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“Calm down and tell me what’s wrong.”
“I need to tell you something. You’re going to hate me.”
“I could never hate you.” More silence. “Just spit it out…is it Ben?”
“It’s Ashley.” More silence, then hysterics.
“Talk to me, please,” I urge.
“She has leukemia.”
“Okay, we have some of the best doctors here in Los Angeles. I can get her help.”
“You don’t understand. She needs a bone marrow transplant, and I’m not a match.”
“What about Ben?”
“Luke, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me for what I’m about to tell you.” She sobs through the phone.
“Baby, I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me?”
“Luke, Ashley is yours.”
It’s like someone just punched me in the gut, and all the air is sucked from my lungs. My mind is reeling, going back to that night, the night we didn’t use protection.Fuck!
“Luke?”
“I’m confused. Are you saying Ashley’s my daughter?”I've always known it was possible.
“I’m so sorry. You must hate me, but Ashley needs you…please.” I’m stunned into a state of shock. “Our daughter needs you,” she whispers.
Our daughter. My daughter.
I’m silent for what seems like hours. “Luke, please.”
“I’ll be there.” I hiss into the phone before hanging up. I lean back in my black leather chair, holding my chest. For the second time in my life, my heart is ripped out and shredded by the same person.
Sarah
Iwas a mess yesterday after the phone call to Luke. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, but today is a new day, and I need to get my shit together. I need to be strong for Ashley because she is the only thing that matters in my life, and I can’t allow myself to fall apart. Luke said he’d be here, and that’s all that matters.
I trust him.
He must hate me, and I can’t blame him. I’d hate me. I’m sure it was shocking hearing from me after all these years, and quite a blow to the gut when I told him he had a daughter.
When Ashley started getting sick, we didn’t know what was wrong with her. I took her to a specialist near Houston, and they performed a battery of tests until they finally diagnosed her with leukemia. After trying various treatments, The doctors said she required a bone marrow transplant, so they tested me right away. I was not a match. That’s when the fear for my daughter’s life became real.
Ben was home on leave, and gladly agreed to be tested, but when the results came back, he was not a match either. In fact, the doctors told him it was impossible for him to be Ashley’s father, considering his blood type. The day Ben received his results, telling him he was not Ashley’s father, is etched into my brain like a bad dream. He cornered me in the hospital corridor, informing me that his DNA alleles, though similar, did not match Ashley’s. I was in a state of shock. Sort of.Apparently so was he, because the anger on Ben's face was more than I could bear.
He’d never laid a hand on me in all the years we were together, but at that moment, I instinctively brought my hands up to cover my face, because I knew I deserved it. A burst of air wafted across my face as his fist slammed into the hard concrete wall behind me, and then he was gone. Since the incident, I’ve spoken to him only to give him updates on Ashley. I need to face him, but first I need to tell Ashley the truth. I’m sure she’s going to hate me too, but it’s time for honesty, no matter the consequences.
I finish baking the muffins at Beans and Buns, the cafe I own with my friend, Harper. After the divorce, I needed something in my life, and baking had always been my escape, so I persuaded my best friend to take a chance with me. Four years later, we have a blossoming, quaint little place where you can get caffeinated and indulge in things like cinnamon buns and freshly baked muffins.
“Morning, honey, sorry I’m late. Matty’s home sick from school today.” My best friend since high school comes bursting through the door, her usual bubbly self. She’s also a single mom, and Matty is the most adorable six-year-old boy you could ever meet.
“Do you need to be home with Matty?”
“No, sweetie, I dropped him off at my mom’s, no worries.” She waves me off and dashes into the back to put on her apron. “You go see that baby girl of yours. I got this,” she mutters walking past me, then stops short with scrutinizing eyes. “What’s wrong? You’re a hot mess. Is Ashley okay?”
