“Carson, I…”
“All this time, you’ve been seeing me every week, screwing me even, and you were keeping this from me?” he hissed, shoving himself away from me again and gripping his hands in his hair roughly, growling in frustration. “How could you not tell me? All this time!”
I slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest as I cried.
He laughed coldly. “Yeah, bring on the waterworks, Emma. That’s gonna sort everything out!” he said sarcastically.
“I was thinking of you,” I said again. My voice broke and hitched with sobs as I spoke. “When I found out I was pregnant, you were just starting to take off with your career. I didn’t want to take your dreams away from you. I didn’t want to trap you with a stupid little sixteen-year-old girl, because you deserved better than that. I wanted better for you than to be a teenage father,” I admitted. I pressed my face into my knees, feeling my tears soaking into the material of my jeans.
He sighed heavily. “So, you went through that on your own. Instead of telling me and letting me help you, you did it on your own. This is why you work at the club, so you can afford a daughter and a little brother.”
I nodded, and sniffed.
“You’ve kept this from me for two years. You’ve seen me make all this money, and the whole time you’ve been struggling to raise my daughter on your own,” he said quietly. Movement sounded from beside me and something bumped my shoulder. I turned my head slightly to see he’d slid down the wall and was sitting next to me. His head was in his hands, his whole body language sad and defeated.
“I don’t want your money.” I closed my eyes and tried to think about anything other than the pounding in my head that was making me feel queasy.
We sat in silence for a little while; I didn’t know what to say. I knew I needed to let him process this. I’d had two years and nine months to accept being a mum, but he’d had parenthood thrust on him this morning.
Finally, he spoke, his voice husky and deep where he hadn’t said anything for a while. “Her name’s Sasha?”
I smiled. “Sasha Eloise Bancroft,” I confirmed.
He sniffed and wiped his face. “That’s a nice name.” I nodded; I loved her name. “What does she look like? In the papers, you can only see the back of her head.” He turned to look at me. I gulped when I saw how red his eyes were. Had he been crying while we were sitting there? I desperately wanted to comfort him, but I couldn’t even move my arms from my hugging position on my knees. It was like I was frozen there.
“She’s beautiful. She looks like you.” I smiled weakly as I looked at the bright-blue colour to his eyes. “She has the same colour hair and eyes as you, but her hair’s curly like mine.”
He smiled for a second before it faded again to be replaced by the heartbroken look. “Do you have a picture?”
I nodded and forced myself to move. Pushing myself off the floor and heading into the lounge, I picked up a photo frame from the side. I turned back just as Carson walked in and held it out to him. As he reached out to take it, I noticed his hands were shaking and his breathing was coming out a little shallower than usual. He looked at it silently, just staring at the picture with wide eyes and his lips parted. His face was so soft and tender I felt my heart melt into a puddle.
“She’s beautiful,” he whispered.
I chewed on my lip, unsure what I should say. I always thought I was doing the right thing by Carson, letting him off, giving him an out from my life. I never wanted him to have to live like I lived every day. I was always confident I’d done the right thing in letting him have his dream. But at this exact moment, looking at him as he looked at a picture of his daughter for the first time, I suddenly felt selfish. I felt like instead of giving him his dream, maybe I’d taken something away from him, taken her away from him. Sasha was the best thing that had ever happened to me, but it had never occurred to me that maybe it would be the same for him if I’d have told him.
“Where is she? The police told me she went to a friend’s,” he said quietly.
“She’s at Lucie’s because of the reporters. They were banging on the door; I thought it best to get her away from it until it calmed down. Rory’s there, too; they’re staying there tonight,” I explained.
He nodded and ran his thumb over the picture lightly but didn’t say anything.
My mouth was dry as his silence stretched on and on. I knew I needed to start this conversation myself. “Carson, you don’t have to feel obligated to us or anything. We’re doing fine. I don’t want your money or anything, but if you want to see her, you can. You can see her as much as you want, or if you don’t want anything to do with her, then I understand that, too. She was a mistake, and you don’t have to pay for that for the rest of your life,” I said, trying to let him know I wouldn’t stop him from seeing her if he wanted to.
His head snapped up to look at me. “If I want to see her? Is that a fucking joke? Of course I want to see her, she’s my daughter!” he retorted. His eyes turned angry again as his jaw clenched and unclenched.
I nodded and swallowed awkwardly. “Okay, well, you can come around here whenever you want.”
He laughed coldly, shaking his head as if I were stupid. “I’m not leaving my daughter here to be brought up on a fucking part-time lap dancer’s salary!” he hissed.
My back stiffened. ‘Leaving her here.’ I looked at him warningly. If he thought he was taking her away from me then he had another thing coming. “What’s that supposed to mean exactly?” His eyes turned calculating as I spoke. “You can see her whenever you want; we’ll arrange visits and stuff…” I trailed off, the hair on the nape of my neck standing up as panic gripped my stomach.