by Wolf, Alex
Before I can ask, there’s a knock at the door.
I’m on my way out so I unlock it and Decker walks up behind me with a hand on the small of my back.
The door swings open and a woman stands in front of it. I give her an uneasy smile and she shoots a daggered glare right at me. I look back at Decker, but he stares at her with utter confusion written on his face. Then it turns to mixed annoyance and surprise. He clearly knows her, but she doesn’t look like an attorney. She doesn’t even look like she belongs in the building.
She’s wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and sneakers with her hair pulled up in a ponytail. Her arms fold over her chest, and she just stands there like it’s a showdown in an old western movie.
Shit, it’s his girlfriend. Or wife.
“Monica?” He says her name like he hasn’t seen her in years and they just ran into each other at the mall.
Did she hear us? Who the hell is this lady?
Decker
This can’t be fucking happening. The world hates me.
My head is about to explode. I stare at the woman who changed the course of my life fourteen years ago. She doesn’t look much different now than she did then. Big green eyes and pink lips—just like Jenny’s.
I swallow—hard—as a million different emotions swarm through my body. Anger is front and center. I bite back a lot of what I want to say and go with the obvious. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“Our daughter was in the hospital and you didn’t think it was something I should know about? Why didn’t you call?”
Tate whips around, hurt and confusion written on her face. “Daughter? Are you married?”
My jaw tightens and I narrow my eyes on Monica. She never fails to leave destruction in her wake. I put a hand on Tate’s shoulder, wondering how I’ll ever dig myself out of this one. Tate doesn’t seem the type of person to wait idly until I can give her all the facts. She probably wants to kick me in the balls, and maybe even a few other things that would inflict maximum pain. I try to tell her with my eyes that I’m sorry, and all of this has a rational explanation. “I’ll explain later. I promise.” I gesture to Monica. “Right now, I need to talk to her in my office. I’m sorry.”
Tate’s expression falls and her face pales. I feel like an asshole, but she’ll have to understand. Surely, she’ll give me the benefit of the doubt. Monica shoots Tate a smug smile and saunters past her and into my office.
Tate stands there with a shocked expression on her face, waiting for an explanation I can’t give her in this moment. I shoot her my best I’m sorry look once more and brush a finger along her jaw, then I close the door.
I turn to meet Monica’s hateful sneer.
“Banging your secretary in your office now?”
I hold up a finger and glare daggers right at her. “Don’t. It’s none of your fucking business and she’s not a secretary. Why are you here?” I stomp to my bar and pour a glass of whiskey. I need something to dull the pain in my chest from the way Tate looked at me while I closed the door. Why does life have to constantly fuck with me like this? Why couldn’t I have two minutes to at least enjoy the fact I fucked Tate so hard she came all over my cock? In my office no less.
That’s every man’s fantasy rolled up into one, and Monica shows up unannounced and ruins everything.
I take a hard pull from the tumbler and close my eyes as the warm liquid glides down my throat. I open my eyes back up, hoping she’ll be gone, and this is some sort of twisted dream, but no dice. “It’s been fourteen years.” I scoff, shaking my head. “Now you’re here. Like you’re entitled to barge into my office and demand information on a child you don’t even know. Fuck that and fuck you.”
Monica shuffles her feet and cocks a hip out, like she’s entitled to be defiant in my goddamn building. “That’s no way to talk to the mother of your child.”
I slam the tumbler down on my desk and take two quick steps toward her before I catch myself. I would never lay hands on a woman, but this is the closest I’ve ever come to being angry enough. “You’re not her mother. Don’t feed me that bullshit. Dealing with manipulating assholes is what I do. You’re out of your league.” I pause and take a deep breath, trying my best to calm down and be the mature person in this situation. “Look, I stepped up to the plate. You stuck your hand out for money.”
She starts to say something, and I cut her off, figuring the best way to get her out of my office is to just feed her the facts as quickly as possible, even though she doesn’t deserve them. I have damage control to do with Tate and, for all I know, she could already be on a plane heading to DFW.
“Look, we thought she had appendicitis, but she didn’t. You’ve never cared enough to show up before, so that’s not why you’re here. What is it? You need money? How much?” I take two strides behind my desk and open the drawer, looking for my checkbook. I know how the game is played.
“Wow, Decker. Is that how you really feel about me?” She sniffles and wipes at her crocodile tears.
I’m not falling for her shit. Maybe, I was a little harsh in the beginning because of the Tate situation. That isn’t Monica’s fault. But I still need to draw some boundaries, or she’ll think she can show up whenever she wants, and that’s not something I can tolerate.
“I came here hoping I could see her. I want to be a part of her life. I know I made mistakes, but you didn’t make it easy on me. I didn’t ask for any of this. I wasn’t ready, but you were.”
I scoff. “That’s ridiculous, Monica. You think I was ready? I was terrified. I had the world in my hands. My dream was right there. All I had to do was reach out and take it, but you walked away.” I pause, because as much as I want to shake the shit out of Monica right now, I’m being way too harsh. Back then, she was honest about everything, and a deal was made. Truth be told, she did me a favor. It still doesn’t excuse her showing up unannounced like this.
Monica looks away and lets out a shaky breath.
“Look, just tell me what you really need and stop playing games. You’ve got me by the balls for another four years until she’s eighteen. What will it cost? I know you don’t want anything to do with Jenny. She’s a good kid and doing great. If you want pictures or updates, I’ll send them to you over email, if you’re interested. But you can’t show up in our lives. Just tell me how much you need.” All I can focus on is wishing Monica would get the fuck out so I can go to Tate and explain it all. This isn’t how I imagined telling her I’m a single father who’s just trying to balance running a law office and a family.
Monica squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. “I— I want to move to San Diego. I met someone.”
I reach for a pen. “Done. Is that it? I have shit to do.”
“It’s really that simple? You’ll just give me the money and that’s it?”
I put my empty glass on my desk and stalk toward her, getting up in her face. “I love Jenny more than anything in this world, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and as close to me as possible. You don’t need to use it as leverage. We made a deal, and I plan to honor that deal. You agreed to have Jenny. I agreed to raise her on my own and take care of any financial needs of yours for not terminating the pregnancy. But you are not allowed to come into our lives. She’s my child. Mine!” I jab my index finger into my chest.
Monica has no claim on her. She hasn’t been there day in and day out making sure she was happy, healthy, and safe. I’ve been here. I’m a damn good father and Monica knows that. Maybe if I actually thought she wanted to be part of Jenny’s life it could be up for discussion. I’d let Jenny make that decision. She’s old enough now. But this surprise bullshit is unacceptable.
Monica buries her face in her hands and looks up at me with a sadness in her eyes. “Am I that bad? You think I’d hurt her?”
I stare back at her. I don’t want to feel bad for her but in a way, I do, because she’s the one who missed out. If she only knew the experiences she could have shared with Jenny, all
the pure joy I’ve been able to feel. She’s the best damn kid. She’s just—perfect. Our daughter is good and caring. She’s sweet and smart. So damn smart.
Contrary to what Monica probably thinks, I don’t hate her as much as I wish I could. I soften my tone and put a hand on her shoulder.
She glances up to me with what looks like genuine tears.
“You’re not a bad person. A little selfish, maybe.” I grin, trying to lighten the mood. “You weren’t ready to have a kid. and I can never fully repay you for doing what you did. I’ll always be grateful for that, more than you can know.” Without Monica, I wouldn’t have Jenny. It’s that simple. I owe her.
Monica tilts her head to the side and walks over to my bookcase and picks up a picture of Jenny. “She has your smile, you know? My eyes. You’re in for it when she starts high school. I was boy crazy. If she’s anything like me…” She trails off seeing my eyes darken.
Jenny is nothing like her.
“Right.” She puts the frame back down, sensing she’s getting a little too comfortable with things.
I start for the door to hold it open, hoping Monica will take the hint. “If you need money, just call and ask for it. You don’t have to pretend. Just be who you are. But you staying away… that was your way of being a good mother because she didn’t need you part time in her life, and I appreciate that.”
Monica wanders her way toward the door, not fast enough for my liking, but making progress. “I didn’t mean for things to be this way. I just…”
“I know.” I give her a weak smile. “When are you planning on going?”
“In a week.”
I rub my jaw and glance into the hallway, making my intentions even more clear that it’s time for her to leave. “You have my number. Just call. I’ll get you the money. But don’t show up unannounced and make a scene. We’ll have big problems if this happens again.”
“Okay. Thanks, Decker.”
“Don’t mention it.”
Monica finally leaves for what I hope is the last time ever. I meant what I said though, I’d pay anything to keep her away. Jenny doesn’t need that bullshit in her life. I pour myself another drink and something black under the edge of my desk catches my eye. I bend down and grab the black scrap of lace. Tate’s panties.
Fuck.
I shove them in my pocket. We need to talk. I pick up my phone and buzz her office but there’s no answer. Not good.
Maybe she’s on the roof deck. That’s the first place I decide to check.
When I get there, she’s nowhere to be found. The woman isn’t in her office or the cafeteria either. I catch Quinn coming out of the supply room. Her face is flushed but I don’t bother asking why.
“Have you seen Tate?”
“Oh. Um she took off early. Said she wasn’t feeling well. I think she was going back to her hotel, but she didn’t really say. Just the impression I got.”
“Thanks.” I storm into my office and grab my keys and my cell phone.
Tate
I stare at Decker’s office door after it shuts in my face and I’m speechless. I can still feel the caress of his finger on my cheek. The touch of his lips on my neck and the fullness of him inside me.
Now, he possibly has a wife or girlfriend. He definitely has a daughter.
How did I not see this coming?
There were warning signs, but I was so caught up in my attraction I couldn’t see them clearly. Or maybe I just didn’t want to see them. I’d noticed a girl’s picture in his office, but she looked like a teenager. The fact he was busy on nights and weekends was a dead giveaway.
I was stupid. I didn’t want to see anything past his gorgeous blue eyes and the way he made my heart race just by staring at me or walking toward me a certain way. My head spins. I do the walk of shame to my office, feeling totally exposed. People go about their work like usual, but my paranoid mind runs a marathon, judging every glance or gesture as an assault on my conscience.
Finally, I arrive at my office and grab my bag. I can’t be here right now. Who knows if that woman will make a scene. She clearly could sense what we were up to when she came through the door. She could probably smell the fresh sex in the air.
Quinn stops me before I get to the elevator. She puts a hand on my forearm in a comforting, motherly sort of way. I imagine that’s the easiest way for her to get Decker’s ass moving to get things done, so she does it to everyone. Or, maybe she’s genuinely concerned about me. “You okay? You don’t look so hot.”
“I need to leave. Can you…” I can’t even finish the sentence. I can’t say his name right now.
She cuts me off. “Sure. Feel better.”
I’m sure she knows. Assistants always know more than anyone thinks they do. It’s part of their job; to anticipate future needs and make sure tasks are accomplished in a timely manner. Quinn seems more adept than most, so I have to hold back the embarrassment I feel in every molecule of my body as I try to get out of the office as soon as humanly possible.
I nod at her and step into the elevator feeling like everything is moving in slow motion. The back of my neck is clammy with sweat and my stomach tightens. Nausea washes through me and bile creeps up my throat. I feel like I might hurl. Decker Collins fooled me, but that man isn’t going to get the best of me. No man has before, and he isn’t going to be the first. I just need to get my shit together and focus. Take this afternoon to get a grip on myself, and then it’ll be smooth sailing until I’m back in Dallas, kicking grown men’s asses in the courtroom like I was born to do.
I walk aimlessly toward my hotel and stop off at a bar for a drink. I don’t even know the name of the place, but it appears I’m not the only person having a terrible day. I glance at the man sitting on the barstool next to me. He grips his hair and his head hangs over his empty drink. There’s a wedding band on the counter and a stack of divorce papers. Sucks to be him. I can relate, somewhat.
“What can I get you?” The bartender stops in front of me with a towel over his shoulder. He’s wearing a black tank muscle shirt and his large biceps are covered in tattoos.
“Something hard, and pour this guy another.” I hook my thumb toward the depressed man.
The bartender shoots me a wink. “Coming right up.”
The man next to me looks up when his drink magically refills. “I didn’t…”
“It’s my treat.” I hold up the rocks glass the bartender sets in front of me, toasting both of our defeats. Maybe tomorrow will improve both of our lives.
Highly unlikely, but it’s important to stay positive.
“Thanks.” His eyes are red and rimmed with tears. Poor bastard. Someone did a number on him. I know the feeling intimately. Decker just fucked me in more ways than one.
I knock back the amber colored liquor and toss a hundred on the bar. “Tip yourself and get this guy a few more rounds.”
I should go back to my hotel, but if Decker is looking for me, he’ll show up there and I don’t want to see his smug face. I need to think three steps ahead of him to get my mojo back. I can still feel his cock inside me, and it doesn’t make this any easier. It’s not going to make this helpless feeling go away. This feeling I told myself I’d never experience again, that I’d guard myself against until my dying breath. It’s worse this time.
I honestly don’t know if I’ve ever felt this way about another man, and it’s insane. We don’t even know each other that well. Clearly, considering he has a daughter, and maybe even a wife or girlfriend.
Stop it, Tate. This isn’t helping.
I pull out my phone and call Alexis. “Hey. What are you and the girls up to?” I hear them squealing in the background and I smile.
“Not much, why?”
I swirl my glass around, watching the ice cubes clank against the glass. “Can I come over?”
“Sure. I’ll text you the address.”
“See you soon.”
I give the bartender a nod, then turn to the man with the divorce paper
s. I glance down then back at him. “Nowhere to go from here but up.”
He holds up his glass with a knowing look as I back away and walk through the door.
I hail a cab and give the driver the address.
* * *
Alexis lives in a two-story brick home in a quiet neighborhood. She even has a white picket fence to round out the perfect suburban scenery. Part of me envies her. She has the American dream. A loving husband who only has eyes for her. Two beautiful kids. A nice home.
What do I have?
A hotel room, more work than I should be able to handle, and a prick who pulled the wool over my eyes. They say comparison is a thief of joy and it can be. I walk up the driveway and smile at the chalk hopscotch drawn on the sidewalk that leads to the front porch.
I don’t even get to ring the doorbell before Alexis opens the bright red door and tugs me inside. The girls are in the middle of the living room. One is wearing a pink tutu and the other has on athletic shorts.
“Girls,” their mother snaps to get their attention as they play tug of war with the video game controller. “Can you two stop for five seconds and say hello to my friend, Tate?”
They both look up at me. Each of them gives me a quick, “Hi,” then they go back to what they were doing.
Alexis rolls her eyes. “Have kids, they said. It’s fun.” She grins at me and I laugh. “Let’s go to the kitchen. I have wine.”
“Perfect.”
I have a seat at the breakfast bar while she gets glasses.
She places them on the counter, slides one over by the stem, and gives me a look.
“What?” I take a sip and play coy.
“Out with it. What happened?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “Can’t I just want to see my friend?” I do my best to smile, but it doesn’t work. Not even close.
“Bullshit. We may have been apart for a long-ass time but I’m still your friend and can sense when something is wrong.”