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“You asshole!” I yelled, shoving him with both my hands and forcing him a few steps back. “Why the hell are you here?”

I could see a trace of anger shadowing his face, but it was subdued, as though he were struggling to conceal it. I knew the face well: gritted teeth, squinting eyes, flaring nostrils. He exhaled deeply, then continued. “I’m sorry, I— I got overwhelmed, that’s all. It’s just that I… well, I thought—”

“You thought what, Daniel?” I said, spitting out his name as though it were profanity. “What couldpossiblyhave compelled you to come here, to my place ofwork, of all places, and to grab me and kiss me without my consent?”

I had expected anger, or violence, and for a moment was almost glad this was where he’d chosen to accost me, with so many witnesses around—but then I saw something in his eyes shift. He wasn’t angry; he appeared to be on the verge of tears.

“Natalie, please forgive me, I… I just wanted you to know that I’m here for you.” And then, after a sharp inhale, he said, “For the both of you.”

I glared at him, dumbfounded. “Daniel, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Your daughter,” he said. Then, when I didn’t respond, he said with so much surety, “Ourdaughter.”

These two words suddenly hit me like a truck, and I felt as if I were fighting for my life. I struggled to remain upright, and language had all but escaped me. “I… I…”

“Natalie, there’s no use denying it. I ran into an old friend, Anastasia—I’m pretty sure she mentioned the two of you work together— anyway, I ran into her, and she told me you had a daughter, and that she’s just over four years old.” He paused, and exhaled dramatically. “Natalie, you think otherwise, but I’m not stupid. I know that around the time she was conceived, you were with me. Now, I’ll admit, I was a little angry when she told me this—that you didn’t even think to tell me I had a daughter, that you never let me build any kind of relationship with her—but I’m past that now. I’m here offering to start things fresh, to step in as the father I wish I could’ve been all these years.”

“No,” I managed. It was all I could say just then.

“No?” he repeated, his tone edging into dangerous territory. He was becoming the Daniel I remembered, the one I’d been glad to rid myself of. “No to what?”

I gulped, closing my eyes. “No, you’re not the father.”

His eyes narrowed. “We were in a committed relationship, unless this is your way of telling me you cheated on me?” He was looking at me as if he were trying to peer into my soul, to determine whether or not I would lie in response.

“I didn’t,” I said. “I didn’t cheat.”

“Well, then, whose baby is it, Natalie?” He was conspicuously agitated, swaying back and forth on the balls of his feet.

“I… I don’t know, Daniel. That’s the god’s honest. If she had been yours, I would’ve told you… but she isn’t.”

He scoffed. “I don’t believe you,” he said arrogantly. “How can you say she isn’t mine when you don’t even know who the father is?”

“Because she looks nothing like you. She has dark eyes, light hair…” but suddenly I stopped speaking, feeling as though I were betraying my daughter by even describing her to this man, this monster who masqueraded as a man. And so I finished tersely, “She’s nothing like you.”

Daniel closed his eyes. I knew with total certainty that he would be throwing things if we weren’t in public. That was what he did when he got frustrated, he broke things. He hurt people. I had been that person once, but I no longer was. I refused to allow him to hurt me again.

“Are we done here?” I said, before he reopened his eyes. But I didn’t await his response. I turned on my heels and began walking away.

“I don’t— Natalie!” he yelled, having realized I’d left. “Get back here!”

I ignored him and continued walking.

“I said,get back here!” he shouted, his voice louder and closer than before, and before I knew it he was grabbing my arm aggressively, and yanked me back.

“Stop!” I screamed, and as I did I noticed bystanders stop what they were doing and turn to see what the commotion was. I felt a wave of peace wash over me. The last time he grabbed me— when I’d broken up with him, all those years ago— nobody had been there, now there were multiple witnesses.

“Let go of her!” shouted a woman from nearby, and before I knew it I heard a thump, and Daniel was retreating with his head in his hands. I looked up to see it was Halie; she had hit him across the face with her purse, catching him totally off guard.

“You go—I got this,” Halie said to me.

“Thank you,” I mouthed to Halie, grateful to have a friend like her, and before Daniel could recover, I began running in the opposite direction.

Running toward Lucas.

18

An Explanation

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