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“After I saw how much finding out I was pregnant pushed you away, she became my hope.” She starts to cough again.
I lift the straw for her to take another sip. I’m filled with so much rage. I still question how this happened. I’ve never gone without protection with any woman other than Chloe. For the life of me, I still can’t remember that night.
I can drink with the best of them. It takes a lot for me to get wasted. I’ve never gotten so trashed I lose chunks of time and memory. I don’t do heavy drugs so that’s not a thought in the equation.
Yet, I can’t remember that night. I’ve tried. Once the blood tests came back and confirmed Chloe was mine, I tried to remember when this happened. Addison was the one to fill in the gaps.
It was the last trip she accompanied me on as my assistant. I had no choice but to take her, although reluctantly. Too many things were going wrong, and I needed her there to make sure the deal closed smoothly.
No one else knew the account as well as she did. She’d been by my side as I put the entire thing together myself. There was one night during the trip that I sat talking with a leggy redhead that caught my attention at the bar.
I remember a lot of the conversation, but at some point, I must have cut ties and gone to my room. I woke the next morning with a crushing headache, but I was alone. That I do remember.
According to Addison, we met at the bar, and I ditched the woman for her. This I don’t remember. When I asked her about me waking alone, since she has always tried to stay in my bed as long as she could. She told me we had a disagreement and she left.
Yet, things were fine for the rest of the trip. I don’t remember there being tension between us. Nor do I remember anything from that night past my conversation with the other woman at the bar. It’s not like me, which is why I’ve had DNA tests run several times.
I’ve had a team looking into what really happened that night. Footage from the hotel, the log for my room entries, anything that would help me understand how this happened.
“You still don’t believe she’s yours.” Addison’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. “She is, Gregor. Please don’t hold the things I’ve done against her.”
“Things you’ve done?” I narrow my eyes at her.
Her words come out sounding cryptic. My hackles go up. Finally, she’s going to tell me what I’ve been feeling in my gut—whatever it is I’ve felt she’s been leaving out for over two years.
“I should’ve known better,” she whispers.
Reaching out a hand, she looks at me hopefully. I drop my gaze to the offered hand. My anger tells me to leave it there. However, the doctor’s words encourage me to put my anger aside and comfort her.
I’m not a soulless man. I feel for Addison. Not as a lover, but as someone who knows she’s leaving her child behind. She’s been in pain this whole time, all while knowing she’d be leaving her little girl.
She opens her mouth as if she’s going to speak again, but her lips close. A smile takes over them and her fragile hand in mine goes lifeless.
“Addison,” I choke out. “Addison.”
I call out over the sound of the machines. I close my eyes against all my emotions. I have so many questions and still no answers. I stand completely lost. The mother of my daughter just passed away right before my eyes.
The bitterness returns. Addison fucked me right to the very end. I don’t feel like a bastard for my thoughts. I know Addison has just taken a secret to her grave.
A secret I need to know. I release her hand, turning to walk from the room. I’m numb inside.
I feel hollowed out. After this, I’m going to have two broken Chloes on my hands. Still, I’m fighting to breathe after Cee’s earlier words.
I left her behind with our child. I left her with no options. No choice but to get rid of a part of us.
Now this. I’m a man lost. So lost, I don’t remember sitting or having my daughter placed in my arms. I don’t remember making a phone call until the voice on the other end draws me back to reality.
“Gregor, honey?” My mother brings me out of my thoughts.
Looking at my watch, I twist my lips. It’s five in the morning in New York. I can hear the tiredness in her voice. I’m sure she had a late night with hosting the dinner party I cut out on. I clear my throat to make my request.
“I need your help. My world is falling apart. I need someone I trust to help me before it crumbles,” I murmur into the phone.
“I’m on my way,” she replies without a second thought.
We end the call and I get arrangements in order for her to come and join me. Looking down into my lap, my eyes water. My sleeping daughter rests so trustingly in my arms.
My other child never got to trust me. Why? Because I wasn’t trustworthy. I should have found another way. I should have given us a time line before I let her go.
