Page 11 of Dirty Little Secret
Sitting on my bed, I found myself thinking about that night. I’d had no idea she was a virgin until she told me so. I’d been hot for her, but when I’d heard that softly-spoken confession, my cock had taken over completely.
I’d never had a virgin before. Not that I’d even had that many girls at seventeen—I’d had three, to be exact.
If I’d been more mature, I wouldn’t have taken her virginity that night. I would’ve done things differently. Maybe spent that night talking more and kissing less. Maybe I would’ve taken her on a few dates before even going past first base.
If I could go back in time, I often wondered if I would do it all over again. After all, if things had gone differently, I wouldn’t have Fox, and he was my entire world. Would I have ruined that young girl’s life to have my son?
Would I have taken that sweet cherry away from her if I’d known that she would get pregnant and that her parents would react as they had?
Shaking my head, I knew I wouldn’t do that to her again if I could go back. If I’d only known how much that two hours of passion would take away from her, I wouldn’t have done it.
My heart began to ache a bit. With no idea how Zandra had fared after all of that, I wondered from time to time what she was doing with her life.
Being a doctor, I knew what the loss of a child could do to a person. Even if she’d wanted to give our son up, that decision could’ve had some serious repercussions on her mental state. Every woman reacted to that decision differently.
Is she okay?
Had she moved on with her life? Had she gotten married? Had more children?
With no idea what Zandra Larkin, or whatever her name was now, was doing, I had no way of knowing how having our son had affected her. All I knew was that if I hadn’t ended up with our son, then I wouldn’t have been okay.
I’d gotten lucky. I had family who believed that blood ran thick. We would never give one of our own away. Come hell or high water we’d do everything we could to keep our family together and safe.
Our families were clearly very different. Hers had made her give up the baby. Mine had searched relentlessly until they found him and made him ours.
What would it do to a person to have their own blood turn on them like that—to not only not support them through a difficult time, but to actively make them give the baby they’d carried inside of them away to strangers?
I knew that some babies were better off with adoptive parents. Some people just didn’t have the capacity to care for a child. And there were others who were more than capable of caring for that baby. But in those cases, the biological mother and father came to that decision.
I’d been left out of the decision. And for all I knew, Zandra had been left out of it too.
Before we knew whether we’d be able to get my son, I’d felt empty and lost. Afterward, the relief of knowing he’d be with me forever—that he’d have a loving family for the rest of his life—had been the best feeling ever. Sure, there was the underlying fear that I wouldn’t be such a great father, but I knew I had great role models and that my family would help me learn along the way.
Poor Zandra clearly didn’t have that same support system. How would that have made her feel? And how would she feel about that, so many years later?
And most of all: is she okay?
