Categories > Celebrities > Fall Out Boy
It didn’t matter what anyone said. She wouldn’t be surprised if Pete ignored her, pretending she didn’t exist. If she were him, that’s what she would do.I mean, let’s face it. When you’re twenty nine you aren’t too keen on learning you have a twelve year old daughter.
But Gabrielle was his. She was his little girl. Could he deny her fatherly affection? She was in the seventh grade, almost a teenager! Could Pete handle this responsibility, especially considering he and Ashlee had just welcomed their son into the world? Jen Davis remembered Pete all too well. They were seventeen when they met.
“Hey. I’m Pete Wentz.”
“Jen Davis.” Jen ran a hand through her blonde hair. This guy was cute.
“So, uh, you busy this Saturday night?”
Jen smiled, biting her lip. “No. How about we catch a movie?”
Pete nodded, staring into her eyes.
He had her heart from day one. She was beautiful. She was the type of girl Pete Wentz believed would never fall for him. Then, six months after they fell in love, she disappeared off of the face of the earth.
Pete still didn’t understand what had happened. She’d left a note, saying that she was very sorry and someday he would understand why she had to leave.
That was almost thirteen years ago, and Pete’s life had sure changed. He was a rock star, married to Ashlee Simpson with a newborn son. He had the perfect life.
But all that was about to change.
-
“Gabby, it will all get better.”
Twelve year old Gabrielle Wentz sat in the back seat of a car, her brown eyes searching the older woman in the driver’s seat.
She was in her early forties, with short red hair. She reminded Gabrielle somewhat of her Nana Davis.Her name was Carole Richardson. And she was Gabrielle’s social worker.
-
Pete sighed, throwing his car keys on the counter and turning on the kitchen light. Ashlee and Bronx were spending the night at her sister’s house. Pete headed for the phone to check the messages.
“Hello. This is Carole Richardson. I’m from the Illinois Department of Social Services. I’m calling in regard to a Gabrielle Faith Wentz. She is the daughter of Jennifer Davis, who I am told you have had former relations with. Ms. Davis has passed away and you were named the legal guardian of her daughter. Please contact me at 555- 3432. Thank you for your time.”
Pete was dumbfounded. How could this be true? Was this someone playing a sick prank on him? Was he being Punk’d a second time? It all made no sense.Then he thought back to Jen. Her smile, those blue eyes. Could it be possible? Did Pete Wentz have a daughter?
But Gabrielle was his. She was his little girl. Could he deny her fatherly affection? She was in the seventh grade, almost a teenager! Could Pete handle this responsibility, especially considering he and Ashlee had just welcomed their son into the world? Jen Davis remembered Pete all too well. They were seventeen when they met.
“Hey. I’m Pete Wentz.”
“Jen Davis.” Jen ran a hand through her blonde hair. This guy was cute.
“So, uh, you busy this Saturday night?”
Jen smiled, biting her lip. “No. How about we catch a movie?”
Pete nodded, staring into her eyes.
He had her heart from day one. She was beautiful. She was the type of girl Pete Wentz believed would never fall for him. Then, six months after they fell in love, she disappeared off of the face of the earth.
Pete still didn’t understand what had happened. She’d left a note, saying that she was very sorry and someday he would understand why she had to leave.
That was almost thirteen years ago, and Pete’s life had sure changed. He was a rock star, married to Ashlee Simpson with a newborn son. He had the perfect life.
But all that was about to change.
-
“Gabby, it will all get better.”
Twelve year old Gabrielle Wentz sat in the back seat of a car, her brown eyes searching the older woman in the driver’s seat.
She was in her early forties, with short red hair. She reminded Gabrielle somewhat of her Nana Davis.Her name was Carole Richardson. And she was Gabrielle’s social worker.
-
Pete sighed, throwing his car keys on the counter and turning on the kitchen light. Ashlee and Bronx were spending the night at her sister’s house. Pete headed for the phone to check the messages.
“Hello. This is Carole Richardson. I’m from the Illinois Department of Social Services. I’m calling in regard to a Gabrielle Faith Wentz. She is the daughter of Jennifer Davis, who I am told you have had former relations with. Ms. Davis has passed away and you were named the legal guardian of her daughter. Please contact me at 555- 3432. Thank you for your time.”
Pete was dumbfounded. How could this be true? Was this someone playing a sick prank on him? Was he being Punk’d a second time? It all made no sense.Then he thought back to Jen. Her smile, those blue eyes. Could it be possible? Did Pete Wentz have a daughter?
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