Page 12 of Forgotten Desires

He laughs softly. “So, any husband? Boyfriend? Kids?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’ve been finishing up law school, helping my family get their lives together, and caring for the animals I have on my sanctuary. You?”

His body stiffens just a little and now I’m even more focused. “I got married, and divorced, she’s a . . . well, it wasn’t amicable, to say the least. The only good thing that came out of that mess was my daughter. She’s four, her name is Layla.”

I was prepared not to like his answer, but for some reason, I’m not as upset as I thought I’d be. “Layla is a beautiful name.”

“She’s literally the reason I exist anymore.”

“I told you back then that kids are everything in this world.”

He smiles. “You were right. Want to see a photo?”

I nod.

Crew pulls back a little, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. “Here, this is her.”

The photo shows the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever seen. She has Crew’s ice blue eyes and her hair is the softest blond. “Oh, she’s gorgeous. I bet she’s the most spoiled girl on the planet.”

He inhales deeply. “She is. She’s perfect and I love her. I’m actually starting a custody battle.”

“You are?”

“Her mother is a raging alcoholic who is more focused on her own needs than Layla’s. Layla cries when I have to take her home, and the nanny said the other day, after her day off, she found her wearing the same clothes she left her in.”

My heart sinks. “Oh God. I’m so sorry.”

Crew knows about my childhood. How my father, Howie, hit my mother and would rough me up a little, and that we left to escape his abuse. He, too, was an alcoholic and had no desire to get sober. It wasn’t until I was an adult that he finally started to change. It’s a daily battle for him, one that he lost again about a year ago. But he’s sober again, and now, more than ever, he needs to stay that way.

The music ends and we step apart, not sure where to go from this point. As he opens his mouth, his phone rings. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

He steps over to the side of the room, and I make my way toward my seat. Crew gets there around the same time as me. “Is everything okay?”

“No, I have to go. I’m . . . I’d like to have coffee or something. Talk more.”

There’s a big part of me that wants to say yes. To fall back into that safe place where Crew and I existed, but there’s no point. His life and mine are in completely different stratospheres.

“I don’t know if . . .”

“Don’t say no,” he says quickly. “Here, this is my card. Call if you ever want to. I understand if not. But, fuck, I hope you call.” Then he lifts his hand and brushes my cheek with his thumb. “I really want to see you again, Bee.”

Then, just like he did ten years ago, he leaves, and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.

four

CARSON

“You’re kidding! It washer?” Ford Warner, my best friend and right-hand man, asks as we’re eating takeout in my office.

“It was her.”

“So what happened?”

I lean back, dropping my fork and feeling like a hundred times the asshole I am. “I showed up, we danced, talked, and I gave her my card.”

“Your card?” he asks with a laugh. “Smooth.”

“I got a call from the nanny and needed to get to Layla. I didn’t have time for much else.”

---