But it’s not a bad shadow. It’s a good one, the best one.
I never want it to go away.
CHAPTER SIX
Aaron
A week.
I stare at myself in the mirror, at my bloodshot eyes and pale skin. It’s been a week and I’ve hardly been able to sleep, tossing and turning at night as I think about my Billie. If I do manage to drift off, it’s into tortured dreams.
It’s two AM, the city quiet and dark – I remember a hazy nightmare. I was cradling Billie to my chest, smoothing my hands through her hair, whispering softly in her ear that she’s mine and she’s always going to be mine.
But then Andy appeared, looking like he did twenty years ago, his hair long and stringy. He marched over to us with his hands clenched into fists, roaring at me to get away from his daughter.
“I’ll kill you if you ever touch her again.”
I groan, splashing water on my face, wondering if my Billie has found this past week as difficult as I have.
If Andy didn’t want anything to do with me, why did he bring his daughter to my concert?
But he had no way of knowing I was going to kiss her, and fall for her so hard I feel like my heart is crumbling a little more every few minutes.
I walk into the bedroom and drop onto the edge of the bed, suddenly discomfited by the quiet. I usually welcome the silence of the night, especially after so many years spent at gigs and concerts and after-show parties.
Normally, I’m able to lie back and close my eyes, relishing it. Now all I can think about is the fact that Billie should be sleeping next to me, her soft breath breaking the silence, or that there could be a baby in the next room, crying out for our love.
I don’t usually focus on how big and empty my bed feels, with too much room for me to spread out.
I bury my face in my hands, telling myself I’ve already caused Andy enough trouble.
Even if that’s bullshit, even if he brought it on himself.
But maybe I could’ve fought harder, tried to make him see reason.
I stand and get dressed, not letting myself think about what I’m doing. I can’t ponder this for too long. I can’t allow myself to question it, because then I’ll stop. Then I’ll realize just how insanely messed up this is.
Anyway, Andy might’ve moved from his apartment building. And even if he hasn’t, it’s not like Billie’s going to have any reason to wander the streets at two in the morning.
So what, exactly, am I doing?
It’s like there’s some invisible pull, urging me to get as close to my woman as possible. It’s like there’s a hook in my chest, tugging at me.
Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep. Maybe I’m going crazy.
Maybe, maybe…
I don’t care about maybes as I drive through the quiet streets, crossing the bridge and heading towards Andy’s old apartment building. The last time I was here was soon after Billie was born, right before Andy and I stopped speaking, after our last big fight.
“If you do this, I’m done with you,” he snapped. “I mean it, Aaron. I refuse.”
I grind my teeth from side to side as his expression returns to me, his features shaped into a judgmental frown, forehead furrowed, as though he wanted me to know how much better than me he was.
My mind doesn’t stop as I drive.
I imagine Billie slinking out of the apartment’s main door in a mouth-watering silk robe looking for me. Making sure no one saw her but me.
She’s for my eyes only.
I’d step from my car and pull her in after me into the back seat, sliding my palms up those smooth thighs, those juicy captivating thighs of hers…
I pull away from a red light, and soon I’m slowly gliding down the street. The buildings around here are all rundown.
My woman deserves the best in life, the best everything, to be treated like the queen she is. She deserves a place so much better than this.
If I said anything like that to Andy, he’d probably go on a two-hour rant about how rich people are evil, that no matter how much money you give to charity, no matter how honestly you earned your money, being wealthy is inherently wrong.
I stop opposite the building. I can’t be sure, but it feels like the exact same parking spot I used the last time I came here. The street is quiet, the street lamps are turned off here so the city can save money. A few lights show in her apartment building, but I can’t remember which one belongs to Andy. If he even still lives here.
For the thousandth time, I ask myself.
What the hell am I doing?
I flinch when somebody knocks on the glass. As I turn, I expect to find a homeless person asking for some spare change, or maybe somebody’s thinking about mugging the idiot who decided to take his expensive car for a spin at two AM.