Secret Desires (Roughshod Rollers MC 4)

Then there’s resignation. Lily will want to see Polly, I know she will. As much as I’ve come to despise Polly, and want her nowhere near either my daughter or me, I can’t deny Lily if she asks to see her mother. I won’t keep this from her. I’ll allow Lily to decide…which means I need to be prepared to see Polly for the first time in ten years.

There’s also anticipation. If Polly is returning…will I finally get some answers? I thought I was okay with not knowing. But the way my heart leaps and hope curls in my chest makes me realize that I wasn’t alright with it. I need to know. Polly’s return is my best chance of figuring out what, exactly, happened when Lily was born.

It all crashed in on me, and my head was spinning so badly. I needed everything to quieten down. I needed to sleep. Desperately, I had grabbed some beer from the fridge. I had only intended to drink a little, enough to make my hands stop shaking and to hopefully make me relax enough to feel tired. But one beer was followed by another, then another, then another. At some point, I found a bottle of whiskey, and I started to drink that with the Coke in the fridge.

Before I knew it, I was very drunk and trying to remember why this was a bad thing.

Now, though, Georgia is with me. I don’t really remember her coming in. She’s just read Polly’s letter. It’s absolutely hilarious that her reaction was exactly the same as mine. It seems she’s of the same mindset as me. We both just want to throw that letter in the garbage where it belongs and forget about it.

But we can’t. For Lily’s sake.

I wonder, dimly, why Georgia is here. Then I decide that it doesn’t matter. Part of me had hoped, foolishly, that Georgia would show up. Then, suddenly, she does. I don’t care why. I just care that she’s here.

“I don’t want Polly to come back,” I confess to Georgia.

“Then tell her she’s not allowed to see Lily,” Georgia suggests, but she says this without hoping, knowing me well enough to know what my answer will be.

“Lily will want to see her,” I say firmly. Then I pause, confused. “Did I already say that?”

“You did,” Georgia sighs. “And you’re right, of course. It’s just…”

“Fucked up?” I suggest.

Georgia laughs. I’ve always liked her laugh. It’s sweet and refreshing, just like she is. Simply being near Georgia on any day can make me feel calm, happy and relaxed.

But that isn’t fair on Georgia. I need to stop relying on her to make me feel better.

“Yeah, that sounds right,” Georgia agrees. “So, what now?”

“I send Polly a letter telling her to get fucked?” I suggest before sighing in resignation. “I wish.” I look gloomily at the letter Georgia dropped back to the table. Polly’s number stands out starkly. “I guess I need to call her.”

I start to pull out my phone. Georgia’s hand, however, shoots out and grabs my wrist.

“As hilarious as it would be to watch you drunk call Polly to speak to her for the first time since she left, you should probably wait until you’re sober,” she advises. “This is too important.”

“But, if I drunk call her, I might scare her away,” I reason.

“Or, and far more likely, she might try to take Lily away from you because she thinks you’re a drunk, raving lunatic,” Georgia says seriously.

I stare down at my phone. I didn’t think about that. I drop it onto the table like it’s a viper. Okay, no calling Polly until I’m not drunk anymore.

“Right,” I say, nodding. “I’ll call Polly in the morning. When I wake up.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Georgia agrees.

“Thanks, Georgia,” I say. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Something flickers across Georgia’s face. Is it guilt? I’m not sure, but then it makes me feel guilty.

“But that’s not fair,” I tell her.

“What’s not fair?” she asks, startled.

“I should be able to do things without you,” I say. I sit up straighter. This feels very important. “You have a life to live. You’re not Lily’s mother.” I point imperiously at her. “You need to live your life without chaining yourself to us!”

“What?” Georgia breathes, her warm, brown eyes wide.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” I nod. I wonder if I’ll remember saying these things to Georgia in the morning. “You do so much for us. But you need to do less so you can do you stuff, okay? I mean, it’ll be hard, and I’ll miss you, and I don’t want you to stop being around so much… Where was I going with this?”