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"Tell me what this is about? Do you know him because he gave money to your school or something?" Lexi asks.
My eyes are still on the TV screen.
"Him," I say pointing to his photograph. "It's him."
"Him who?"
"Dane Westbrook. He's the man I didn't know. The man who is..." I close my eyes feeling faint.
"The man who what?"
"Lexi," I say, the words nothing but a whisper. "That's the man who got me pregnant. That man is Asher's father."Chapter SixHow fucking hard is it to keep the story from the news? To keep the facts on the down low? How fucking hard is it for a publicist and her entire team to keep the story of my impending death quiet?
It's bullshit, that's what it is.
"I have a million people harassing me every day, trying to get my money, laying claim to being my long lost cousin or some shit," I shout, my fist pounding on the desk in front of me. "You know how much time I have left, and this," I say, flinging my arms around the office. "This is not how I wanted to spend it."
My publicist Julie waves her hands frantically as if she keeps moving, the reality of the situation will change.
"I know, I'm so sorry Dane. We're gonna get right on it and try to clean up the story—"
"Clean up? Julie, everyone already knows. I'm a fucking hashtag. #adoptmedane. People are doing anything they can to get their hands on my money. It's disgusting."
"I know, I know it's not ideal—"
"Enough," I tell her, finished. "Get out of my office, Julie. I'm done with this. Don't come see me again unless you hear that I am at the top of the donor list and there is a kidney that matches mine."
I run my hands through my hair, as she scurries off, wondering why I'm not living out the rest of my days in a tropical paradise instead of in this cement dungeon determined to drag me down.
The last thing I want to do is deal with gold diggers.
And the one person I'm actually interested in hearing from hasn't come out of the woodwork. I haven't seen him in a decade, he's been on the run ever since he tried to get away with murder.
Well, he did get away with murder. I know he was the offender in the hit-and-run accident, but he went off the radar, and no one has seen or heard from him since.
And he is the one person who could save me.
He was always like that though, hiding in the dark, not wanting to live in the light.
My secretary, Carla, buzzes me on the phone. "Dane, there's a woman here to see you."
I sit down in my leather chair, letting my head fall back against the headrest, closing my eyes. With one finger I press the button to respond. "I'm done with the bullshit. Book me a trip to Tahiti. Or Jamaica. I don't fucking care. Just get me out of the city."
"Your doctor said no—"
"Okay, fine. I get it." I shake my head and try close my eyes again. It doesn't ease my mind though, my thoughts always return to the moment two weeks ago when my doctor told me my kidneys were failing, and that they couldn't save me. It's a rare genetic disease that has deteriorated my kidneys, and I must've gotten it from my parents. But since they died fifteen years ago I can't exactly ask what their DNA was to figure out who passed it on to me.
My phone buzzes again.
"I don't care what the doctor says," I growl.
"Right," Carla says slowly. "But about the lady here—"
"I don't want to see her."
I'm exhausted. Not just because I'm sick, I'm exhausted because I'm at the end of my life and what do I have to fucking show for it?
One night stands, a bunch of partying, friends who only know my name because they're hoping to get something from me? Not a whole lot of substance.
There's only one night that mattered to me in my whole goddamn life. Well, not even a night. An hour. The woman from the pool in Miami...
I should never have fucking walked away.
I only did because she assumed I was exactly the kind of man that I am. A player who wouldn't be good enough for her anyway.
But I still shouldn't have walked away. I should have stayed and tried to be a better man.
Though, the fact is I may have saved us both some heartache in the end. Not having anyone who loves me, means no one is really gonna give a fuck when I die.
The office line buzzes again. "Are you fucking kidding me?" I say.
"I know, sir, but she insists. She's coming in—" The door to my office opens.
In an instant everything changes.
It's like I let my mind wander back to that afternoon in Miami and the universe just opened up and dropped her into my life.
