Page 112 of Beautifully Scarred

A half hour later, I’m back in my room with bags filled with crap I could have brought with me. I was able to get everything I needed, and thankfully no one recognized me. At least, they didn’t approach me if they did. A few people gave me weird looks for wearing my sunglasses into the stores when it’s dark outside, but no one commented.

I texted the pilot and told him to head back to LA. I’ll figure out later how I’m getting home. I'm not sure what Lilah’s thinking will happen tomorrow, but I’m not leaving until we figure out how I can have a relationship with my daughter.

The adrenaline coursing through my body is scattering my thoughts and making it hard to stay still, so I decide to go for a run to clear my head and exhaust my body. Maybe then I can get some sleep tonight.

I change into the plain grey T-shirt and athletic shorts I bought. I have on running shoes that are more suited for fashion than running, but they’ll work. After grabbing my headphones from the small bag I did bring with me, and putting my hat on just in case, I head outside. My feet hit the concrete and I run away from Main Street and out toward the country surrounding the small town.

Eventually I’m running at a good pace, sweat trailing down my face.

Monica.

My daughter’s name is Monica.

Weird that I have a daughter.

Lilah named her after the spot that meant so much to us.

Why?

She obviously didn’t want me in Monica’s life.

I run a little harder as the anger refuses to diminish. The more my muscles burn, the harder I push my legs.

There’s so much I’ve missed. There’s so much I don’t know about her.

My feet pound harder on the pavement.

Will Monica even like that I’m her father? If she doesn't resent me now for being away for five years, she could resent me in the future for the time away while filming. The last thing I want is for her to become one of those self-entitled celebrity spawns who spiral out of control. My world is no place to raise a daughter.

Adelaide?

Shit, how did I not think about her reaction until this moment?

Sweat coats my entire body, but I increase my speed to a punishing pace.

I’m a father.

A dad.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

That word echoes in my head with every footstep slamming on the pavement.

Dad.

Dad.

Dad.

I picture that beautiful little girl’s face in my mind—the innocence, the purity, the curiosity—and I choke back a sob.

She’s mine.

And Lilah’s.

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