No, he abandoned me and the child he must have known he made.
Now, it’s been twenty years since I’ve seen him—nineteen years of raising our daughter with that microscopic piece of hope in my heart that somehow the boy I loved will emerge from that public shell and return. “There’s something you don’t realize, Beau, Beckett, whomever the hell you are now. I’m no longer the naive girl who trusted her body to the first boy who told her ‘I love you.’ Motherhood changed me. The moment the light of hope dies in my daughter’s eyes when she realizes who her father is, so will my love for you.”
I move away from my desk and leave my study to go get my bags.
And while I’ll finally be free, what will be the cost?
PAIGE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
December
Alison Freeman-Marshall, COO and General Counsel for Amaryllis Events, was spotted having a breakfast meeting with the social coordinator for the Museum of History. Could this be where Amaryllis Designs is hosting its next Fashion Week?
— Jacques Yves, Celebrity Blogger
“Oh, my God! Mama! You are not going to believe this!” Austyn shouts through FaceTime.
“Believe what?” I’m curled up in my lounge chair reading.
“I was contacted to have a conversation for legal representation.”
I toss the book aside as my blood pounds through my veins. “Like an agent?”
“I don’t know. It must be. God, Mama. I’m over the moon!” Austyn’s dancing, still holding on to her iPad.
“Austyn, stop moving. You’re making me dizzy,” I caution.
“Oops. Sorry! I feel like a soda that’s been opened where all the little bubbles come rushing to the top.”
“Or like the bottle of champagne I see in the background? Hmm?”
She shifts to the right, and the champagne and glasses disappear. “You didn’t see those. You don’t know what those are. I don’t know how those got there.”
I burst out laughing. “It was a good night?”
“Mama, this whole tour has been a rush. I know it seems like it was a whim, but the more we’re getting media attention from these social influencers, the more the places are jammed. It’s such an amazing high.” Austyn’s eyes are sparkling.
“Is it everything you wanted?” I ask softly.
“Almost.”
“What’s missing?”
“You. I want you to be here, to feel this.”
“I did that night at Redemption, baby.”
“It’s not like that, Mama. This…it’s different now. Like I was born to do this.”
Pride and searing jealousy fight each other for the premier place in my heart. Pride wins. “Then that’s all I want for you.”
We talk for a few more minutes about her upcoming trip to San Antonio, then Chattanooga, and how “I’ll be back in warm weather finally.”
“You chose that, baby. Aren’t you the one who said you’d adjust to New York?”
“But New York isn’t Milwaukee. Or Detroit. Or…”