Charlotte deserved to know who her father was. If she met him and screamed and cried, making it obvious without words that she wanted nothing to do with him, fine. If she met him and took him in, but over time pushed him away and wanted nothing to do with him, fine. At least she would have met him, known his name, and made the decision for herself.
But how the hell was I going to do something as incredibly difficult as “find the guy I had a one-night stand with at some random lodge in town during the worst time of my life, whom I haven’t seen since and I’m not even sure was actually from Colorado?” It was almost a damn shame that I could remember the sex with ease—oh, heavens, how great that fuck was. And yet, besides his name, Trent, and some vague description of him, I didn’t have anything to go on.
And then it clicked.
Emily would be the answer.
Emily was my best friend from back when my life was normal and I still was optimistic. Emily was the person I had confided in the most when my marriage was starting to fall apart, and she was the one who recommended I get the hell away from Florida once the divorce was determined. She’d gone through some sort of brutal hell with an ex that required a P.I. Which, come to think of it, Trent had said something about being.
It was the longest shots of long shots in the world. It wasn’t like I’d slept with the President of the United States. There were thousands, maybe tens of thousands, of private investigators in the world. But damn if it wasn’t a chance.
Suddenly invigorated by this likely coincidence but possible connection, I squirmed my body, trying to avoid waking up Charlotte, and found my phone. I dialed Emily, only now realizing how late on the East Coast it probably would be. But if anyone would answer an…11 p.m. phone call in her time on a weekday, it was Emily.
“Kelly!” she said, sounding more excited than annoyed. And that’s why we’re best friends. “How is everything? How’s little Charlotte?”
“She’s sleeping on my lap right now,” I said in that low-key voice parents used that was clearly not a whisper but was done in the hopes of not waking up their kids.
“Aw, so precious,” she said. “I’m hoping we don’t wake her up.”
“She’s had a long day, so probably not.”
“Well, good. What’s going on? Haven’t heard from you in a few months.”
“Mommy life, forgive me,” I said. “Hey, didn’t you use a P.I. a few years back for some help?”
“Sort of. Why?”
I swallowed.
“I know who Charlotte’s father is, but not like we know each other. I just know his name and some scattered details from the one night we had together. I want…I want to try and track him down, Emily. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”
We didn’t have moments of silence on our calls very often, but in this case, it was unavoidable how nothing was said. Emily had obviously not expected me to say that, but I hadn’t expected her to sound so awkward about it.
“Well, I’m sure he could help, but the shit this guy was helping me with was a little more complicated than tracking down one-night-stand fathers,” Emily said. “I don’t mean that to put you down, but you know how Sean was.”
“Unfortunately,” I said, the very name making me shudder—and I hadn’t even had many interactions with her ex. That man was a true fucking psychopath.
“The guy I reached out to, he’s extraordinarily expensive and usually only takes on big cases.”
“Money’s not an issue.”
“I know, Kelly, I know, I just…point is, it’s not as easy as going to Amazon and clicking a couple of buttons to place an order.”
I grimaced. How hard could it be to get a P.I., especially if I was willing to pay top dollar?
“I’ll reach out to him because he and I have a good working relationship, but just be warned, he may not take it, and he certainly won’t be cheap.”
“I told you, money’s not an issue.”
“It cost me five figures’ worth—”
“Emily, money is not an issue.”
Now, admittedly, that was not a blanket statement like I was making it out to be. I wasn’t going to pay a million dollars…well, for now, to find that out. But five figures? I’d cut the check and not think twice about it. That was not difficult to do.
Tracking down the father of my child was.
“OK,” she said. “I’ll reach out to him. But also, be warned, this isn’t going to happen immediately. It’s a process. He doesn’t have a public phone number or email. He’s going to take some time to be contacted.”
“Are you sure you don’t mean that your P.I. is actually a secret agent?”
“Kelly, I’m serious.”
I bit my lip.
“I understand. Do whatever you have to do, and I’ll pay or support you however possible.”
We talked a little longer about much lighter subjects, but as soon as the call ended, my mind went right back to the phone call. Why was I willing to pay whatever it took? Certainly, I had the money, but millionaires didn’t pay double what they could just for the hell of it.
It was what I didn’t have that I’d waited too long for.
A family.
And while, by definition, we were fractured with me being a single mom, and while maybe in the future we would
