Page 72 of Out of the Blue

He lifts up taller, dipping his hands into his pockets. “Yes, the offer stands. I’m glad to give it to you. I was happy to donate it before,” he pauses. “Before I found out I’m your father.”

And there it is. Hanging between us in the air like a sound check gone bad.

No matter what, I need to nip this in the bud. “Don’t go reading anything into this. It’s not like I have a lot of options. Either I take your kidney or I die. Even though I probably should, I’m not ready to cross the bridge yet.”

“I’m glad you made this decision.” He stares at me, and I feel as if I’m under a microscope. “You have my eyes. I don’t know how I didn’t see the truth before.”

My palm rubs over my eyelids.

When I don’t respond, he asks, “Could you, I mean, would you, please, ah, tell me about your mother.”

Did I make the right decision? Dying and getting out of this whole mess or living and trying to make it with my band. My band still wins. Even if this choice comes with Braxton Hunte more firmly attached to my being. And where does Cordelia fit into the scenario?

Does she?

I sigh. I can give him the basics. Guess I owe him this much. He is giving me his kidney and all. “Her name was Lorinda Washington. She was only nineteen when you picked her out of a crowd and took her backstage after one of your performances. It was only the one time.”

He tugs on his ear. “That was when?”

“1990. I was born in March of 1991.”

“I wasn’t divorced from Hilary.” His gaze drops to the bed. “I was a bit, uhm, wild back then. Before I met Sara.”

“I get it.”

“I didn’t know. I swear to you I didn’t know you existed. I mean, I only met you when your band won the radio contest and you guys opened for us at Madison Square Garden.”

Of this, I have no doubt. “Yeah.”

“And your aunt? The woman who’s been here?”

“Her twin.”

His eyes drift to the window and he nods. “She seemed vaguely familiar,” he mutters. After a few moments, he licks his lips. “I understand your mother was killed in a mall shooting a few months back?”

My throat tightens. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.” He takes a deep breath and I steel myself for what’s to come. “How long have you known? When did she tell you I was your father? Were you ever going to tellme?” This last is laced with hurt, pain, and anger.

I can sympathize.

Ignoring his last question, I begin with the first. “She never told me.” My hands fist at my side. “I only found out recently when I read her diary for the first time.” Why am I telling him all this?

He executes a couple of steps and stops next to my hip for a moment before sitting on the edge of the bed. I move my arm away from him. If I could disappear, I would. My breathing accelerates. I can’t take any more of this father-son bonding. It’s too much.

He looks like he wants to ask me more questions about my mother, but I’m done. I didn’t ask him to be my father, only to give me one of his kidneys. Time to redirect this conversation. If that’s even what’s going on here. “So, what’s all involved with this transplant stuff?”

He grabs his earlobe again. “Honestly, I don’t know too much other than we’re a match. Which makes sense, considering—”

I cut him off. “Right.”

We gaze at each other for an extended note.

“Then I guess we should get ourselves educated. I don’t have too much longer, or so I’ve been told.” I press the call button.

My nurse enters immediately. Wonder if she’s been waiting on the other side of my door this whole time with the hope of getting a glimpse of the rock star? “Mr. Washington, everything okay in here?”

“I’ve made a decision. I’ve agreed to accept Braxton’s kidney.”

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