by Kat T. Masen
“Hello,” is all he answers, his tone flat and uninviting.
“Noah, I don’t like the way we ended things tonight. I’m sorry I told you, or perhaps not sorry I told you, but sorry I didn’t communicate the actual conversation correctly. But I’m calling just to make sure you’re okay after meeting with Morgan.”
“Sure, I guess.”
His closed answers are frustrating, and my mind begins to conjure up thoughts. Does she want to reunite? Did something happen? Thoughts are rampant doing nothing to ease the tension.
“And? What happened?”
“She’s seeing someone.”
“Oh,” I answer, not expecting that response. The more it sinks in, the more I realize his somber mood is from jealousy. Of course, he’s upset, he still loves her, right? “I understand, Noah. You love her, and now there’s someone else.”
“No, Kate, you don’t understand,” he almost threatens me.
“Well, then enlighten me?”
“I’m not upset because she’s seeing someone. I’m upset because for every second she speaks to me telling me that she’s seeing some guy and wants Jessa to meet him, all my mind can think about is you and Dominic.”
“Noah,” I stutter, confused by why his thoughts are misplaced. “There’s nothing going on right now.”
“Right now.” He laughs rudely.
“Why are you hell-bent on thinking I’m lying?”
“Because you hesitate every fucking time!”
“I hesitate because you’re sensitive, or should I say temperamental when this subject is raised.”
“And have you ever stopped to wonder why?”
I shake my head, though he can’t see me. He’s forcing me to look deep inside rather than scrape the surface, and the last time I did that, hearts were broken, specifically mine.
“Don’t do this, Noah,” I whisper. “Don’t go ruining what we have.”
“Because you love him? Are you thinking about taking Allegra up on her offer? Be the mistress on the side? Chances are, there’s more than one of you. Why not make it a gangbang? Then he’ll start charging people to come watch,” he muses bitterly.
“No, Noah. I don’t love him. That’s all you need to know.”
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? You don’t love him, but you’re still willing to fuck him?”
The advice I offered Noah only hours ago seems impossible to follow, controlling the people around you by how you react. My anger is stirring up within me at the choice of his words. But if I feed into his jealously and frustration, I’ll be a plain old hypocrite. This is what we do, we argue, we hang up, then we bury it until it becomes a bigger problem.
But not this time. I don’t want to fall back into the same bad habit when deep, down inside, I know Noah has many things on his mind. I just shouldn’t be one of them.
“I understand you have a lot of things—”
“No, don’t do that. Try to tell me I don’t feel the way I feel.”
“Noah,” I bow my head trying to push away the feeling of his subtle hints at something else. “Please don’t say how you feel.”
“And why shouldn’t I?”
“Because if you say how you feel, it’ll all change. Me, you, us…”
The quietness between us grows deeper, pure in its form while creating a blank canvas for our thoughts. Just when I think he’ll hang up without a goodbye, his breathing falters the same time my heart skips a beat.
“It should’ve been you, Kate,” he whispers. “All along… it should have been you.”
NOAH
My gaze drifts toward my little girl asleep in her bed.
The sound of her tiny snores is more like long-winded breaths as innocent as the one proceeding.
My feet move as quietly as possible to adjust her yellow blanket, which is teetering on the railing of her bed. She can’t go anywhere without it. According to experts, it’s a habit needing to be stopped at her age. But who gives a goddamn fuck? If it makes her happy and comforts her, then let her be.
Laying in her arms is Mr. Foxy, her favorite stuffed toy. My fingers gently move the loose strands of hair away from her face, giving me space to plant a soft kiss on her forehead. The scent of her baby skin brings back so many memories, the milestones of her time with us replaying like a sweet melody.
Jessa doesn’t deserve my mistakes.
The guilt spreads like wildfire, out of control with its ferocity. There are so many elements that started the blaze, moments which were out of my depth, so I neglected all the signs.
From the beginning, my infatuation with Morgan and her ignorant behavior years ago should’ve been the red flag. Still, instead, being a novice to love, I followed my heart or whatever the fuck it was because I had no clue what the hell I was doing.
Looking back and reflecting on our time together, I was addicted to the thrill of the chase. Morgan was unattainable, and I wanted to prove a point. My ego led the race, and while running toward the finish line to what I believed would be a victorious win, I slowly lost pieces of myself and became the man Morgan wanted me to be. That included letting go of certain people in my life.
We did everything by the book, or so I thought. I asked her to marry me before Jessa came along. The sanctity of marriage seemed important if we were going to raise a family together.
Yet, the rings on our fingers only added to the pressure of our daily lives. Our sexual connection dissipated, replaced by angry threats and resentment toward each other. I envisioned a wife, a mother, who would put her children first, not her Hollywood movie star of a sister. The more we fought, the clearer it became that we’d made a mistake fast-tracking our relationship. We never took the time to build a solid foundation, letting lust overshadow the vital elements to sustaining a long-lasting future.
And while regret plays a massive part in my conflicted emotions toward Morgan, I’m then torn every second I stare into the eyes of this beautiful child we created. I still recall the moment she was born, how nothing else in my life made me complete. How I vowed to be her father, a protector, a man she could always rely on. My own father’s absence made me all the more aware of the role I needed to fulfill in my daughter’s life.
But now, the one paying the highest price is Jessa. Her world has been torn apart, much of that my fault for allowing Morgan’s controlling nature over our marriage to push me over the edge and into a bigger mistake. The pain was insurmountable, staring at the divorce papers on Christmas Eve. I was alone, left wondering precisely what I’d done wrong or why my child deserved a broken home. The threat of losing Jessa and being alone consumed me and drove me to the pits of darkness with only one way out.
I needed anything to take my mind off it, anything to make me forget my whole world was being taken away from me.
And then came Olivia Hawkins.
I remembered her from our childhood, and the uncanny timing gave it all the more reason as to why we both ended up in the hotel room that night. We were both bleeding from freshly opened but different wounds and the pain of losing someone.
It was supposed to be one night—all sex, no attachment, just the desperate need to control my life inside that hotel room. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. As far as I was concerned, Morgan and I were separated with divorce papers making it even more official.
But the moment after, I realized the biggest mistake I made wasn’t fighting for what Jessa needed. She deserved for her family to stay together, and so, if it meant that I’d give up my beliefs and become the man Morgan needed me to be, then I would.
I still remember the night like it was yesterday.
“Daddy, come say night-night.”
Jessa stood at the top of the stairs, carrying her yellow blanket with bears all over it, the same blanket she dragged across the floor everywhere she went. In her other hand, she held a small stuffed brown fox. It was soft and had these big eyes like it was out of a cartoon, a last-minute purchase when I left Chicago airport three months ago.
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br /> I quickly made my way up the stairs, scooped her up in my arms, and balanced the weight of her body and the extra items she carried. Walking toward her room, I saw the nightlight was already on, and her favorite book sat on top of her pillow.
“Daddy, you read to me? Puh-lease?”
I gently placed her down, tucked her in as she got comfortable, and she placed her thumb inside her mouth. As I softly read to her, her eyes began to droop, her long lashes touching her face until her soft snore echoed in the room. I leaned in, kissed her forehead before shutting the door.
The lights were dimmed downstairs in the den, the fireplace running on this rare chilly night.
“Laptop away,” I scolded Morgan.
Morgan was still wearing her work clothes, giving me another excuse, some important email that had to go out right now. “Just one more—”
“Morgan,” I reminded her gently. “C’mon, our therapist said we need to make time for each other when Jessa is asleep.”
She nodded in agreement and shut her laptop with a sigh. “You’re right. Of course. Cheese and wine?”
“How about you naked?” I pulled her body into mine and watched her giggle in my embrace.
“How about I slip into something more comfortable?” she teased.
“How about you slip into nothing?”
She leaned in, kissed my lips, instantly turning me on. I rubbed my body against hers and slid my hand beneath her skirt and along her thighs.
“I’ll be back. Behave.”
She walked out of the room, dropped her heels to the floor, and untucked her blouse as she went. I sat back, a smile on my face as I thought about how lucky we were to be back to where we started—a family.
I had one last chance to save us, and the second that Olivia left my hotel room, I made the call. I saved my marriage.
It was all because of that one night.
It was because of Olivia. The way she allowed me to feel like a man. That’s when I decided to fight for what I wanted—my wife and kid. Perhaps it was Olivia’s raw innocence that made me fight for the overbearing, stubborn woman who committed to me for life.
It was a reminder that I couldn’t go back to the days of being single, where I’d aimlessly sleep with woman after woman. I fell in love with Morgan Bentley and made her my wife. In turn, she made me a father. Giving up was no longer an option.
I sat back, waiting for Morgan, busying myself by checking the latest scores when a text came in. The name popped up—Milkshake Bitch—a joke between Olivia and me from our childhood.
Unable to hide the smile that played on my lips, I read the text, and as each word registered, and I pieced it together, my throat curled into a tight ball. The bile rose so fast, I was unable to breathe in any way, shape, or form.
Two words flashed on the screen.
I’m pregnant.
I’d fucked up, and there was no turning back. When it came to telling Morgan, her reaction was warranted. She called me hurtful names and threw my clothes out on the lawn. She threatened me with legal action to gain sole custody of Jessa.
Charlie stepped in, giving me a temporary roof over my head while I tried to come to terms with it. She also reassured me that she’d do everything in her power to represent me in court, so both Morgan and I had joint custody, which seemed fair.
But Morgan is anything but a fair woman. The last few months have been hell between us, her true colors coming to light. Only in recent weeks has she settled enough that we can civilly talk about Jessa. We agreed to certain days as to when she’ll stay with each parent, which forced me to find a place to live so Jessa would feel settled. We untied our assets, and fortunately for me, I still had other properties in my name, which funded my new purchase in Malibu. Jessa loves the beach, so it seemed like the perfect place for her to stay with me.
To add to the complication, I had the situation with Olivia. From the beginning, she wanted nothing from me, offering to raise the baby alone. It seemed like the only option, given that my life, including Jessa and work, is all in LA.
I’ve been floating in unknown waters without a life jacket to save me from imminent drowning. The only help I have willingly accepted is from Charlie. Being a lawyer specializing in family law, she’s seen it all. She suggested that we don’t commit to any agreements until the baby was born. Things will likely change, and my involvement in this baby’s life will become more evident as time goes on.
At least, Olivia, unlike Morgan, was rational in this respect.
Closing the door behind me, my hand rests on the doorknob with a heavy heart. And then, the whispers come back to remind me that someone else can’t escape me.
My hand slides into the pocket of my pants to retrieve my phone, and like I’d done so many times today, I open my photos to the one which has taunted me since Saturday night.
The simple picture was taken on the dance floor, drunk on expensive champagne and scotch. A selfie with Kate’s lips pressed against my cheek mid-laugh, and my face lit up with sheer joy. We laughed until our stomachs writhed in pain, and tears rolled down our cheeks while we barely were able to stand, let alone dance.
The simple moment between us is what I have been missing all along. I knew this the moment I laid eyes on Kate.
But this isn’t a simple equation. I’ve hurt her, abandoned our friendship, and now I have the excess baggage of children, which no woman wants from a man she’s seeing.
I stare at the image numerous times, willing this feeling of yearning to stop. But as the days pass with the distance between us, an entire ocean apart, it all becomes harder to control this urge consuming me.
I make my way to the kitchen, sitting on the stool as Morgan stands across from me, scraping her hands through her hair. She’s still dressed in her work clothes, and despite my intolerance toward her, Morgan will always be a beautiful woman. Though of late, I notice her dresses have been more revealing and tighter. She’s also lost weight, but our relationship is strained, so I keep all of the observations to myself. We are no longer friends, only two people trying to navigate this co-parenting thing. It’s a shame she has to be such a bitch about it.
“How was your trip to Paris?” she asks, rubbing her palms together nervously.
“Fine.”
Unable to look me in the eye, she drops her head and crosses her arms, only to uncross them moments later. Surprisingly, when I initially told her about my trip, I expected her to lecture me on abandoning our daughter, but it never came. Her mood swings are tiresome, and I have no energy to argue with her again tonight, which is where I expect to head in a matter of minutes.
The fact is—my mind is a fucking mess after my call with Kate.
“What do you want to discuss?” I question, impatiently.
“I need you to please keep an open mind, or shall I say, I don’t want to argue.”
The moment she says that, alarm bells rise. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m seeing someone.”
I lower my head, staring at the marble countertop. This moment was bound to come, and while my anger on the subject is a given, it becomes misplaced—the conversation with Kate comes roaring back to life. I should’ve sucker-punched the fucker the moment I saw him at the ball, but Lex warned me to keep my peace, knowing all too well my feelings on his so-called existence.
“His name is Callum. He’s a director. I just thought you should know.”
Silence stirs inside of me as my stark white knuckles graze against the marble. My pulse is racing at record speed, intensifying the heat of my skin beneath my collared shirt. Morgan makes a sound with her throat, waiting for my response with bated breath.
What the fuck am I supposed to say? Congratulations, you’re fucking someone else? I don’t care what she does as long as my daughter is safe. Good luck to the dick who gets to call you his. I’m sure he’ll have fun losing his balls to a bitch like you.
This anger is consuming me at warp speed, a typhoon unable to escape. Morgan is s
aying something about how she met him or where he lives, but the sound of her voice fades into the distance. The only thing I can hear is Kate’s voice telling me that Dominic loves her, and his wife is fine with her being his fuck toy on the side.
I begged myself to calm down when I figured out they were still fucking each other. Then, after our weekend together, and seeing him laced with jealousy at the ball, I knew it wouldn’t be long before he tried to summon her back.
He texted, he called—all the while she was with me. I lost my patience that night, our heated discussion sending her running to him, or so I thought. She promised me nothing happened, and it’s taken every fiber in my being to trust her. Kate has always known her worth. It’s what I’ve always admired about her.
But even I’ll admit, I’m barely hanging on by a thread. Zero control and the seed of jealousy plant into the pit of my soul. She’s so far away. I can’t even see her or tell her how I really feel.
“Does he know you have kids?” I blurt out, unapologetically.
“Yes, he knows about Michael. In fact, he has met Michael along with Wyatt. I’d really like him to meet Jessa.”
My head jerks up, rage pulsing through my veins. “So what? He can replace me as her dad?”
“Noah, that’s not what… you know what? I knew your jealousy would get the better of you. We’re over. You made sure of that the moment you fucked some whore of a stewardess,” she concedes in anger.
“No, Morgan, you made sure of that the moment you sent me divorce papers. All you’ve done is blame me like this is all my fault. Well, guess what? We both fucked up our marriage. And the only one who will truly suffer is Jessa. So, the answer is no, he can’t fucking meet my daughter.”
“Don’t threaten me, Noah,” she charges, her face reddening. “If you want to play nasty, then so will I.”
“It’s nothing new. You’ve been doing it our whole marriage.”
She directs her cold eyes at me. “Leave my house now. You’ll see Jessa when I say so.”
“You have no right holding my daughter back from me!” I jump off the stool while banging my fist on the countertop. “I don’t care who you fuck or spread your legs for. I don’t care if you fuck a whole army, she’s my daughter, and I’ll see her when I damn well please.”