ONLY ONE TOUCH

by Madison, Natasha

  “I mean, there are always three sides to a story,” he says, and I zip the bag closed.

  “Pretty sure there are not three sides to someone getting married,” I say the words. I walk over to my phone and call Erika, who answers right away.

  “Becca.” She says my name, and I hate that people are feeling bad for me. I close my eyes to stop the tears from coming, but they come anyway.

  “Hey.” I try to talk without it sounding like I have a frog in my throat. “I need you to get me a private plane in the next hour,” I say.

  “Where are we going?” she asks, and I know that she is going to be on the plane with me.

  “I have a couple of kids in New York I want to see. Then I think we should head to Chicago,” I say. “Let’s start with New York and work from there.”

  “I’ll get you a room at—” I stop her from talking.

  “I want another hotel,” I say right away.

  “I’ll fix it and send you the details for the plane,” she says, and I hang up the phone.

  “You know he’s going to come looking for you,” Francis says, and I sit on my bed. My hands still tremble a bit when I see that he’s texted me.

  “Why?” I don’t know what exactly I’m asking him. It’s a loaded question. Why did he do this? Why didn’t I see it? Why did I fall for him? Why did he break my heart?

  “I don’t know him well,” he says, looking at me, “but something tells me he’s not going to stop until you hear him out.”

  “Well.” I get up, looking at him. “You make sure when he does come around looking for me.” I pull my shoulders back. “Which I don’t think he will. But give him a message, will you? Tell him the contract is null and void.”

  “Are you sure you really want me to give him a message?” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m not feeling friendly.”

  “Well, tell him or don’t tell him,” I say as my phone pings. “Now, I have a plane to catch.”

  “How pissed are you right now?” he asks, and I look at him.

  “I’m beyond pissed,” I say. “But you should know that I loved him.” I don’t change it to I love him because I want to pretend I don’t. “So I’m more heartbroken than I’ve ever been. With that said, I’ll be fine.”

  “Oh, I know you will,” he says. “I’m going to go and get dressed, and I’ll drive you to the plane.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head. “Erika already got me a car.” I stay strong until I hear the front door slam shut. I walk to the shower, and only when I’m in the shower do the sobs rip through me. I sink to the floor, my eyes closing, and all I can see is his face. His smile, his smirk, his frown, his glare. Him.

  I force myself to get up and get dressed. I force myself not to check anymore articles. I force myself to smile at the doorman who helps me with my luggage. I force myself to pretend everything is okay.

  I pretend that it’s just another day, except this time it’s not. Erika is waiting for me with worry all over her face when she looks up from her phone. “Sorry for keeping you,” I say, walking to the plane with her behind me. “Good morning,” I say to the attendant waiting for us.

  “We will be off in ten minutes,” Erika says from behind me, and I sit in the chair.

  My phone rings again in my pocket, and I take it out, seeing his name. The lump in my throat creeps up. I decline the call, and a minute later, I get a notification that I have a voice mail. I pick up my phone with a tear leaking out of one eye. I use my thumb to catch it as I grab my bag and take out my sunglasses.

  I press the voice mail tab and see that they are all from him. I click edit in the corner and slowly click on every single one. Once they are all checked, my finger goes to the delete button. With a shaky hand, I press delete, then set my phone down.

  With my heart pounding in my chest, my stomach burning, and my body shaking, I see the text that appears on the screen.

  Nico: You need to call me, Becca.

  Nico: Please, Becca.

  Nico: I’m so sorry.

  Chapter 26

  Nico

  I dial her number again, hoping to God she just picks up the phone. When she doesn’t, I pitch my phone at the wall. “Fuck!” I roar out, putting my hands into my hair and pulling it. This is not happening, this is not happening, I repeat over and over again.

  Lizzie walks into the room, wearing her pjs and a robe, pushing a room service cart. “Add get new phone to my list,” she says and I look at her. She woke me up two hours ago when the story broke. I knew right away it wasn’t good when she pounded on my door.

  I’m dressed in the same thing I wore last night. I went to bed with the biggest headache of my life, and all I wanted was to call Becca, but I couldn’t. The fear crept into me, and I decided I would tell her everything in the morning. Only the world beat me to it.

  “How bad is it?” I ask. She looks over at me and sits on the couch in the hotel room.

  “It’s everywhere.” She looks down and then looks up. “We’ve gotten calls from everyone, and I mean everyone. They want an exclusive.”

  I walk over to look out the window as my heart sinks. “How the fuck did this happen?” I snap at the same time a knock sounds on the door.

  Lizzie gets up, walking to the door. She opens the door, and Laurene walks in. “What the hell is going on?” she asks, standing there in the same outfit that Lizzie wears.

  “What the hell is going on?” I shout back at her, and she looks at Lizzie, unsure if she should say anything or not. “What the hell is going on?” My voice gets louder. “My whole life is in fucking ruin.”

  “Can he be more dramatic?” Laurene says, looking at Lizzie who just shakes her head. Laurene looks at me, then back at Lizzie. “I need coffee,” she says, walking over to the cart without a worry in the world, yet my life is in shatters. She takes a sip of her coffee. “Now can you calm down and tell me what is going on?”

  “You obviously haven’t heard the news, or seen the papers or even looked at your phone!” I shout, and I’m waiting for someone to contact the front desk about my yelling at five in the morning. I’m always in control and the fact that this is not in my control is over the top. I try not to think of the fact that I can’t talk to Becca because that just enrages me more than anything.

  “I didn’t look at anything. It’s five in the morning,” she says, folding her arms over her chest, and I want to shake her.

  “Well, I’ll fill you in then.” I walk over to her. “The press knows.” Her eyes go wide as she looks from me to Lizzie.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “That’s impossible. We had everyone sign an NDA.” Her eyes go big. “You’re lying.”

  “Do you think I would be up at five in the morning raging if I was lying?” I look at her.

  She sets her coffee cup down. “We made sure that we went in there separately.” She mentions of going to the lawyer’s office. “Everything was done with extreme caution.”

  “Okay,” Lizzie says, sitting down next to Laurene. “I hate to point it out that you two are well known,” she says, then looks straight at me. “You are the most eligible bachelor. Did you not think that your name would ping somewhere?” I glare at her. “It could have been anyone who saw the paper and cashed in on it.”

  “So what do we do now?” Laurene asks.

  “There is nothing to do now,” Lizzie says, her eyes still watching me. “You can’t come out and say it’s fake.” She’s almost reading my mind.

  “Fuck no,” Laurene says, getting up. “We did all this for a reason.”

  “Laurene.” I say her name, and she looks at me.

  “No.” She points at me. “I am so close. You promised.”

  “When I was fucking eighteen!” I shout back at her.

  “I would do it for you without thinking twice!” she yells, and I know she would. “I know this isn’t what we thought was going to happen.”

  “It was supposed to be ninety days and that’s it.” I rub my
temples. “That is what you said. Ninety days and then we annul it.”

  “It’s been one day.” She puts up one finger. “Eighty-nine more to go.”

  “I need to go home.” I look at Lizzie, and she nods, getting up and grabbing her phone.

  “Maybe once you’re home, you’ll calm down,” Laurene says, getting up and grabbing her coffee.

  “Debatable,” Lizzie mumbles, not looking up as her fingers go nuts on her phone.

  “What are we going to say to the press?” Laurene asks me.

  “Nothing. Not a word. Not a comment. Nothing,” I say, not adding to the fact I’m not saying anything to anyone until I speak with Becca. Just the thought that she found out without me telling her puts pressure on my chest. I sit down and put my elbows on my knees, my head falling forward. I can’t even imagine what is going through her mind. I can’t even imagine how much it hurt her. The pressure on my chest is like an elephant sitting down right in the middle of it.

  “You know if you say nothing, it will just target you more,” Lizzie says, and I swear I don’t think I’ve ever felt more defeated in my life. “They are going to hound the both of you.”

  “She’s right,” Laurene says.

  “I’m not saying a fucking word to the press right now.” I get up and look at Lizzie. “Not a fucking word. Not from us, not from the organization, not from the fucking queen of England. Nothing.” I get up. “You either.” I point at Laurene. “Not a word.”

  “Lizzie is right,” she says. “We should at least put out a joint statement.”

  “We are not saying anything yet,” I say. “Nothing. I need to get home and …” I don’t say another word. I just go into the room and pack my shit.

  I take my shit and toss it into the bag. My head is swimming, and I suddenly feel like I’m drowning. I reach for my phone, and I come up empty, so all I can do is sit on the bed. I wonder where she is and who she is with. If she believes any of it.

  There is a knock on the door, and I look up. “Hey,” Lizzie says, poking her head in.

  “Your phone is shattered, so I put the SIM card in this one.” She hands me the phone. “I thought that you might want it.”

  “She isn’t going to answer me.” My voice is low, and Lizzie comes over and sits next to me. “Fuck.” I shake my head. “I wouldn’t talk to me.”

  “I’m sure once you tell her everything,” Lizzie says quietly.

  I take the phone and text Manning and Miller the same text.

  Me: Call me when you get this text.

  I then call her again, and it goes straight to voice mail this time. I hear her voice, and the pressure that I felt before comes back. I have to rub my chest. “We can leave. The plane is waiting,” Lizzie tells me, and I nod at her. “I know that you are going through something right now.” I look up at her, and I wonder if she can see what I’m going through.

  “She is never going to talk to me again.” I say the words I’ve been afraid to think since I first opened my eyes, and my nightmare started. “With all of this.” I shake my head, and I feel the sting coming to my eyes. “She’ll never talk to me again.”

  “She’s a smart woman,” Lizzie says, and I want to tell her that she is more than that. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s beautiful, and she’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. “But.” I look over at her, not sure I want to hear the but. “But if you don’t give the press anything, they are going to hound you even more, and it’s not going to be good for anyone.”

  “I’m not saying anything until I see her,” I say the truth. “I’m not saying a fucking word about a fucking marriage that is fake to begin with.”

  “I know that.” She points at herself. “And you know that. But they …” She points at the window. “Don’t know any of this. To them, you guys were friends who are suddenly married, and they want to be the one who gets the scoop.”

  “You want to put out a statement,” I say, getting up. “We thank you in advance, but this is a private matter and will remain a private matter.”

  “That is like baiting them,” she says. I know she’s right, but I can’t say anything else right now.

  “So then I say nothing,” I say. Laurene’s phone pings in her hand, and she looks up at me when she sees it. “What?”

  “Just pictures of the two of us,” she says, and I shake my head.

  “From six years ago when we attended a fucking function?” I ask, going to her, and she holds up her phone.

  “More or less.” She turns the phone, and it’s the one we took last year and then a couple of us on vacation. I read the headline and groan.

  A romance undercover. Six signs that they were always together.

  “This is why I said you have to say something,” Lizzie says. “Or else it’s going to be bullshit articles like this, and it can make it worse.”

  I laugh bitterly. “Make it worse.” I shake my head. “How the fuck can it be any worse? The woman who …” I stop myself before I admit to her that I love Becca. I figured that Becca should be the first to hear those words and not someone else. “The woman who I’m actually in a relationship with probably woke up to this shit.” I point at the phone. “And I need to get fucking home so I can go and see her.”

  “I’ll pack and be ready.” Lizzie looks at me. “We’ll get her back,” she says, walking out of the room, and the lone tear runs down my cheek.

  “Becca,” I say her name in a whisper. “Please,” I plead with the fucking universe to help me. I get up, packing my shit, and I’m out of the room ten minutes later and so is Lizzie.

  “Laurene is going to meet us at home,” she says, and I nod at her. I get into the car, looking at my phone to see that no one has texted me back either. The plane is waiting when we arrive. I get out, calling her one last time before I get on the plane. I think at this point I’d be more surprised if she actually answered. I wait for the beep to come.

  “Becca.” I say her name. “I can explain everything.” I walk into the plane, the burn forming in the pit of my stomach. “I’m on my way to you.” I press end and look out the window. “I just need one chance to talk to her,” I say to myself right before the door of the plane slams shut, and it’s almost as if it’s her slamming the door on me.

  Chapter 27

  Becca

  The plane touches down, and I get up. “Looks cold,” I tell Erika, grabbing my jacket and putting it over my white cashmere turtleneck. “I might have to run to the mall or something.”

  “I think there is time,” she says, and I look down at my ballerina shoes and so does Erika. “I think we may have to hit up something before we even attempt to go to the rink.”

  I nod at her, and the phone pings in my hand, one after another. I step out of the plane and make my way over to the car waiting for us. The driver smiles at us and opens the back door. I climb in and take a deep breath before I take out my phone.

  I see seventeen missed calls from him and two voice mails. I ignore that, but I can’t ignore the text he has just sent me.

  Nico: Becca, I need to explain. Let me explain.

  I delete it as fast as I can but not fast enough for the pain not to hit me. I grab my sunglasses and place them on, looking out at the cloudy day. It matches how I feel on the inside. If truth be told, all I want to do is curl up and stare into space, but I’m not going to do any of that until tonight. “I got you a suite at the Four Seasons,” Erika says from beside me. “It’s a regular suite. The top ones were taken.”

  “That’s fine.” I look over at her. “My feet are frozen.”

  “We are stopping at Saks right now,” she says, and I nod. We pull up and we both run in, leaving the driver to wait for us. I grab a thicker jacket and also three pairs of UGGs. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out of heels.” Erika laughs.

  We check into the hotel, and then just as quickly as I drop my bag, Erika whisks me out of my room. I think she knows that if I sit, it’ll make everything worse. “We have to get to L
ong Island,” she says. I get into the car and see that I have a text from Manning.

  Manning: Let me know you’re okay.

  Me: I’m okay.

  Manning: Can I do anything? Do you want to come here?

  Me: No, out of town. I’ll touch base once I get back home.

  Manning: I’m calling you tonight.

  I don’t answer him. My phone rings, and I see it’s Miller. For the first time ever in my career, I send one of my clients to voice mail intentionally. I don’t want to do it, but how do I know he isn’t with Nico? Instead, I send Miller a text.

  Me: Sorry, in a meeting. Everything okay?

  I wait for him to answer, looking out the window as we drive away from the city. “How does the schedule look for tomorrow?”

  “We have five kids to see all in and around New York, starting at ten, and I have already ten for Chicago two days from now.”

  “Good,” I say, thinking this is what I need. I need to be buried in my work.

  The phone pings, and I see it’s Miller.

  Miller: Making sure you are okay. Call me when you can.

  The car stops, so I put my phone away. I get out of the car and walk into the arena. The smell of ice hits me right away. This is where it starts for all the kids, I think.

  I see that the team is already on the ice, and I pull open the doors that have seen better years. The long rink fills the whole room. I walk to the right where I see the metal seats right under the heaters. The smell of teenage boys hit you right away, and it smells like stinky feet and cheddar chips. I stand at the boards watching while Erika is busy on her phone. Her fingers are flying across the keyboard, the sound of the board clattering makes me look on the ice. The boys go at it. “I think you’re a little lost.” I hear a voice and look up to see Matthew Grant coming close to me. He’s dressed in jeans and a leather jacket. I’ve seen women fall over themselves to get close to him, but his eyes never wander from his wife. From what I’ve seen and heard, he is madly in love with her.