Kismet (23 page)

“She was such a beautiful girl,” she says, wiping a stray tear from her cheek.

I look down at the familiarity of her face. How I thought I could fool anybody was beyond me, because there was no denying that that little girl looked just like Parker. From her dark hair and blue eyes, to her solid jaw and melting smile. “Zoe wasn’t Michael’s,” I blurt out.

I think I hear Mom gasp, but then she’s pulling me in for a hug. “Oh, Katie,” she sighs into my neck. The seconds pass and I’m sure her mind is reeling as she tries to piece things together. “Who?” she finally asks.

“I think you know, Mom.”

“Parker?”

I nod as the tears threaten to break free.

In true Mom fashion, she takes a few minutes to digest this new information. With her hand still over her mouth she asks, “Does this have anything to do with why he hasn’t been around lately?”

I nod again.

“Oh, Katie,” she sobs while we embrace each other, “I wish I’d known.”

“That’s the going sentiment,” I quip. “I’ve made a mess, huh, Mom?”

“Maybe so, but I haven’t met a mess that I couldn’t clean, so lets get started shall we?”

She reaches in my back pocket and pulls out the envelope that I’ve been walking around with and places the remaining letter in my hand. I look down at it, unsure about what my next move should be. “He needs to read this. You know Michael intended it for him.”

Running my fingers over the handwriting on the envelope, I shiver at the thought of what it might contain. But I know that Mom is right. This letter might contain something that might help Parker understand.

With each step up those familiar stairs, my heart beats further out of control.

I shouldn’t be here.

I shouldn’t do this.

I should have waited.

Should have called.

I shouldn’t be pressing the situation.

The ball is in Parker’s court, so I should be following his lead. I consider turning around and going back home, but I can’t. I owe it to Mom. And Tommy. To Parker, because he never gave up on me. To Michael. Zoe. The baby. But most of all, I owe it to myself.

Knock, knock.

Muffled sounds come from behind the door. I try to make them out, but I can’t. I knock again.

Knock, knock, knock.

This time the voice is loud and clear. “FUCK! Gimme a minute.”

He sounds so angry. So broken. I feel sick.

The door flies open to reveal a disheveled Parker, a sheet wrapped around his waist.

“You,” he says, slurring his words.

I should leave. He’s drunk, and this isn’t how I want to do this. But something keeps me glued to that spot.

“Yes, Parker. Me.”

“What do you want?” he bites out.

“To talk. Can I come in?”

“I’m sorda busy.” He steps to the side to reveal some blonde lying on his couch. Although she’s covered up with a blanket her eyes are wide as she watches our exchange.

My heart breaks and the letter slips out of my hand. I hear it slide onto the floor, the sound amplifying as my head starts ringing. Within seconds the shock subsides and the anger begins to rise. Without a second thought, I reach out and slap him across the face. “You son of a bitch,” I cry.

He doesn’t even flinch as I make contact with him. “Did you expect anything less from me, Katie? This is what I do right? I’m the proverbial fuck up.”

“This,” I point in the direction of the bimbo, tears sting my eyes, “this is
not
you. I know better than that.”

“You gonna run again?” he asks, hate dripping from every word.

“Is that what this is to you?” I ask. “A game?”

He props himself up against the doorframe with his shoulder. It’s not an educated move—he’s so drunk he’d probably fall without doing so. “Isn’t it always? You and I, the cat and the mouse. It’s always just been about the chase, right? The fun of it all.”

On shaking legs, I take a step back. Finally hearing the words that I’ve always thought, breaks my heart more than I expected them to. “You don’t mean that. You’re drunk.”

“No. I mean it with every ounce of my being.” He lifts a finger and hastily points it in my direction. “Because if I had meant
anything
to you, you would have told me!”

“Why do you think I told you now?” I cry out.

The girl behind him is officially uncomfortable and she starts to dress. Sensing her movement behind him, he turns around and yells, “No, you stay!”

She complies and sits back down.

Satisfied, he directs his angry eyes back to me. “You told me too late, Katie. Now get the fuck off my doorstep.”

With those words the floodgates open and I collapse into a heap on that step. I have ruined everything and now my world is crashing down around me. I’ve been through so much and Parker has been there with me through it all, holding my hand, helping me feel again. He was the last thing I had to hold on to.

But now…

Well now, without him by my side, I feel all those dark, self-deprecating thoughts come back. Only this time they’ve increased tenfold because now I’ve lost him too. The lump forms in my throat again, but this time I don’t choke on it. This time I unleash the screams from within. I’m lying there screaming, until suddenly it all goes black.

I wake up in my bed. Or at least I think it’s mine, it takes me a few minutes to realize that it’s not. The giveaway is the smell of the sheets, because they smell like him. That’s all it takes for me to realize that I’m not at home, and that this is Parker’s bed.

I feel sick, praying that he hadn’t had sex with her in here. Sitting up, I see that the door is open and I hear arguing coming from down the hallway. It’s Tommy, and I can tell without even seeing him that he’s beyond pissed.

“You’re a fuckin’ dick, Parker!”

Nothing. No answer.

“How long have you been holed up here drinking? Huh?” I hear a can hit the wall. “We’ve been over this before. You drink, you fuck up. Time and time again, Parker. You’re an alcoholic! You
cannot
drink—at all!”

The ache in my chest returns, but the pain is not for me. No, the guilt comes from knowing I forced his hand. Parker had slipped up because of me. I dropped such a huge bombshell on him that he felt like the only thing he could turn to was alcohol. With everything that has been going on with me, I had no idea that drinking had become such a problem for him.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Parker bites out. Both of them fall silent. “I know, Tommy. I know.” Parker speaks so quietly now that I have to strain in order to hear him. He sounds sober and I wonder how long I’ve been passed out. It’s just a guess but with all the drama his little conquest must have left. Images of her, wrapped only in that blanket cause a tear in my heart, one that I’m not sure will ever repair. He wanted to hurt me, and he succeeded.

“Jesus, I know this is tough, but you’ve got to decide what you’re going to do. Either you’re going to give whatever this thing with Katie is a real chance, or you’re going to let her live her life. She doesn’t need you adding to her shit pile.”

“We can’t live without each other,” Parker chokes out. “Not again.”

“You know, you two have always had this weird ‘need the other to breathe’ type thing. I could tell that even way back when. So I think you have your answer. You’ve gotta make this right.”

“She hates me,” Parker chokes out.

“Do you hate her?” Tommy asks. Parker doesn’t answer, at least not that I can hear. “Because you know damn well that she could never hate you. If she doesn’t by now, she’s never going to.”

That’s it, I’ve had enough. Even though I’m still a little woozy from passing out, I stand from the bed and walk out into the living room. Clearing my throat I make my presence known. Both of them look as though they’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie jar. I don’t say a word. I don’t make eye contact. Instead, I walk straight past them, down the stairs and straight into Tommy’s truck. I sit alone in the cab reveling in the silence. The driver door opens shortly after I buckle my seatbelt.

“Katie,” Tommy leads.

There’s a long pause while he looks at me, pleading with his eyes for me to say something. I should feel something, but I don’t. The words he’s waiting for don’t come, and I turn my gaze out the window.

Things are just so much easier when I’m on my own.

I fall back onto the couch. Through my still slightly drunken haze I see that the coffee table is covered in empty beer cans. I’m beyond pissed at myself—fucking things up again, just like I always have. This is my M.O. When life gets hard, Parker gets drunk. Stands to reason Mom had to have taught me something before she left. Even though I’d still been in diapers, those memories of her would stick with me forever.

When Katie dropped her bombshell, she might as well have pulled the rug out from under me, and I guess in a way she did—she full on pulled the rug out from under my sobriety. Sitting there thinking about all that had gone down in the last 24 hours takes me back, and I begin reliving each of my bad decisions.

Slamming the screen door behind me, I walk through the yard with absolute resolve. I hop into the
’Stang
and pause before pounding on the steering wheel relentlessly. Unbelievable. A daughter. My daughter. Our daughter.

The pressure of my sadness builds deep in my chest, threatening to break free at any moment. Instead of letting it out, I bite it back and turn the key, thanking my lucky stars that there is convenience store on the way to the bar.

I walk into the bar, just like I have so many times before. It’s quiet but I scan around, noticing that the few people here are the usual regulars and the slutty bartender/waitress. I’m already six beers in and the pain—feeding off me like a leech—is still there. Not the best idea I’ve ever had, but I need to do something, anything, to take away the inexplicable pain I am feeling. A dull ache at this point, it isn’t going anywhere. And here I am again—a chance at unconditional love stripped from me before I even had the chance.