Once Upon a Daddy: A Romance Anthology

by Kelli Callahan

  “Okay, I think that’s about enough for today.” Mr. Anderson turned his watch over and looked at it. “Lauren, would you stay behind so we can discuss something?”

  Oh god, I’m going to get a private lecture about tardiness—this may not be that different from high school after all.

  The other students in the class packed their things once they were dismissed. Some of them gave me knowing glances—they saw me sneaking in after the lecture started—they knew that was probably the reason Mr. Anderson wanted to see me after class. I watched as they filed through the door, wishing I was in the back of the line. I never liked getting in trouble at school, and I hadn’t seen a bit of it since I started college. Most of my professors just ignored everything we did as long as we weren’t causing a disturbance. One of the girls in my Creative Writing elective played on her phone every single day and nothing was said—she was well on her way to beating Candy Crush by the end of the semester.

  “I’m sorry I was late.” I looked up at Mr. Anderson with a meek stare on my face.

  “If you’re late you’re late.” He shrugged. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?” I blinked in surprise.

  “Have you ever heard of NewsNow?” He tilted his head slightly.

  “No, I don’t think so.” I raised an eyebrow.

  “I didn’t figure you had, but I thought I’d ask first. NewsNow is a website that is based in the UK. They have an office here in California for their American affiliate. It’s not very popular, but that’s not important. What is important is that they sometimes send stories to California State and allow us to choose a student to write the article—if it’s good, they even put it on their website.” He walked around his desk and tapped his keyboard. “How would you like to write one?”

  “Me?” I couldn’t hide the confusion in my voice, and it seemed that he picked up on it as well.

  “Are you the best student we have? No. But—your last assignment was very well written. I can tell you’ve had some practice and the Dean likes for me to offer these articles to Freshman if possible. We have a similar arrangement with a few other news websites—bigger ones—and those stories usually go to the graduating seniors.” He leaned forward and typed something into his computer. “If you’re interested, I’ll forward you the email.”

  “Wow, I mean—yes.” I nodded quickly. “I’m definitely interested. Wait, what’s the article about?”

  “Football.” He chuckled. “I know—that’s probably not your favorite subject to write about but it’ll be good practice. If you end up becoming a reporter one day, you probably won’t get to write about things you love very often.”

  “I wrote a few articles about football for my high school newspaper.” I tilted my head slightly. “I’m sure I can pull it off with enough research. When is it due?”

  “They need it by Friday, so I need it by Thursday so I can proofread everything.” He tapped a couple of keys. “I just emailed it to you.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Anderson.” I gathered my things and started to stand. “I really appreciate it!”

  “No problem. I know you’ll do a good job—this stuff looks great on your resume.” He smiled as I walked towards the door.

  I didn’t mind if the article was about Football. After writing stories for my high school newspaper every week, I kind of missed being able to sit down and research something so I could put words on a page that people read. That was what drew me to journalism—before I realized that it wasn’t going to be able to put food on my table and a roof over my head. It certainly wasn’t going to do that in Los Angeles unless I had a few roommates. I was afraid to think of another alternative—that if things worked out with Walker, it might not be that much of a concern. That wasn’t why I enjoyed spending time with him, even if I was wearing jeans he bought me that were more expensive than the rest of the ones in my closet combined.

  A lot can change in four years. The fire could burn out—it’s not like he has the best track record when it comes to women. I might be nursing a broken heart when I finally graduate from college—or he may never take enough of it for me to feel it shatter.

  I didn’t have any other surprises as I sat through the rest of my classes. Once I made it outside when my day was over, I realized I did have a slight problem—Walker drove to me to school, and I didn’t have a way to get back to my apartment. If I had thought about it earlier in the day, I could have asked Madeleine for a ride, but her day ended an hour before mine. I had a car. It was a piece of junk, but it normally got me to school. It was even parked in the garage at our apartment building when I rushed inside to gather my books. If I wasn’t functioning on nothing but coffee and passionate adrenaline, I would have probably realized that. My best option was public transportation. That meant I had to wait for a bus to arrive—and sit through several stops before I got to one that was close enough to my apartment to make walking the rest of the way feasible.

  I guess I should text him so that he knows I’ll be late. I don’t even know what time he finishes filming—I might be sitting on his doorstep if I get there too early.

  Lauren: Hey, so—you left me at school without a car, so I’ve gotta take the bus back to my apartment. It’ll take me a couple of hours to make it to your house.

  Walker: No problem.

  The message was short, but it wasn’t sweet. It was rather impersonal. He didn’t apologize for leaving me stranded—he didn’t even offer to pick me up. I wasn’t expecting him to offer that, but it would have been nice of him to suggest an alternative. I tried not to read too much into it. He was probably still busy with filming the next episode of Dangerous Thorns—or maybe it was just an emotional day since Jamison Thorn was being killed off. I decided to call my mother while I waited on the bus. I normally called her every weekend, but I had been—distracted. We caught up on the stuff that mattered and like always, she started catching me up on the latest events on her favorite soap opera. I wanted to tell her about Walker—but I wasn’t ready to have that conversation yet. I didn’t really know how she would react if she found out her nineteen year old daughter was dating a forty-five year old man—especially one that she knew from television—and one that she sort of had a mild crush on too.

  I should definitely keep all of this to myself for now.

  I would have to tell my mother about him eventually, especially if things worked out. I could already see the horrified expression on her face—it would probably be the same one she had when she caught me playing doctor with the boy next door in nothing but my panties. I was a skinny kid back then, but she acted like I had just been caught having sex for the first time. The same woman who flipped out over that didn’t seem to think it was weird to let me sit and watch soap operas with very adult themes and controversial sex scenes that pushed every limit they could on daytime television. Maybe she thought I could separate television from reality—she was right, but that didn’t stop me from developing a crush on the man who would eventually be the first one to actually take my panties off.

  Now I call him Daddy and he punishes me when I’m bad—but he might be the one who gets punished tonight if he doesn’t have a good reason for blowing off my text.

  I made it to my apartment, but I got a blister on my left foot in the process. The new sneakers Walker bought me were nice, but they weren’t broken in yet and the left one rubbed against my heel. The walk from the bus stop to my apartment was a lot further than I realized, especially when I realized that my feet were killing me. I limped to the elevator and took my shoes off once I made it to my floor. I walked the rest of the way in my socks and could already see blood on the back of my sock. I tended to the wound and put on my regular shoes as soon as I got home After that, I quickly packed an overnight bag so I would have something to wear the next day. Madeleine wasn’t home, which was unusual, but she knew I wasn’t going to be spending the night in my own bed.

  I’m really going to need another cup of coff
ee if this night is anything like the others we’ve spent together…

  I felt like I was running late, even though I didn’t tell Walker what time I would be there. He hadn’t sent me another text message or anything, so I assumed he didn’t care that I might not get to his place before the sun went down. I brewed a cup of coffee in the Keurig before I finally left my apartment. My regular sneakers felt better on my feet, but the blister was noticeable. I tried not to think about it as I walked, but there were a few grimaces before I got to my car. I drove to Walker’s house, but when I got to the front gate, I realized that he wasn’t home. There was no response from the speaker, and I could see that the lights were off except for a few on the outside of the house. It seemed that I wasn’t the only one running late. I dug around in my purse and found my cell phone. The only option I had was to text him and see if I could figure out when he would be home. I doubted I could get into his house, even if he gave me the code for the front gate.

  Lauren: Hey, I just made it to your house but you’re not home.

  I stared at my phone after I sent the message. I saw the icon pop up that said it was delivered. I couldn’t remember if that meant he had read it, or it was just successfully sent. I didn’t see any dots on the screen to indicate he was typing a reply. I sat in my car and stared at the house while wondering how long I should wait before I just drove back to my apartment. A couple of cars passed—one of them slowed down. They probably weren’t used to seeing a raggedy piece of junk like the one I was driving in such an affluent neighborhood.

  If they called the cops, I would probably have difficulty explaining why I was sitting outside Walker Delaney’s house. If he wasn’t answering my text messages, then he probably wouldn’t answer them if they called. I decided to test that theory myself by dialing his number—it went to voicemail. Even his voice on a prerecorded message was sexy as sin—but that wasn’t what mattered at the moment. I decided that it was time to give up, so I leaned forward to crank up my car. As soon as I turned the engine over, I heard my phone buzz and saw Walker’s name on the screen.

  Walker: I’m almost there. We need to talk.

  Surely, he knows how ominous that sounds…

  The frustration I had been feeling up to that point gave way to panic. I tried to calm my nerves. Walker’s previous reply was short. There was a chance that he just didn’t embrace the shift to text messages as a form of communication. Maybe he typed ‘we need to talk’ with a huge smile on his face because he wanted to discuss something special. It would have been easier if I could have convinced myself of that, but without tone in the text message, all I could do was worry. I reminded myself that everything had been fine that morning—and it was likely an emotional day for him since Jamison Thorn was being killed off. Those thoughts didn’t quell my concern—but I had always been the type to worry when things didn’t seem right. I was still lost in my panic-driven thoughts when Walker’s car pulled up to the gate. He didn’t even get out of his car. He hit the remote to open his gate and motioned for me to follow him.

  I didn’t see a smile—maybe his beard concealed it.

  Walker pulled up to the front of his house and stepped out of his car. That wasn’t where he parked his car—it was normally parked in the garage. Parking it outside was a sign that he didn’t intend to stay long. He stepped out of his car and walked up the steps to his house. Instead of opening the front door, he just sat down on the top step. The bad signs were starting to pile up, and I had a sick feeling in my stomach when I finally did get my car parked beside his. I opened my door and when I got close to the front steps of his house, I could tell that his beard wasn’t concealing a smile—there wasn’t one. He didn’t look happy.

  “Come on up here and sit down.” He patted the step beside him, and I started walking up the ones that separated us.

  “Okay…” I tried to read the expression on his face, but the rest of his body language was saying a lot—something wasn’t right. “Walker, what’s wrong? What do we need to talk about?”

  “Us—obviously.” He exhaled sharply.

  Obviously? What am I missing here?

  “You’re scaring me.” I sat down on the step beside him—he didn’t reach out for my hand or even turn his head in my direction.

  “I don’t know how to do it without upsetting you, so here goes—this isn’t going to work out between us.” He stared straight ahead, but I saw his eye flinch as he spoke.

  “What the hell?” I blinked in surprise. “What happened? Things were great this morning—did I do something wrong?”

  “No, I’ve just been down this road before and I know how it ends. I might as well just stop while I’m ahead before I end up breaking your heart.” He sighed. “It’s inevitable. I was a fool to think it could be any different with you.”

  “Are you even going to tell me why?” I could tell I was on the verge of tears—for a man I had only known a few days.

  “They’ve decided not to kill Jamison Thorn. They want to keep me around after all.” He shrugged. “This isn’t easy for me, but I’d rather end things now than to watch the light go out in your eyes when you see what kind of man I really am.”

  “Why does it matter if they kill Jamison Thorn or not?” I remembered what he told me—how it ruined previous relationships—but I wasn’t ready to give up so easily. “That doesn’t mean you have to make the same mistakes.”

  “Unfortunately, it does.” He looked down at the steps. “This might as well be a sequel to every other relationship I’ve had now—and I’m done watching the same scenes play out again-and-again.”

  “You told me not to compare myself to those other girls! Now you’re doing the exact same thing?” The tears were definitely coming, but they had been put in abeyance by the anger flooding my veins.

  “No, I’m not.” He finally turned to look at me and I saw a faint shimmer in the corner of his eye. “They weren’t the problem—I was. I thought things could be different, but they won’t be. I’ll be too busy for you—you’ll be sitting at my front gate wondering where I am—just like today. Eventually, you’ll get tired of waiting for me to come home—and when I finally make it, you’ll be gone.”

  “You’re making so many fucking assumptions—and it’s not fair.” The anger was keeping the tears at bay, but there was angry-crying coming—I could feel it.

  “Nothing in life is fair.” He leaned forward and started to stand. “I should have admitted that to myself a long time ago.”

  Walker walked to the door and unlocked it. I was stunned for a moment, but I quickly got control of my senses. I wasn’t ready to give up yet. I ran to the door and managed to catch the edge with my hand before he could close it. I gave him the option of slamming my fingers in the wood or letting go—he chose the latter. He was already walking to his bar when I got into his house. The hurt and anger were mixing together inside me. I wanted to lash out, but I needed to try and reason with him more. I knew I was falling for him, but I didn’t realize how strong my feelings had become in a few short days until the realization that it could be over was right in front of my eyes.

  “Can’t we talk about this?” I followed him to the bar.

  “We did.” He grabbed a glass and filled it with whiskey. “There’s nothing else to talk about.”

  “Don’t do this.” I pushed his shoulder with my hand, which caused him to turn towards me.

  “You want to hit me? Go ahead.” He tapped the side of his mouth where his beard met his lip. “Lay it on me—several of them if you need to. You won’t be the first woman to slap me.”

  “I don’t want to hit you…” I grabbed the front of his shirt and took a step closer. “I want you to hold me.”

  “Lauren—I…” His words trailed off for a second. “I just can’t. I’ve made that mistake too many times. I thought it could be different with you because I thought I was done with Dangerous Thorns—I don’t know how to be Walker Delaney and Jamison Thorn at the same time.”

&
nbsp; “You won’t even try?” The tears that had been welling in my eyes finally spilled over the edges and ran down my face.

  “I have tried—many times.” He shook his head back and forth. “The result is always the same.”

  “Then let’s go down in a fucking blaze…” I lifted up on my toes until our lips were nearly touching. “Please…”

  “It won’t be pretty.” He exhaled sharply. “I can tell that you think things will be different, but they won’t be. If there was another way, I would have figured that out by now.”

  “I don’t care.” I closed my eyes and tried to blink away the tears.

  I just don’t fucking care.

  I kissed him. I didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t return the kiss at first, but then I felt his lips moving against mine. The glass in his hand wasn’t his first drink of the evening—I could taste it on his lips. He finally put his glass down and wrapped both arms around me. I couldn’t fight what I felt—I didn’t want to lose Walker, even if I was just walking the same path so many others had walked with the abyss in front of me. I was willing to take that risk. I understood his hesitation because he had told me how the other relationships fell apart—I knew it was literally asking for the exact same thing. History did have a way of repeating itself, but that wasn’t an absolute certainty. If I knew what I was getting into from the beginning, then how could it become what he feared most? If he pushed me away, there would be no chance to find out if it was possible.

  If we’re destined to repeat his past mistakes, then I’ll do it with a smile on my face and tears in my eyes.

  Thirteen

  Walker

  Earlier that day

  “Did you cry?” I looked at Jasmine as I started unbuttoning my shirt, which was covered in fake blood.