AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I lean back against the dresser, my ankles crossed in front of me. “Tell me what happened.”
“The same thing that always happens.” She drags her fingers down her face, pulling at her tired eyes. “I realize that no matter how old I get, I’m always going to wonder why my dad didn’t love me enough to stick around.”
“You don’t need to wonder. I know why.”
Her blue eyes widen. “Why?”
“Because he’s an idiot.”
She smiles and rolls her eyes. “I wouldn’t have been all that surprised if you’d actually had a real answer. If anyone could get my dad to admit the truth, it would be you. You always know how to handle things.”
“It’s my job.”
“It’s supposed to be mine, too. I mean, I’m a mom. Moms are supposed to have all the answers. They’re always supposed to know what to do.” She blows out a breath, a strand of hair lifting off her forehead. “I never know what’s right. I’ve been making it up for five years, muddying through and hoping I’m not destroying Yuliana.”
I think about the mess of chestnut curls and wide green eyes I met yesterday and instantly shake my head. “You didn’t destroy her. She’s perfect as she is.”
“Yeah, she is.” Rayne smiles at the floor, her eyes glazing over as she thinks of our daughter. Then her expression turns brittle. The light in her flickers and dims. “Keeping her a secret from you wasn’t something I did because it was easy, Kirill.”
“Obviously not. I would have made things a hell of a lot easier on you.” Starting with getting the two of them in a decent house and putting Yuliana in the best school.
“I know,” she says. “I knew it then, too. At first, I was hurt. I wasn’t trying to be cruel, but you left me behind like it was nothing. A small part of me thought it served you right not to know about her.”
“What happened between us should never have gotten between me and my daughter.”
She nods. “I know. I do. It just… as more time passed, it got harder to consider telling you. First, I had no clue where you were.”
“You could have found me.”
“Yeah, but what if I looked you up and you were dead?” she asks. “Or what if you sold everything you owned and moved to Malaysia?”
“Do you think that’s something I’d do?”
She gives me a weak smile. “I don’t know. Ididn’tknow. So it was easier to imagine you were in New York, carrying on as you always have. That if I really needed to get in touch with you, you’d be there. That fantasy felt safer than looking for the reality and discovering you’d never be part of the picture.” Rayne reaches over and grabs my hand. Her fingers twine through mine, moving gently like she’s afraid one false move will shatter the entire moment. “It’s the same way I feel about talking to my dad. I want to, but part of me thinks not knowing why he could leave me behind so easily is better than getting answers.”
“Don’t ask until you’re ready then. Give it time.”
She looks over at me, her blue eyes glassy. “There isn’t time. That’s why we came to visit, actually. He’s sick.” Her face falls. “He’s going to see another oncologist tomorrow, but every doctor so far has given him weeks at most. It’s the end.”
Still holding onto my hand, she falls back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling. Her shirt lifts up, revealing a flash of her stomach. I see the same silvery scars I noticed the night we were on the dance floor at the bar. Realization washes over me.
“Stretch marks.” I reach out and brush my finger over her hip and around her waist. “I wondered what these were that night at the bar. Makes a whole lot more sense now.”
“The lotions they sell to stop stretch marks are bullshit,” she grumbles. “I used it three times per day and I still have them.”
She moves to tug her shirt down to cover them, but I bat her hand away. “You got these from carrying my child. They’re perfect.”
“Yeah, okay,” she says, clearly not believing me. “Your child also scratched my face when she was two and gave me the other scar you noticed that night.”
I cup her cheek in my hand, brushing my thumb over the indentation on her jawline. “Yuliana did that?”
Rayne tucks her chin, still trying to hide from me. When will she understand there is nowhere she can hide? When will she understand she doesn’t have to?
“She had a bit of a temper. Wonder where she got that from?” She makes accusatory eyes at me.
“That one could have come from either of us, actually.”
“Probably both,” she chuckles.
