Page 111 of Beautifully Scarred

I look at the door, expecting Jimmy to be gone. That he’s left to contact an expensive lawyer to take me to court for custody. But he’s watching from the other side of the screen. He shakes his head when he notices I’m staring at him.

“Why don’t we meet for breakfast in the morning?” I say.

I have a million questions for him—How did you find me? Why are you here? Where’s your fiancée? What are you going to do now that you know?—but they can wait until my daughter isn’t within earshot. Plus, I have a lot more difficult questions to answer.

I figure he’ll argue to stay. Jimmy was never one to patiently wait to clear the air. But he nods.

“Great. There’s a diner on Main Street. Let’s meet at eight fifteen.”

He nods again, looking through the screen with such a mix of emotions I’m not sure what he’s thinking. Without a word, he turns and heads down the steps. When he reaches the bottom, he turns back to me. “What’s her name?”

My stomach flips over, and I swallow past the painful lump in my throat. “Monica."

Pain slashes his features, but the tiniest of smiles forms before it disappears. “Like the Santa Monica Pier."

I nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow."

I watch until he drives away in his SUV. Then I shut the door and lock it.

Chapter Forty-nine

JIMMY

Jimmy

Driving awayfrom Lilah’s without any answers might be the stupidest thing I’ve done. A normal man would demand she explain why she hid his daughter for five years. Hell, she probably would have hidden her for longer. What would have happened if I hadn’t come knocking on her door today?

I drive down Main Street and pull into the parking lot of a small motel with a vacancy sign. Using my hat and sunglasses, I pay cash because if the paps find me in Kansas, they’ll find out I have a daughter with Lilah Robbie. That just upped the ante on making sure none of this hits the press.

It’s not until I’m inside the stale-smelling, modest, but clean room that the reality of what has happened crashes down on me.

I fall onto the bed and replay the entire sequence in my head.

A daughter.

I have a daughter.

And she’s beautiful.

She has my eyes.

And has Lilah’s blonde hair.

A hot, stabbing pain of anger burns in my chest.

And I didn’t know until now.

I push up off the mattress and pace the room. My body overflows with adrenaline as every thought runs through my head over and over again. How could Lilah keep her from me?

Never in my life have I thought of laying my hands on a woman, but after Lilah admitted she was my daughter, I briefly wanted to grab her shoulders and shake the answers out of her.

How dare she deny me the right to know I had a child!

I slam my fist into the wall, leaving a hole in the drywall. Rather than shaking out my hand, I enjoy the distraction of the burn that settles in my knuckles from the toxic swell of emotions.

Continuing my pacing, I glance at my watch. It’s nearing seven o’clock.

Shit. I have no overnight bag with me. I have to call the pilot and tell him this one-day jaunt has turned into two days. I can’t imagine there are any twenty-four-hour stores in this town, so I head out.

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