Page 29 of Claimed By the Don

I drive into the city and park outside this kitschy place she loved called the Little Theater—a shiny black Art Deco building where they showed weird artsy movies. I sat through a show about mouthy Irish kids trying to make it in the music business when we visited the place. She took about a million pictures that day. Pictures she dumped along with her phone when she left it all behind.

. I drive off and don’t look back. I’m at my office by seven and catch up on the work I missed. I return calls, but I never get one from her.

I walked out on her because the thing I’m most afraid of is losing her. I damn near didn’t live through it the first time. I did make this harder than it has to be—and if I want to get out of my own way, I need to explain that to her. I’ll call her tomorrow and hope she answers.

19

DAISY

It isn’t a sinking feeling. It’s a sheer drop from high up, sudden and sickening. Here it is, the bad ending I deserve. I dug up old feelings, played with fire and fell for him again. Now I’m in a diner bathroom puking up my pancakes. It’s over. I forgot to cancel our plans, and I can’t explain why without exposing my secret. Ben doesn’t trust me, and his controlling angry reaction gave me a reminder of the life I ran from, what I didn’t want for my son.

This should solidify my resolve that I did things right the first time. Instead, it just feels like heartbreak again, maybe worse this time because I should know better. I splash my face with cold water and go to work, and it feels like I’m slogging around with cinderblocks on my feet. My smile must look fake because Sasha asks if I’m okay.

Every beat of my pulse rockets through me with the words,I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I have to get out of here.Guilt surges in me—I brought my son here, risked Benny discovering our secret, told my mom I was sure we’d stay. That I’d raise Liamhere. It’s no wonder she was afraid to believe me because here we are.

I’ve fucked up my life again, and there was never going to be a way I could stay in the neighborhood without Benny finding out about our son.

I go through the motions, at work, at home. My mom keeps asking what’s wrong, and I shake my head. She knows what’s wrong.

“We broke up,” I finally say to her. “I stood him up for dinner the night we went to meet Liam’s teacher. I forgot to cancel on him, and I can’t explain why because I have kept Liam from him for so long I don’t know how to tell him now.”

I start crying again. Frustrated, I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand and help her with her exercises.

“You’re not staying in Jersey,” she finally says flatly. I shut my eyes, unable to look at her.

“I can’t.”

“You can,” she says. “You’ve run from this long enough.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’ll make sure you’re on your feet before we go.”

“You’re gonna tell that boy he can’t even have his kindergarten school year with his new friends in this school he’s excited for? He’s thriving here and he’s happy. You don’t get to jerk him around because you got your feelings hurt, Daisy May.”

She is middle-naming me. That’s how pissed my mom is. I’m sobbing now and I don’t have anything to say to defend myselfbecause she’s right. It all makes me sick that I’ve done this to our lives.

Benny calls the next day and leaves a voicemail saying we need to talk. I don’t return his call and delete his texts without reading them.

Another week goes by and I’m not bouncing back from the breakup. I want to sleep all the time, and I cry at the drop of a hat. My mom has a medical assessment to determine if she can be released for normal activity. She and I both know I’m holding my breath for that verdict.

If she’s in the clear, I’m going to break it to Liam that we’re moving again. He’s going to be crushed. I’m going to break his heart by uprooting him from this place. But if I stay, it’s a matter of time before someone see him and tells Benny there’s a mini Falconari in the neighborhood. Then he’s in danger, a walking target. Shame is heavy on my shoulders every minute I’m awake. I never should have come home.

At my mom’s appointment, I should be as excited as she is. She’s so strong now that she gets around with a cane most of the time. I try to muster some enthusiasm but I’m miserable.

“I’m going to the ladies’,” I tell Mom. “If they call you in, I’ll be right back.” I don’t make it three steps before I must grope for another waiting room chair and sit down in it. I drop my head into my hands, seeing spots while my stomach churns.

“You okay, baby girl?” My mom asks and I hear her struggle to her feet with the cane and stump over to my chair.

I try to look up and reassure her, but as soon as I lift my head, my stomach roils. I lurch forward, hand over my mouth, but I can’t even get up fast enough. I throw up all over the waiting roomfloor and my own shoes. My mom pats my shoulder and makes soothing noises. A receptionist brings paper towels and pages a custodian on the loudspeaker. I’m so embarrassed.

She stands by me and rubs my back. I cradle the trash can someone brought me and retch into it, fighting back tears.

What’s really making me shake, makes the knot of fear wrench behind my ribs, is the certainty in the back of my brain. I’ve only ever felt like this once in my life. When I was pregnant with Liam. I’m dizzy and sweating, and I make my way to the bathroom, stooped over with my hand over my mouth.

Once I’m alone, I shut my eyes and tip my head back against the cool tile wall.You’re an idiot, Daisy. Knocked up twice by the same guy who doesn’t even know about the first kid you had,I think to myself. But my shame can wait, and so can figuring out what to do from here. Right now, I’m going to be there for my mom and listen to what her doctor says about her progress.

I splash water my face, determined, and make my way to the receptionist who directs me to the exam room my mom was called back to. I join her and murmur that I’m fine, just an upset stomach. I give my full attention to the doctor and squeeze Mom’s hand when we get the news that she’s released to drive and return to work. I insist on taking her out to celebrate with Liam later.

She agrees, but she’s giving me major side-eye because I know she’s thinking what I’m thinking. That a positive pee stick is just around the corner for me. That all my best-laid plans are going to go up in smoke. I stop at a drugstore and buy a pregnancy test.

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