Page 197 of Fame & Rhythm

“What does that mean?” I ask, my eyes snapping to Mum.

“It means there were too many men to choose from,” Mum says bluntly.

I look back at Loretta.

Her expression tells me everything I need to know.

“So I’m never going to know who my biological father is?” I ask.

She shakes her head.

I nod slowly, tightening my grip on Aston’s hand.

“Okay,” Dad says gently, stepping in. “That’s enough for today. Let’s not overload Annie.”

He guides Mum toward the chairs, and I follow with Aston, needing the solid reassurance of his presence beside me. Ella stays near the wall, her back pressed against it, her arms wrapped around herself.

Loretta paces the hallway, her perfume thick in the air, clinging to everything.

I don’t know what to think about her.

She seems… genuine.

But she’s also a self-confessed junkie.

And I can’t stop the thought from creeping in.

Was she using when she was pregnant with me?

I push it away before it can take hold.

“Loretta Banks?” a nurse calls.

Loretta looks at me, smiling again, then follows the nurse inside.

We’re left waiting. Ella still hasn’t moved.

Dad is quietly talking to Mum, trying to calm her down, while Aston and I sit side by side in silence.

“How are you doing?” he murmurs. “That was a lot.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah… it was. But at least I’m getting answers.”

Even if I don’t like them.

“There’s so much more I want to ask her,” I continue, my voice quieter now. “But it’ll have to wait. I’m not getting my hopes up. I don’t want my heart broken if she isn’t my mum…” I pause, exhaling. “But even if she is… I don’t know if I want her to be.”

Aston’s hand slides over my back, warm and steady. “I know, baby,” he says softly. “But I’m here. Every step of the way. Always.”

He presses a kiss to the back of my head, pulling me into him, and I let myself lean into the comfort of it, just for a moment.

Then I glance over at Ella, who looks like she’s barely holding herself together.

“I’ll be back,” I whisper to Aston before standing, and I walk over to her slowly.

“Hey,” I say gently. “You’ve been really quiet. Are you okay?”

She looks at me, her eyes glassy, like she’s holding everything back by a thread. “Your mum came back for you,” she says, her voice cracking. “Mine didn’t.”