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I can’t still love him, can I?
“Katie,” he pauses, his hands jumping to my cheeks as the rain falls on us. “The day I left… that morning, I found out…Katie, I found out I had a daughter.”
Chapter 16
Gage
Katie’s mouth drops open. She stumbles back on her feet, but my hands are wrapped around her forearms before her knees give out.
I’ve pictured this moment for years. I’ve rehearsed how I would tell her about my daughter. I had the build-up all worked out.
In my fucked-up optimistic mind, we’d be having a drink or dinner, and I’d open up to her slowly.
She’d be naturally shocked, but in time understanding would replace that.
Thunder claps above us as her eyes seek out mine. I see the plea in them. It’s the same plea that was there the day I told her I couldn’t marry her.
Back then, I couldn’t find the words to tell her that I had a child.
“What?” she asks, staring at me like I’ve grown a second head. Confusion doesn’t even begin to describe her expression.
“I’ll explain all of it.” I look up when another blast of thunder echoes over Manhattan. “Let’s go back inside.”
Her gaze darts to the windows of Tin Anchor. People have been ducking inside in a steady stream to escape the rain. It’s more crowded now than when we left a few minutes ago.
“I can’t go back inside.” Her arms shake beneath my touch. “I can’t think in there.”
“There’s a coffee shop around the corner,” I suggest because I can’t let her walk away without the full story.
You don’t throw something like this at someone without a foundation of understanding.
“I should go home.” She tries to tug her arms free. “I have to think.”
“I have to explain,” I counter. “We can get a coffee and talk.”
Her gaze drops with a shake of her head. “I can’t be around people right now.”
The office in the back of my bar is private and secluded, but it’s uncomfortable. I’m not going to talk to Katie about why I left her while we’re sitting in two folding metal chairs with an old air conditioner unit humming noisily beside us.
“We can go to my apartment,” I suggest knowing that it’s a ridiculous idea. “I live three blocks from here.”
Studying my face, her brows pinch together. “Your apartment?”
I tighten my grip on her arms out of fear that she’ll bolt if I let go. “Just to talk. I’ll make us coffee. I’ll explain about Kristin.”
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Her bottom lip trembles. “Kristin?”
Fuck. Just fuck.
I’m throwing too much at her at once, and there’s no place for her to hide. She bats her long eyelashes as the rain showers her face.
“My daughter,” I clarify. “Kristin.”
“That’s a pretty name,” she whispers. “Is she pretty?”
I see her resolve break right before me. Tears stream down her face with the raindrops, melding together before they fall from her chin.
