The rational part of me urges me to turn the car around, to drive away from the prison gates before the reporters see me. A week has passed and all the focus of the press has been on my story. It came to a point where I had to move into a small motel on the outskirts of town to hide out, while Reese stayed with my mother.

I thought that waiting a week before visiting Damien would be enough to get them to stop camping outside the prison gates.

I wipe the sweat off my forehead. I’m sweating and it’s not because it’s been a hot couple of days.

After seeing Damien at the studio, the way he looked at me and the things he said, I’m nervous about seeing him again. I don’t have to visit him. Both my mother and Chelsea warned me to stay away. Mom said she’s proud of me for forgiving him, but I’d be a fool to let him into my life, into Reese’s life. Her words kept me up most nights, and this morning I woke up at the crack of dawn and stared out the window while my mug of coffee went cold, debating on whether to come or not. But something inside me refuses to let me let go.

I take a deep breath and step out of the car, throwing myself into the throng of reporters and journalists.

Ignoring the flashing cameras and questions, I keep my head low, my hand tightly wrapped around the handle of my handbag. I charge forward without looking right or left, only focused on where I am going. I hold my breath until my lungs scream, until I’m forced to suck in the smells of chewing gum, stale cigarette smoke, and perfume.

A journalist with stringy hair and bad breath shoves a microphone in my face. “How did it feel to have sex with two brothers?”

“Would you really like us to believe you couldn’t tell the difference between the two?” someone else shouts.

The word “whore” from somewhere in the crowd lands on my ears. Tears burn the back of my eyes but I bite them away and push my way through, ignoring the questions and insults hitting me in the back. I refuse to make any comments because the next thing I know, my words will be taken out of context and the sting will follow me for weeks. Answering their questions only gives them permission to hurt me more.

Here I was thinking after the interview with Lori, I would move on with my life, finally shutting the door to the past. It only served to open the door wider, inviting Damien in. Almost every news station reported our story and the Internet went crazy as videos from the show were watched, liked, and shared thousands of times. I had to stop watching TV and reading the papers to keep from going mad.

At last, by some sheer miracle, I make it through security and into the visitors’ room. Damien is already waiting on the other side of the glass, his chin covered in stubble, his hair disheveled. When he sees me, he picks up the handset.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” His blank eyes crinkle at the corners as he gives me a weak smile. “I never expected to see you again.”

At hearing his words, a coolness settles on my spine. The same words Judson had used when I first visited him in prison what seems like a lifetime ago.

“I only came to tell you that I tried to get the charges dropped. It didn’t work.”

“Good. This isn’t something you can stop from happening.”

“I get that now. And I respect your decision, but you should know that I meant everything I said on the show. You hurt me deeply, but the person I saw in you the few days before Judson showed up, was a good man. That’s why I choose to forgive you.”

He nods with a smile. “You have no idea how much that means to me. Unfortunately, the law is not as forgiving, and I’m okay with that.” Silence falls between us before he talks again. “Am I really the father of your child?”

“I did the paternity test. Reese is your daughter.”

“Our daughter.” His eyes glint with pride. “You gave her a beautiful name.”

“Thanks. It’s my grandmother’s. I’m glad you like it, Damien.”

“I know this is selfish of me but I have to ask.” He runs a hand over his head, causing even more of a mess. “Is there a chance I can see her again?”

I’ve been expecting the question and dreading it. It’s one thing for me to forgive Damien but quite another to allow him access to Reese. On the other hand, I don’t feel comfortable denying him a relationship with his daughter.

“Can I have a few days to think about it?”

“Yes, of course. That’s more than I can ask.” He places his hand on the glass this time. “I promise to never break her heart . . . or yours again.”

I shift in my chair. “Damien, this doesn’t mean we’re together.”

“Are we friends at least?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think we can ever be just friends.” I glance at my left hand, at the empty ring finger. “I need to return your ring.”

“It’s yours. When I came to see you at the hospital, I planned to propose to you. I thought the birth of our child meant a new beginning for us. But I don’t blame you for not wanting a relationship with me right now. I fucked up.”

“What should I do with the ring?”

“Keep it. Maybe one day you’ll change your mind.”

I moisten my lips. “I don’t think—”

“Give it a couple of years, if you must, to think about it.”