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If she even wanted to be seen in such a plebeian neighborhood.
When the voices in her mind got too loud, she repeated much of it to Carmela, who listened, and then said, “You sound like a reverse snob,” she said.
Yeah, maybe she did. But... “You can see it happening, though, can’t you? There’s a good chance.”
“It’s possible he won’t want to have anything to do with her,” Carmela said. “A good chance he’d just want to pay you off so that his family never found out about his trek to the common people—or his illegitimate child. You’d get to keep Stella all to yourself, and get financial freedom—enough to ensure that she gets whatever education she wants.”
She’d thought of that. Was already certain that she wouldn’t take a dime of Nolan’s payoff money for herself. But if he wanted to set up a trust for Stella...
“I don’t love the guy, Liz. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure I can’t stand him. But he has a right to know that he fathered a child.”
She was still debating that point. Would Nolan have wanted her to have the baby? Or would he have tried to force her to abort their fetus?
Carmella gave her hand a squeeze. “Stella’s going to want to know who her father is, hon. And when you tell her, you know she’s going to look him up. Want to contact him. Even if you tell her she can’t, she’d more than likely do it behind your back. He’s her father. A part of her.”
Yeah, yeah, Lizzie’d been there, too, during her mental battles. Knowing her daughter would need more someday. And every time she thought about it, she ended up at another dead end.
Oh, God. What was she going to do?
With a throat that felt thick with tears, she said, “Have you ever heard of joint parenting between an
überrich parent and a lower-middle-class parent working out?” she asked.
“Maybe in fairy tales,” Carmela said, her tone mellow now, too, her expression sad.
“And that’s when the princess is poor and secretly longs for a knight in shining armor to save her from the drudgery. But I’m not that. The thought of living a privileged life—having everyone paying attention to what you do, shining a light on any mistake you might make...having to do your hair every time you go out...having to live up to expectation, to keep up appearances, having to disguise yourself if you ever just want to feel regular, and doing things, accepting invitations, so as not to offend someone else important, not ever knowing that thrill you get when you earn enough money to buy something you really want—I’m not that.”
Her list went on and on. Most of it she’d learned when her mother’s high school friend returned to Chicago, but some were opinions she’d had strengthened through observations she’d made in life, too.
“I like being anonymous,” she said. “It gives me the freedom to truly make my own choices based on what my heart tells me. To live authentically. That’s what I want for Stella. To be able to truly follow her heart...not to have to live up to standards others set for her. That’s the only way she’ll be able to reach her true potential.”
“So what’s your heart telling you now?” Carmela’s words put a stop to the thoughts clamoring in Lizzie’s brain. Everything stilled. Almost. Everything but the fear.
Lizzie tried to listen to her heart. She’d been trying all day.
She took a deep breath and shuddered because...
“My heart tells me that I don’t want Stella to grow up with only one or two people—me or you—to catch her if she falls,” she said. “What if something happens to us?” She’d been an only child of a couple whose parents were all gone. “As you say, the Fortunes might not want her, but Nolan says he has a bunch of siblings. Stella has aunts and uncles. More than just one. She might have cousins. She has grandparents.”
Stella had a big biological family.
Exactly what Lizzie had always wanted most.
And didn’t have to give.
Chapter Six
Nolan gave every bit of energy he had to his sax, breathing his emotion into the instrument, telling himself that the music was all that mattered to him that night. He determined to be completely truthful to it, to let the notes evoke whatever part of him he had to give, to become one with the collaboration.
That’s why he was there—in Austin, onstage at all—so that the hidden, secret parts of him could know expression to the fullest. To give positive outlet to the passion bottled up inside of him.
He blocked out the crowd, the drinkers and the women milling around. Normally his music was for them. Tonight he was playing for himself.
A brief release. That’s all he needed. He’d give his full focus to others, be a top-notch contributor, the other fifty weeks of the year. He just needed a couple of weeks of unfiltered self-expression.
It was only between songs that he found himself scanning the audience for one specific brunette.
But she never turned up.
