I’m in a foul mood, I’ll admit it. I’ve done nothing but stomp around and curse since receiving her text last night. I’d been so pumped at the idea of having her all to myself for an entire night I never once considered that our plans might fall apart. Tied up in meetings with Cruz and the crew for most of the day, I called her the minute I walked out of the office only to get her voicemail. I chalked it up to her being busy with all the running around she told me she had to do but by the time my second call went unanswered, I started to worry.
Receiving her text a short while later, which informed me that she’d have to take a raincheck on our plans because of some emergency with Jack, sent me into a childlike tirade. Now that I’ve had time to calm down and think about it, something just feels off. She’s made no attempt to contact me since then; it’s now almost noon and I’ve yet to hear from her. I can only pace my apartment from end to end and hope like hell she calls.
By late afternoon the worry has set in again and when my calls are still going unanswered, I say to hell with patience and head over to her place. Her car is in the driveway but as I step up to the door to ring the bell, I see that every blind is closed up tight, whereas she usually has them open wide. The feeling of uneasiness in my gut grows exponentially as I wait for her to answer.
The face that greets me when the door opens is one of a woman in turmoil. Her eyes are swollen from tears I and her face is ghostly white. Dark circles hint at a sleepless night and the worry that had only been a nagging ache before suddenly bursts forth with considerable power and force.
“What’s the matter? Are you okay? Are you sick?” She shakes her head and steps back to allow me inside. The muted light in the house casts eerie shadows on the wall as I reach for her. She immediately flinches, takes a step back, and the worry explodes into full-on terror. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Is it Emmy?”
Tears fill her eyes and she shakes her head but continues to remain silent. I follow her to the couch and watch as she defensively pulls her knees to her chest. The confidant, secure woman who controls an entire department is gone. The sexy minx who seduced me in black lace is nowhere to be found. She looks like a child in her oversized shirt and leggings, thick socks on her feet and hair shoved into a messy bun. A child who is literally shaking with fear as she looks at me.
Touching her is out of the question, even though my first instinct is to pull her into my arms, offer my strength, and never let her go. Whatever is going on its clear that she’s moments away from losing her shit and falling completely apart, so I give her the space she needs and take a seat on the opposite end of the couch.
I don’t clock the minutes until she finally speaks but it feels like hours as I watch her try to pull herself together and talk to me. She battles through waves of tears, long moments where she simply sits and stares at nothing. All the while my stomach rolls around nervously, waiting for some sort of answer to spill out from her pale lips.
When the words finally come, her voice is distant, void of emotion, tense and strained. “Will Leahy showed up at my door yesterday.” The words don’t immediately register so she throws in, “Emmy’s father.”
I’m Emmy’s father, I think to myself. I’m the only father-like presence she’s ever had in her life. I might still be uncertain about what a real dad is supposed to do, but that doesn’t mean I don’t welcome the challenge. “What the hell does he want?” Containing my anger isn’t easy, especially when out of the blue my future, their future, is suddenly being threatened.
“He wants to see her.” She takes a shaky, long breath and averts her eyes. “Says he wants to get to know her.”
Growling out a curse, I get to my feet and shove my hands in my pockets. “Are you fucking with me right now? All these years after the fact and this asshole shows up out of nowhere wanting to meet her. That’s crap and you know it.”
She shrugs but continues to keep her eyes downcast. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I can’t tell him no, Roman. He has legal rights to her.”
“If you really believe that than we have a bigger issue. No court is ever going grant him visitation rights for a child he refused to admit was his in the first place and has ignored completely for sixteen years.”
“That may be, but Emmy has the right to decide what she wants. If she wants to see him and allow him to be a part of her life, I have to respect her decision.”
A sick feeling of dread washes over me as I fully comprehend what she’s saying. It’s as if she’s giving up, giving in and refusing to fight at all. “Come on, you can’t be serious about this.”
Hollow blue eyes finally meet mine and the sickness in my gut spreads throughout my entire body. “He’s her father, Roman. What do you expect me to do?”
Crouching down in front of her, I gather her cold hands in mine. “I expect you to remind this asshole that he walked away. He made a conscious decision to turn his back on both of you.” She flinches again, and I grit my teeth to contain my wrath. “Has it occurred to you that this guy wants something from you other than time with Em?”
“Like what?”
“Hell if I know, but what the fuck would send him running three thousand miles to hook up with a kid he’s never known or never even acknowledged?”
Sabrina releases my hands from hers and swipes at the tears under her eyes. “I don’t know why he showed up out of the blue, but I will find out. In the meantime I have to talk to Em.” Squeezing her eyes closed, she presses her palms to her eyes and sobs. “How do I tell her this? How do I explain that this is all my fault?”
Frowning, I murmur, “How the hell can this be your fault?”
She shoves me back and shoots to her feet, putting distance between the two of us. “We were young and scared and when he refused to stand by me I accepted it and moved on.” She paces back and forth across the room. “I should have tried harder. I should have put his name on her birth certificate or gone after him for child support. But I did nothing. Absolutely nothing!”
Her skewed view on this entire thing makes me skeptical about what he said to her. I have a hunch he’s using her guilt as a way to tiptoe back into her life. In fact, I believe he’d probably use any weakness to his advantage. “That’s messed-up, Sabrina. Why the hell are you taking the blame for something he should have done?”
“She’s my child! I owe it to her to always think about what’s best for her. Why can’t you understand that?”
Picking a fight with me is apparently what’s she hoping for, but I refuse to give in. Staying calm now will go a long way in making her see reason later. “What I see … what I know is that you have given your child everything. That guy chose to deny her, he chose to walk away from you knowing he’d gotten you pregnant. Whether it’s his guilt catching up with him or some other lame reason, this is on him.”
“He doesn’t need a reason. He’s her father.”
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that a few times.” Fuck. Getting smart with her will sure as hell not gain me any points, though I do get the distinct feeling that I’m somehow being pushed aside to make room for this guy.
She sighs and runs her hands through her hair. “You should probably go.”
Oh hell no. “Nice try, beautiful. But I’m staying right here.” Moving toward her, I pull her stiff, unyielding body against mine. “I love you and there’s no way in Hell I’m walking away to let you deal with this shit on your own.”
“I have to though. It’s my responsibility.”
“Fuck that. We’re a team now. We share the responsibility.”
Shaking her head, she gives me another shove and eases out of my embrace. “You’re not making this easy for me.”
“I want to. Just tell me how.”
Tear-filled eyes meet mine and she whispers shakily, “I need time.” She attempts to inhale then swallows heavily as tears roll down her pale face. “I need you to go.”
Her words are like one big slap in the face, and I find myself taking a step back and recoiling in shock. “So you expect me to step aside while this dude shoves his way back into your life? Where the hell does that leave me?”
“I don’t know, okay? But any future I might have wanted to have is over … for now at least. I can’t make plans of my own when I have no idea how this is going to affect my child. Why can’t you see that?”
I curse and snap out, “I do see that! She’s as important to me as you are. Why the hell can’t you see that?”
Slumping against the wall she murmurs, “Please just go. I can’t do this with you. Not now.”
I hear quite clearly what she refuses to say out loud and the jerk in me has no plans on leaving until she says what she’s been hinting at since I first walked in. “Are you really blowing me off, over this? What about us and what we have together?”
She bites down hard on her lower lip and lifts her gaze to mine. “This isn’t about you and me. This is about my child and her father.”
Once again the words slap me hard and everything I’d hoped for, planned on, and imagined suddenly disappears in the blink of an eye. “Jesus, Sabrina, I thought you loved me. I thought we were making a life together.”
“I thought so too,” she whispers. “Please go, Roman. Just go.”
I’m too stunned to do anything more than comply. Her words have taken everything beautiful about what we had and discarded it as easily as Will once discarded her and her child. The fact that she’s so easily willing to let me go is hard enough; the fact that I know she knows how very much I love her and is still casting me aside hurts in ways I never could have imagined.
Part of me wants to yell and scream and throw things to get her attention, the other part knows without a doubt that nothing I do will make a bit of difference. She’s had hours to formulate this plan in her head and to justify the outcome. Hours when I assumed she was helping Jack … when the truth is she lied to me and has been sitting here discarding me from her future all along.
“Please, Roman…”
There once was a time when those two words meant “take me, make me yours.” Now they are nothing more than an easy dismissal and words that will probably haunt me for weeks and months to come.
Please, Roman, walk away and don’t come back.
Please, Roman, forget that I ever loved you. Forget that I ever needed you.
Please, Roman, forget that I ever promised my future would include you.
Closing my eyes, I nod once and turn toward the door. No parting words are necessary. She’s said enough for both of us and is now refusing to look at me at all. I greedily take her in, memorize the beauty of her face, the hands I used to hold, the body that once eagerly begged for mine. Then with a shaky breath, I step out into the warm Miami sun and walk away.