Broken Love Story

by Natasha Madison

  “You look so happy,” I say to him when we stand toe-to-toe.

  “I was happy,” he says, his hands moving to my hips. “Never thought I could be that happy again.” He pulls me closer. “I was wrong.” It’s the last thing he says before he leans down or I lean up; either way, our lips touch. His hands move from my hips to my back, pulling me closer to him as my hands move around his neck. We both moan when I feel his hardness against my stomach. His lips leave me wanting more as he kisses my jaw, under my jaw, my neck. “Will you stay with me tonight?” he asks, and my body goes tense for a second. “Not for that,” he says, laughing; the heat of his breath on my neck making me shiver. “Today was the first day in seven years I felt carefree.” He kisses me softly. “The first time in seven years I didn’t for one minute say why me.” His kisses are even softer. “The first time my chest didn’t feel like someone was sitting on it.”

  “Today, I walked without the weight on my shoulders,” I tell him, and his head comes back while he looks in my eyes. “Today, I walked that whole park without a worry in the world because I knew if anything happened, you were right there.” I smile and lean forward to kiss his chest, right in the middle. My lips feel the pounding of his heart. “Today, I saw my girls smile, and laugh, and giggle, and be happy.” His green eyes get teary. “Today, I saw them not have guilt over being happy. Today, I saw Lizzie, who has been quiet and observant the whole time, throw her head back and laugh.” Now the tears come to my eyes. “Today, you gave that to them.”

  “Okay, so you’re definitely staying in this room,” he says, laughing, “but I have to change.” He looks down at his towel and the tent under it. “Do you need to shower?” he asks me, and I nod. “Go get your things to shower in here, and I’ll go check on the girls and leave their door open in case they call out.”

  I’m not used to sharing my responsibility with anyone or counting on anyone; it’s just been me. “Okay,” I say, going to my room and grabbing my things to head into his bathroom. The glass shower doors still have drops of water on them. I undress, setting the water, and walk under the rain shower. It’s so perfect and relaxing; I throw my head back as the water flows through my hair. I open my eyes, taking in the charcoal gray shower tiles that match the wood wall. Such a man cave yet so homey. I grab his soap, open it up, and squeeze it a bit to smell him. I pour a little in my hand, rubbing my hands together and washing myself with it. I use my own shampoo, rinsing it through. Grabbing a towel to dry off, I wrap my wet hair and get dressed. I brush out my hair, braiding it on one side.

  Opening the door, I see him already in bed with the television playing. I walk to the chair and set my clothes on top of his. Walking to the bed, I throw the covers over and get under the sheet, my heart hammering away. I get closer and closer to him, looking up and smiling. He leans down and kisses me. “You smell like me,” he says, and I think I turn a shade of beet red. “I like it,” he says before scooting down and facing me, his hand on my hip, our chests together. I lean forward, kissing the crook of his neck.

  Humming, I lay my head on his shoulder, and his arms wrap around me. I take in his heat, his body, just him. I close my eyes for one minute, just to rest, and it’s a second too long because I fall fast asleep. With his arms around me, I sleep like I’m floating on a cloud. We wake during the night, reaching for each other, and I kiss him each time I wake up and then fall back to sleep the minute his arms are around me. “Mommy.” I hear my name softly from the side of the bed. “Mommy.” I open my eyes to see Daisy. I get up and look over at Blake who is now awake and sitting up, looking over at me and then at Daisy. “I had a bad dream,” she says, crawling into bed with me. “A monkey was coming after me to eat my candy,” she says, and I laugh at her. She buries her head into my neck, and I wrap my arms around her. Blake settles behind me with his arms around me and Daisy.

  He kisses the back of my neck softly. “Sleep,” he says, and I do, till I hear my name again. “Mommy.” I open my eyes and see Lizzie. “I don’t want to sleep alone,” she says, and I’m about to get up and go into the other room when Blake pushes to the edge of the bed, taking me with him. I bring Daisy with me, leaving Lizzie enough space to crawl into bed. “Did you fall asleep in here watching television?” Lizzie asks, looking at me.

  “Yeah, she did,” Blake says from behind me. “I didn’t want to wake her.”

  I look at Lizzie looking at me and then Blake. “Okay,” she says, closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep. Morning comes way too quickly, and I’m expecting to get up with some stiffness since we slept four in a bed, but it’s the opposite. I wake up perfect, and we all get up at the same time.

  The kids lie on the couch while we work side by side making breakfast. “What time do you work today?” I ask him, dreading that I have to go back home.

  “I start at three,” he says. “I leave at two thirty, but you can stay later if you want.” He hands me a plate of toast.

  “No, I’m going to head back to get the kids settled before school.”

  “Is it weird that I miss you?” he says, standing next to me.

  “Only if it’s weird that I miss you too,” I say, buttering the toast. I dread sitting down and eating, and I dread the time flying by. I dread going around the house, making sure we don’t forget anything. I dread fixing the beds and packing our stuff.

  He brings the bags to the car while we follow him. “Blake, can we come back?” Daisy asks, stepping into the car.

  “Anytime,” he says, smiling and bending to kiss her cheek. “Get into your seat,” he instructs, closing the door.

  “I had so much fun,” Lizzie says. “I want to come back soon,” she says, and he bends and kisses her cheek also.

  “I’ll make it happen, Lizzie,” he tells her with a wink while she gets into her side of the car. He pulls me by my hand to the back of the car. “I know they can still see us,” he says, “but I can’t not kiss you.” He grabs my face in his hands and bends to kiss me. Softly, then a little more, until he’s peeling himself away from me. “I’ll see you Thursday,” he says.

  “What?” I ask him.

  “Samantha, I’m off shift on Wednesday afternoon. So Thursday, I’m coming to see you and the girls.” I don’t think he’s asking me, more like informing me.

  “Okay,” I say, walking with him hand in hand to the driver’s side door. He opens the door, waiting for me to get in.

  “Drive safe,” he says. “Call me when you arrive.” He leans in once more, kissing my cheek. “See you guys Thursday.” He closes the door.

  I pull away, looking at him in the rearview mirror. The thought of going back home fills me with sadness and anxiety. The girls watch a movie, leaving me with my own thoughts.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Blake

  As I walk into the house four days later, the house feels almost dead. I walk by the room that the kids slept in, and all of a sudden, I think of changing it to maybe add a television, so the girls can watch it in here if they want.

  The last four days have been tough, and Samantha is on edge again. Being at home, she is going back into her shell. Just yesterday, she got groceries from Amazon so she wouldn’t have to see the delivery guy for fear that they would tell her in-laws. We speak every single night, and they even FaceTime me right before dinner.

  I dump my bag on the bed, looking over at Frankie’s picture. I kick off my shoes when my phone rings. “Hey, Dad,” I say, answering right away.

  “Hey, son, are you still on duty?” he asks me, and I sit on the bed.

  “No, just got home,” I tell him. “I’m going to sleep for a bit. What’s up?”

  “Can you come over for dinner tonight? We need to talk,” he says, and I know something is wrong.

  “What’s the matter?” I say right away. “What happened?”

  “Nothing yet, but I think we need to talk about some things,” he says, and I nod even though he can’t see me.

  “Okay, I’ll be over for dinne
r,” I tell him.

  The next person I call is Samantha, who answers after one ring. “Hey, you,” she says softly.

  “What are you doing?” I ask her.

  “I’m painting my bedroom today.”

  “Really? What color?” I ask her, wondering what else she googled.

  “Earthy brown,” she says, laughing. “According to the internet,” she starts, “it’s the most relaxing color to have in the bedroom.”

  “Is that so?” I say, and she laughs again.

  “Go to sleep,” she says, “and call me later.” After she hangs up, I grab the pillow she used when she slept in my bed, and her smell helps me fall asleep.

  When I pull up to my parents’ house, the front door is unlocked. “I’m here,” I say loudly, walking into the kitchen while my mother pulls out a pot roast. “That smells so good,” I tell her, kissing her cheek. “Where is Dad?”

  “He’s coming,” she says, and he walks into the kitchen right then. I see him look at me and then my mother. I wait for us to sit before I ask the loaded question.

  “What’s the matter?”

  He looks at my mother and then at me. “The Schneiders are going to be putting Samantha’s house up for sale after the trial.”

  “What?” I say, my heart speeding up.

  “I got a call from the lawyer this morning; it seems they own the house. Eric got it as a wedding gift. But they are going to gift it to their other son.”

  “They can’t just do that?” I say, pushing away from the table, not even hungry anymore. “What about the girls?”

  “They feel they’ll get custody of them, so they don’t want Samantha staying in their house. So …”

  “Does she know?” I ask, and my father nods his head. “I told her this afternoon.”

  “What did she say?” I ask him, worried now how she must be doing.

  “She actually laughed and said that she would give them whatever they wanted as long as she got the girls.” He looks down and then up again. “She wants me to sue them for payment.” My eyebrows pull together. “She figures she’s maintaining the house, like a janitor, so she wants back pay. Oh, and money for her paint.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. “Well, I can’t say she’s cowering in the corner.”

  “Son,” he says softly, “they have a shit load of witnesses.” He looks at my mother. “They have many willing to sit on the stand and tell everyone she tricked him into marriage, getting pregnant without his consent.”

  “Oh, please”—I roll my eyes—“how can she force him to make her pregnant?”

  “I know, I know.” He holds up his hand. “But she has two people on her list.”

  “Well, then we gotta make fucking sure that we bury Eric even deeper than they have him.”

  “Son”—he looks at me—“you know they are going to try to paint you into a corner.” He looks down and then up. “Especially now.”

  “Especially now what?” I ask.

  “Son, she spent the weekend at your house.”

  “I’m her friend,” I tell him, and my mother laughs, rolling her eyes.

  “So she slept where?”

  “In the spare bedroom,” I tell them, and I’m not lying.

  “Alone?” she asks, and I close my mouth. “Exactly.”

  “I don’t think we should put you on the stand,” he tells me. “We can put your mother instead.”

  “There is no way Samantha is going to be okay with that,” I tell them.

  “You’re right,” my father said. “She shot it down and took your name out of it also.”

  “What?” I whisper, looking at him.

  “She said there was no way you were going to be painted as the bad guy; she didn’t give a shit,” he said. “Her words, not mine. She has the letter Eric left plus the letters from the teachers. I think her case is strong.”

  “Dad, she can’t lose those girls,” I tell him; my heart hurts with even the possibility that it might happen.

  “The social worker is going to talk to Lizzie tomorrow, and then Daisy the day after,” he tells me. “The court date is scheduled for next Friday,” he says. “I take it you’re coming?”

  “Yeah,” I say and then look at them. “I think I’m going to go.” I look at my mother who only nods her head.

  “Drive safely.”

  “Son, these people. I wouldn’t put it past them to have someone following her and tracking her.”

  My head snaps up. “It’s not going to look good in court if you spend the night.”

  I run my hands through my hair. “Fuck.” I didn’t even think of that. “One week,” he tells me, “just one more week.”

  “Dad, I swear to God …” I look down, tears coming to my eyes. “If they hurt her …”

  “I know, son,” he says, and my mother sniffles, so he covers her hand with his. “I know.”

  I sit and eat, the food sitting like lead in my stomach. I FaceTime her as soon as I get home, and she must see it on my face. “What’s the matter?” she asks.

  “Is there something you need to tell me?” I ask her. “Something perhaps you should have maybe called me about?” I see her try to hide a smile and then bite her lower lip. “Yeah,” I say.

  “So,” she starts, and I see that she is in bed, “apparently, my in-laws want me out of their house.” She rolls her eyes. “Which I’m more than happy to do.”

  “But?” I say, and she continues.

  “I told the kids,” she says, “I’m not keeping anything from them when it has to do with them. Daisy cried because she thought that they would keep her room. Lizzie, well, she was pissed and told me to tell them to take the house because she wants to move anyway.”

  “Sounds like her mother,” I say, smiling now.

  “Yeah, so we sat down and talked about moving,” she says, and I dread she’s going to say she’s moving farther away, but I don’t give a shit because it’s not keeping me away from her. “Yeah, and I also took your name off my list for court.”

  “I heard,” I tell her, almost snapping.

  “There is no fucking way I’m going to let them paint you as a bad guy. There is no fucking way they get to touch the only pure thing I’ve ever had in my life,” she says. “No fucking way. I’m a good mom. Actually, I’m a great mom, and I have faith the court will see it.”

  “You’re beautiful,” I tell her, looking at her. “So fucking beautiful.” She looks down and then up again as I stare into her brown eyes, eyes that were dead, eyes that were broken, eyes that somehow have mended, the cracks gone, shining back to life. “I wanted to come to you tonight, but my father said maybe you’re being watched.”

  “I know. He told me that too,” she says. “I almost don’t care, but it’s only one week.”

  “I’m still coming over tomorrow,” I tell her, and she smiles.

  “Okay,” she says, yawning. “I miss you.” We spend the rest of the night talking about her next painting spree.

  I set my alarm for four and make my way to her house. I want to see the kids before they leave for school. So I pull up to the house at seven o’clock sharp, carrying a box of doughnuts in one hand and coffee in the other. I ring the doorbell and hear footsteps coming to the door. Samantha opens it just a little bit and then sees me. Her face lights up. “Oh my goodness,” she says, reaching out and dragging me inside. Closing the door and grabbing the box of doughnuts and coffee, she places them on the floor and then jumps into my arms. I grab her around her waist. “I missed you,” she says softly and then kisses my lips. “The girls are just getting up.”

  “I brought doughnuts,” I tell her, “and coffee.”

  “Girls,” she yells, getting out of my arms, “look who brought doughnuts.” The girls walk to the staircase, rubbing sleep out of their eyes.

  Daisy waves with one hand. “Hi, Blake, it’s early,” she informs me.

  “It is, sweet girl, but it’s time to get up for school anyway,” I tell her, and she comes down
the stairs holding on to the railing. I pick her up, kissing her cheek, then put her down. Lizzie is next. “Hey, you,” I say, bending down kissing her cheek, when she side hugs me and walks to the kitchen. I sit at the table while Samantha gets the girls ready. They both yell goodbye when they walk out. I get up and start putting the dishes in the dishwasher while I wait for Samantha to come back. When I hear the door close, I know she’s back.

  “I so can get used to this,” she says, walking into the kitchen and wrapping her arms around my waist.

  “The doughnuts or the coffee?” I joke with her.

  “Definitely the doughnuts.” She laughs into my back. I turn the water off, grabbing a towel and drying my hands. “I haven’t seen you in four days,” she says when I turn in her hands, and her arms go around my neck this time. “You know what that means, right?” she asks me with a twinkle in her eye.

  “No,” I tell her, reaching around her waist to hug her. “What does that mean?” One hand comes up to move the hair off her shoulder to her back.

  “You owe me four days of kisses,” she says, getting on her tippy toes. “That’s a lot of kissing,” she says.

  “I think I’m up for the job.” I bend to kiss her, my tongue sliding against hers while I pick her up. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I carry her upstairs where we spend the day making up for the four days I was without her.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Samantha

  All week, my stomach was in knots; from the minute the social worker spoke to the girls, my head has been all over the place.

  Lizzie told me she asked simple questions like who she did her homework with? Did I yell at them? Did I ever hit them? Who dressed her? I’m sure she asked Daisy the same questions, but she didn’t remember.

  I hug the girls extra hard the morning of the trial. I tried to keep their routine and tried not to let my nerves show, but I didn’t take them for granted—every hug lasted longer, every kiss lasted longer.