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Before I know it, my eyes have closed and I’m dead to the world.
There’s a loud pounding in my head that won’t go away. It gets louder and louder and I roll over taking my pillow with me to cover my ears. The pounding stops and a few seconds later it starts again. This time it’s accompanied by muffled words. I pull the pillow off my head and listen.
“Asshole! Answer the door. There’s someone here to see you downstairs .”
My brain slowly processes what the person said and I grumble in my bed, trying to will myself to sit up. I definitely drank too much last night. I rub my eyes from the strong sunlight pouring into the room. I take a quick look at my watch and it tells me that it’s already past noon. Good thing I’m not expected at the bar tonight until six. But who the fuck would be downstairs for me? The entire time I’ve been in Washington I haven’t had any visitors or anyone from my old life in Michigan reach out to me. It also helps that I changed my number and didn’t leave a forwarding address. If this is some club hunnie trying to get an invitation to our next party, I’m about to give her an earful for waking me the fuck up.
I look down and try to flatten my shirt against my chest, my clothes are haphazard and wrinkled from falling asleep completely clothed. I make my way to the stairs and step over the bottles still lingering on the steps. As the downstairs comes into view, women are walking around with giant trash bags, working on cleaning up the place. There are a few of the brothers spread throughout the room in various states of undress, several with women draped beside them still snoring away, oblivious to the cleanup going on around them.
I walk to the other side of the room and step through the doorway which leads to the front of the clubhouse. The moment I get through the door and around the corner, I stop dead in my tracks. My eyes take in the woman standing with her back to me. Dark red hair that I’d recognize anywhere going halfway down her back. Dark jeans that look so tight they hug every curve she’s got and she’s got great curves. Curves that I haven’t seen in a year. Curves that I ran out on and tried to forget all about. She must feel my hard stare because in a flash she turns around and we’re staring at each other.
I take a tentative step towards her but she quickly puts up her hand, halting my feet instantly. “Viv. What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”
She puts her hands on her hips and slowly tilts her head to the side, assessing me. It feels like five minutes—but I’m sure it’s only been a few seconds. She opens her mouth to finally speak, but her eyes cut over my shoulder, and I can see her school her features. She puts on her best game face as several of the club hunnies strut past me, several touching my arm closest to them on their way out. One even tells megreat party Detroitas they make their way out the front door of the clubhouse. The whole time Vivian stands there taking it all in.
When the last one leaves and the door has closed behind them. She takes a step closer to me.“If it isn’t my baby daddy in the flesh.”
Her words funnel through my ears to my brain and it’s as if I’ve been electrocuted. My brain short circuits and the ground starts to get surprisingly close to my face. The next thing I know, it all goes to black.
Vivian
I haven’t seen Ellis in over a year. In fact, it’s been four hundred and eighty-five days since I’ve laid eyes on him. And to say that it’s been a challenging time since would be an understatement. The last night I saw him, I was at his townhouse. We had been sitting on the floor eating Chinese food when he got a call on his cell. At first, he ignored it, but then after the second call he relented and answered. He listened to the caller and only spoke in monosyllables. All the while, his face turned ghost white and the moment he hung up he was out the door as fast as he could get his shoes on. He didn’t even spare me a glance as he sped out the door. I waited for hours at his place, even going so far as to sleep there by myself.
When I woke up the next morning, I had no messages or missed calls on my phone and his side of the bed was cold. He never came home that night. Then he never came to work the next day. My calls and texts went unanswered. Two days later, I found out that his mother unexpectedly passed away. I did everything I could in those first few days to reach out to him. He resigned from work. He canceled his phone. He never went back to his townhome. I was at a loss. I even went to theRusty Wrenchto see if I could catch a glimpse of him. Nothing. I found nothing.
It wasn’t until seven weeks later that I became in desperate need to get ahold of him. I had missed my period. And since Ellis was the only person I had slept with in months, there was no doubt that he was the father. We had been fooling around for a few months at that point. Our disastrous one-night stand turned into a secret office romance. My father could never know that we were together, and since I wasn’t sure what we were calling our arrangement, I wasn’t ready to come clean and tell him that I was falling for my co-worker and subordinate.
When those two pink lines appeared, my entire life changed. I was alone and couldn’t find Ellis no matter how I tried to get ahold of him. I left notes on his front door to only return a few days later and find them still there, untouched. I reached out to every friend of his I knew and I started popping in at theRusty Wrenchto see if anyone had seen him. I got desperate at four months pregnant because I was starting to have trouble hiding the surprise under my shirt.
I turned to the internet, sleuthing every social media platform. I tried every search engine, checked every news article with his first and last name and left no stone unturned.I could not find him.I was determined to find him and let him know that I was having our baby. I wanted answers as to why he walked away from it all, from me. I needed to know if I was just a good time to him when I had caught real feelings and now that I was ever growing with a new life, my hormones were going off the charts.
When I hit six months, I had no choice but to tell my family and friends that I was having a baby. I came clean and explained to my dad everything that had happened—well almost everything. I left out all the hot sex and explained that Ellis was the father. He was adamant that we hire someone to find him. That he deserved to know that he had a child in the world and that he was expected to support that child. He also told me that I deserve to be treated with more respect and that if he really cared about me then he wouldn’t have just walked away.
I had a nagging feeling something wasn’t right, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. People do odd things when they’re grieving, and I knew from our brief few months together that Ellis’ mom was the only family he had, and she meant the world to him. He wouldn’t admit it but he was a total mama’s boy. Hell, I bet he would admit it if I had ever asked. The problem was I couldn’t ask because he had hightailed it out of town—never to be seen again.
Our baby was almost seven months old when I finally got the call I’d been waiting for. My dad phoned me immediately once he got news from the private investigator. He had been tirelessly working on finding Ellis for months. My dad informed me that he sent me everything that had been found to my email. He had softened once the baby had been born, but he was still furious that Ellis had walked out. It was a constant argument between my dad and me. I was still holding on to being sympathetic for Ellis. He didn’t know that I was pregnant when he left. Hell, I didn’t either. Dad saw it differently and we had to constantly agree to disagree.
With shaking hands, I pulled up my email and read over the three-page report the private investigator had put together. The more I read the more astonished I became. I couldn’t believe he had set up a new life for himself in Washington. It just didn’t seem like him—but maybe I didn’t really know him at all. Maybe I had only gotten to know one version of him and this was who he really was. When I clicked on the attachment and saw a photo of him standing by a Harley Davidson wearing a leather vest that said Prospect on the back, I had to cover my mouth to muffle the sob.
He was alive and well from the looks of the photograph. I didn’t realize how emotional I would be at seeing a photo of him. To see that he was out in the world living his life and not thinking about me for even a moment. I knew I needed answers—not only for myself but for our baby. One day they’d grow up and ask me about their daddy and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hadn’t tried as hard as I could to let Ellis know we had created a baby together. So I did what I had to do and I packed a bag, got on the next plane out of Detroit, and headed to the Evergreen State.
On the plane, I read over the file that the investigator had sent. I combed through it over and over, memorizing every detail. Halfway through the flight, I decided to write him a letter. I didn’t want it to be a complete shock that I showed up in his new life. I was still trying to be considerate, even though I’d come to the realization that he hadn’t been the least bit considerate of my feelings. So I wrote him a letter—not only for him—but for me.
Ellis,
You walked out of my life because another had ended. I know you had your reasons, and I’ve had mine in trying to track you down. I would like to meet with you and talk things over. I understand that you have a new life, but I just need a few minutes of your time.
Viv.
Once I got off the plane, I got a rental car and drove several hours to the address I was given only to find the iron gates closed. There was no phone number in the file, so I tucked the letter into the gate and walked away. I’d be back again tomorrow, and tomorrow would be the day that I come face to face with Ellis.
Detroit
I could hear muffled sounds and I blinked my eyes trying to clear my blurry vision and the fog. As my vision became clear I could see Vivian. Oftentimes, I saw her everywhere I looked. I’d see a flash of red hair and my heart would lurch to a stop, then the girl would turn around and it wouldn’t be Vivian. It never was. She was back home in Detroit. She was my one regret. She would always be the one who got away. She was the kind of girl once you had her—you should never let her go; I had done just that.
I wish I had never just walked out on her. The job, my house, all my personal belongings I could have cared less about—but her, she was a different story. I cared deeply about her. As more time went by, it became harder and harder to think about trying to reach out to her. Too much time had passed. I knew she probably hated me. I wouldn’t blame her. It was a total dick move to leave her how I did.
As I sit up, I continue rubbing my eyes. I can’t clear my vision. Vivian stands looking down at me less than three feet away. Several of my brothers have come into the room and are fussing over me, asking me if I’m alright. I shoo them all away all while never taking my eyes off of Viv standing there. She looks just as good as I remember her if not better. When the room clears out, it is only Viv and I and the silence that stretches out between us.
