Page 29 of Baby Daddy
“With your sister?”
I shook my head. “No, she was the rebellious one. She hated our life and ran away to LA when she was sixteen. She begged me to join her, but I couldn’t leave my mother alone. She was dying of cirrhosis.” I paused. “Then I got married.”
His face darkening, Drake poked at the other meatball with the tip of his fork. “To Kyle?”
“Yes.” I swallowed his name as the memory of our encounter tonight flashed into my mind. I took another big gulp of the wine to banish it.
“How did the two of you meet?” He took a sip of wine, waiting for me to answer.
“In high school. He had a band. I was one of his groupies and then he asked me to do backup for him.”
“Singing?”
“No, backup dancing. And then one night after a performance, we both got loaded and…I became his girl.” Yeah, I lost my virginity, but the thirty-seconds he was inside me were hardly memorable. He came prematurely.
Drake cut the memory short. “Were you in love with him?”
“I don’t know. I think it was more of an infatuation. He was sexy and dangerous.”
“Oh, so you like your men dangerous?” A bit of sarcasm laced his voice.
“If you mean with guns and knives, the answer is no. And if you mean men who physically abuse women, the answer is no again.”
“So, why did you marry him?”
I was young. Only eighteen. It was a way out of my rut. We both had dreams—him to score a record deal and hit it big, and I wanted to be an artist. But he also had a problem. He wasn’t patient. And the more his dream eluded him, the more he turned to drugs and booze. I thought if I gave him a child, he would have something to live for; he’d turn his life around and we’d have a future together. He was all I had. I didn’t want to lose him.” I paused and my voice grew rueful. “But it didn’t work out.”
Drake’s eyes held mine. Compassion was written all over his face. “You’ve had a rough life, Dee.”
“I guess, but I’m turning it around. Soon after Tyson was born, my mother died. I sold her trailer and moved further south to get away from Kyle who was incarcerated. People in small towns talk and can be cruel, and I didn’t want Tyson growing up with the stigma of having a father in prison. I put myself through college to get a teaching degree. On the side, I made a small living, giving art lessons to kids. I finally scraped up enough money to move to LA to be with my sister and to give Tyson a better life. One with love, culture, and opportunities. Los Angeles…the City of Angels, right?”
“Yeah, right.” His eyes circled the living room, stopping on the boxes that were scattered on the floor.
“Did you just move here?”
“A couple of months ago. This is my sister’s place. She had a spare bedroom because her roommate got a job in Chicago, and because the girl’s new employer covered the rest of her lease, Ty and I got to live here rent-free. But at the end of the month, we’re all moving out because this house is being demolished to make way for a condo complex. Hence, the boxes. We’ve begun to pack.”
“I hope you’re looking for a more secure place.”
“Yes. I’ve been looking at some apartment buildings close to Ty’s school that have an intercom system.”
“That’s good.” He flashed that dazzling smile that again made my heart dance.
Avoiding eye contact, I glanced down at his plate; to my delight, it was scraped clean. “Enough about me. Would you like dessert?”
“Depends. Is it as delicious as you are?”
The temperature in the room suddenly went up ten degrees. I felt myself flush at his sexual innuendo. Words once again were caught in my throat. I laughed nervously.
The temperature kept rising. I gulped down what remained of my wine and stood up after collecting the spaghetti and salad plates. “I’ll be right back.”
A cocky grin played on his lips. “Surprise me.”