Single Mama's Got More Drama

Edgar had explained himself already, but no matter how many times he told me the story, I would never understand. He had jumped the gun by talking to Byron about my relationship with Chaz, though he’d rightly assumed that it was serious. I guess it boiled down to the fact that Edgar and Byron had been friends from the time Byron had also worked security at the building, and despite Byron’s short-comings, Edgar must have felt some sort of obligation to tell him about me and Chaz.

What Edgar didn’t understand was that Byron talked a good game. He said the right things about getting over the gambling and wanting to be a decent father to those who would listen, but in reality, he didn’t try. He knew that if he admitted the truth—that he’d simply abandoned his daughter—his friends and family would see him as a schmuck.

“Well, you ruined everything,” I said.

“I was only trying to help. Trying to be a good friend.”

“You want to know something? Something that will show you Byron’s true character?” I paused, made sure I had Edgar’s full attention. “I haven’t heard from Byron since that day he showed up at the restaurant. So. There you go.”

“I’m sorry,” Edgar said. “I really am.”

“Yeah,” I said softly. I still liked Edgar, even if I felt I had to keep up the pissed-off act with him a while longer. It was probably best I didn’t get too chummy with him again, because I didn’t want him running back to Byron with any more stories about my love life.

That was one of the reasons I made sure not to wear the ring Lewis had given me to work. And of course, I hadn’t wanted any questions from anyone in the office. Only Carla and Alaina knew about my engagement. I hadn’t even told Debbie.

“You have a good evening,” I said to Edgar. I knew it wasn’t his fault that Chaz had dumped me, but if only he hadn’t told Byron. If I’d been able to broach the subject of Rayna’s father actually being alive in some other way than the dramatic fashion with which it played out, Chaz might still be in my life.

“Yeah, you have a good night, too,” Edgar said, but his voice sounded off, and he was looking beyond my shoulder, not at me. The wary expression on his face had me alarmed.

“What?” I asked, and quickly followed his gaze over my shoulder.

As I did, I gasped, feeling as though I’d been scalded by fire. Byron. Then I spun back around and glared at Edgar. “Did you set me up again?”

“No!” he protested. “He just showed up, I swear!”

I didn’t know what to believe. All I knew was that my heart was suddenly pounding furiously. There was a chance that he wasn’t here to see me, but rather Edgar. That’s what I hoped as I secured my purse strap over my shoulder and started briskly away from the desk.

Byron promptly blocked my path.

I didn’t say anything to him, just moved to the right to try to step past him. He matched my movement, which made it very clear that he was here to see me.

“Get out of my way,” I said. I didn’t care why he was in the lobby of my office building. I had nothing to say to him.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” I was already frustrated and spoke louder than I’d intended. I glanced around surreptitiously to see if any people were staring. No one seemed to care about me and Byron as they headed toward the exit.

For now. If our “conversation” continued, I didn’t doubt we’d end up with an audience. The last thing I wanted was an ugly conflict with a dozen witnesses. So I made a quick step to the left and moved around him, then hustled to the front door.

Byron was on my tail. I could feel him. But I didn’t turn. I breezed through the door behind someone else who was exiting and hurried onto the street.

I took about ten steps before I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder. Even though I knew it was Byron behind me, I flinched nonetheless.

“Damn it, Vanessa. You will talk to me.”

“What?” I demanded as I whirled around. My chest was heaving, my breathing labored.

“I want to see my daughter.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“Yeah, I heard you. But considering you’ve been a deadbeat dad since before Rayna was born, what you’re saying may as well be in Chinese, since it makes no sense to me.”

“I want to see Rayna. Let’s set up a time and meet somewhere you feel comfortable.”

“Like in your bookie’s office, perhaps?” I asked.

“I’m done with the gambling. I already told you.”

“And I’m just supposed to take the word of a liar?” Byron had been around intermittently when I’d been pregnant. One of those times had been when my friends had thrown me a baby shower. He’d gathered the presents and driven me home from my sister’s place—only he hadn’t given me all the gifts I’d received for Rayna. Some ended up missing and—you guessed it—were never seen again.

“A guy can change, Vanessa. I’m ready to be a dad.”

“Not gonna happen,” I said.

“She’s my daughter.”

“No, she’s not.”

“Yes, she is.”

“Maybe biologically, but not in all the ways that matter. And that was your choice, Byron. Not mine.”

“Don’t be a bitch,” Byron snapped. “I’m trying to do the right thing here.”

I laughed sardonically. “Better a bitch than a deadbeat. This conversation is over.”

Turning away from Byron, I started to jog now. I pressed on even as my feet hurt in my shoes. When I was half a block away—and certain that my heels were destroyed—I finally looked over my shoulder.

Byron was nowhere to be seen.

Only then did I stop jogging. Stopped and gulped in air. Not just because I was winded, but because I was panicked. Panicked at the thought that Byron wanted to be part of Rayna’s life.

I leaned my back against the exterior of a building, my stomach suddenly nauseous.

This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. I repeated that line in my mind over and over, as though just by thinking it, I could make what had happened a bad dream rather than an ugly reality.

People gave me odd looks as they passed me, and I finally eased myself up off the wall. My heart was still pounding, and I felt sort of numb.

I made my way to the parking lot where my car was, and as I got behind the wheel, I noticed my hands were shaking.

Was Byron truly feeling paternal? Or was it once again a passing phase? I hadn’t heard from him after that day at the restaurant. Not one peep. Not an apology. Not a request to see Rayna. I guess there were times when the reality that he’d fathered a child hit him in the head like a giant conch shell, and he probably felt a bit of guilt over not being in her life.

But the guilt would pass. It always did.

When I realized I’d been sitting behind the wheel of my car for nearly ten minutes, I started the engine and drove out of the parking lot. I was going to be late for my meeting with Cynthia.