Too Much Information (Awkward Love 3)

“She knew what you were going through with your dad and college…” She stops, realizing her excuses are just that—excuses.

“That was my decision to make, not hers,” I say, spitting out the words.

“She thought she was doing what was best for Allie.” Abbey swipes away a fresh round of tears. I shove my hand in my pocket and retrieve a tissue, handing it to her. “Allie has been well-loved and cared for. Maya had my help, and our parents, while they were still alive. She was a happy, well-adjusted kid, until… until this happened.”

“Your parents?” I frown.

She nods. “They were in the car too.”

That poor kid.

“So why are you here? Why now?” I ask. I frown at her, my fingers tightly clasped into fists at my sides. She shakes her head and shrugs hopelessly.

“I’ve been asking myself the same thing,” she admits. “I want to do what’s right for Allie. I wasn’t going to find you at all, and then I realized how selfish that was. Not only to her but to you. That little girl in there is amazing. You’ve missed out on so much, Luke. And she’s been through so much…” Her voice trails off as she fights back the tears. “She deserves to know her father, and you deserve to know her.”

I shake my head and sit back down. I feel numb. I don’t know what to think or what to say, so I don’t say anything. I repeat the words over and over in my head.

She’s my daughter.

My daughter.

I have a child.

I’ve had a child for more than eight years and I never even knew it.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I glance at her. “I’m not being rude; I just don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know what to say or how I’m supposed to respond to this.”

“It’s okay. It’s a huge shock, I understand that. If you need time to digest all of this, that’s fine.”

She pulls out a scrap of paper and a pen and then scribbles something down on it. She passes it to me, her hands shaking.

“That’s my number and where I’m staying. We’ll be here for as long as you need to come to terms with this.” I nod and stare at her number. “Give me a call when you’re ready to hear more about your daughter.”

She stands up and walks back inside, leaving me sitting out there, lost in my thoughts. I hold my head in my hands, at a loss at what to think. How am I supposed to process this? My heart aches for Maya. Raising a kid—our kid—alone must have been so hard for her, but then I’m so angry at her for keeping this from me.

Poor Allie.

She doesn’t deserve any of this. What do I say to her? She must hate me. I shake my head because it’s all too much.

I can’t deal with this now.

I jump when my phone vibrates in my pocket. My heart races when I pull it out because I know it’s going to be Laura.

Laura: Looking forward to seeing you later for dinner. I love you.

I laugh as frustration, anger, pain, and a fuck load of other emotions fight to control me. It’s the first time she’s said she loves me. Now I have to go home and tell her I have a child? How fucked-up is that? This whole situation is a mess. One I have no idea how to fix. Before anything else, I need to speak to Laura, because I don’t want to hide something like this from her.

How the fuck am I going to tell her about this?Chapter TwelveLauraIt’s after ten when I finally drag myself out of bed. I’m shocked that I slept so late, because I was half expecting to wake up when Luke went to work in the early hours of the morning. I don’t know why I can’t just let him sleep. Probably because every time I see him lying there, I can’t resist kissing or touching him.

My stomach churns as I force down a coffee. I can’t even think about food, because I’ve decided that I’m telling him today. Now that the decision has been made, I grab my phone to text Luke to arrange dinner before I can talk myself out of it.

Me: Dinner tonight?

Luke: Sure. I should finish about six. Anything wrong?

Me: No, I just want to talk. Have a good shift.

I rummage through the freezer to see if I can avoid going shopping. Unless I plan to serve him out of date chicken and yogurt that is growing its own yogurt, I can’t. I frown and look around the kitchen. Maybe I should just order takeout, I say to myself. Let’s face it, my cooking sucks hardcore, anyway, and cooking under stress will just make things even worse. Pizza makes the best “I can’t have kids” discussion food anyway, I continue my with my inner dialogue,