I begin to follow the arrows that direct me toward the airport security, not even bothering to glance around. There’s nothing within the city limits that I care to see anymore. The sooner I can get the hell out of here and back to the mundane, safe routine of my life in Ohio, the better.
“Josie!”
I don’t see him, but his voice stops me in my tracks. Don’t turn around, I think to myself.
“Josie.” His voice is closer now, just behind me.
I draw myself up, hoping to evoke some semblance of defiance, and turn around. Unfortunately, the moment my eyes meet his, all the air is knocked out of my lungs. For a moment, I can’t bring myself to speak, too afraid the words will come out shaky. Then, “You should be ashamed of yourself.” The venom in my tone surprises us both.
Derek stands in front of me, and my low voice seems to steady him a bit. He lets out a long breath, obviously relieved that I’m not screaming at him and making a scene. “You’re right,” he agrees, nodding. “But not for the reasons you think.”
A hollow scoffing sound emits from my throat, and I’m gripping the handle of my luggage so hard my knuckles are white. “You used me to cheat on your—”
“Wife?” He says the words with the slightest hint of amusement, but it’s a dark humor, and it’s enough to make me stay silent, letting him continue. “Josie, I don’t have a wife.”
My eyes narrow. “Your friend backstage told me—”
“I know what he told you,” he snaps. He takes another breath, levelling the edge in his voice. “Chance has always called Rhonda my wife,” he explains in a low voice. “Or wifey, as he puts it. Even though she isn’t anything of the sort, and never will be.”
So, there is a woman, they’re just not married. “And does Rhonda know you have no intentions of ever marrying her? Or that you screw other random women on the side?”
Derek’s jaw clenches.
Good. I’m glad I’m not the only one struggling to keep my cool.
“Yes, Rhonda is well aware we won’t be getting married,” he says evenly. “But I kind of resent the fact that you think I sleep with random women, because I don’t.”
“Just Rhonda?” I bite out. “And me?” An angry chuckle sounds, and I real
ize it’s my own. “It’s so nice to know that Rhonda and I mean that much to you.”
I can’t take it anymore. I whip around, intending to head down the wide hallway toward the escalators.
Derek’s fingers clamp around my upper arm, and he side-steps to get in front of me before I have a chance to yell at him for putting his hands on me. “Rhonda’s not my girlfriend, Josie!”
I pull free of his grasp, staring at him with blazing eyes. “Then who is she, Derek? Because she comes and sees you before shows, and she’s important enough that you didn’t want to fucking tell me about her!”
There’s the anger, finally flooding out of me. I don’t even care about the fleeting glances we’re getting as people pass by us.
Derek pauses, but his eyes never leave mine. “Rhonda’s not my girlfriend, Josie,” he repeats coolly. “She’s my son’s mother.”
Whatever explanation I expect from him, it isn’t that, and I can feel my eyes widening as his confession sinks in. “Your son’s...mother?”
A loud breath escapes from Derek’s lungs, and he runs his hands through his hair, evidently relieved that I’m listening to him. “Josie…” He squeezes his eyes shut, and the vein in his neck twitches under the colorful tattoo that covers it. Then, he takes a tentative step to the side, waving his arm out toward the series of chairs about fifteen feet from where we stand. “I’d like you to meet Daniel.”
A little boy with shaggy chestnut hair sits in one of the chairs at the end of the row, kicking his feet idly. His gaze is set firmly on Derek and I, and even from here I can see the obvious physical resemblance between the two of them. “You have a son.”
He nods. “I do.” His eyes are fixed firmly on the boy now. “And I’d feel a whole lot better if we were a little bit closer to him. I had to run to catch up to you, but if you don’t mind, I’d like to explain everything to you, while sitting closer to him.”
I’m dumbfounded by the entire thing. I understand parts, but not others. I think the only reason I nod in agreement and let him lead me toward the chairs is because I can’t comprehend anything else at the moment.
Daniel can’t be more than three or four. “Hi,” he says with an inquisitive stare, watching me intently as I sit down.
“Hello, Daniel.”
Derek sits down beside his son, which forces me to sit on Derek’s other side, putting him between me and the little boy. An awkward silence looms over us, and I pull my luggage closer to me.
“I don’t understand,” I admit freely. “What’s your son have to do with you leaving me so abruptly the other night? You’re going to have to give me a little more to go on, Derek.”