The Man Who Has No Love - Victoria Quinn Page 0,45
himself, a little slow with his words. “Thanks…nice toy.”
“Thanks. I’m Tommy.” He was the same height, a friendly boy with a kind smile.
“I’m Derek.”
“You want to sit by me?”
“Yeah…okay.”
Tommy walked away to his desk in the middle of the rows.
Then Derek turned to me, his eyes bright again, the excitement back. “Okay, Dad. I’m ready for you to go.”
I took a deep breath and felt my gaze grow weak, a dam about to break. My fingers squeezed into his shoulders before I released, and it was so hard to let him go, impossible. It was harder than when I said goodbye and moved across the country. Knowing he’d already made a friend made me feel better, but knowing he didn’t need me anymore was worse. With every passing year, he would need me less and less…until he didn’t need me at all.
But I let go.
And watched him walk away.
I watched him pick a desk and talk to his friend, examining the toy rocket together.
I had to force myself to turn away, to place my hand on Valerie’s shoulder and escort her out of the room.
We barely made it into the hallway before she started to cry.
I watched her, feeling the same pain she felt, feeling the same sense of loss.
She covered her face with her palms as she breathed hard. “He was a baby just yesterday…”
I didn’t cry, but I couldn’t stop my eyes from watering, couldn’t stop the pain that cracked all my ribs. “I know.”
“This snuck up on me.”
“Me too.”
She dropped her hands and looked at me, her eyes puffy.
I looked at her, seeing the one person in the world who understood what I was experiencing in that moment—because we’d made him together.
She saw the wetness in my eyes, and her eyes softened.
I moved into her and wrapped my arms around her, holding her in the hallway, both of us emotional. It was one of the few times I actually felt something for her, a connection because of the son we’d made together. I hadn’t wanted him, and now I knew how empty my life would have been without him. “Thank you for giving him to me.” I didn’t love her, barely had any affection for her at all, but as the mother of my child, I would always feel something for her. Always.
“I love him so much…”
“I know. I do too.”
At noon, Theresa messaged me. Cleo is here to see you.
I had no idea why. We hadn’t spoken today. But I didn’t want to ask any questions, because it would be odd if I didn’t know why my own assistant was there. Send her in.
The doors opened a moment later, and Cleo walked inside, carrying a bag that probably contained my lunch.
I didn’t rise from my chair. I just didn’t have the energy right now.
She watched me, pity in her eyes. “I thought you might need a pick-me-up today.” She came around the desk and leaned against the edge, looking down at me. “You okay?”
I didn’t answer.
She came closer, helping herself to my lap, her arm hooking over my shoulders.
My arm circled her waist, and I rested my head in the crook of her neck, smelling the scent of roses, feeling the deep curve in her lower back. I didn’t care about the food. This was much more comforting.
Her hands rubbed the back of my neck, her skirt rising up because of the way she sat, a glimpse of her panties visible.
Normally, I was in the mood every time I saw her, but today, I was too empty.
“The worst part is over, at least.”
“No…it’s just begun.” I pulled my head back and looked at her. “The older he gets, the less he needs me. The less often I’ll hear him call me Dad. The less often he’ll ask me to help him with his models, ask to go to the cabin. Who knows what he’ll be like as a teenager…may not even want to be around me. That’s less than ten years away.”
She played with the back of my hair. “You still have a lot of time left, Deacon.”
“I know, but it’ll go by so quickly.”
“And a lot of great things will happen as he ages. Someday, you won’t have to be just his father anymore. You’ll be his friend instead. The way your father was your friend. And that’s something a lot of parents look forward to, when they’ve raised a good person they want to be around.”