Page 128 of The Last Goodbye

I pulled away quickly and hurried toward the door without saying it back to him, even though I felt it. “Thank you both. I’ll call you later.”

I only lived a block away from Denton, and I started to dial Bass. I needed to talk to him.

But how could I tell him this?

How could I tell him that my father was an evil man, and he’d lied to all of us?

But I couldn’t even think about that, because there were letters from my mother in this envelope. A piece of her that I hadn’t known about before now.

I entered my apartment, dropped my purse on the counter, kicked my heels off, and settled on the couch with the large manila envelope in hand.

I glanced around my apartment. It was a representation of my old life.

My life before Bass.

I’d never realized just how cold and quiet and emotionally empty this place was in comparison to the warmth I’d felt where I’d been living the last few months.

My apartment was isolating and lonely.

Exactly how I felt in this moment.

I pulled out the letters, all three of them, in white envelopes that had already been opened. I put them in order of the dates they’d been postmarked.

The tears started falling the moment I opened the first letter and saw her handwriting. My mother had gorgeous penmanship. I’d always teased her that it could have been its own font. It was artsy and very distinct, and I felt her here with me as I read the first letter.

Dear William,

I know I’ve made it clear that we can’t be together. Finding out that you lied to me, that you have a wife and son—it’s something I will never get over. Trust is important to me, which I’ve made clear to you since the day we met. Integrity is also important to me, and it’s another area where you are lacking. At the end of the day, if you can do this to the woman you pledged your love to and to your young child, I can’t imagine what else you’re capable of. Things moved too quickly for us, and I should have slowed down and been more careful, which I will do moving forward. I know it’s been several months since I asked you to stay out of my life, and I meant it.

I still mean it.

However, I am not a selfish woman, and I know that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t share this news with you. I am twelve weeks pregnant with a baby girl. Our baby girl. I’ve shared with you that I didn’t grow up with a father, which was something that always hurt me in ways I can’t explain. So while I’m disappointed in the man you turned out to be, I cannot take the opportunity away from my child, our child, to not know her father. Maybe you could have a decent relationship with her, and you and I could learn to tolerate one another, in the name of our child’s happiness. I have obviously not met her yet, but I already love her more than I can put into words. That love is driving me to write this letter—to do the right thing. If you would like to know her, if you would like to attend the last few doctor appointments or be present at her birth, I will not take that from you. You know where I live, and this is my olive branch for you to know your daughter.

Sincerely, Josephine

Tears ran down my face as I folded up the first letter and fell back against the couch.

He’d known about me, just like she said he had.

He’d known about me the whole time.

My hands shook as I pulled letter number two out of the opened envelope.

William,

I received your letter in the mail, along with the $5,000 check, which I tore up, as it will not be cashed. I wasn’t looking for money, asshole. I was giving you a gift—a gift to know your beautiful daughter. But after reading your letter, it’s clear that you do not want to be a part of her life for fear that your wife will not forgive you. I do wonder what she would think about you having a yearlong affair with a woman who didn’t know that you were married. You weren’t very concerned about her then, were you? Your daughter’s name is Briar Sinclair. Yes, she will have my last name, and I am happy to raise her on my own. I have no interest in your money, since I do not want my daughter to ever know that her father wanted nothing to do with her and offered a cheap buyout. Shame on you. The only reason I can’t hold hate for you in my heart is because you’ve given me what I cherish most in my life. My baby girl is three months old today, and she’s happy and strong and beautiful. I am enclosing this one photo so you can see what you’ve so easily walked away from. Thank you for making this easier for me. Your response spoke volumes. May we never cross paths again.

Josephine

My God, this man had literally turned his back on her. On me. And he’d known about me the whole time. He’d put on quite the emotional show when I’d found him after all those years. None of it was real.

I went to the bathroom to grab some tissue and splashed water on my face before blowing my nose. I padded back to the couch. One more letter to go.

I reached for the final letter and pulled it from the envelope.

William,

You small, sad little man. I received your last eight letters, and though I had no desire to respond, I must ask that you stop writing me now. I understand your fear that I’ll expose you to your wife, to the world, to everyone who thinks you’re someone you’re not. I did see that you received the New York Man of the Year Award from some business magazine, and I understand that you’re very concerned about your image. Let me make this clear, so we never have to speak again. I do not want anything from you. I don’t want your money, and I don’t want to ruin you. You no longer exist in my world. I said goodbye to you the day I found out that you were married, the day I kicked your ass out of my apartment. The only reason I wrote you the first time was because I felt guilty for not telling you about Briar. I felt you deserved to know you had a child, regardless of my personal feelings for you. That’s what being a parent is all about. Putting your own feelings aside for the happiness of your child. Your response, and the letters that have followed, actually make me sick. This panic about being exposed is appalling. I don’t care about your awards or your marriage or who the world thinks you are. I wouldn’t spend my energy trying to expose you, because you are not worth one more ounce of my time. So, I ask you this—stop writing me and offering me money for my silence. My silence is free, William. I will never speak of you. I will simply tell my daughter that her father was a coward, and one who doesn’t deserve our time, energy, or love. I am raising a strong little girl who will grow up into a strong woman. She will not waste her tears on an undeserving man. If you continue to write me, you will force me to file a restraining order for harassment with the police department, and I do believe that becomes public record. So, consider this your final warning, William. You’ve made your choices and I’ve made mine. Goodbye.