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Chapter 3
“Brooke. We need to talk.”
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I sighed, sitting down on a chair in my small living room. “I know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have helped—I would have
been there for you. And for my daughter.”
I sighed again. “You were—you were nineteen. At the top of your
career. You didn’t need a child. What do you think the twelve-year-olds
would have done? You didn’t need this. The Backstreet Boys didn’t
need this. And you still don’t.”
“I want to be there. I still—I—Emily needs a father. She needs
me in her life.”
“We’ve gotten along fine up until now. We don’t need money
or anything. We’re fine.”
“Brooke—even if you don’t need me, I still need you.”
I couldn’t believe what I just heard. As far as I knew, Nick barely
remembered my name! And now he suddenly “needs me?” Do I need him?
I mentally made a list of all the times I’ve sat, wishing for him, reaching
out towards him, wanting to smell his familiar cologne, and finding nothing.
Finding emptiness.
But then I remembered all the times I had thought about him, wondering that
if he cared so much, why didn’t he look for me? It would have been easy.
But which one was more important to me?