Chapter 14:
Taylor sat in his office. Zac and Ike's offices were down the hall on either side of his. He looked at the walls that were some white plaster stuff. There was window that ran along the back that had a perfect view of a street that was only two stories below his office. Kids ran up and down it between the apartments that lined the opposite side of the street. There was a doorway under his window where people who passed on this side of the street could come in. There was a café up the block a bit with a canopy over the wide windows that spread across the front of the building. A sign above the door proclaimed the place's name as being "Little C's".

He sighed. Their first client would be in tomorrow to start recording. Wow. Was this all really happening? Had he really seen his son for the first time ever? Now that was…scary. He pushed himself back to his desk, and rested his burning cheek on the cool metal top. Why hadn't he told his parents? Why hadn't he just come back? He would've been there. He would've stayed. He would have…

Wouldn't he?

Tears caressed his cheeks, and slipped down onto the desk, forming a small puddle of saline. He couldn't turn back time, though, and there was nothing he could do about the 7 years that had lapsed since he'd last seen Teresa. Contrary to her beliefs, though, he hadn't forgotten about her at all. He often wondered about how she was doing, and thought several times to call her. However her old number was obsolete, and his letters had been returned. It seemed as though she'd erased him instead of the other way around.

Had she been back in New York all this time?

When had she changed her mind to keep the baby? How had he missed out on so much of a life that he helped to create? Why had he? Selfishness… That was all it was. And fear. He sat up, sniffling and wiping his nose on the cuff of his shirt. His eyes gazed out the window. Tomorrow, he thought, tomorrow I'll go out there and look for them. Until then, he had paperwork to do. He pushed it out of his mind, reminding himself that there was little he could do now except for go scraping the streets…or maybe steal a phonebook out of a phone booth and pray that she never changed her last name.

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