The Marriage Mistake_A Billionaire Hangover Romance

by Natalie Knight

  The butterflies in my stomach are fluttering again. I get the feeling I shouldn’t be here.

  I rub my fluttery stomach and regain control. There’s no stopping now.

  I hold my head up high and tread into the lobby with purpose.

  “Good evening.” A booming voice fills the lobby, greeting me with lots of natural reverb.

  “Hello, I’m just going...”

  “Up to the penthouse?” I don’t know if the large, suited man in front of me is the doorman or the concierge or what... “You can go on up.”

  But he recognizes me.

  I smile and nod, getting oddly flustered. Maybe I should be here after all.

  “He won’t be home for about half an hour, though.”

  The booming voice interrupts my fast walk to the elevator, but the concierge/doorman is all smiles as he hands me a key fob without saying another word.

  I turn the key over and over in my hand on the way up to the penthouse.

  Fuck it—if he wants to leave things like that and then not call for two weeks, he can handle the surprise of me waiting for him when he gets home.

  I smirk while opening the door, picturing a startled Daniel finding me sitting on his leather lounge chair.

  After that, there’s a good chance he’ll just tell me it’s over and that’ll be that, but...

  I’m hit with bright lights while opening the door. It looks like every light in the penthouse is going at full throttle.

  What is going on?

  “May I help you?”

  It’s her again. How could I have not guessed?

  “Maggie.”

  I remember her name at the same moment I say it out loud. That’s what I couldn’t remember last time. It’s Daniel’s ex-girlfriend―and the villain of his online fan base.

  I’ve never seen a smile like the one that transforms Maggie’s face as she stares at me.

  It’s technically a smile, but it looks cold, sinister, almost frightening. Thankfully, it doesn’t last long.

  The kid is there, too. Maggie’s son, and...

  I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t even gauge what’s happening. My brain is frozen, and I’m feeling paralyzed—just like the last time I was standing in this doorway.

  The kid is glued to the TV, which is playing a daytime talk show. The audience is shouting, getting unruly, and the sound is loud.

  It’s really loud; it must be turned up all the way. I don’t know how I didn’t notice it earlier.

  “What are you doing here?” Maggie’s voice is almost drowned out by the television, but she keeps talking. “What are you doing in our house?”

  I grab my stomach with both hands, no longer paralyzed but suddenly queasy. Maggie looks like she’s trying to suppress a grin, and I stop.

  “Where’s Daniel?” I ask quietly.

  I know he’s at work or on his way back.

  Or is he?

  I put my hand over my mouth.

  Maggie’s evil grin is back, like she can’t stop it.

  I try to gather my thoughts, at least to get through this moment, but the TV sounds like it’s getting louder.

  I glance at the screen, but nobody’s changing the volume. The kid’s not even watching it anymore. He’s now looking at me.

  The TV’s playing an ad for an action movie, and the sound becomes deafening.

  “I think Daniel’s at the store, picking up stuff for Dar...Darren, mute the commercials, honey.”

  Darren, that’s the kid’s name. Like a pro, he aims the remote and ends the horrible barrage of noise with a push of his thumb.

  “Dear, I don’t know what you’re doing here, but I won’t push it.” Maggie’s condescending tone is tying my stomach in knots. “It really is over. You should know that, if you don’t yet.”

  Even though I’m just standing on flat, solid ground, I stumble slightly and almost fall.

  Regaining my balance, I see Maggie grinning with pure delight.

  “Process it,” Maggie chirps cheerfully. “Let it sink in. Daniel has a family. There’s no more hope for you.”

  Darren unmutes the television, and the sound of the shouting, shrieking crowd suffocates me. Tears are flooding my vision, but I can see Maggie still focused on me, smirking, her hands gripping the arm of the sofa with glee.

  I clumsily run out the door and to the elevator. The sound of Maggie laughing at me competes with the sound of the TV coming from Daniel’s apartment.

  Thank goodness the elevator opens as soon as I press the button, the empty car waiting to take me away from this hell.

  I don’t know what’s carrying me on the walk home. I’m drained of all energy and all motivation for any fucking thing.

  I just move down the sidewalk with a hard, blank stare, wiping away new tears every so often.

  I stay on the route straight down to my building for a while, but after a few minutes, I take a brief detour.

  I turn right and start walking west fast. I cross the West Side Highway and grab the key fob to Daniel’s apartment—I forgot to give it back.

  And I’m not going back now.

  I pitch the key into the Hudson with an overhand throw.

  That feels surprisingly good.

  And I’m still fucking crying.

  There’s no denying what I’m going through.

  “I’ve fallen for Daniel, hard,” I tell Jenna after getting back to my place.

  All it took was a text message while walking home, and my cousin was waiting in the lobby by the time I got back.

  Now she’s next to me on the living room sofa, her hand resting on my shoulder.

  “You think so, huh?” Jenna smiles gently with knowing compassion. I emit a brief wheeze, which is as close to laughing as I could get at present.

  “Only you could get a laugh from me right now.”

  “Hey, I’m good for some things.”

  “So you believe it?”

  “I believe my eyes. I recognize that kind of pain all too well.”

  “And you’ve gotten over it...”

  “And so will you. You know that. We’ve all been through this shit.”

  I shift away from Jenna on the sofa and face forward, looking at the wall.

  “I’m going to need to some time, though.” I don’t know what I mean by that.

  “Of course.” Jenna seems to know.

  “I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

  “Rose, they’ve had you long enough.”

  “I guess that is what I’m talking about. Just, resetting...”

  “Go. Find a sunny spot, take some time for yourself, figure it out.”

  “Yeah,” I respond, kind of dumbly.

  “And it’ll be time for you to bloom, Rose. I’ve been waiting years to use that one. But seriously, I’m picking up Jayden from his friend’s in like an hour, so...”

  I don’t object to Jenna leaving. I’ve got things to do.

  I walk Jenna out so I can pick up a pint of ice cream at the store downstairs.

  It serves me well as I find a draft of my resignation letter, which I knew I’d be using someday, and print it out with tomorrow’s date.

  I want to feel like a kid in a candy store trying to find a vacation rental somewhere tropical, beautiful, and far away from everything I know.

  I’m not much for feeling excited tonight, though.

  Looking through beach house rentals all over the world, I find a good deal in an unexpected location.

  I sleep like a rock, and I hand in my resignation bright and early the next morning.

  Everyone’s too shocked to say much, but that’s for the best.

  After my last day of work, I pack in sort of a rush.

  I have a teeming mass of impatient thoughts and feelings, but I want to wait until I get to the beach house to think about any of it.

  I don’t have to wait long, though.

  After a forty-minute ride on the N train, I get out at Coney Island. I walk with my two hefty pieces
of luggage down to my beachside loft to check in.

  The loft has a weird floor plan, but it’s lovely, and it’s set apart from everything.

  It’s so set apart that all I end up doing the first day is setting a towel down on the sand and setting myself down to stare at the water.

  The weather is perfect. I can barely see and hear the Coney Island crowds in the distance.

  Sitting on the sand, I feel just calm enough to numb myself for a while, but I’m not figuring much out, either.

  After two days, I give up and wander into the crowds at Coney Island. Apart from a few confused tourists, the only people who try to talk to me are guys.

  There are a lot of guys, and most of them are shirtless. Yet it’s like I’m looking right through them.

  That scares me. I really let myself go off the deep end with Daniel.

  Halfway through the week, I retreat to my loft.

  I exchange a couple texts with Jenna, but I don’t talk with anyone. I cook with the groceries the property owners left for me. I only venture outside to sit at my quiet spot on the beach.

  My quiet spot doesn’t seem to help much. When the week is almost over, all I can think is It’s been three weeks, nearly a month, and Daniel still hasn’t even tried to talk to me, not even to explain himself.

  My week is nearly up, and now I’m crying again.

  Dammit.

  A week’s not enough, I guess, but I have to get over this soon.

  I’ve got no other choice.

  Daniel

  I’ve been here in London for already a week, and I’m anxious to get home again, although I begrudgingly understand that I’ll be walking in the door to Maggie, not Rose.

  My mother raised me to respect women, and that’s exactly what I intend to do. I don’t want to hurt Maggie by any means.

  I’ll keep my word. If Darren is my son, then I’ll pick up the slack and will promise to make up for lost time with him.

  The problem is that the results are taking far longer than I expected. I don’t fucking get it. In this day and age, shouldn’t something like that be available, I don’t know, fucking instantly?

  I finish up my packing in my hotel room, eager to get back to New York.

  I had been across the pond to check on an issue with one of my hotels here, and now that everything is back under control, I’m ready to get back to where I belong…with Rose.

  I haven’t spoken to Rose since that day in my penthouse when Maggie showed up with Darren, demanding that I claim the son she’s certain is mine.

  Even though I’m not with her right now, I know that Rose is just as eager to see the DNA testing results.

  When I have everything ready to go, I turn in my hotel key and have a driver take me to Heathrow. My flight leaves in just two hours, and I plan on using the quality time on the trip back to think on everything that’s happened.

  Rose deserves the whole truth, but frankly, so do I. I peel back the layers of my memory. I am fairly confident that Maggie was, in fact, on birth control at the time we broke up.

  She wanted to focus on her career and never mentioned anything remotely resembling a pregnancy.

  After boarding the plane, I order a gin and tonic and wear an eye mask. I get my neck pillow in place and heave a grand sigh as I lean back in my seat.

  Hopefully, once I plant my feet back on American soil, I’ll be closer to a resolution where Rose and I can put this silly mix-up behind us.

  When I step into my penthouse, Maggie and Darren are laughing together at the kitchen island. I cringe when I notice that Maggie is wearing one of the freshly dry-cleaned white button-down collared shirts I had washed just before I left for London.

  She’s also wearing tiny pajama shorts underneath them. I toss the keys onto the counter by the door and shrug off my jacket while I carefully place my suitcase on the floor.

  Maggie meets my gaze and gives me a wink as she ruffles her son’s hair. I recoil slightly.

  I want to ask her what the hell she’s doing, but I hate to quarrel in front of the kid. He’s probably been through enough already as it is.

  Cartoons are blaring from the sixty-inch flat screen above my fireplace in the living room, but they’re visible to the kid due to the open concept of my floor plan.

  Darren is eating cereal and gives me a shy smile as I greet the two of them. I immediately notice that the counter tops, which I prefer to be kept clean at all times, are laden with dirty dishes.

  My irritation is soaring through the fucking roof, and it hasn’t even been five fucking minutes since I got home.

  “Uh, Maggie?” I scratch my head, trying to speak with as much politeness as I can.

  “Yeah?” She gives me a seductive look as she puts a strawberry to her lips.

  “Do you think you could clean up some of these dishes after you’ve finished eating?” I hate sounding like I’m trying to appease her. It’s my apartment that she’s invading after all.

  “Sure.” Maggie shrugs with indifference.

  The kid finishes his cereal and glances up at Maggie. “Mom, can I go watch cartoons in Mr. Daniel’s living room?” He points to the TV mounted on the wall.

  “Of course, sweetie.” She strokes his cheek and plants a kiss on his forehead before he skips off. Then, she gives me a smile as if her son is the most adorable human on earth. “I guess it will take some time for him to start calling you Dad.”

  I glance at the boy who’s happily sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and staring up at the TV.

  “Maggie...” I begin, running a hand through my hair. “Have you heard anything about the results? It’s been weeks now.”

  “Nope.” Maggie shakes her head and splashes a disgruntled look over her face. “It won’t matter anyway. We’re a family, Daniel.”

  “Maggie, if he’s mine, sure...I’ll take responsibility. That doesn’t mean we’ll be a family.” I give her a firm stare.

  She reacts like she’s totally fucking unfazed. “We’ll see,” she states with breezy confidence as she begins to rinse and wash the dishes on the counter.

  It’s been three weeks since I took the DNA test. Three fucking long weeks.

  Maggie is driving me crazy, waltzing around my penthouse apartment like she owns the place, helping herself to my food and laying around as if she belongs there.

  I hate the way things are moving, as if we were a real couple or something. I decide to take matters into my own hands. If I want results from the lab, I’m going to just have to call them myself and demand an answer.

  I wait until Maggie leaves one afternoon to pick up Darren from school before I dial the number to the hospital.

  I have to jump through a few hoops and get redirected a few times on the call, but I finally reach a live person on the other end from the lab.

  I clear my throat, explaining to the nice woman on the phone who I am, and that I’m waiting for DNA results.

  The woman sounds confused at first. “I’ve been trying to reach you for almost three weeks now,” she admits.

  “Um, what?” I ask, feeling slightly alarmed.

  “Yes,” the woman confirms. “A woman keeps answering on your home line. Every time I call, she tells me either you aren’t home, or you’re unavailable and there is no other way to reach you.”

  Instant fury seethes in my veins. “Well, here I am,” I say through clenched teeth.

  “You are more than welcome to come view the results, sir,” the woman says. “We will just need you to come in person so that we can match your identification for confidentiality reasons.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I tell the woman and hastily hang up the phone.

  I don’t have time to call my driver, so I flag down a cab and rush to the hospital, marching through the doors to the lab with my ID in hand.

  I receive the little manila envelope with the results, my hands trembling so much that I have a difficult time opening the package.

  I take the sealed white documents out
of their container and scan the results.

  Negative….no matching DNA.

  I stare at the words, feeling both enraged and vindicated at the same time. I clutch the results tightly in my white-knuckled hands all the way home.

  When I get back inside the penthouse, Maggie is sitting at the kitchen table, wearing a black jumper with her leg propped casually up on the table. She’s scrolling through her social media feeds and smiling.

  Once she takes one solid look at me, though, her smug satisfaction collapses and she turns as white as a ghost.

  She defensively stands up and takes a step back. I wave the DNA papers in front of her.

  “Read this Maggie,” I practically roar. I’m so angry I don’t even recognize myself. “Negative. Darren isn’t my son.”

  Tears tumble down Maggie’s eyes. “I’m sorry…I really thought he was yours,” she yelps like a wounded puppy.

  “You lied to me,” I growl at her. “Unforgivable!”

  “Daniel…we’re good together,” Maggie pleads, still unwilling to give up the fight.

  “Get out!” I demand. “Get out of my house now.”

  A look of shame settles on Maggie’s face as her son comes out from the hallway looking scared. She quickly composes herself and dries her tears while the boy looks on in confusion.

  But I can’t worry about her right now. I need to find Rose and tell her the results. I grab my keys to leave when Maggie stops me, gripping me by the elbow.

  “Wait,” she says, clutching me. “Do you love her? Do you love Rose?” Her eyes are bloodshot, red and swollen with tears and desperation.

  I don’t even have to hesitate before responding. “Yes,” I tell Maggie coldly. “I love Rose.” I shrug her off and run out the door to chase down my dreams before they slip through my fingers forever.

  When I arrive at Rose’s apartment about fifteen minutes later, I’m a sweaty, panting ball of stress. I ring the doorbell, but then find myself pounding on the door a few seconds later in frustration, frantically calling out Rose’s name.

  I lean against the door, trying to compose myself. To my surprise, Rose’s cousin Jenna answers the door. As soon as she sees me, she immediately moves to slam the door in my face.

  “No, stop!” I cry out, putting my shoulder against it to keep it open.