by Shandi Boyes
“The quicker you assign me a task, the quicker we can get out of here,” Hugo replies to my quiet ramblings, his smile enlarging.
The sexual innuendo laced in his reply proves he isn’t buying my act of decorum.
Sneering at his heckling face, I ask, “Can you paint?” wiping his smirk straight off his face.
“I’m bent,” I groan, flopping onto an office chair Hugo has just finished assembling.
For the past six hours, Hugo and I have been painting and assembling furniture. We had a quick break when Belinda and Joel came back from the ice cream parlor carrying a bundle of greasy cheeseburgers and fries. An hour later, when Joel became bored spinning in an office chair Belinda assembled, she graciously offered to take him home for a bath and to put him in bed.
Even though Hugo and I have been working tirelessly the entire time, we’ve talked a lot the past six hours. Like all parents concerned about the welfare of their child, most of our conversation revolved around Joel. It hasn’t been tight or restrictive. It’s been free flowing and easy. Like it has always been between us. Thankfully, our chosen topic of discussion has meant we’ve avoided a majority of the sexual sparks that always ignite when we are in each other’s presence. Although I'll always be attracted to Hugo, I’m trying to look at him as the father of my child and not an old flame. Let me tell you, it’s been an uphill battle. Age has been kind to Hugo. Very kind.
Hugo plops his backside onto the ground and chuckles. “Bent?”
“Yeah, bent. Tired. Exhausted. Bent.”
He chuckles even louder. “Bent is when you're under the influence of alcohol or drugs. I was so bent after that party.”
My brows scrunch. “No, it isn’t! It means you’re tired.” Doesn’t it?
A majority of my adult time is spent hanging out with a four-year-old, so I’m a little out of the loop.
Hugo’s brows become lost in his hair as he ogles me with a mocking grin carved on his face.
“Whatever,” I mumble, snagging a paint brush out of a bucket of water and flinging it across the room.
My mouth gapes open when my throw has perfect aim, hitting Hugo smack bang on his left cheek, smearing half of his face with the vibrant sun yellow paint now lining the exam room walls of my office.
“I’m so sorry!” My words come out in a shudder since my entire body is shaking, battling hard to hold in my laughter at the shocked expression on his face.
“Oh, yeah, you’re going to be sorry,” Hugo replies, launching for me.
I squeal and dart to the other side of the room. A ragged grunt expels from my lips when Hugo wraps his broad arm around my waist and tackles me to the ground. I roll onto my side and scamper across the floor on my hands and knees. I’m too old to be subjected to a tickling attack. Hugo snags my ankle, sending me tumbling onto my stomach. I’m laughing too hard to register the pain of crashing onto the rigid ground.
The plastic sheets we laid to protect the newly laid wooden floorboards crinkle under my body when Hugo drags me backward. I kick out of his hold, roll onto all fours and scramble onto my knees, mimicking his position. Even with my insides dancing like a stripper on crack, I force a stern mask to slip over my face, trying to pretend I’m not loving his playfulness. I haven’t mucked around like this in years.
“Don’t you dare tickle me,” I warn, waving my index finger in the air like I did when I disciplined Joel for eating an entire box of frosty flakes in one serving last week.
A grin stretches across Hugo’s face as he waggles his brows. We kneel across from each other, staring but not speaking. Only our chests thrusting up and down as we endeavor to fill our lungs with air is heard as we undertake a sweat mustache-provoking stare down. I really shouldn’t look into his eyes. His eyes are his biggest ally in repairing the damage he inflicted on my heart.
“What happens if I do?” Hugo asks a short time later, tilting his torso closer to me. “What happens if I tickle you?”
I swallow, relieving my parched throat from the seductive purr of his voice.
“I’ll… I’ll—” Come on brain!
A crass grin morphs onto my lips. “I’ll use this against you.” I yank the drill off the dentist chair we’re kneeling next to.
All the color drains from Hugo’s face when a dentist drill breaks the silence between us. His widened eyes dart between the functioning drill vibrating in my hand and my leering face. I’ve got him exactly where I want him.
Right before my eyes, the fretful mask Hugo is wearing slips off his face. “It will be worth it,” he says with a wink before diving at me.
Before I can react, I'm pinned to the ground by Hugo’s large frame and subjected to his tortuous, tinkling hands. I squeal a window-shattering scream as his hands unleash a torrent of tickles on my ribs and stomach. Tears stream down my flushed cheeks as I buck and wail against him, but no matter how hard I fight, a woman of my size is no match for a beast of a man like Hugo.
“Mercy!” I try to scream, but I can barely breathe, let alone speak.
“Mercy! Mercy!” I scream again. If he doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to pee my pants.
I suck in a deep breath when Hugo finally hears my roaring pleas and rolls off me. My heart is beating wildly against my chest; my cheeks are sore from the giant grin I’ve been wearing all night, and my throat is hoarse from the childish laughter that tore from my lips. It feels like we’ve stepped back in time thirteen years and are once again two teens lying on the floor in the middle of Jorgie’s bedroom. Oh what I’d give to really step back in time.
My exam room falls into eerie silence. It is so quiet, I'd hear a pin drop. Suddenly, one of the most wonderful noises I’ve ever heard in my life thunders through my ears, startling the living daylights out of me. Hugo’s head is thrown back, and he's laughing. Not a small, brief chuckle—a full-hearted laugh that shreds straight through my soul and heals some of the cracks in my damaged heart.
Just hearing his boisterous chuckle spurs on my own laughter. Before I can stop myself, laughter bubbles up my chest and erupts from my mouth. Hearing my hearty giggles spurs Hugo to laugh even louder. And thus begins the vicious cycle of belly-crunching laughter. We lay next to each other loudly cackling until we don’t even know why we are laughing. Then we laugh some more.
By the time Hugo wipes the tears from his cheeks and scrambles off the floor, my stomach is riddled with cramps as I’ve laughed more the past twenty minutes than I have the past twelve months.
A smile stretches across my face when Hugo thrusts out his hand, offering to assist me off the floor. After settling my erratically beating heart, I accept his offer. A girly squeal emits from my lips from his strengthened tug on my arm. My nipples bud and a shameful, husky moan topples from my mouth when my chest crashes into the hard ridges of his pec muscles. The shift of air between us is so great, they would feel it all the way in the city.
As Hugo stares down at me, flicking his gaze between my lips and my eyes, I drink him in. Other than the small wrinkles in the corners of his eyes when he smiles, he hasn’t aged a day in five years. His eyes are youthful and full of life. They're identical to Joel’s in every way, the boy who had to grow up without a father the first four years of his life.
With a twisted mess of a confused heart, I maneuver out of Hugo’s embrace. I can feel Hugo’s eyes tracking me, but he stays quiet as I gather my bag and cell phone from the newly assembled reception desk in the foyer of my office.
“Can I give you a ride home?” Hugo offers.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine. I have my car.”
I continue gathering my stuff, not trusting myself to spin around. When I look into Hugo’s eyes, I want to pretend the last five years never happened. I want to act like he isn’t the man who shattered my heart and left me broken. I want to stare up at him in awe like Joel does and pretend there's nothing else in the world that matters more than gaining his attention, but that isn’t real life. I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl gushing ov
er her high school crush. I’m also not a twenty-four-year-old naïve virgin seducing a man into her bed. I’m a mom who will do everything in my power to ensure her son’s heart is protected. That my heart is protected.
“You don’t have your car here, Ava. Remember?”
I pivot on my heels to face him. My brash movements cause a rush of dizziness to cluster in my sleep-deprived brain.
“You asked Belinda to take your car so Joel had a car seat,” Hugo explains to my confused face.
Shit, I completely forgot.
“Come on,” Hugo says, gesturing to the door. “It’s only a lift, Ava, nothing more than a friend offering another friend a ride home.”
He can say that. He isn’t the one who has snuggled into a pillow drenched in his aftershave the past five years just to get a few measly hours of sleep. I’ve been struggling the past six hours to ignore his intoxicating woodsy smell, and that was in the space of an office. Imagine how impossible it will be in the small confines of a car?
Before I can answer Hugo’s suggestion, the shrill of a cell phone vibrates through the quiet. The mask of fretfulness that slipped off Hugo’s face thirty minutes ago settles back into place when he realizes the noise is resonating from the pocket of his jeans. His brows furrow as he digs his hand into his pocket to retrieve an outdated silver cell. He flips open the phone and presses it against his ear.
“Boss,” he greets, his tone packed with apprehension. “Alright. When?”
His eyes snap to mine. They're full to the brim with guilt. I turn my focus to my newly decorated office, pretending my heart is hammering against my ribs from the devastated look crossing Hugo’s face.
When he finishes his phone call, he moves to stand in front of me. My eyes travel his body, from his paint-splattered boots to the week-old stubble on his chin. After exhaling a nerve-cleansing breath of air, my eyes finalize their journey, landing on his Marshall family heirlooms: his glistening baby blues.
“I have to go… My job… My boss needs me.” His words sounds as tormented as he looks.
Snubbing the tears pricking in my eyes, I fake a smile and nod.
“When do you have to go?” I ask, my voice quivering.
He rubs a kink in the back of his neck. “Now.”
My heart plummets into my stomach as quickly as the first tears escape my eyes.
“I’ll be back, Ava. I promise you, I’ll be back,” he vows.
He steps closer to me, engulfing me with his delicious scent, making my tears flow even more quickly. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and pulls me into his thrusting chest. His heart is beating so fast, it is pulverizing my eardrum.
“I'll be back. Nothing could keep me away from Joel. From you,” he assures me, locking his eyes with mine.
The truth in his eyes weakens the stranglehold crippling my heart. He runs the back of his fingers across my cheeks, removing my tears in one quick sweep. Once my face is free of any moisture, he lifts his sorrow-filled eyes to mine.
“I know its late, but can I please say goodbye to Joel?” he requests, his eyes pleading into mine.
I bite the inside of my cheek, refusing to let any more tears spill before nodding.
The drive back to my house is somber, the mood void of our earlier playfulness. Even the shock of Hugo driving Jorgie’s baby hasn’t fully registered. I assumed it was still rusting in the back garage at the Marshall’s residence. When Hugo pulls into the driveway, the shake of my hands has converted to my entire body. I walk up to the front door with mute Hugo in tow. If I didn’t hear his feet stomping, I would have assumed he was still in his car from how quiet he is.
When I press the key into the front door and swing open the door, Hugo asks, “Where does Marvin live?” His face is fettered with confusion.
My eyes stray to my shoes. “Marvin still lives in his apartment on Pinter,” I strangle out, ashamed.
“You’re engaged but you don’t live together?”
The unease in his tone demands my attention.
“It’s complicated,” I mumble, ambling into the foyer.
“First door on the left,” I advise, happy to end our awkward conversation while also forgetting Hugo knows the layout of my house just as well as I do.
Hugo smirks a tight smile before walking down the hall. His strides are long but heavy.
After seeing Belinda off, I hesitantly pace down the corridor. A small sheen of light is drifting into the hall from Joel’s room, no doubt the nightlight he sleeps with. Ever since his uncle Chase read him Der Struwwelpeter, he has requested to sleep with the light on.
When I reach Joel’s room, I lean my shoulder on the wall just outside the doorjamb and prick my ears.
“Are you gonna come back?” Joel’s voice is groggy from being woken so late.
The mattress springs creak before I hear, “Yeah, buddy, I’ll be back soon.”
I smile when Joel says, “Will you bring me back a present? When Uncle Chase went to Disney World, he brought me back a present.”
“I’m sure I can wrangle up something. What do you like?”
“Do they sell candy where you’re going?”
Hugo chuckles. “I wouldn’t live there if they didn’t.”
When the room falls into silence, I sneak a peek. My heart squeezes when I realize what has caused the quietness. Joel has his little arms flung around Hugo’s neck, squeezing him tight. Hugo is embracing him just as robustly. When Joel releases Hugo from his embrace, Hugo’s face strains. My heart beats double time. Hugo doesn’t want to leave Joel any more than I want him to go.
“I’ll see you soon, buddy,” Hugo assures him, standing from the bed.
Joel nods and dives back into his bed. After tucking Joel in and placing a kiss on his forehead, Hugo pivots around and ambles out of the room. Tears spring in my eyes when I see the confounded look crossing his face.
“He isn’t going anywhere,” I comfort him, saying anything to ease the uncertainty clouding his eyes. “He will be waiting for you when you come back.”
Although words cost nothing, sometimes they're the most valuable thing you can give a person.
When Hugo places a kiss on the side of my mouth, his lips quiver against mine.
“I’ll see you soon,” he mutters into my ear before he spins on his heel and races to the door, exiting without a backward glance.
Fourteen
Hugo
“You take Hugo, or you don’t go, Isabelle.”
My eyes drift between Isaac and Izzy. It feels like I’ve been transported to a different universe. When I left Ravenshoe, five days ago, they were announcing their engagement to the world and blissfully in love. Now, they’re standing across from each other as if they're strangers. Trust me, after the five days I’ve just endured, I know a lot can happen in a short span of time, but I’m still surprised to return to this. Izzy and Isaac are solid. They remind me a lot of Hawke and Jorgie, so I know they will get through the latest debacle, but it makes me wonder what happened the past few days to tilt the axis of their relationship so viciously.
My past few days have been surreal. I have a son. A precious little boy who captured my soul in under a second. Just glancing into his eyes heals wounds I never thought would have the chance to mend. I’m not biased when I say Joel is perfect. He's perfect in every way. It’s not surprising, though, considering who his mom is. Joel has so much of Ava in him. The way he screws up his little nose when he's thinking, his crazy curly hair, and how his eyes can see straight through to my soul.
But I also see some of my qualities in him as well. His love of sweets for one. That’s the only thing the poor guy lucked out in having Ava as his mother. I laughed hysterically when Joel told me Ava sings him the “Brush the Teeth” nursery rhyme every morning and night to ensure he brushes his teeth for the recommended timeframe. He also disclosed that she limits the amount of sugar he's allowed to consume. When he argues, declaring she isn’t being fair, Ava says she doesn’t need his praise,
because his teeth will thank her when he's older.
My attention reverts from reminiscing when Izzy paces out of Isaac’s office. Her face is gaunt, her eyes full of tears. I pace quietly behind her, still reeling too much from my own emotions to handle any more. Izzy moves around the master suite of the home she shares with Isaac, hastily gathering a small bag of bare necessities.
“Is that it?” I ask when she hands me the overnight bag.
When she nods, relief engulfs me. From how light she has packed, the hope our trip to Tiburon will be a short one increases. Isaac was vague on the phone last night, simply requesting for me to accompany Izzy to her hometown. He didn’t give any stipulations on how long we will be away or why we were going, he merely said he “needed me.” After everything Isaac has done for me the past five years, I couldn’t deny his request.
My heart was maimed leaving Joel and Ava. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever endured, but I know it is only a matter of time before I see them again. I'll never be parted from them for an extended period of time ever again. I just have to steer Isaac and Izzy through their latest crisis, then I’ll sit down and work out how to balance both my loyalty to Isaac and my family.
“Alright. I’ll meet you in the foyer. Roger will take us to the airport,” I advise Izzy, pivoting on my heels and rushing down the stairs.
My steps are eager, because the quicker we get to Tiburon, the faster I’ll return to my family.
By the time the private jet Isaac hires touches down in Tiburon, I’m a wreck. I haven’t slept in over thirty-six hours. I assumed the sleep I missed during my nine-hour car trip from Rochdale to Ravenshoe would be caught up on the flight over. It wasn’t. Anytime I closed my eyes, the image of Ava’s tear-filled face would haunt me. It was only halfway across the country did it hit me why the image haunted me so much. If she reacted so fearfully with me promising to return, how many times have I been the cause of her tears the past five years? The thought of her crying over me riddles me with guilt. I hate that I’ve caused her so much heartache.