“I can’t imagine,” Becca says. “I feel like I’d talk to him again just to see the baby again.”
I think about that. Because yes, I’ve thought about that. The longing to see Bentley again is like a hole in my chest. An ache, not just love. Like we needed each other. But it isn’t just that. It’s Zane too. There’s no way I can see him and not want him as well. In a different sense, of course. But just as deeply.
We finish our food and drinks while talking about lighter subjects, getting to know each other outside of work. And by the time we are getting ready to go, we feel like old friends. As crazy as that might seem.
“Well, girls, it’s been a blast,” Hannah says, hugging each of us.
“I agree,” Becca says, giving me a hug, too. “Let’s do it again.”
“Totally,” I say.
“Us girls gotta stick together,” Becca says, and I smile.
“Chicks before dicks, always,” Hannah says, and we all laugh because it is a very not Hannah thing to say.
As I part from the other girls and head towards my car, I pass several other restaurants and bars. This street is one of my favorites as far as food and drinks go, and I was glad when Hannah picked it. The only problem is parking. It’s not always easy to find a spot. But honestly, I don’t mind the walk.
I am about to turn the corner when someone calls my name.
“Ashlyn?”
It’s a woman’s voice. A voice I don’t recognize even when I turn around to face the girl who is hurrying towards me.
“I’m not following you, I swear,” she says as she stops in front of me. She’s about my age, and she’s wearing all black. She has what looks like a camera case.
“I’m sorry I’m not doing photos,” I say, recognizing the paparazzi garb anywhere.
“I don’t want photos. I want to talk,” she says, but I turn away.
“I’m not doing any press,” I tell her.
“I’m not a reporter,” the girl says, but I’m already walking. “I’m Nikki.”
With that, I stop.
“I just…I want to talk,” she says, and I turn back around.
We go inside a little cantina with a very open and comfortable vibe. She orders a beer and I order an iced tea.
“How did you know where to find me?” I ask.
“I hate to say it, but it wasn’t hard. You’re all over the media,” she says. “And when I saw that you quit the paparazzi industry and were working at a daycare, I was curious if it was the daycare Bentley goes to. So I actually looked up the daycare because I was thinking about him.”
“You wanted to see him again?” I ask.
Nikki chews her lip. “He’s still my son.”
I nod, though I don’t understand how someone could give up a child is foreign to me.
“Anyways,” she goes on, “I wasn’t going to go inside or anything. Even if I saw him from afar, just to know that he’s okay, I wouldn’t want him to see me.”
“Zane is taking really good care of him,” I tell her.
“I know,” she says. Then she sets the camera on the table. When she opens it up, I realize it’s the one Deborah gave me. The one I mailed back.
“So it was you,” I say.
“Yeah,” she nods.
