Page 98 of Release (Symbols of Love 3)

He reaches me in two stride and yanks them down and holds my wrists in a vice like grip with one hand. I pull hard, desperate to free myself, to block out his verbal assault, but his arm doesn’t move. His grip tightens and with his other hand, he grabs my chin and brings his face down so we’re eye level. He holds me in place with a piercing gaze.

“She’s not your daughter, Lilly. She’s someone else’s child.” He says this slowly, each word enunciated. He studies my face to see if I’m comprehending what is being said.

“Why are you…” It feels like there’s cement in my lungs. The pain in my chest is unbearably heavy and it’s hard for me to breath. I stare into his eyes, unblinking

“I’m saying it because it’s true.” He says, his voice hard, but still so sad. “She’s not yours.” He lets go of my chin and rests both hands on my shoulders. I flinch at his touch. I don’t want him to touch me. Not now. Not when he’s hurting me. But I can’t move. I can’t think.

“It doesn’t mean you have to stop loving her. I know you can’t.”

I live in a state of chronic and constant heartache. Normally, it’s a dull, but constant tug. This conversation has turned it into a pulsing, throbbing agony.

“You don’t know her and she doesn’t know you. You gave her life, Lilly but you also gave her a life when you gave her a new family. And I know how much it hurts you, but she’s not yours.” He says this in a voice my rational mind would recognize as patient and careful, full of love and wrapped in a fragile prayer for his words to reach me. But I am not rational now.

Now, all I can hear is him asking me to stop my heart from beating. Flares of angry heat bloom under my skin as his words lay waste to everything that gives me hope.

“Let this go and focus on your life.” He says in a voice that I’m sure he thinks is soothing.

I erupt. “I have a life. Fuck you.” I scream and jerk out of grasp.

“Lilly.” He approaches me, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Don’t you fucking come near me.” I yell at him, jabbing my finger in the air at him.

He stops in mid stride. “I’m sorry, Lil—”

I close my eyes and put my hand up, palm facing him, and he stops talking. I open my eyes again. I feel betrayed, angry, mislead, alone. I let him see all of that in my eyes and let him hear it.

“You do not get to say things like that to me. You don’t get to destroy my life because you haven’t ever loved anyone as much as I love my daughter.” He flinches, eyes wide with alarm as he takes me in. My words are fire. My eyes wild with hurt. My rigid body vibrates with anger.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t understand. You said you could handle the truth. Well this is the truth. Is it too ugly for you, Harry?”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word. He looks horrified. His horror douses my anger. What is he seeing as looks at me? Fear grips me as I watch him watching me. Certainty that this conversation will leave me broken settles, and I start to panic.

I walk to him and take his hands, his doesn’t hold mine in return. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares blankly at me.

“I’m not hurting anyone. I’m not. No one has to know. I just wanted you to know because I don’t want to keep anything from you.” I insist, the gravity of the situation, the import of this moment driving my actions. I’ll do anything to hold on to him, but I cannot do what he’s asking.

He finally squeezes my hands, but his expression doesn’t change or soften.

“Lilly, I’m glad you told me, but you have to stop.” He says in a voice that brooks no argument.

I drop his hands and step back.

“That is not your decision and if you’re giving me an ultimatum, you already know my answer.” I cross my arms in front of me and firm my jaw. But my insides have turned to jelly. My palms are sweating and my throat is dry. I feel trapped, desperate and more afraid than I’ve been in a long time.

I watch him and pray like my life depends on it that he’ll say what I want to hear.

He doesn’t.

He drops his eyes to the floor and steps back. His hand slips out of mine. This is it. My heart stops.

“You want to live in your lies. You want them more than you want me.”

I flinch, but my resolve doesn’t waiver.

“Lilly, I can wrap my head around a lot,” he shakes his head slowly. “Not knowing your name in Ghana, why you thought it was best for us to part ways. I understand why you hadn’t told your family about the rape. I understand why you didn’t want to tell anyone about your” He pauses to search for a word, “pregnancy.” I wince at his reducing it to just that.

“I don’t want to judge you for using your cyber security skills to look for her in a moment of weakness. But contacting the family, striking up a friendship under false pretenses is wrong. Very wrong. I can’t understand that.” He rubs his hand over the back of his neck, his head dropping down, and I can see the exhaustion etched on his face. And I don’t care. Not right now. Now, I just want him gone. I look at him again and say words I don’t mean and will forever regret.

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