Page 97 of Forbidden Desire

“I will. Thank you.”

I hang up and look down at Josie, who is tugging at my pant legs, begging me to come play with her. At least one of us is blissfully unaware of what is happening. I’m glad it’s her.

“Okay, little one. I’m all yours.” I smile down at her.

We play on the living room floor, listening to music as she dances with the oversized penguin that Marco bought her at the zoo. She’s obsessed with it. Almost as much as she was with him. I wonder if I’m harming her in some way by taking him away from her, or if she’s too young to understand. I hope it’s the latter.

When her late afternoon naptime rolls around, I carry her to her room as she rubs her eyes trying to fight sleep. I lay her down in her crib and sing her a lullaby that lulls her to sleep. I watch her for a few minutes, finding comfort in her breathing, knowing she’s here with me. This might not be forever. And it’s all my fault.

I slip out of her room, and walk to the living room, picking up toys as I go and putting them in their designated baskets along the wall. I plop down on the couch tiredly and turn on the TV, hoping for some sort of distraction. As I skim through the channels, I land on one of those daytime talk shows and laugh at the irony on my screen. They’re doing a live paternity test, trying to rule out the potential fathers of the woman on stage. I laugh at the cruelty, changing the channel. Nothing’s on. I shut the TV off and toss the remote aside.

Closing my eyes, I lay down, welcoming the wave of exhaustion that’s hit me, knowing that sleep will be the only escape from today and the mess that is my life. Two hours go by and I’m woken up by Josie’s babbling from her crib. I pull myself sleepily from the couch, grateful for the dreamless sleep I had, and walk over to her room to nurse her. Once she’s fed and happy, I bring her to the living room and set her up with a show to watch.

I check the time. It’s nearly 6 o’clock. I know I should have called April earlier to let her know that I had delivered the custody papers, and that there is a very slim chance Marco will sign them. In fact, he told me he wouldn’t. I just want to know what the next steps are. I make a note to call her in the morning, knowing that even a phone call is going to cost me. I swallow at the thought of how much I’ve spent already, knowing it’s nothing in comparison to if this thing goes to court.

Is it even worth the fight?I ask myself that as I begin to pace my apartment. If Marco refuses to sign, which it seems likely, then we will go to court. He’s going to bring the best of the best to represent him. Even without the best lawyers, April made it clear that his chances of gaining custody were high given the circumstances.

One, I lied to him, keeping his daughter from him for a lengthy period of time. Two, he makes a significant amount of money compared to me. The comparison between our salaries is laughable. He would be able to provide Josie with a life beyond most anyone’s dreams.

It makes me want to run away, take Josie with me and move somewhere else where no one could find us. I could start over somewhere, maybe on the West Coast, far away from here. We could have a nice, quiet life.

It’s a nice thought, but at the same time, I refuse to let Marco control my life. I refuse to let him win. Pushing my feelings aside for him, I try to see the situation for what it is. I’m a mother trying to protect her daughter, trying to keep her in my lifewhere she rightfully belongs. I know I won’t lose custody, but even partial custody terrifies me.

That means split time. That means not being able to kiss her goodnight every night. Not being able to wake her up every morning. Not spending every Christmas with her. Not hearing her laugh every day. Not being there for every milestone to come. My heart feels like it’s being squeezed of any feeling, and it takes everything in me not to fall to the floor.

I look at Josie, who is already looking at me curiously. I refuse to give up. I start pacing my apartment, racking my brain for good reason why Marco shouldn’t be a part of her life. Reasons I can present to a judge, if it comes down to it. The reasons I come up with are far outweighed by why heshouldbe in her life. I’ve seen it myself, though I hate to admit it. He loves this little girl. How could he not? She’s stolen his heart, just like she has mine. He’s a part of her, just as I am.

My phone buzzes from my coffee table, breaking me from my thoughts. I walk over hesitantly and see an unknown number calling.This is it,I think to myself. This is when I find out if I’m in for the fight of my life for my daughter. I take a deep breath and answer.

Chapter 46

Marco

The room around me fades in and out of view, as I try hard to will it to stay still from my seat on the couch. The bottle I started on earlier today is almost empty as my eyes focus in on it, its top clenched in my fist. From the side of my eye, my phone lights up with another notification, but I ignore it. I doubt I can read whatever is on the screen anyway. I can barely focus on my living room.

It’s probably Jessica letting me know what happened in my absence today, but I don’t care. I don’t care if I pissed off partners or screwed potential business deals. None of it matters. At least right now. I’m perfectly numb, thanks to the copious amount of whiskey I’ve drank today.

I take another sip. I’m used to the burn by now as it slides down my throat. I lean my head back against the couch and stare up at the ceiling that looks like it’s painted in watercolor pastels as thesun sets outside the large windows of my living room. I’ve been at this for hours, ever since I left the zoo. I groan slightly, feeling the whiskey begin to make my head throb.

“This is your fault,” I whisper up toward the sky.

I think of my father as the words slur from my lips. I know he’s not up there looking down at me. He’s probably where he belongs, and has no interest in me. Still. I laugh bitterly at the thought.

I can picture his face, his dark brown eyes that I inherited. That Josie inherited. They were always dark though, like a storm was churning within them and he was ready to lash out like lightning at any moment. That’s why I don’t see him in Josie. Her eyes are light. Kind. Happy. Hopeful.

Emotions that never reached his eyes, just like his smile never did. His smile was more of a grimace, rare to see and even more uncomfortable than the frown that was usually plastered across his face. The frown that told me he didn’t like me, let alone love me. The frown that told me I would never be good enough for him. The frown that I made the impossible mission of changing into a smile.

It didn’t matter how hard I tried, even from a young age, playing catch with my mother in the backyard, so I could get better at T-ball. He never even came to a game, but I always hoped he would. I played like he was there, taking it more seriously than any other four-year-old on the team. While they were pulling at the grass, I was going after every ball, running every base sohard that my knees hurt, looking to the stands to see my mother alone cheering her heart out. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make up for his absence. Even that young, I learned that none of what I did mattered.

That absence continued through the years, creating a black hole in me that continued to grow like a sickness spreading. I was consumed by my emptiness, trying desperately to fill it. It only made me try harder, thinking the next good thing I did would be the thing that would get him to notice me. He never did.

I often wonder if I had been a mistake. An accident that he wasn’t asking for, though my mother would never admit that to me. I can’t imagine it was easy on her, raising me practically on her own, while trying to make up for a loveless father. How she didn’t grow tired of pretending there was a chance he would show to my games or my academic ceremonies or birthday parties is beyond me. The smile she kept on her face took more strength than most have.

It’s probably why my mother and I are so close, and why I am so protective of her. I owe her everything I have in life. But I owe my father too. Because without his lack of love, I never would have fought so hard to earn it, leading me to this life. While I didn’t end up earning his love, or even his acknowledgment, I did earn my business. My billions. Even if he was here now, he’d probably tell me I could be doing more.

I take another swig from the bottle, holding it up to see that it’s the last one. I frown at it, but something catches my eye just beyond the bottle. I suck in a gasp as my eyes focus on it. It’s not something. It’ssomeone.

“What the hell?” I whisper, as my father stands before me. He has that familiar frown as he leans against the wall, looking at me. He’s in the suit he was buried in. I blink a few times, trying to rid this impossibility from view. I must be drunker than I thought.

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