She pulled her roller chair over and took a seat next to me. “Then you know, and you get to move on too.”

“I don’t want that.”

Her eyes watered in sympathy, which only made me feel more pathetic. “I know baby, and it’s killing me to see you hurt, but you’ve got to do something. Tell him how you feel. Are you still glad you took the chance?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

“Then take one more. Call him and see how that goes.”

“And if it’s really over?”

“Then you won’t be alone. I’ll be here, and you can start sharing your new war stories.”

“This is the worst.”

“I know.” She leaned in to hug me. “You can do this, Koti, you are so much braver than you will ever know. Every chance you take shows how much you’ve grown.”

“God, I love you. I know this is strange, but I’m so glad I had a panic attack in that Mexican restaurant. What if you hadn’t found me in that corner? I hate to think we wouldn’t have met.”

“I think life would have made sure we found a way.”

“You think so?” I sniffed as she pulled away

“I’m sure of it. I’ll always be your Mexican.”





Three months of agony because I made the same decision I did fifteen years ago. It would always be my daughter, DNA or none, she was mine. I was taught early that blood didn’t matter. My adopted brother was black, and when we got him, I was old enough to know better than ask questions about why he was different. My parents were careful with me the first few months, going out of their way to coddle me when we adopted him. I was never upset, in fact, that extra attention irritated me. Adam was the one who felt the most anguish, growing up in a home where he constantly felt the difference.

Blood didn’t matter, skin nor eye color, or native tongue. What mattered was what that person meant to you. If my ex-wife had charged her sperm donor with the task of raising Ella, I would’ve been free to be whatever I wanted, I would’ve known that Tara was a liar and a cheat, and I would’ve had my choice of lives. But that wasn’t what happened, and at the end of my selfish tirade, I found myself grateful for her deceit. It made me Ella’s daddy.

And so, while I’ve never fathered a child, I was a father, a daddy, a dad, and on most days, she deemed me an asshole. My range of titles stemmed from trusting the one thing in the world I know to be true for so long, and it was the one thing that could never be taken away from me.

Hurt or not, I was never going to let that happen.

And then I think of Koti and our summer by the sea and how that was the life I wanted. With her. I didn’t want to be waiting in the wings while my daughter lived her life. I wanted to be with the woman whose smiles lit up my soul, whose voice soothed the bullshit, whose heart was made of flesh and gold. I wanted to whisper to her that I love her every night before she drifted to sleep. To be her comfort when she got nervous. I wanted to ease her mind and make her laugh, make her come, make her mine. But that was the selfish part of me who still brimmed with anger about a life I didn’t get to choose.