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Which was nice of him, I suppose.
But at the same time, I couldn’t just rest and relax at home.
The whole time, I was a ball of anxiety, trying to figure out Zane’s next steps. What would he do next? Hire lawyers to fight for custody? Could he take Casey from us? God, I’d fucked up colossally. None of this would have happened if I never slept with him or let him drive me home. And I couldn’t tell my parents what I’d done because they would die.
I had nothing to do to distract myself from the anxiety. So I simply sat at home, biting my nails until there was nothing left.
The only person who noted my mood was Casey. One day, I was sitting on the couch, and he came to sit down and bounce next to me.
“What’s got you gloomy, scooby?” he asked.
I smiled despite my worry. “Is that one of your new catchphrases?”
“Yeah, I got a whole list.” As he bounced again, his sleeve moved, and I saw a bruise on his arm.
“Who did that?” I asked, a wave of protective anger surging through me. “Really, Casey.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he insisted as he moved his arm away, rolling his sleeves down.
“Who?” I sat up.
Casey shook his head. “Don’t ask. You’ll only make it worse.”
Then, he smiled. “Don’t worry. I’m getting too good at karate. Pretty soon, I’ll kick their ass back.”
“Casey, this isn’t funny,” I started saying and then glanced out the window only to let out a little squeak of surprise.
“What? What’s wrong?” Casey asked, but I couldn’t answer.
Because Zane Kazan was walking up the driveway.
8
ZANE
It took me a few days to decide what I wanted to do.
When I left Charlotte in the break room, fury didn’t come close to describing the storm raging inside me. I controlled long enough to bark out a list of instructions to the manager Keith as I left.
Another employee—a woman with blonde hair curled in perfect coifs—caught up to me once I was in the parking lot. Charlotte’s friend.
“Sir!” I heard her cry out behind me. “Are you leaving already?”
I ignored her. I could barely speak through the emotion choking in my throat. I got into my car, clenched my fists against the wheel, and shut my eyes.
By the time I opened it again, the girl was gone, and I was blissfully alone.
At this point, I shouldn’t be disappointed by people anymore. I should have gotten used to being disappointed, knowing that at any fucking time, anyone could stab me in the back. I’d seen it happen enough times, so I no longer doubted the fucking veracity of it. The more you cared about someone, the more likely they were to fuck you over.
And despite everything, I did like Charlotte. She was little Charlotte, a nice, friendly girl who stunk of innocence.
Which only made it right that she would be the one to deliver a fucking blow like this.
I took a deep breath and collected my thoughts. This wasn’t about Charlotte.
I had a son.
A boy who must be around twelve years old, though he looked much older than his age. A boy who didn’t know I even fucking existed, much less that I was his father.
