"It's a long story and I don't really want to talk about it right now. Maybe we can get together a little later and discuss it."
"That means it didn't go well. Please come over. We need to talk about this so we can get a game plan on where we should go from here."
I love that—where we should go from here. She had a real presence in the industry at one time and knows the ins and outs of how things work. Maybe she'll have some ideas on which direction I should go because I damn sure don't know which end is up at this point.
But I'm not going if her lover boy is hanging around. "He's not there, is he?"
"No, Laurelyn. He's not here." She says it like she's annoyed I don't want to be around him.
"Okay. I'll be over after I change."
I end my call and pull on jogging pants that read LOVE across the ass—the very same ones Jack Henry enjoyed shoving to my knees when he bent me over the arm of Ben's couch. I don't care how old or gray I get, I will always carry that memory with me. But just in case, I'm gonna write it down in a journal so my nurse can read it to me if I get Alzheimer's. I might not remember it was me in the story, but I'll think some lady sure got lucky.
And yet, I don't need a journal to record our story. Every song I write from here on out will be about Jack Henry. That's how our tale will go on and on forever—through my music.
He will always be every song I sing.
I find my mom in her living room. Her home is humble, its decor simple. Most of her furnishings are from bargain stores, so I wonder what the famous Jake Beckett must think about it while he's slumming.
She takes one look at me and I can tell by her expression that she thinks I look like hell—because I do. She hasn't seen me in two weeks, so I'm certain my weight loss and the dark circles catch her attention.
"Laurelyn Paige! What's happened to you? Have you been sick? Did you catch something while you were on your trip?"
I sure did. It's called being lovesick. I would expect her out of everyone to recognize this look.
"I'm not sick, Mom."
"Then, what has happened to you?"
I walk over and fall onto the couch next to her. I seem to have no grace these days. All I do is fall and plop.
I don't know where to start with everything that's happened. My life is one big mistake after another—except for Jack Henry. He's the only thing that's been right in my life. Ever. "I guess I should begin by telling you why I went to Australia."
She doesn't know about my relationship with Blake. I kept him a secret from her because I knew she'd discourage our relationship. She would've told me it was a bad idea to get involved with my producer. And she'd have been right.
I can see that she's not happy when I tell her about our liaison, but she doesn't say anything, so I move straight on to my trip. And my Jack Henry. My face involuntarily smiles just by saying his name. It's impossible to not beam at the sound of it coming from my mouth.
I think I see her soften as I describe the love of my life and how I feel about him. I leave off most of the details about our arrangement, except the one where we agreed our relationship was over once I left. I add a white lie and tell her the decision was based on the impossibility of a long-distance relationship rather than the fact that he never wants contact with me again.
The thought brings tears to my eyes. It was so easy for him to let me walk out of his life. I told him I loved him and he couldn't tell me the same. Because he didn't want me.
When I finish giving her the PG version of my time with Jack Henry, I move on to my meeting with David and Blake. She seems pleased with what I'm saying, but then it all comes to a screeching halt when I get to the part where I undescended Blake's testicles for him.
I get up from the couch and pace the floor. I totally expect her reprimand for my actions—the ones that will likely kill my career—but she surprises me. "That bastard threatened to ruin your career while he pinned you to your car? Kicking him in the nuts is the least of what he deserves to have done to him. What he tried to do to you is blackmail, which is illegal, so don't you worry about a thing. We'll take care of this."
Who's we? Is she referring to me and her, or her and the sperm donor?
I suddenly hear a man's voice, and it's angry. "Who pinned you against your car and threatened to ruin your career?"
I jump from the sovereignty in the voice. When I look toward the commanding speaker, I see Jake Beckett standing in the doorway. I know my eyes must be huge by the bizarre way he's looking back at me. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
I don't say anything as he cautiously walks toward me, like I'm a skittish animal ready to run at any moment. He doesn't take his eyes from me, staring at my face. He looks mesmerized. As badly as I want to, I can't take my eyes from his, either. It's like staring into a mirror. I never knew we were this similar.
He reaches out to place his hands on each side of my face. My initial reaction is to pull away, but I can't. I crave this man's affectionate touch for a reason I can't identify. "My God, you look just like my sister. It's amazing."
I've spent most of my life hating this man for what he did to my mother and me. He got her pregnant while he was married to another woman and then pretended we didn't exist. He threw us away like trash. I hate him for it and every moment he could've made my life easier but chose not to.
I hate you. The words dance on the tip of my tongue. I want to say them—or maybe scream them—so I can see the look on his face. I want to hurt him the way he's hurt me all of these years.
When he finishes looking at me, he takes his hands away and uses them to pull me into a tight embrace. My face is pressed into his shoulder but it doesn't stop the words I'm determined to say. "I hate you," I weakly whisper as I halfheartedly push against him, but he only grips me tighter.
"You can tell me you hate me as much as you like, but it won't change how much I love you, Laurelyn."
I want to tell him how painful it's been to feel unloved and unwanted by him my whole life and how it directly affects the way I view every man I interact with. Instead, I'm shocked by what I'm feeling. This isn't at all the reunion I'd planned in my head. All the years of anger I've felt for this man melt away because he's my father and he's holding me for the first time. I regress to that little girl who dreamed and prayed he'd want me because I was worth loving.
"I can never tell you how sorry I am for being absent from your life. But I promise you that it will never happen again. The world is going to know that you're my daughter because I love you."