a space on the side of the road and waited. If I wasn’t so messed up, I’d have been impressed.
“Thanks, mate,” I said, handing him a collection of notes before climbing from the back seat. I had no idea what kind of tip I’d given him, but whatever it was, it finally elicited a response. He smirked at me through the driver’s window and then took off, leaving me on the sidewalk. Dumping my bags at my feet, I unzipped my gym bag, pulled out the first shirt I saw inside and yanked it over my head. I had no idea where I was, let alone what emotional state I was in, but being fully dressed was a start to getting back on track.
The heat bore down on me, oppressive and suffocating. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to its blazing intensity. Stood there motionless.
I was a father.
Christ, I was a father.
I didn’t for a second suspect it was a lie. What purpose would Amanda have for lying? I was a guy on the other side of the world with a student loan that included more zeroes than the new letters behind my name, and a looming business loan about to be added to my debt. Who would try to pin a paternity claim on a guy in that situation?
And given how Chase reacted, how Amanda reacted, I knew it was the truth. I was a father, I had a son, and Amanda had kept it from me for eighteen months. Eighteen months without a word. Eighteen months without telling me.
Christ, I was a father.
My knees buckled. I staggered sideways, catching myself before I could bump into any of the unsuspecting people walking past me on the sidewalk. Dull rage knotted in my gut. Straightening, I dragged my hands through my hair, watching the cars move along the road. I had no real idea where I was. It didn’t matter. I just wasn’t where Amanda was.
Christ, she’d kept the fact I was a father, that I had a son, from me for eighteen months. How did a person do that? How was I supposed to deal with that?
I didn’t know. I couldn’t fall back onto my default roll-with-it response. Nothing in my twenty-five years had prepared me for this. I’d set out a game plan, goals. I had a bank manager and a personal training business ready to go as soon as I finished my Master’s. I didn’t own a SUV. I had no clue how to change a nappy.
And while we were at it, Amanda Sinclair had fucking kept the fact I was a father a secret from me .
My knees crumpled again, but this time, I caught myself before I could stumble. Stumbling was weak. I wasn’t weak. I was angry. Furious. I could hardly draw breath. My fists were clenched into painful balls. My head roared.
And yet, even with the incensed rage boiling inside me, I was … I was …
An image of a baby – softly squishy and bald – filled my head. Wrapped in a blue blanket, the same blue of the bath towel I’d last seen Amanda wearing. Eyes closed. Healthy lungs letting me know in no uncertain terms he was not that impressed with the situation. Tiny hands balled in fists, chubby legs kicking with enthusiasm …
What would it be like to hold that baby? My baby? My son?
An invisible band clamped around my chest and I pulled in a sharp breath. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I feeling?
I couldn’t decipher it. I had no hope. I was on the other side of the world, away from everyone I knew – friends, family – and I’d just discovered I was a father.
And then I’d run.
The vice around my chest squeezed tighter. I’d run. Jesus, I’d run. And I didn’t even know my son’s name.
Fingers balling in my hair, I watched the cars stream by. I needed to talk to someone. Not to get an answer; I didn’t seek out answers to my problems from other people. Other people didn’t know the solution to my problems because those problems were mine, not theirs. I just needed to talk this through now.
Flicking my watch a glance, I bit back a curse. I had no idea what time it was in Sydney. I could ring Heather, but I’d already woken her at a ridiculous time once today. I
“Thanks, mate,” I said, handing him a collection of notes before climbing from the back seat. I had no idea what kind of tip I’d given him, but whatever it was, it finally elicited a response. He smirked at me through the driver’s window and then took off, leaving me on the sidewalk. Dumping my bags at my feet, I unzipped my gym bag, pulled out the first shirt I saw inside and yanked it over my head. I had no idea where I was, let alone what emotional state I was in, but being fully dressed was a start to getting back on track.
The heat bore down on me, oppressive and suffocating. I closed my eyes and lifted my face to its blazing intensity. Stood there motionless.
I was a father.
Christ, I was a father.
I didn’t for a second suspect it was a lie. What purpose would Amanda have for lying? I was a guy on the other side of the world with a student loan that included more zeroes than the new letters behind my name, and a looming business loan about to be added to my debt. Who would try to pin a paternity claim on a guy in that situation?
And given how Chase reacted, how Amanda reacted, I knew it was the truth. I was a father, I had a son, and Amanda had kept it from me for eighteen months. Eighteen months without a word. Eighteen months without telling me.
Christ, I was a father.
My knees buckled. I staggered sideways, catching myself before I could bump into any of the unsuspecting people walking past me on the sidewalk. Dull rage knotted in my gut. Straightening, I dragged my hands through my hair, watching the cars move along the road. I had no real idea where I was. It didn’t matter. I just wasn’t where Amanda was.
Christ, she’d kept the fact I was a father, that I had a son, from me for eighteen months. How did a person do that? How was I supposed to deal with that?
I didn’t know. I couldn’t fall back onto my default roll-with-it response. Nothing in my twenty-five years had prepared me for this. I’d set out a game plan, goals. I had a bank manager and a personal training business ready to go as soon as I finished my Master’s. I didn’t own a SUV. I had no clue how to change a nappy.
And while we were at it, Amanda Sinclair had fucking kept the fact I was a father a secret from me .
My knees crumpled again, but this time, I caught myself before I could stumble. Stumbling was weak. I wasn’t weak. I was angry. Furious. I could hardly draw breath. My fists were clenched into painful balls. My head roared.
And yet, even with the incensed rage boiling inside me, I was … I was …
An image of a baby – softly squishy and bald – filled my head. Wrapped in a blue blanket, the same blue of the bath towel I’d last seen Amanda wearing. Eyes closed. Healthy lungs letting me know in no uncertain terms he was not that impressed with the situation. Tiny hands balled in fists, chubby legs kicking with enthusiasm …
What would it be like to hold that baby? My baby? My son?
An invisible band clamped around my chest and I pulled in a sharp breath. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I feeling?
I couldn’t decipher it. I had no hope. I was on the other side of the world, away from everyone I knew – friends, family – and I’d just discovered I was a father.
And then I’d run.
The vice around my chest squeezed tighter. I’d run. Jesus, I’d run. And I didn’t even know my son’s name.
Fingers balling in my hair, I watched the cars stream by. I needed to talk to someone. Not to get an answer; I didn’t seek out answers to my problems from other people. Other people didn’t know the solution to my problems because those problems were mine, not theirs. I just needed to talk this through now.
Flicking my watch a glance, I bit back a curse. I had no idea what time it was in Sydney. I could ring Heather, but I’d already woken her at a ridiculous time once today. I
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