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The way that he looks at me sometimes… it makes my mouth dry.
And my panties wet.
I’m so damn attracted to him. Just like almost every other female on this planet in love with superstar country music sensation River Winfrey. But there’s one huge difference.
Iknowthe real River Winfrey.
I know his kind nature. His loving heart. His attachment to his child.
Women admire him from a distance and think he’s hot. They want to sleep with him just to say they had a piece of him. And after tomorrow, he’s going to be on the road again. Thrown back into that environment where women openly offer him their bodies.
He has taken them up on their offers in the past. Scarlett is proof of that. And he’ll probably do it again, only more carefully.
I’m crushed because River is leaving and also heartbroken because tomorrow is the anniversary of the worst day of my life.
The day that my lifeless baby girl was born.
I go into my closet, fetch Sadie’s memory box from the top shelf, and return to bed. I haven’t opened this box once since she was born two years ago. I couldn’t bring myself to do it last year; I wasn’t ready. But I’m in a better place today. I can finally look at these keepsakes and find something besides heartache and grief in them.
Ultrasound pictures. Tiny inked footprints. Her nearly blank baby book. The crocheted white dress with matching cap that I had bought for her to wear on the day Brad and I brought her home from the hospital. So beautiful.
I’m holding Sadie’s dress when my phone rings. I instantly recognize the number. I may have removed his contact information a long time ago, but I will never forget that number.
Brad Mitchell.
What. The. Hell?
I debate answering the phone. I don’t want to talk to him. Don’t even want to hear his voice, but I fear that he’s calling after all of this time because something has happened to his parents or siblings. And I still love them. They are good people.
“Hello.”
“Hey Leigh-Leigh.” I once loved hearing him call me that, but now I despise it.
“Hey.”
“How are you?”
I don’t care about pleasantries. “Has something happened?”
“No. Everyone is fine. I’m calling because I just went by your apartment and found out that you were gone.”
“Yup.”
“I called NICU, and they said that you no longer worked at the hospital.”
“Sure don’t.”
“Where are you?”
I don’t want Brad to know anything about where I am or who I work for; my life is no longer his business. “Somewhere new.”
“Seriously? You aren’t going to tell me where you’re living?”
“We aren’t married anymore. I don’t have to tell you where I’m living or with whom.”
“You’re living with someone?” He sounds like that’s hurtful. That’s rich after everything he did to me.
“Why did you call? What do you want?”
