Page 41 of Lights, Camera, Love

‘So that’s it?’ I press after the waiter’s gone, desperate to lift some of this ugly blame off the woman who raised me all on her own.

‘You made a few phone calls and then just gave up and went on with your life? Became a big movie star with your private jets and fancy yachts and forgot about me altogether?’

My flippant tone makes Gabriel sit forward; his brow is etched with lines of concern. ‘ No. I didn’t forget, Evie—of course I didn’t. But I also still didn’t know if …’

His voice trails off, and I finish the sentence for him. ‘You didn’t know if I was yours. Because she never did the test.’ With blurred eyes, I look right at him, challenging him to meet my stare and see me clearly. ‘I look so much like you,’ I say helplessly.

‘I know.’ A choked breath leaves his lips. ‘But I never even saw a picture of you until one appeared in the media, from some sort of international dance event. You were seventeen. That was my paternity test, Evie.’

I blink away, biting hard on my bottom lip. ‘Well, that paternity test was ten years ago. So, what took you so long? Why did you wait until now to contact me?’

‘Now, I’m getting ready to have a baby with a woman I trust and love, and it has made me realise just how much I have missed out on. Okay? That is why I’m here. Believe me, you’re not the only one who got hurt in all this.’

‘I was a child,’ I argue, as he again tries to make himself the victim.

‘An infant . ’ A bulging tear breaks free of my eye and rolls down my cheek.

I brush it away before any of the other diners can see.

‘I needed you to be my dad ,’ I gasp, digging my thumb into my aching chest. ‘All my life, I’ve believed my father didn’t want anything to do with me. ’

‘I did,’ he implores. ‘I do . But for so long, I was so afraid you weren’t mine,’ he adds, sounding as if someone has stolen his breath.

‘I was young, I was dumb, I was confused. And even though I should’ve done more, much more, I gave up after your mother disappeared and went on with my life.

I stuck my head in the sand because it suited me to do that. ’

His eyes turn misty as they cling to mine.

‘And I know how selfish that was,’ he goes on.

‘Since I saw that photo of you, I cannot tell you how many times I wanted to get in touch. To see if you would even take my call. But seventeen years had passed, and I was so terrified of how much you must have hated me, and I kept putting it off and off, and’—his forehead drops; his palm meets his brow—‘time is such a slippery thing. It feels as if there’s so much of it, and then you blink, and there’s none of it at all.

But when Harper, my partner, told me we were having a baby, it all came flooding back.

And I knew I … I knew I was going to be in Sydney soon, so I looked you up.

And suddenly, there were all these articles about you and this … this actor you’re dating.’

Oh god, not that.

‘I saw you,’ I challenge. ‘At Village Pictures.’

A flush of shame crowds his features. ‘I’m so very sorry about that.

’ His gaze plummets to the fork he’s strangling with his fingers.

‘I was there for a meeting about a project, and the last thing in the world I expected was to see you sitting there. When I did, Evie, I … I panicked. I was with my legal team and some financiers, and I didn’t want the first time I spoke to you to be—’

‘I get it.’ I throw up a hand.

I was the kid you didn’t want. Of course you didn’t want me interrupting your important, fancy business meeting. So, you kept walking as if I didn’t exist—you’d had enough practice.

My eyes fill up again, and I lower my face. I honestly don’t know what to say. What I should do right now is pick up my glass of wine and take a sip. That might calm me down. The problem is, I’m about to be sick all over the table. This is all too much.

I tear the napkin off my emerald-green skirt and climb to my feet. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t … I can’t do this.’

I can just make out Gabriel’s face falling before my eyes start to water and my vision begins to swim.

I glance around the restaurant, trying to orientate myself.

Hazily, I perceive the exit door and make a beeline for it before I burst into tears in front of all these onlookers.

Despite everything that’s happened, I don’t want to embarrass Gabriel.

Keeping my head ducked, I hurry into the lobby and push the lift button.

I wait for him to arrive behind me.

Any second now, he will lay his hand on my shoulder, spin me to face him, and beg me not to leave. He’ll tell me how sorry he is for breaking my heart every day for nearly thirty years.

But then the lift doors spring open, and Gabriel still hasn’t come.

I take a tentative step inside and turn around.

Through the glass doors of the restaurant, I spot him thanking the waiter, who is setting down a large plate and a foamy beer on his table.

Just before the lift doors close, I watch, through swelling tears, as Gabriel picks up a floppy slice of pizza and slips it into his mouth.