by Mari Madison
“Get out of my house.”
“Fine. But I’m not leaving without Ashley.” She rose to her feet, made a move toward the bedroom.
I leapt up, blocking her path. “You are not going in there.”
Thankfully she stopped. Sighing, she turned away from me pacing the room with uneven steps. I watched her, still standing guard at the hallway door. Not sure what I’d do if she attempted to push past me. I would never hit a woman. But I would protect my daughter by any means necessary.
Finally she turned back to me, tears slipping down her cheeks. She gave me a look that was so devastated, it broke my heart, despite my best efforts.
“You’re a good father,” she said. “Ashley’s lucky to have you. But she’s my kid, too, Jake. You can’t keep me from her.”
“Please, Vic, be reasonable,” I begged, my heart in my throat, trying to quell my rage. Yelling at her would only set her off again. “She’s gone through so much already. She’s finally settling in. You can’t just take her, uproot her, all over again. It’s not fair.”
“No, it’s you who’s not being fair. Not even attempting to fight for your family. You promised we’d be together in good times and in bad—you made a fucking vow in front of everyone we know. And now you’re just ready to throw it all away? Even if it screws up your daughter for life?”
I cringed, her words more cutting than any knife. “Look, Vic—”
“Mommy?”
My eyes shot to the hallway, my heart sinking in my chest. Ashley stood there, dressed in her Sleeping Beauty nightgown, staring at Victoria with pure unadulterated joy written on her little face.
“Baby!” Victoria cried, pushing past me to run over and sweep Ashley into her arms. She twirled her around, then kissed her on both cheeks before setting her down on the ground again. “Mommy’s back, baby. I’ve missed you so much!”
“I missed you, too, Mommy,” Ashley told her. “Daddy said you weren’t coming back.”
“Well Daddy was mistaken, sweetheart,” Victoria said, after shooting me a look. “I’m back. Though I’m not sure Daddy wants me to stay.”
For a moment, Ashley stared at her. Then she slowly turned to me, focusing her eyes on me. Terrified, desperate eyes.
And at that moment, I knew I had lost.
I had lost everything.
“Please, Daddy! Don’t send Mommy away. I want Mommy to stay, Daddy. Please don’t make her go. I’ll be a good girl, Daddy. I’ll eat all my vegetables. Even the yucky ones. Just don’t make her go away again.”
I could feel Victoria’s stare burning a hole into me, but I refused to look in her direction. Mainly because doing so would probably make me throw up.
“Of course I won’t make her go,” I managed to choke out. “She’s your mother, Ashley. Of course she can stay.”
forty
BETH
God, this day is never going to end.
I slumped down in my desk, scrubbing my face with my hands. I’d just gotten back from being out on assignment, working with my old morning show photog, Javier, who had agreed to pull a double when Mac called in sick to work.
But Mac isn’t sick! I wanted to scream when Ana had first informed me of the news. Instead, I’d only nodded miserably as my mind treated me to a million reasons why he might have changed his mind about coming to work—each more unpleasant than the last. It was all I could do not to jump in my car and drive back up to his house. To peek through the window and see what was going on. To barge through the front door to tell this woman to stay away from my man.
He was mine now. She’d given up her rights to him. She needed to go.
“You okay?”
I looked up to see Javier had come back by my desk. He handed me the drive with the video we shot earlier on it. I took it and gave him my best effort at a smile.
“Thanks. I’m fine. Just a little tired, I guess.”
“You’re tired?” He snorted. “Try being up since three A.M.”
“Yeah, yeah. I remember those days, believe me.”
Javier peered at me for a moment. “You okay, kiddo? I mean, really okay?”
The concern in his eyes broke something inside of me. It was all I could do to hold back the floodgates of tears. Once upon a time, Javier knew everything about my life—after all, we’d been partners for two years and had shared a lot of really boring early morning hours together. But how could I tell him this? That I had fallen for a coworker who was essentially married and now I was upset that his wife had returned?
“Is this about her?” Javier asked suddenly, surprising me with the question. “Is she messing with you again?”
I looked up, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Her?”
“Stephanie,” he clarified. “Joy was telling me all about what she did to you. The blue hairspray, the fire ants.” He shook his head, looking disgusted. “I never liked that girl from the start. But I had no idea she would go that far.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” I stared glumly down at my desk. Awesome. So the whole station probably knew about Stephanie’s sabotages. And here Richard had promised to keep the whole thing on the down low when he’d fired her. But journalists were a nosy bunch and very skilled at finding out things that were meant to stay hidden. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Javier cocked his head. “What do you mean?”
“You ever hear of Dante Alvarez?” I asked, then told him a brief version of the story. Javier listened attentively and when I had finished he shook his head. “That’s awful,” he exclaimed. “I mean, Richard must have been so pissed. You sure she destroyed the drive?”
“Mac found it sitting on a magnet. Completely blank.”
“And you can’t get another interview?”
“I’ve tried. He won’t answer his phone and now it’s disconnected. I have no way of reaching him anymore.”
Javier gave me a thoughtful look. “I might be able to help you,” he said.
My head jerked up. “What?”
“It’s a long shot. So don’t get your hopes up too high. But my abuela used to go to church with Alvarez’s mother back in the day. I remember last Christmas she was telling us some crazy stories about the guy—back when he first released his manifesto. She couldn’t believe a sweet, Christian woman like his dear old madre would raise a boy who would go and say such things about his government. In any case, I don’t know if they still keep in touch but . . .” He shrugged. “It couldn’t hurt to ask.”
My heart started beating faster in my chest. “You’d do that?”
Javier smiled. “For my favorite ex-morning show partner?” he teased. “Anything!” Then he sobered. “But seriously. I know how hard you’ve worked to get here. And I know how much it means to you. I can’t promise you anything—but I’ll absolutely give it my best shot.”
“Thank you,” I gushed. “Thank you so much.”
“No problem. And, as they say in the biz, ‘Stay tuned.’” He gave me a comical bow. “Now if you’ll excuse me. I have a very nice king-size bed at home that’s been calling my name for some time now.”
We exchanged good-byes and I watched him head back to the photographer’s lounge, trying to quell the adrenaline that had spiked in my veins. It was a long shot, he’d said. It might not come to anything. But the fact that there was even a chance . . .
I turned back to my desk. Before I could stop myself, I grabbed my phone and sent Mac a text. Nothing crazy—just a what’s up? kind of thing. I told myself I just wanted to tell him about the possible development with Alvarez, but I knew, in my heart I was only fooling myself. And I felt like a total loser once I hit send.
A stirring of anger wove through my gut as I stuffed my phone in my bag. I knew it wasn’t his fault. I mean, not exactly. After all, he certainly hadn’t planned for his ex-wife to show up on his front doorstep the morning after we’d finally gotten together. But still! After all he’d said, after all he’d promised, and now he just goes rad
io silent on me? Even if Victoria was still in the house—even if they were still trying to work things through—could it have killed him to sneak into the bathroom to send a quick, reassuring text? I mean, he had to know this was driving me insane, right? He had to know that I wouldn’t be okay until I heard from him.
Stop being so self-absorbed, I scolded myself. This wasn’t about me. And it wasn’t even necessarily about Mac. For all I knew, Victoria wanted nothing to do with Mac—she’d just come back because she’d missed her daughter, as any mother would. How could I begrudge little Ashley the joy of waking up and seeing the woman who had given her birth? Ashley, who had been holding out hope for so long, never faltering in her belief that Mommy would someday come home. And now, she finally had. This had to be the best day ever for her.
Even if it was shaping up to be one of the worst for me.
I turned back to my computer, staring at it miserably. I tried typing a few words, then gave up. I couldn’t focus on anything at the moment. Thankfully I didn’t have to go live tonight. I could just tape my reporter stand-up and go home early. Go home and try not to stare at my non-ringing cell phone all night.
You should call him.
No. You need to give him space.
As my mind continued to grapple with the implications of both options (the risk of disturbing him vs. my continued efforts at sanity), my hand decided to take action, reaching into my bag and grabbing my phone again. Then, thinking better of it, I stuffed it in my desk and slammed the door shut.
I stared at the closed drawer, my heart pounding in my chest. This was getting completely ridiculous. I needed to get a grip. Or, you know, lock the drawer and swallow the key. That would work, right?
Or you could just call him . . .
I forced myself up from my seat, determined to go get a soda and remove myself from the temptation. But then, just as I was about to walk away from my desk, it erupted into song, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. It was ringing. My phone was ringing.
It’s probably not him. There’s no reason it’s him.
I yanked the drawer open. My eyes fell on the caller ID.
It was.
I grabbed the phone, my hands shaking so violently I almost dropped it as I tried to pull it to my ear. “H-hello?”
“Hey, Beth. It’s me.”
He sounded awful. Tired, drained, sad. Suddenly, all the anger I’d had for him not calling earlier evaporated, and all I wanted to do was reach out over the phone lines and give him a comforting hug. To hold him close and assure him everything would be all right. Even though I had no idea if that statement was even remotely true.
“Mac. Thank God. I was so worried. Is everything okay?”
“Not really.”
He paused and the silence stretched out between us. I gripped the phone with white-knuckled fingers, barely able to breathe as I waited for him to continue.
Don’t push him, Beth. Give him time.
Finally he spoke. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier or show up to work. I thought . . . Well . . . Let’s just say things are . . . complicated . . . here, to say the least.”
Bile rose to my throat and I swallowed hard, forcing it back down. Complicated. What did that mean? Was Victoria still there? Was he letting her stay? And if so, for how long? A quick visit with her daughter . . . or something else entirely?
“Look, can I . . . meet you somewhere?” he asked. “I need to talk to you and I don’t really want to do it over the phone.”
“Sure,” I managed to choke out. “I’m about to leave in a few minutes anyway. Do you want me to come by the house?”
“No!” he cried, his voice filled with panic. Then he cleared his throat. “I mean, what if I meet you down at the beach? By the OB pier?”
Frustrated tears sprung to the corners of my eyes and I angrily wiped them away. If that didn’t answer my question as to whether she was still there, nothing would.
Now the question became: why.
“Sure. That’s fine, I guess. Whatever.”
There was more silence on the other end of the line. As if he wanted to say something else, but couldn’t find the words. Then, “Great. I’ll be there in an hour.”
I set down the phone, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. I tried to tell myself I was jumping to conclusions, but at the same time, in my heart I knew that was probably not the case. If things were fine, he would have just told me over the phone. This fact that he needed to see me in person could only mean bad news. The fact that he couldn’t meet at his house, meant something even worse.
Somehow I managed to go through the motions, finishing voicing my script and taping my stand-up as if nothing were wrong. After all, the last thing I needed was to let my personal life interfere with my work.
Especially since soon it might be all I had left.
forty-one
BETH
I found Mac at the very end of the pier, sitting on a wooden bench. There were a few old fishermen, hanging out nearby, and a couple surfers below us, trying to catch the latest swell. One of them, I was pretty sure, was News 9’s weatherman, Asher Anderson himself. Not surprising, seeing as from what people said the guy spent more time on the water than he ever did in the newsroom. But he could get away with it, because his mother owned the station and his dad was the legendary Stormy Anderson—celebrity weatherman extraordinaire.
Must be nice to have that kind of job security.
As I made my way down the pier, feeling like dead girl walking, seagulls seemed to scold me as they flew back and forth.
Stupid girl, I imagined them saying. Stupid, stupid girl.
“Hey,” I said as I approached. “Here I am.”
He looked up. His eyes were bloodshot. His face was pale. A cold chill spun down my spine. This was really not good. Really, really not good.
“Beth . . .” He rose to his feet and grabbed me, pulling me into a fierce hug. I squeaked a little, half-afraid he would accidentally crush me with the intensity of the embrace, and he loosened his grip—just barely—while keeping me tight against him. As if he wanted to literally crawl inside of me and never come out.
Finally, unable to bear it any longer, I managed to untangle myself from his arms. “What’s going on, Mac?” I demanded, hating how scared my voice sounded. “Talk to me.”
He raked a hand through his hair, then walked to the edge of the pier, staring out into the sea, as if it could offer some kind of answers to the universe.
“Victoria apologized for everything that happened,” he said in a flat voice. “She says it was a mistake to leave us. And that she wants to be a family again.”
“Well, tough luck,” I cried, before I could stop myself. “That’s not her call! She left you guys!” I watched as he flinched, fear pounding at my insides. “Mac, you can’t just take her back! After what she did to you!”
He turned around. His eyes were dull and defeated. “What choice do I have?” he asked. “If I say no, she’ll take Ashley away.”
“She can’t do that,” I argued. “She abandoned her. You have custody, right? I mean, she could petition the courts, sure. But they’re not going to just hand her over.”
“We never made a formal custody arrangement. She took off too quickly for that. And yeah, sure. I could drag Ashley through a custody battle now. But I have no assurances I’d win. The courts usually favor the mothers in this scenario. And my violent behavior back in Boston when I found out about her affair could be used against me. It’d be a gamble at the very least. And I refuse to gamble on the life of my baby girl.”
He closed his eyes and opened them again. “Besides, you should have seen Ashley’s face when she walked out into the living room and saw her mother had come home. It was as if she’d finally woken from her living nightmare and her dreams had all come true.” He shook his head. “I told you from the beginning, I’d made a promise. To always put her first. No matter what. How can I not at least try to make this work—for her
sake?”
I found myself nodding, even as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. “Oh, Mac. I’m so sorry.”
I could see him squeezing his hands into fists. “No, Beth. I’m the one who should be sorry. And I am—so goddamned sorry. The last thing in the world I wanted was to hurt you. Or drag you down into my fucked-up life. I knew it was a risk to let you in—to give us a chance to be happy together. But it had been so long . . . I’d convinced myself that it would be okay to move on. That she was gone for good. That she would stay away. That Ashley and I could have a real chance to start over.” He hung his head. “But now I know that’ll never happen.”
He pulled back his fist, slamming it against the pier’s railing. When he pulled his hand away, blood dripped from his knuckles. I grabbed him, pulling him to me, holding him tight. As he clung to me, his whole body trembled violently.
For a moment, we just stood there. Then, finally, he pulled away, finding my eyes with his own. “I want you to know—what I said last night? I meant every word. I love you. I love you so much. And in any other life in any other world—I would move heaven and earth to be with you.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “Believe me I know.”
I wanted to tell him that I loved him, too. That I loved him so much it was killing me inside. But I knew it would only make it harder to walk away in the end.
And I would have to walk away. This time, forever.
He swallowed hard. “Listen, I’ve got to go. If Victoria finds out I went and talked to you, she’s going to freak. I have to get back before she realizes I’m gone. But I’ll be at work tomorrow. And we can talk more. Or we don’t have to talk at all. I wouldn’t blame you if you never wanted to talk to me again.”
I gave him a sad smile. “Come on, Mac. How could I ever stop talking to you?”
He nodded slowly. Then he scooped me back into his arms and kissed me, hard and fierce. Kissed me like there was no tomorrow. And I guess, in this case, there wasn’t.