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I heard knocking on the front door, I removed my apron and went to answer. It might have only been several hours, but it was too long without seeing his handsome face. Especially after what we shared last night.
Opening the door, his expression was way too serious. So I opted to greet him playfully, “Hello, Mr. Sexy. Dinner or dessert first?”
His demeanor didn’t change. “MaKayla, we need to talk.” His tone was so serious it scared me.
Oh, God. He regrets last night.
“Okay. Why don’t you come inside, and we can talk,” I said. But as he entered, I realized that he wasn’t alone. “Mom, I didn’t know you were coming,” I said in shock.Thank goodness I didn’t listen to Jenny and answer the door in my bra and thong.
“As Damien said, we need to talk,” she replied.
Nothing about this sounded good. One could hope that Damin was here to confess his love and wanted my mother to witness it. But the mood in the room said I might need a drink shortly after.
“Why don’t we all go sit in the living room,” I suggested.
“I’m not actually staying. I just drove your mother here,” Damien said.
Mom reached out and grabbed his arm. “Stay. I need you to be here for...MaKayla.”
My heart skipped a beat. “Mom, you’re scaring me.”
Damien said, “MaKayla, let’s sit and let your mother talk. It will be okay. I’m here if either of you needs me.”
As referee or as support?
Sitting down I waited for someone to speak. But the room was dead silent. “Anyone want me to make coffee or tea?” Not that I wanted any, but sitting here was driving me crazy.
“No. I just don’t know where to start,” mom stated.
“Mom, it doesn’t matter where you start. Just start because you are scaring me,” I stated.
“I’m sorry. That's the last thing I want to do. Okay, let me first tell you that Damien found your family,” she said.
I looked at her, then at Damien. He nodded, and I looked back at her. “I...didn’t know you knew he was looking,” I stated.
“I didn’t at first, but he has a way of getting a person to open up even though you don’t want to,” she stated.
Don’t I know it?
“So, who is my father?” I asked, having waited twenty-five years to hear the name.
“Michael Morse.”
“Michael Morse. What was he like?” I asked.
“What I had told you was true. He was a man who loved you dearly. But he had an evil father who abused him terribly. Michael did everything he could to protect us from him. That included sending us to Canada and creating new identities.”
“What do you mean? My name is not MaKayla?”
She shook her head. “It is now, but you were born as Mychelle, named after your father.”
Mychelle.I liked the name, but oddly, I felt no connection to it like I would’ve thought I would.
“And you changed my name to protect me?”
“Protect us. My real name is Lenia,” she stated.
“Where did you get the name, Venus?” I asked. It was not a name I had heard before.
