Beneath the Sheets

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Beneath the Sheets Page 9

by Shandi Boyes


  Marvin aggressively crosses his arms in front of his chest, but thankfully he continues giving me the silent treatment. The thrum of Joel’s pulse jolts up my arm as we pace to Hugo, hand in hand. His excited smile enlarges with every step we take. Hugo is flanked by two gorgeous blondes, and for the first time in my life, my claws are sheathed. His nieces, Katie and Angie, Chase’s two-year-old twin daughters, are climbing over him like he's their personal play fort. They appear as smitten as every female does when they're awarded with Hugo’s attention.

  When Hugo notices me approaching with Joel, he wrangles them off his jean-covered thighs and hands them to Chase. His eyes are still crammed with the despair he wore two days ago when I begged him to leave, but with every step we take toward him, it lessens, and a new glimmer of hope brightens in them.

  I stop in front of Hugo and muster a small smile, pretending my heart isn’t hammering against my ribs.

  “Hugo, this is your son, Joel Marshall,” I introduce him. The mad beat of my heart causes my words to come out with a judder.

  Hugo intakes a sharp breath, clearly shocked by my introduction.

  I swing Joel’s arm into the air, trying to settle the nerves trembling through his little body. “Joel, this is your dad.”

  Hugo crouches down in front of Joel and offers him his hand to shake. My heart swells when Joel swats Hugo’s hand away and wraps his arms around Hugo’s neck. He’s always believed actions speak louder than words. Joel’s quick movements make Hugo stumble onto his knees in front of me, staining his jeans with dirty sludge and leftover snow.

  Tears prick my eyes when Hugo chuckles. “You’re a strong little thing,” he says, pulling Joel in nearer to his chest.

  My tears threaten to fall when Joel pulls away from Hugo and clasps my hand in his while still holding Hugo’s, undoubtedly proving he's our little connection that will tether us together for eternity. I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to relinquish my tears when I see nothing but sheer joy beaming from Joel’s expressive eyes. My simplest decision has given him the utmost pleasure.

  Lifting my eyes to Hugo, I say, “Maybe after brunch, you could take Joel somewhere? Get to know him a little better?”

  Even though my tears have kept at bay, my rickety voice is giving away the surge of emotions flooding into me. I prayed for years for this exact moment to happen, and I can’t believe it is finally coming true.

  Joel’s eyes rocket to Hugo. His mouth is ajar, and his pupils are as large as saucers. “Will you?”

  A vast smile etches on Hugo’s face before he nods. Joel throws his fists into the air and squeals an ear-piercing scream, forcing an immature giggle to seep from my lips. Joel’s reaction alone verifies that my decision to include Hugo in his life was the right choice to make. He wants his dad in his life more than anything.

  After running his hand over Joel’s crazy, ringlet curls, Hugo’s baby blues lock with mine. “Thank you,” he mouths. The gratefulness in his eyes adds strength to his simple statement.

  I gently smile and nod. I'd do anything in the world to ensure Joel is happy. Even if means I have to side with the man who broke my heart and shattered my soul.

  “I’ll be just over there if you need me,” I inform Joel, pointing to Marvin standing at the side, watching the exchange between the three of us. His arms are crossed in front of his chest, and he's giving us a poignant stare.

  “Okay,” Joel says, wrapping his arms around my thigh. “I love you, Mommy.”

  “I love you, too.” I run my fingers through his ruffled hair, fixing it into place.

  I’m not going to lie, walking away is one of the hardest things I’ve done. My heart is thrashing against my chest, and my eyes are crammed to the brims with tears, but the decisions I make aren’t just based on what I want anymore. Every decision affects Joel as well. He wants this, and he deserves this. Every child has the right to have their father in their lives. I just hope Hugo doesn’t break his heart. If he does, it won’t matter how much I still love him, I’ll never forgive him. That is unforgivable.

  “This wasn’t part of our agreement,” Marvin sneers the instant I stand beside him.

  I intertwine my hands together and pivot around. A smile tugs on my lips when I spot Joel showing Hugo his hidden finger trick Mrs. Mable has been teaching him since he was old enough to sit. It is nothing more than cupping your hands together and sticking your middle finger out and wriggling around, but Joel thinks it is magic.

  “Joel was never part of our deal, Marvin. Not once,” I retort, keeping my eyes on Joel and Hugo as they move to the back deck. “He's my son and any decision I make regarding him falls solely on my shoulders.”

  The hairs on the nape of my neck prickle when Marvin leans into my side and snarls. “When Hugo vanishes for another five years and shatters your son’s heart, don’t come crying to me.”

  After throwing a garden chair out of his way, Marvin storms down the driveway. I'd like to say this is the first time he has thrown a tantrum like a child, but, unfortunately, it isn’t. Perhaps that is why Marvin and Joel don’t see eye to eye. Marvin sees Joel as a competitor instead of an ally. If he was smart, he would realize my son is the key to obtaining my heart. Gaining his approval is the biggest hurdle any man will need to jump to secure my devotion. His failure to realize that proves he doesn’t know me at all.

  Marvin slides into his red BMW convertible, throws the gearstick into reverse, and pulls out of the driveway like a bat out of hell. Tires squealing and the smell of burning rubber filters through the air. After rolling my eyes at his childish nature, my eyes return front and center. Marvin’s little spectacle has gained me a handful of spectators, including Hugo. His eyes have narrowed, and even from this distance, I can see his jaw muscle ticking. Thankfully, Joel is too enamored with Hugo to be paying any attention to Marvin.

  I jump when an arm unexpectedly wraps around my shoulders. I don’t need to look up to know who is embracing me, her baked cookies and honeysuckle smell is all the indication I need.

  “Sorry about that,” I apologize, raising my eyes to Mrs. Marshall’s face.

  “It’s fine, Ava. I have five grand-babies. Believe me, I’ve handled much worse tantrums,” she replies, patting me on the shoulder with her translucent-skinned hand.

  A giggle bubbles up my chest and erupts from my mouth. Joel could give any kid a run for his money when it comes to chucking a tantrum – until three weeks ago. I never laughed so hard when he threw a wobbly in the middle of a department store because he wanted a new Spiderman toy. When I suggested he should wait until after Christmas, he dropped to the ground, kicked his legs and wailed. That isn’t the funny part of my story. It was when Mrs. Marshall replicated his tantrum, howling sobs and all, did I lose it. I’d never laughed so hard in my life. A nearly sixty-year-old lady on the ground thrashing her fists against the tiled floor in the middle of a bustling department store was more than I could bear.

  Her weird tactics worked, though. In an instant, Joel’s tantrum stopped. His tear-soaked face popped off the floor, and he glared at his grandma, open-mouthed and wide-eyed. He looked utterly mortified. He’s never chucked a tantrum since that day.

  “Maybe we should test your logic on curbing tantrums on Marvin?” I suggest, my lips pursing into a grin, vainly trying to portray I’m not embarrassed by Marvin’s childish antics, where in reality, I'm humiliated.

  Mrs. Marshall smiles a deviant grin. “The only thing that boy needs is a good walloping.”

  I laugh. Marvin is the reason I’m making sure Joel is raised with morals. I do not want him to grow up to be spoiled little brat like Marvin. Although Joel will always be my baby, there's a big difference between coddling a child and just letting them be a brat. The biggest difference between Joel and Marvin is Joel knows the difference between right and wrong. Marvin doesn’t.

  Mrs. Marshall firms her grip on my shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, Ava,” she whispers, her words full of admiration.

&
nbsp; I peer into her glistening eyes, confused by the sudden shift in our conversation and her praise. Mrs. Marshall has never been one to hold back praise, but it’s been a few solid months since she has been so frank. Actually, the last time she was forthright was when she urged me to reconsider my partnership with Marvin. Although she said she would support me in any decision I made, I saw her disappointment relayed in her wholesome eyes when I informed her of my decision.

  “I’m proud you're not holding Joel against Hugo,” she explains to my bemused expression. “You have every right to be angry at Hugo. Hell, I’m still peeved at him, but you’re handling this situation with grace and dignity. Like a true lady. That makes me very proud of you. Not just today, but every day.”

  My nose tingles as fresh tears well in my eyes. Unable to articulate how much her words mean to me, I return her embrace with an extra squeeze.

  Thirteen

  Ava

  Three days later…

  “Where the hell are you?” I mutter, lifting a plastic sheet off a half-assembled desk.

  My eyes frantically dart around the space, trying in vain to locate my handbag. The faint sound of my cell phone ringing has been shrilling into the room the past two minutes, but I can’t locate my phone under all the mess.

  “Check the boxes near the door,” suggests Belinda, pointing to a three-stack of moving boxes near the front entrance door.

  The volume of my cell phone ringing increases as I urgently pace to the boxes.

  “There you are!” I scold, yanking my handbag out of the top box.

  My heart rate kicks up a gear when I peer down at the screen and notice it is Hugo calling.

  “Hello,” I greet him, pressing the phone into my ear.

  “Hey, where are you?” Hugo replies.

  No matter how many times I’ve heard his deep voice the past three days, it still causes a peppering of goosebumps to form on the surface of my skin every time I hear it.

  “We’ve been knocking on your front door the past five minutes,” Hugo adds on.

  My eyes dart around the space, seeking any type of time-telling contraption. When my gaze comes up empty, I peer out a small tear in the newspaper taped around a window. Shit, it’s dark outside.

  “I’m so sorry, I lost track of the time. The plumber was a moron, and between his stupidity and--”

  I stop talking when Hugo’s deep chuckle sounds down the line. “It’s fine, Ava. I’m more than happy to keep Joel for a few more hours if you’re busy,” he offers.

  My heart clenches. I’ve missed Joel so much the past three days, but I’ve taken a step back from my parenting role to give him and Hugo time to become acquainted with each other. For the past three days, every morning, bright and early, Hugo arrives and collects Joel. They’ve visited the Central Park Zoo, been to see a Knicks game, and even took a day trip to Liberty Island. Although I feel like I’m missing my right arm, Joel needs this just as much as Hugo does.

  Any concerns I have of Hugo breaking Joel’s heart are diminishing as the days go on. Joel has never been so happy. He even wakes up smiling. I'm confident to say in a short period of time, Joel has fallen in love with Hugo. I can’t blame him. Hugo is a lovable guy. I fell in love with him in days too. Although I’m still harboring anger at Hugo for the way he left, I can’t help but feel joy when I see the way Joel’s face lights up around him. When I collected Hugo’s death certificate two years ago, I never thought I would have the opportunity to see them standing side by side. That makes it a precious memory I'll treasure for a lifetime and proves what I’ve always known: Joel is the key to my heart.

  “Could you bring Joel here?” My question is low as I struggle to keep my sentimental tears at bay.

  “Sure. Where are you at?”

  Just from the change in his tone, I know he’s detected the unease in my voice. Hugo’s always been able to read me. More often than not, he’s known my response before I even formed one.

  After reciting the address to Hugo, I throw my cell phone into the box and rush into the crammed bathroom. Belinda, the receptionist from Gardner and Sons, and my friend, laughs at my frantic dash. I grimace when I catch sight of my disheveled reflection in the mirror. I have smudge marks all over my face, my hair is a wild, frizzy mess from the scattering of snow I scurried through earlier today, and my eyes display my lack of sleep. I look wretched.

  Wetting a napkin in the grime-covered sink, I run it over my face. It isn’t that I’m trying to impress Hugo, I just don’t want him to think I’m a slob. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve been waking up before the sun rises the past three days just to ensure I’m presentable before Hugo arrives. It is stupid and I don’t have the faintest idea why I keep torturing myself, but no matter how many times I reprimand myself, I continue to do it. Hugo has seen me at my worst; no amount of makeup will change that fact.

  Huffing, I throw the napkin into the bin and pivot of my heels.

  “You look fine. You have that artsy look going on,” Belinda chuckles when she spots my scowl.

  I stick my tongue out at her snickering face before setting to work.

  By the time Hugo and Joel arrive thirty minutes later, I’m covered with a dense layer of sweat, splatters of paint, and I’m way behind schedule.

  “Mommy!” Joel charges across the room, sidestepping numerous boxes on his way.

  “Hi, baby.” I crouch down to return his embrace. “Did you have fun today?”

  He nods excitedly. His elation increases when he notices Belinda standing in the corner of the room. His eyes expand as he licks his lips. He loves Belinda as she sneakily hands him jelly beans when she thinks I’m not looking.

  “Go on,” I say, nudging my head to Belinda. “But don’t eat too many jellybeans as we haven’t had dinner yet. And you’ll have to brush your teeth once you’ve finished.”

  Flashing his adorable grin, Joel hotfoots it to Belinda.

  His fast steps slow when Belinda says, “Sorry, Joel, I’m all out of candy.”

  His lip drops into a pout as tears form in his eyes.

  “But there’s an ice cream store half a block down,” Belinda says with her lips quirked.

  Joel’s downcast head rockets up as his eyes bulge. He loves ice cream nearly as much as he loves pancakes. When Belinda shift her focus to me, seeking permission, I nod. Joel jumps into the air, throwing his fists up high before he drags Belinda out of the office and onto the sidewalk, not bothering to bid farewell to Hugo or me.

  I rub a kink out of my neck as I pace to the other side of the room. After placing a rolling brush into a bucket of water, I shift on my feet to face Hugo. His brows are furrowed together tightly, and his vibrant eyes are absorbing the room.

  “What is this place?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, battling to keep in my smile as I move to the middle of the room. An immature giggle bubbles in my chest when I pull a plastic protective sheet off the dental chair and catch sight of Hugo’s fretful face. Anyone would swear I just told him I’m going to extract his teeth without any form of pain relief.

  As quick as a flash of lightning sparks a darkened sky, the fret marring Hugo’s face vanishes. His eyes get a renewed spark as a smirk etches on his face.

  “Ava, is this your practice?”

  My chest swells, honored by the pride in his tone.

  I smile and nod. “I’ve been tucking away money the past few years. It’s nothing flashy, but it’s mine.”

  While Joel has been busy with Hugo, I’ve occupied my time setting up my new practice. When I first walked into this office space six months ago, it took a lot of imagination to visualize the space as anything, let alone a dental practice. It was filthy dirty and roach-infested, but with a little bit of vision, and a hefty loan from the local bank manager, I’m slowly transforming the place from a rundown dump to a small, but clean practice. I’ll be living off my credit cards for the next twelve months as I build my patient list, but it will be worth the sacrifice to have my own pra
ctice. And to be out of Marvin’s clutches.

  My pulse quickens when I lock my eyes with Hugo’s twinkling baby blues. He has a venerable smile stretched across his face, and his eyes are sparked with admiration.

  “You did it,” he praises proudly.

  I cringe. “Not yet, but I’m trying.”

  My eyes drift around the half-painted walls and boxes of furniture waiting to be assembled. “I’ve got a long way to go. My doors are supposed to be opening in the New Year, but with how far behind I am, I might have to delay it.”

  Hugo removes his thick coat and throws it over an half-assembled office chair.

  “Where do you want me to start?” he queries, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

  I wave my hand in front of my body. “It’s fine. I’m sure you have other more important things to do.”

  Hugo arches his brow. “Let me do this. Please, Ava. Not just for you, but Joel as well.”

  My breathing quickens when I peer into Hugo’s eyes. It isn’t just Joel who has fallen in love. Hugo is smitten with him as well.

  “Please, Ava,” he pleads, staring into my eyes. “Give me a chance to make up from some of the wrongs I’ve done.”

  My eyes return his beseeching gaze for several heart-clutching seconds.

  “Are you sure you’re not busy?” I ask, my tone hesitant. With everything going on with Marvin, I’m apprehensive to accept assistance.

  Hugo grins a heart-fluttering smile before nodding. My eyes dart around the space, not just endeavoring to find a chore to assign Hugo, but struggling to ignore the ludicrous surge of excitement dashing to my core from his panty-wetting smile. Even angrier than the Hulk stuck in a beehive, my body reacts to Hugo as if he owns me. That, in itself, is a truly terrifying notion.

  “There's so much to be done,” I mumble, pretending I’m not at all affected by his heart-stopping smile. The jittering of my voice gives away my deceit.

 

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