This was not an uncommon occurrence. I usually had to cover Max's ears so he didn't have to hear Rachel's loud moaning sounds every other day.
The white noise had become my best friend since I moved in with her after I quit my previous job at InitialConcept.
I'd climbed the ladder and thoroughly impressed my then boss, Zander Smallwood, but I couldn't for the life of me handle the stress at work while also taking care of a newborn all on my own. I needed a career in something that didn't require me to leave my son with a nanny all day. More than not wanting to do so, I didn't have the funds for that kind of luxury.
Counseling had always been a backup option for me. I never liked to listen to people's problems, but it was my best path, given the circumstances. It's what I went to school for and it was time for me to make decisions that were right for Max instead of being selfish and chasing after my corporate dream at InitialConcept.
With the headphones in my ears, I sat myself down in the rocking chair, holding my son. I could no longer hear Rachel's sex bed creak, but I couldn't help my mind from wandering.
I'd have thought that I would get used to her ways after a few months of living with her, but my impatience had only grown since.
Rachel still worked at the firm that I left about half a year ago. Her life was exactly the way mine should have been, minus the sex. I envied her, but not so much in the sex department because I’d never been the new week, new guy kind of girl.
Rachel was a free bird. She had no rules, no curfews, and no one to worry about apart from herself.
Max was most definitely the best thing that had happened to me. When I found out that I was pregnant, I never could have thought that I would say those words. But it's exactly how I felt every time I held my flesh and blood in my arms.
However, my life after conceiving the little guy had changed drastically, and I put aside all of my dreams to align my life’s vision with his. Without having a partner in sight, I was all that he had, and it was my job to make sure that he grew up with the kind of stability he deserved.
I took out the headphones from my ears to see if the sex episode was over. Squinting my eyes, I waited for a second to make sure that it was before I set them down across from me on the bed.
Wrong call. I had to grab them right back when she was at it again.
I couldn't blame her. She was young and wanted to make the most of it. But that didn't stop me from hating my friend a little bit more each time she did what she did.
Once Max was asleep and I heard the sound of the main door close, I put him in his crib and walked into the living room.
Rachel stood in the kitchen wearing an oversized T-shirt and munching on cookies.
"It's four p.m., Rach," I said, glancing at the wall clock, then right back at her.
"I know it is, Heather," she replied, knowing what I had coming for her.
"You started drinking early in the morning today?"
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
"You make me sound like a fucking drunkard, Heather. Yes, it's four p.m. but it's also Saturday afternoon. And no, I didn't just randomly start drinking in the morning. I went to a nice brunch with Neil and we happened to get bottomless mimosas."
"Neil," I said. "Neil Rodwell? The same guy you were sleeping with last week?"
She tilted her head to the side and brought a hand to her waist.
"Wow, Heather. Just wow. It took you five minutes to insinuate that I’m not only a drunkard but also a whore."
"That's not what I—” I paused, fully aware that no justification would help the situation. "You know what? Forget it.”
I turned around to go inside my room, but Rachel sprinted across the living room with a red face before I could turn the door knob.
"Forget what? No, Heather. I think it's time we talked."
I looked her over. She was clearly a bit tipsy, which is never a good thing to be when having a serious conversation with anyone. But she was tempting me. Every cell in my body wanted to tell her that she was a complete bitch and was not being considerate of the fact that I had a newborn baby living in the apartment with us.
I tried my hardest to frame my thoughts in the softest manner possible, but the words ended up rolling out of me.
"Why couldn't you be the one to go to Neil's place instead?"
She raised her eyebrows and moved her neck toward me.
"Say what?"
I repeated myself even though her response was rhetorical. Rage filled me, seeing the way she reacted to my reasonable question.
"So now you're going to tell me who I can bring into my own apartment?"
As much as I wanted to raise my own voice, the last thing I wanted was to have Max wake up again.
"Shh," is all I said in response while pointing at my bedroom door.
She looked back then turned to me.
"It's crazy how much you've changed, Heather."
I shrugged. "Yes, no shit, I've changed. I had a baby, remember?"
She spread her arms and looked at the ceiling as she contemplated her next verbal attack.
"And I want to help you with that, but you've just become a controlling bitch."
I laughed. "You want to help me raise Max. By doing what? Having loud sex in the next room?"
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "At least I’m having sex."
I slow-clapped and looked at her with disgust spreading across my face.
"Well, congratulations on that. I'm sorry that I'm not as cool as you are. That I don't have men drooling over me and that I don't have the time to throw myself at them every other day like you do."
She didn't respond for several seconds, her eyes aimed at the floor. I could tell that she wasn't happy about what she'd said to me. She was unable to look me in the eye, and any qualified psychologist would be able to read basic body language. But Rachel Phillips would die before putting her ego aside and apologizing. As her long-time friend, however, I knew that her heart was in the right place.
"That's not exactly true," she blurted out.
"Which part?" I asked.
"You've got plenty of men drooling all over you," she continued. "Brad, for instance?"
My laughter wasn't tainted with anger this time around. It was genuine.
"What?" She chuckled. "It's true. He's always checking you out. Neil thinks so too."
I tightened my lips instantly. "Neil? You discussed my non-existent love life with Neil? The guy you've known for two weeks?"
She waved an arm and plopped herself on the couch next to me.
"I had to discuss it with someone since you never want to talk about how deprived your vagina is. Besides, Neil is close friends with Brad. How did you not know that?"
I didn't have an answer for her. I, too, was baffled that I wasn't aware of this guy, especially if he was close friends with Brad.
"I guess the only thing he and I ever talk about is me," I said guiltily.
Bradley Coleman was one of my closest friends. Some would argue that he was, in fact, my best friend. I hesitated to use that term because I'd known the guy for less than a year.
I met him through Rachel while I was pregnant with Max, and he quickly became my go-to person for everything. He was my punching bag and my sounding board, all in one. He had the kind of life that I could only hope to have one day.
He was rich and powerful, but more importantly, he had the freedom to do whatever the hell he wanted to. Just like Rachel, but with more money than I could possibly imagine.
"Anyway," she said, lifting her feet and resting them on the coffee table in front. "I'm going to nap for a bit."
Her eyes closed and I got up, feeling a combination of anger and guilt.
In a way, Rachel was correct. I had no right to tell her what she could or couldn't do because she, paid half the rent for this place.
At the same time, however, she had no right to make me feel that my life was pathetic. There was no doubt about it, but I didn't
need my own friend reminding me of that so harshly.
Sure, I had a dry vagina and no time to even consider fooling around with a man, but Rachel had always been more free-spirited compared to me. Besides, I wasn’t always so drab. My way of life changed dramatically after Max's father abandoned me when I told him I was pregnant.
Wayne Holt, the biggest mistake of my life, who'd ironically given me my sunshine, had now crept back into my thoughts.
I cursed him as I remembered how he'd asked me to get an abortion. My eyes welled with tears when his words came rushing back to me.
I hated him, and I needed not to for the sake of my remaining sanity.
I flipped over my phone and thought about what Rachel just told me about Bradley.
She was probably just being her silly self when she said all those stupid things about him drooling over me. There was no way that he'd be romantically interested in an average woman like me.
His life was big, larger than what a commoner's daily routine looked like. I doubted that he even had a moment of free time to think about me. That's not to say that he wasn't always there to talk to me when I needed an ear. That said, I was positive that I'd been friend-zoned, which was perfect and exactly what I wanted.
His life might have been a dream, but it was anything but stable and what I would consider normal. That, however, didn't stop me from wanting him to be my sounding board at the moment.
He was a good listener, way better than I was, even though I was a psychologist and listened to people's problems for a living.
His phone was busy when I called him.
"Probably for the best," I mumbled, assuming he was at work. He worked so hard, just like I did. But our motivations couldn't be more different.
I needed money, while he needed power.
My phone rang just before I set it back down. I grimaced and jumped at it, hoping that Max wouldn't wake up again.
It was Brad.
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Copyright © 2019 by Summer Brooks
It is not legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental.
Single Dad Fake Fiancé Page 17