Page 65 of Pucking Secret

OWEN

Sitting on my couch,I stare blankly at the black screen of my TV. I’ve been here in this same position since I managed to drag myself out of bed about an hour ago. I hardly slept a wink last night. My mind was in a riot as I struggled to process what I learned yesterday. Truth be told, my thoughts are still in a state of total chaos.

Millie is my daughter.

It’s hard to decipher how I feel about that revelation. Part of me is terrified. This is such a huge, life-changing thing. I’m a dad… no, not just a dad. I’m Millie’s dad.

I can’t deny that I’d had suspected it, but I’d told myself over and over again that it couldn’t be true. Stacey wouldn’t keep something like that from me. She wouldn’t keep my child from me. But apparently she had. All these years, she was raising my daughter by herself, and never even tried to let me know she even existed.

What do I do about this? I don’t even know how to begin to make any sense of this situation. I’m a father… and Stacey never told me.

I love Stacey… and I love Millie, but if I’d never come to Denver, would I ever have learned about Millie?

That thought is like a punch to the gut, striking me harder than any other I’ve had so far. There’s a very real chance that Stacey would’ve kept my daughter from me for the rest of my life, and that thought is devastating. I can’t even say I’m angry at Stacey. I’m just hurt that she’d keep something so important from me.

Suddenly, my phone starts to buzz, making me jump in my seat. I dig it out of my pocket and frown when I see Elise’s name flashing across the screen. For a moment, I consider not answering. I’m really not in the right headspace to talk to anyone right now, but curiosity gets the best of me.

“Hey, Elise,” I say when I accept the call. “What’s going on?”

“What the hell are you doing?” she snaps. “You’ve been ignoring your father’s calls, haven’t you?”

I blink, caught off guard by her sharp voice and anger. “What are you talking about? Why are you yelling at me?”

“Damn it, Owen! You keep promising to take care of things, and I thought you getting out of Canada was supposed to buy us some time, but now my dad is talking about moving up the engagement announcement. Something is going on, and you blowing off your father is only making it worse.”

“Remind me why I’m the one who has to tell both our fathers that we don’t want to get married?” I ask in a firm tone. “Why can’t you be the one to do it?”

“You know why,” she growls. “I need to protect Rebecca. If my father found out about her… he’d do whatever he could to keep us apart, and you know that. I’m not going to risk losing the love of my life because of this bullshit.”

I hesitate to reply. She’s got me there. I know her father would not react well to finding out that his daughter not only doesn’t want to blindly obey him, but is also in a happy, healthyrelationship with another woman. He’s too old-school in his thinking… too prejudiced and misogynistic.

At length, I sigh and say, “All right, I promise I’ll handle it. I really will.”

“You swear?”

“Yes, Elise, I swear.”

“All right,” she murmurs. “Please, Owen, just… just don’t put this off too long, okay? I’m getting worried that it’s going to get beyond our control before we realize it.”

“I promise, Elise,” I tell her in a softer tone. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Rebecca.”

“Thanks, Owen. Talk soon.”

She hangs up and I drop my phone on the couch next to me. Shit, I hadn’t expected that. I’ve been so wrapped up in Stacey and Millie and getting myself settled in Denver that I’d been able to push the whole engagement fiasco out of my mind. I can’t keep ignoring it, though, and now I have so much more to worry about. If Elise is so worried about what her father is capable of, what about Gerald? If he found out about Millie and Stacey, what might he do to them?

By the afternoon, I’m still a fucking mess. I’m not sitting on the couch anymore… I’m lying on it, staring up at the ceiling. I feel almost paralyzed by everything weighing down on me: Millie, Stacey’s lies, Elise’s fears, and my stepfather’s infuriating expectations, not to mention the potential threat he could pose to my daughter.

Fuck, it’s so weird to think like that. That Millie is my daughter. That I’m a father.

That I’ve missed so much of her life already.

I picture her first steps. Stacey, probably standing there with her phone, ready to capture the moment. Millie’s tiny legs wobbling, arms stretched out, eyes lit up with determination. I should’ve been there, cheering her on, holding out my arms to catch her when she stumbled.

Her first words. What did she say? Was it “Mama,” most likely? Did she try to say “Dada” even though I wasn’t around? Did Stacey sit with her on the couch, coaxing out each sound? The thought twists something deep in my gut.

Then there’s her first day of school. I see her in my mind, standing there with a little backpack too big for her small frame, holding Stacey’s hand. Did she cry when Stacey left her in the classroom? Did she smile nervously and wave goodbye? I don’t know, and it kills me.

The birthdays I missed. The cakes, the candles, the wishes I wasn’t there to hear. What did she wish for? Did she wish for me? Or did she not even know I existed back then?

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