Single Mama Drama. Kayla Perrin

I hung up, I thought about turning the television to CNN. I wanted to, but the idea of seeing pictures of Eli’s lover had me changing my mind. I couldn’t handle that. At least not yet. It was hard enough to deal with his death, much less his infidelity.

      Still, I couldn’t help wondering if what I’d said to Nikki wasn’t true—that after our fight, Eli had ended up at a local South Beach hot spot, and then found his way into this woman’s bed.

      It could have very easily been the first time he had cheated on me.

      It would certainly be the last.

      chapter six

      I decided not to call the police after I spoke to my sister. Emotionally, I was drained, and needed a night’s rest before I dealt with that awful task. I was a little surprised that I hadn’t heard from them; it would be so much easier if they contacted me, as I didn’t have the first clue as to where to start.

      I had enough to cope with heading to bed—the bed I had shared with Eli for three months in this apartment. The reality that he wouldn’t be joining me was too overwhelming to contemplate. It required me having a second glass of wine before I dared to get under the covers.

      The stress of the day had clearly worn me out, because I fell asleep almost immediately. The sound of the ringing phone woke me up. Startled, I first glanced at the bedside clock and saw that it was 12:04. Then I rolled over toward the night table and checked out the illuminated call display.

      PRIVATE NAME.

      Falling back onto my pillows, I groaned loudly. Damn it! A friggin’ reporter! My God, did these people never give up?

      After I’d hung up with my sister, there had been no calls at all, giving me the false confidence that the media had given up—or at least had gone home for the day.

      No such luck, clearly.

      A few minutes passed and sleep wouldn’t come to me, so I crawled out of bed and went to the window and peered outside. My building had only six floors, and even being on the top one, I had a good view of the street below. To my chagrin, I saw that there were still camera crews and vans parked out front. As if they expected me to leave the building and go out partying in the wake of my fiancé’s death.

      “Morons,” I muttered.

      I lay back down, trying once again to sleep, but failing. The bed was too big and Eli’s presence sorely missed. Damn those vultures for waking me up. Wasn’t there some movie star doing Ecstasy in a local club that they could go and harass?

      The minutes ticked by. A quick look at the digital clock told me it was 12:48. Nearly one in the morning, and I was wide awake.

      I needed to fall asleep again. Because, come morning, bright and early, Rayna would be up—and I needed to be rested to deal with her.

      I forced myself out of bed and went to the kitchen. There, I opened another bottle of white zinfandel. I’d already had two glasses, but if I was ever going to fall asleep again, I needed another one.

      Or two.

      Or even three.

      I opted for one. I might have wanted to drown my sorrows in alcohol, but I had a two-year-old in the next room who needed me sober and alert in the morning.

      I curled up on the sofa, the first piece of furniture Eli and I had bought after putting the down payment on this place. The leather was amazingly soft and supple, the nicest I’d ever felt.

      I could still smell Eli in the leather, could still remember how we’d enjoyed lying together on this sofa and watching a movie after Rayna went to bed.

      It was irrational, but a huge part of me expected him to walk through the front door, a lazy smile on his face. I even kept glancing in that direction.

      Waiting.

      And waiting.

      As I finished off the third glass of wine, it hit me anew that Eli would never walk through that door again.

      I’d never share a bottle of wine over dinner with him.

      Never watch him tickle Rayna as she climbed on his lap.

      Never have a chance to find out what had sent him into another woman’s arms.

      It was that last thought that was the hardest to deal with.

      “It doesn’t matter why,” I told myself as I went back to the bedroom. “All that matters is that he did cheat on you. He doesn’t deserve your tears.”

      But as I climbed back into the big empty bed, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling. I buried my face in the pillow and cried like a baby.

      When the tears ended, anger took over. I gripped the pillow as if it were Eli’s neck and squeezed hard—like I wanted to break it with my bare hands.

      My emotions spent and my breathing ragged, I finally sat on the edge of the bed and rested my toes on the cool floor. “Damn you, Eli. Damn you for destroying all our dreams.”

      This time, when I lay back against the pillows, sleep claimed me quickly.

      Something hard landed on my stomach with the force of a cannonball, immediately jarring me awake.

      “Eli, what are you doing?” I asked, my eyes flying open. But instead of Eli, I saw Rayna.

      And in that moment, I remembered.

      Rayna’s smile was as bright as the morning sun as she beamed at me, pushing any sadness from my heart. “Hi, Mommy.”

      Easily, I returned her smile. Oh, to have that childlike exuberance at simply greeting another day.

      “Hi, baby.”

      “Go Carwa?” Rayna asked.

      I glanced at the digital clock on my bedside table. Seven-fourteen in the morning.

      Normally, I’d be up and getting ready for work. But my head throbbed from fatigue and a hangover, and all I wanted to do was close my eyes and sleep for another couple hours.

      I pulled Rayna close. “How about lying down with Mommy for a while?”

      “It’s morning,” she replied, as if the idea of sleeping in was a crazy one. Then she wriggled free of my arms and eased her body off the bed.

      So much for sleeping in.

      Groaning, I forced myself to sit up. Coffee was the first order of business.

      I trudged out to the kitchen. Rayna was dragging a chair from the table toward the fridge.

      “No, no, no.” I hurried to her and lifted her into my arms. “Let me get what you need, okay?”

      She pointed to the freezer. “Popsicle.”

      “Popsicle? Honey, you need breakfast.”

      “Popsicle,” she reiterated.

      I didn’t bother protesting, and opened the freezer door. In Rayna’s mind, freezies and Popsicles were an essential food group.

      “You want red?” I asked.

      She bobbed her head up and down.

      I lowered her to the floor so I could find a pair of scissors, and cut the top edge off of the freezie. When I handed it to her, she grinned widely and wandered into the living room.

      I followed her, sat her on the sofa so she wouldn’t make a mess, then turned on the television for her. Moments later, I was back in the kitchen pouring coffee grinds into a filter.

      As the coffee percolated, I went to the bathroom and took two Advil. My head was throbbing, and I knew I’d need them.

      I was back in the kitchen, opening the cupboard to retrieve a mug, when I heard, “Where Daddy?”

      Glancing down at Rayna, I lowered the