Crap. I had totally forgotten about having chlamydia. That had been a leftover gift from Paris. Did I mention how hellacious that time was in my life?
"I'm sorry," I said again. "I didn't know. The drugs were really fucking me up. I didn't know what I was doing or saying half the time."
Shay didn't look like she was buying it. She folded her arms and rocked forward.
"I know I said some horrible things that night. I had just done a hit and I was jacked up and everyone was questioning us..."
"And you had to protect your rep," she summed up. "Almighty Nick Carter didn't want a fat chick on his record."
I winced. It sounded worse coming from her. "I know I said that and I might have meant it at the time, but I'm ashamed--"
"Nick, it's okay." Her voice got softer. I relaxed. I didn't like being the main target of a firing squad.
"Really?" I asked.
She leaned back and nodded. "As far as I'm concerned, you were just a sperm donor. No harm, no foul. I'm doing fine. Jake's a normal, active, smart kid. You're happy, I'm happy. That's it. The end."
I frowned. The end? What did she think this was, some Disney fairytale?
"It's not the simple," I said awkwardly. "Why didn't you tell me you were pregnant?"
Her forehead knitted in frustration. "You had bigger problems to tackle back then, didn't you?" she asked.
She was right. But still...
"I kinda deserved to know. You miss a lot in three years," I said.
"Don't worry about it," she said sharply.
My palms were sweating again. I wiped them on my jeans. My head was starting to pound. This trip to Chicago was supposed to have been just a simple wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am thing. Now it was like the Apocalypse had come.
"I'm going to worry about it," I shot back. "I have rights."
I could tell by her face that those words scared the crap out of her.
"You have nothing. What happened was a big mistake. My mistake. You look like you're doing a lot better now. I'm totally over it; I'm happy. Now if you'll just go back to doing whatever you're doing--"
"Doesn't he wonder where his dad is?" I asked.
I knew it was a big leap in subject. Her lips clamped together tightly.
I had hit a nerve.
For the last three or four months, Jake had become obsessed with the whole concept of a dad. He had first noticed something was off at his birthday party. Most of the other kids had mom and dad in tow. All he had was me. I had done a good job of deflecting his questions; I read him a couple of psychiatrist-approved picture books. But he still asked every now and then.
"Jake knows that all families are different," I said lamely.
Nick leaned forward. His eyes were more alert than I had ever seen them before. It was amazing the influence that drugs had over a person. This Nick was on his A-game.
"I don't run from responsibility anymore," he said calmly. "It looks to me like I have a responsibility here."
I licked my lips. I almost wanted jackass, dipwad, scum-of-the-earth Nick back in front of me. That guy would have just said 'eh' and headed out for another fix.
"I take full responsibility for my son," I said.
"Moooo-mmmmyyyy!"
Jake ran straight to the rocker. His fingers were every color of the rainbow. He held up a soggy piece of paper.
"Looky!"
He was into drawing people lately. Of course, the people looked like potatoes with sticks coming out of their bottoms and sides, but they were still people. I smiled.
"That looks great!"
Jake beamed. He took his pointer finger (covered in blue), and tapped a potato. "This is me," he said in his adorable high baby voice.
I pointed to a circle hanging off of one of the sticks. "What's this?"
"That's my doo-nut," he explained. He gave me a look that screamed 'duh.' He tapped another potato with his pinky finger (covered in red). "This is you, mommy," he explained. "I draweded your snot."
Sure enough there was a big squiggle of green dripping out of the center of the potato. He didn't miss a thing. He took his finger and pointed to a GIANT potato that was taking up most of the page. He looked up at Nick. "This is you!" he declared.
Nick slid down onto the ground. He took the soggy picture. Jake touched his arm and Nick was instantly covered in every single color of finger paint imaginable. "I tried to draweded an apple, but I ran out of red," Jake said apologetically.
Nick laughed. He seemed oblivious to the paint. "You have a really good memory Jake."
My little man beamed. He sat down and stared up at Nick.
"If you come here again can you bring me a doo-nut?"
I didn't know where the obsession with donuts was coming from. It seemed like Jake latched onto one particular thing every couple of days. Nick ruffled his hair.
"With sprinkles?" he guessed. Jake nodded. He kept staring at Nick.
"My hair is yellow like yours," he announced.
Nick's face contorted. His face had thinned out so that the lines were even more prominent when he frowned or smiled. He almost looked like he was...going to cry.
"It is, isn't it?" Nick said. He put the picture down on his lap. "Do you take good care of your mommy?" he asked, his voice thick. Jacob wiggled over to me. Before I could stop him, he put both of his painted hands on my brand new leggings.
"My mommy's the bestest," he said. How could I get mad at him when he said things like that? I stood up and took one of his little hands.
"Let's get your hands washed off," I said. Jake walked with me towards the bathroom, but he stopped before we got to the door. He ran back to Nick and tapped the paper.
"You can keep that," he said. "If you wanna."
Nick smiled. "I'd like that," he said softly. "A lot."
Jake ran back to me. I picked him up and put him on the sink. As I wiped off his hands, I felt a strong bubble of unease beginning to grow in the pit of my stomach.
I had been hurt by the man sitting in my living room once before. Now that he knew about Jake, he had ammunition to hurt me all over again. I knew I didn't do the right thing when I didn't even try to contact him. Part of me hadn't told Nick about Jake because I was angry. The other part didn't tell because I wanted to be selfish. I wanted someone in the world to need me more than anyone else. That was Jake's job: to need me.
And If Carter took that away from me...
He would kill me.
