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Uneasiness settles in my stomach as I stare blankly out of the window. Why is her absence bothering me? She didn’t even want to know my name, and she didn’t offer me hers, either. From the very beginning, she never envisioned anything beyond a one-night stand. She obviously wanted to remain anonymous until the end, so why do I feel the urge to find her?
Damn, this shouldn't be happening. That's not how I roll. Maybe my uneasiness has something to do with her disappearing on me.
This is a first. I want to find her, but for what? Why? No matter how hard I try, I can’t make sense of it. It’s like I know there’s a reason, but it’s blurry in my mind. I can't find an explanation no matter how hard I try.
I certainly don't do love or commitment, so those options are out. At 50 I'm still single and have never once considered getting married. I can’t give someone something that I don’t have. Idon’t have any spare ounce of love in me. I’ve never been loved and don’t know how to love anyone but myself.
I feel a flash of guilt all of a sudden. It’s the same nagging feeling I get every time I remember my greatest mistake–a child I never meant to have. I’d actually been in a relationship at the time, and I thought we’d been on the same page where things like marriage or kids or a future were concerned. Who knows, maybe she had felt the same way I did at one point. But when she turned up pregnant, all of that changed–at least, it changed for her.
I paid my bills like any decent man would do, but that was the end of my role as "daddy." I was gone the second she’d said she was keeping it. Her. The baby, I mean.
See what a lousy father you would have been?I think bitterly as I go into the bathroom and splash water on my face.
Shaking my head, I turn on the water to take a shower. As I step into the tub, images of the woman’s naked body standing under the shower spray fill my mind.
Damn. I want her again. I need to feel her again, to be inside her as she cries out for me. I hate that she rattles me this much, but I must find her. At any cost.
I quickly finish my shower and get out, dry myself off, and walk back into the room. I snatch up my phone and dial the only person I know who’s capable of finding this mystery woman.
"You got rattled by a girl?A virgin, for that matter?" Damien says before he bursts out laughing. I regret telling him about it, but he’s my best friend. My partner in crime–on one occasion, literally. "How old did you say she might be again? Eighteen?Maybe twenty?" He laughs again, and this time I start to get annoyed.
Then again, if the roles were reversed, I'd probably be laughing until my guts ached, too.
"This isn’t funny, all right? So quit laughing." I look away, furious. He stops laughing but I know he isn't anywhere near done taking jabs at me.
"Oh crap, this is good. I feel likeI'mon the verge of an orgasm." He resumes laughing. I roll my eyes and sip my drink.
We’re at our usual hangout but I'm already regretting coming here. Some girls sashay down the steps toward us but I wave them off.
"What the hell, kill me why don’t you? Why did you send them off?" he growls. I exhale without answering him. He laughs once more. "I need to find this girl and buy her a drink. She’s done the impossible. She’s got you by the balls, man."
"It’s not like that," I answer, but I know any explanation I offer will be pathetic.
"Really? Then answer my question. Why did you send them on their way?"
"I'm just not in the mood for anything tonight, that’s all."
"Am I imagining things or did you just say no to a quick lay? Jeremy Aaron has never rejected sex in the decades I’ve known him, so I know this is serious." He raises a brow, studying me. "Don't tell me you are acting this way because of some kid you nailed in a doorway."
It pisses me off the way he says it. I’m already regretting giving him any details. I don't know why I feel the need to protect her honor even when I don't know her… not even her name. What are the chances that I'll ever even meet her again? The guy I’d called to do the job couldn't find her and it had been over a week already.
"Don't talk about her that way," I growl slowly, and Damien catches onto the hint of warning in my tone. He lifts his hands in surrender.
"So, you like her," he says after a while, but he’s not laughing this time.
"Wait what? What gave you that idea?" I ask, alarmed. He only shrugs at first. It’s like he’s testing the waters to see how much he can get away with.
"You paid someone to find her which wasn't successful and here you are, moping like a puppy."
"I'm not moping."
"Really? Then what are we doing sitting here?" he asks. I chew on the inside of my mouth for a second, then gulp the rest of my drink. I wave to the bartender for another as Damien smirks. "I thought so."
I run my hand over my stubbled jaw, instinctively looking at the door in case she walks through it. Of course Damien has to notice.
"You are completely whipped, my boy. Admit it, you’re in love! Worse, you’re in love with a kid!"
"Seriously, what is wrong with you?" I hiss, shoving him none too gently. I look around to see if anyone’s overheard his callous remark. I grab up the drink the bartender has just put in front of me and take a long swig. "You know I don't do love right?"
