Page 80 of All the Forbidden Things

“Ha! Things werebad? You madesomemistakes? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“Max, please? I just want—”

“Whitney, please?” I mimic her tone. It’s childish, but my blood is boiling through my veins, so I don’t care. “Shall I tell you what Ijustwant?” I don’t wait for her response. “Ijustwantyou to fuck off. Iwantyou gone. Iwantyou out of my life, out of Layla’s life, and Iwantto forget about the biggest fuck up I ever made so I can move the fuck on.”

Even after I mention Layla, Whit doesn’t ask after her. No,how is sheorcan I see her? Nothing.

For a few long moments, I want to cry, but not for me, for Layla. And then I think about her over with Billie—Billie, who only met my baby girl three days ago and who I’m already positive would lay down her life for her. I remember the way Cal kissed the top of her head yesterday, the way Mum stares down at her with absolute wonder in her eyes, and I know. I fucking know that my daughter might grow up without her birth mother in her life but that she will be loved. She will never,everfeel that loss. She will be raised confident and with the knowledge the problem is Whitney’s, the loss is Whitney’s.

“I fucking hate you, Whit. I need you to be clear about that. You are here for no other reason than to rehab before you go back to the States. I don't know what I was thinking when I made that offer. Clearly, I was delirious through lack of sleep, or maybe I’m just plain fucking stupid, but there ya go. I made the offer, and here you are, and I can’t wait for you to be fucking gone.”

“She’s my baby too. I have rights. You can’t just expect me to leave the country and not take her with me.”

“Your daughter?Yourfucking daughter?” I spit as I speak. I’m so fucking angry I’ve forgotten to swallow. “Now, suddenly, after weeks of no contact, not a single call asking how she is, she’syourdaughter? You walked away Whit. You think now you’ve been left with nothing you can stake your claim? Well think the fuck on. Layla is not your backup plan. It ain’t happening, she stays with me. End. Of.”

I slash my hand through the air as I say the last two words, and take a step back, rage burning so intensely inside me that I don’t trust myself to be near this woman. My wife? What a fucking joke. How? How did I not see her for what she is? How?

“No matter what I have or haven’t done, she will always be my daughter. There’s nothing, Max, nothing, that you can do to change that.”

“You gave birth to that little girl, and that’s about where and when your relationship with her ended. The fact that you created her with me is the only, theonly,fucking reason you are here. When she grows up, I want her to know that when you needed it, I helped you out. I was the bigger person. That when her birth mother was involved in a car accident with her lover, that her dad paid for her mum’s private hospital care, for her rehab in a private facility, and that he gave her somewhere to stay for a couple of weeks to get better before he paid for her flight back to the States because her birth mother hadnomoney to cover any of that due to the fact she’d spent every penny she had on supplying her lover with the drugs he was addicted to—the drugs he was high on when the crash happened.”

“Max!” I turn my head to see Cal, who’s standing in the now open doorway. “Can I have a word, mate?”

“I. Have. Rights!” Whitney screams as I move towards the door. “I’m her mother! You can’t just take her.”

I spin back to face her, my shaking arm out, finger pointing, but I’m paralysed with anger. Pain shoots through my temples as I clench my teeth. Even if I could formulate a cohesive sentence, I’m wound too tight to release my jaw and get the words out.

Cal grabs my shoulders and steers me out of the room, down the hallway, and into my laundry. “Dude! You need to calm the fuck down.”

He’s a blur. He’s standing directly in front of me, but he’s a blur. I’m so angry, have that much adrenaline and rage coursing through me, I literally can’t see.

Car tyres crunch on the gravel and Cal leans around me to open the laundry door, which leads to the drive at the side of my house.

“Thank fuck,” he huffs out. “The cavalry has finally arrived.”

I follow Cal out the door. My drive’s now filled with cars. Micky Doyle, head of the band's security, climbs out of the driver's side of the black SUV parked behind the other vehicles. Aaron steps out of his Audi, which is parked behind Cal’s monster truck, just as Lennon Layton climbs from his red-and-black Land Rover.

Micky has three other blokes with him, all built like brick shithouses, who he directs over to the gates at the front of my house. It’s only then I notice the reporters, photographers, and the two policemen outside the gates. As soon as they catch sight of me, the shouting starts, and all fucking hell breaks loose.

“Max.”

“Max, this way.”

“What’s happening with you and Whitney?”

“Are you getting a divorce?”

“Why was Whitney in a car with Alix Gardener?”

“Is the baby yours, Max?”

“Does she look like Gardener, is that why we can’t see her?”

“Who’s the redhead, Max?”

“Fuckers,” Cal and I respond in unison to the last two questions.

“Get the fuck inside,” Len orders as he moves between the line of luxury cars.