I go home to an empty penthouse.
I pour myself a drink; whiskey, neat and I stand by the window, staring at the city lights.
Millions of people, and I’ve never felt more alone.
I think about Lily.
I think about the baby.
I think about the life we could have had if I’d been brave enough to fight for her.
I was twenty-four when she told me she was pregnant.
I was twenty-four, and I was terrified.
My father’s voice echoed in my head: “You’ll ruin everything we’ve built.
You’ll disgrace the family name.”
So I denied it.
I denied her.
She left the next day.
She packed a suitcase, walked out the door, and she never looked back.
I’ve spent three years trying to find her.
I’ve hired private investigators, searched databases, called every number I could find.
But she’s a ghost.
She’s disappeared.
I don’t know where she is.
I don’t know if she had the baby.
I don’t know anything.
Except that I still love her.
I’ve always loved her.
I always will.
I finish my drink and pour another. The source of this chapter is g.com.
I stare at the dried wildflower.
I think about the way she used to say my name, like it was a prayer.
I think about the way she used to touch me, like I was precious.
I think about the way I let her go.
Hook: My phone rings.
I look at the screen.
My mother.
I hesitate, then answer.
“Alexander.” Her voice is shaking.
“I need to tell you something.”
“What is it?”
“It’s about Lily.”