As the Dawn Breaks Read Free Page B

brain continues to remind me even if she wasn’t way too young for me, I’m leaving to go back to Croatia in two days, and the last thing I need is to be involved in any sort of romantic interlude, especially a one-night stand. I’m just not that kind of a guy. However, the completely nonsensical, illogical side of me keeps forcing my eyes in her direction, and the more flutes of champagne that are shoved into my hands, the louder the irrational voice gets.
    Finally, after what seems like forever, I’m able to escape the dancing and partying, and I quickly retreat back to the bar where Trystan is. Tipsy on champagne and scotch, and even more intoxicated by the hopeful yearning for love and affection weddings somehow magically infuse into the blood stream, I approach her with the full intention of getting her in my hotel bed tonight. I haven’t even looked at any other women in…longer than I’d care to admit, but this one… From the moment I noticed her sassy little self, I’ve needed to taste those plump, rosy lips, and I know damn well that once I start, I won’t be able to stop at just her mouth, even if it is just one time. I’ll deal with my own conscience later.
    “Trystan, would you like to hang out after you get off?” I ask outright as soon as she turns her attention to me from the previous guest. No point in beating around the bush; either she says yes and I know what I have to look forward to, or she says no and I retreat back to my room alone. I can’t continue to torture myself with the not knowing.
    Taking her sweet time to respond to my question, she pours me another glass of hard liquor. My brain is screaming, “ Answer me! ” but I figure that’s probably not the route to take. It’s obvious she’s contemplating something, and I take it as a good sign that she didn’t reject me immediately. My stomach is tied in knots for the few minutes I wait, and I graciously gulp down the fresh drink she’s poured, if nothing else than to rehydrate my parched mouth. Unable to handle her silence any longer, I say, “Look, I’m from out of town. I’m going to be leaving in a couple of days. I’m not looking for anything more than enjoying some good company and a few drinks a little later—someone to share this insanely romantic, picture-perfect night with—and I’m unquestionably attracted to and intrigued by you.” I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I’m rambling like a fucking idiot.
    Hesitantly chewing on her bottom lip, she stares directly in my eyes. “Leo, I’m flattered by the offer, and I would love to spend some time with you, but I’ve got issues you want no part of…I promise.”
    “Issues?” I ask, confused.
    “Yeah, I guess you could call them daddy issues,” she retorts with a muffled snicker.
    My thoughts immediately fly to Robert Green. “Daddy issues are my specialty.” I mean to say the satirical words in my head, but apparently, I verbalize my thoughts aloud.
    She shakes her head, grinning slightly and taking a step back away from the high bar top she’s been hiding behind all evening. “No, you misunderstood.” She glances down at her small, but most-definitely-there baby bump, and then back up at me. “My daddy issues involve a baby on the way, and a daddy who doesn’t want to be a part of either of our lives.

I WATCH THE EXPRESSIONS on people’s faces—especially guys—once their gaze reaches my growing belly. It’s become my own little sociological experiment. I wish I would’ve started charting it as soon as I began to show, but I wasn’t aware of the strong reactions my pregnancy would elicit from the general public. The most common look I receive is that of pity and disappointment, sprinkled with a hint of compassion and empathy, but I’m no foreigner to the receiving end of stares filled with disgust and abhorrence as well. Because I look quite a bit younger than I am, and the fact I stand at five-foot-nothing, most assume I’m a stupid teenager