Page 48 of All the Forbidden Things
“So, how are you, Bamm? Is everything mending okay?”
Internally, I cringe as soon as I start to speak. Should I have said anything? Cal told me that she was doing okay, but Mel said she hadn’t left the house since they’d got back.
“Ribs are still sore.” She holds up her cast. “And I’ll know more about this after my appointment next week. My head was glued, and the stitches to my lip, and inside my mouth were all dissolvable and have healed well, so yeah, I’m doing okay.”
I take a swig from my beer and nod, not making eye contact with her because I feel bad for making her talk about her injuries.
“How’s your wife doing? Is she still in the hospital?”
My gut pulls tight, and my first thought is that she’s just being a bitch because I brought up her attack, but then Kenzie questions, “Yeah, where is Whit?”
My mouth opens, but no words come out as Mel turns around from the worktop, and my gaze slices between her and Cal.
“We didn’t say anything to the girls . . .” Mel starts.
“Shit. Sorry, dude. I meant to call and ask you what you wanted us to say. I’m out of the loop and don’t really know what’s been made public, and didn’t wanna—”
“Nah, it’s okay.” I interrupt Cal but then trail off because I’m not sure what else to say. I rake my hand through my way-too-long hair and shrug. I watch Kenzie settle herself beside Billie, as she shifts a wriggling Layla up to her shoulder. Looking between the two girls, who are now both women, it hits me how quickly life can happen when you don’t pay attention. Billie was, in fact, the first newborn I’d ever held, Kenzie the second. And now here we are, Kenzie holding my baby girl, and Billie? The last time I saw her, she was an awkward, angry, pre-teen, and now look at her—which, believe me, I am doing. Way too much.
Fuck. Me!
The silence in the room is awkward, so I clear my throat and begin to talk. “The day before Whitney’s accident, she left me for Alix Gardener—”
“What?” Kenzie snaps, before attempting to pass Layla to Mel, who looks at her hands and shakes her head.
Billie intercedes without a word and lays claim to my daughter. I watch as she settles Layla against the middle of her chest, one hand under her bum, the other—the one in the cast—against her back. My mouth goes dry as Layla calms, pulls up her knees, sticks her bum in the air, and pokes her hand into Billie’s top.
I lick my lips before continuing. “Whit had been having an affair with Gardener for as long as we’d been together. When she told me she was leaving, she also hinted there was a chance Layla wasn’t mine.”
“Wow. Seriously. Wow. So,that’swhy she was in the car with him.” Kenzie says, quietly while staring at the floor and shaking her head.
“Yeah, but get this,” Mel chimes in, “the bitch tells Max the baby might not be his before leaving to start her new life with her boy toy, then she walked out and left Layla here.”
“Thank fuck she did,” Billie adds. “Sorry”—she looks directly at me—“for swearing...in front of Layla, I mean . . . But . . .” She shakes her head. “If she hadn’t left her here, she might’ve been in the car with them when the accident happened.”
“So, is she yours? Where’s Whitney now? How did I not know any of this?” Kenzie reels off her questions before I even get a chance to consider Billie’s statement.
Kenz has always gone off like a rocket. Cal blames Mel’s Italian side of the family, whereas Billie has always been an old soul. Even as a little girl, she’d look at you with wise eyes that had seen too much, and her quiet, considerate personality reflected that.
A pang of guilt hits me like a dart to my chest when I think about Billie as a little girl, and my reaction to Billie now, the gorgeous woman standing in my kitchen.
“Layla’s mine,” I respond. “Aaron arranged an overnight paternity test, and she’s mine. Whit’s currently at a spinal rehab facility. She still can’t walk, but she’ll be coming back here next week.”
“Here?” Kenz and Billie both question together.
I let out a huff at the thought of justifying my decision again.
“We’ve just had a baby together; she’s been involved in a car crash that has affected her ability to walk. How’s it gonna look to the press if I throw her arse out?”
“Do the press know she’d been cheating on you? Banging Gardener? That she had no clue who her baby-daddy was?” Kenzie bites out.
“No, not yet. But I’m sure they’ll eventually work things out. However, I’ve got Layla to consider, so they won’t be hearing about any of that from me.”
“You should be protecting Layla fromher, not the press. What an absolute bitch.”
“Kenz,” Cal warns his daughter.
“It’s just a temporary thing. I’m not planning on letting her stay. I’ve already had divorce papers drawn up, and I’ll be serving her with those as soon as it’s legal to do so. She’ll be here just long enough to recover from the accident and for me to put out a statement saying that, when the accident happened, we’d already separated, and that since the accident, Whit had moved back in so that we could work on our marriage, but that it’s become apparent our differences are irreconcilable . . . blah, blah, blah. Aaron’s good, he knows his shit. The team he’s put together to handle the divorce, know what they’re doing, the label knows their shit, too, and they’re backing me in this. It means I come out of it looking like I tried, and not like a total arsehole who threw his disabled wife out,” I explain.
