by Ashley Munoz
“She’s worried about Lucas. She doesn’t want him to get sick…his immune system isn’t that great and…”
“So she said she thinks your kids should go home?” I practically shrieked, cutting him off.
“It’s her home too,” he defended.
“But they’re your kids. They belong there too…” I huffed, feeling a surge of tears threatening to fall. “Just…” I started, but then I remembered I had to shorten this call and get the hell out of there. “I’m at work, but I’ll be there in a few hours. Can you tell Bell to hang in there?”
“She’ll be fine tonight. I can meet you tomorrow.” Logan’s voice softened, and for the briefest second, I could feel that sincerity…could feel that he still cared. I could still feel the unsure shudder in his voice from when he’d asked me that question that had ended our relationship. I’d hurt him. Inadvertently, but I had. This was my fault.
“Okay, can you just…please, stay with her tonight? She likes to watch cartoons when she’s sick. She’ll pass out almost immediately, but she doesn’t like a dark room, so leave the TV—”
“Bex, I remember how we used to do it. We used to sit up with her together, in case you forgot.” Logan cut me off, gently…so soft and careful. I wondered if he was away from Dana so she wouldn’t hear him use that caressing tone with me.
I couldn’t say anything. If I let out a single word about how I remembered holding our babies together when they didn’t feel good, I’d completely lose it.
“Bex…look…” Logan continued softly. I wouldn’t look, or see, or anything, because this wasn’t happening. If he wanted to apologize for not paying child support or being a dick, then fine, he could do it in the light of day, not on the phone.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I cut in, hanging up.
My chin wobbled as a sob worked its way up my chest. This was my fault. My kids were being shuffled around like luggage because I couldn’t keep my relationship together. Because I couldn’t marry the man who’d given me children. Because I was a pathetic mess and proof of that mess was standing somewhere in the building with his famous, model-like girlfriend.
I needed to get my fucking life together and move on. Maybe this was my big wake-up call. Seeing Ryan here with Henna, having him see me like this…it was just one more train wreck I was responsible for, one more heart I had broken without meaning to.
Maybe this was my one chance to apologize to Ryan, and maybe I’d be set free from any lingering feelings I might have for him.
6
Ten years.
That’s how long it had been since I’d seen those eyes, that tiny freckle on the tip of her nose, that shade of hair that looked like sunshine and sugar. Ten long years. Enough time had passed; seeing her in person again should have been meaningless, like feeling absolutely nothing…seeing her should have lessened the pain and eased any tension that might have lingered in the fissures of our relationship.
But it hadn’t.
It was like being hit in the chest with a two-by-four. I would know; I’d actually taken a plank to the torso for a role once. Why was she here? Last I’d heard, Bexley Black had moved away from Seattle and headed back home to Texas, where her parents lived. I’d heard that about six months after getting her voicemail.
I itched to grab my keys and head home so I could dig through my Bexley box. Yeah, I had a box of her stuff that I’d never gotten rid of. The voicemail recording was one of the items in the box, along with photos, her drawings, and that fucking little piece of plastic that had ruined our relationship.
“You seemed off tonight,” Henna mused, looking at me over the rim of her wine glass. She’d already taken a few of the pills I’d never asked her about; I assumed what they were, but I didn’t care enough to ask. She usually took them, guzzled half a bottle of whatever she could find, then passed out till morning. I didn’t judge her; this life we led was a shit show. No one understood us, yet everyone felt the freedom to criticize us.
Honestly, if Bexley hadn’t been at that center tonight and I hadn’t been reunited with the only girl to ever break my heart, I probably would have given Henna shit about the stunt she’d pulled by telling the local news outlets and bloggers we’d be arriving today. She’d have laughed and said a little press wasn’t going to hurt us.
She had no idea how protective I was of this place. Oregon was where I’d grown up, these lakes and trails were where I’d spent my youth, and my parents lived here. So, when I did visit, it always felt a little safer, a little more intimate and private because this was a smaller, more rural area. So, alerting the “press,” whether a group of online bloggers or whatever the hell it was that’d hounded us tonight, was not okay; I wanted my privacy, and if Henna had given two shits about this arrangement, she’d have respected that.
“I was off because of the paps.” I suppressed my other issues, clearing my throat. I needed to move, get out of the villa…get away from Henna. What I wanted was to see Bexley and talk to her, ask her about that phone conversation I’d overheard, about why she had someone named Cole calling her Mommy and why it sounded like she was fighting over a custody arrangement. Whatever was going on wasn’t any of my business, but still, when I’d run up those steps to check out the gym and heard her talking, I hadn’t been able to help myself.
Bexley was a mom.
Go fucking figure.
At least I assumed she was one. Fuck, that was the entire issue here—I didn’t actually know, and what I didn’t know was driving me crazy.
Henna sipped her wine while scrolling through her phone, unaware that I was struggling to wrap my brain around the person who’d acknowledged knowing me. Maybe Henna didn’t care; it wasn’t like we were exclusive. She was used to seeing images and photos of me with other women. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she just assumed Bex was some chick I’d known while growing up here. Ironically enough, for all her faults, Henna wasn’t into that sort of drama and didn’t care to comment on any of my trysts. I extended her the same courtesy.
“I’m headed to my parents’ house for a bit,” I said over my shoulder before walking to the door. I didn’t wait for her to respond.
The dark night wrapped around my shoulders, like a familiar hug. White, sparkling stars dotted the velvet sky, the juniper trees lining the winding road as I traveled up toward my parents’ house. The middlemost part of Oregon was full of little towns, forming tiny pockets of civilization. The resort was nearly forty minutes north of where my parents lived.
My parents owned five acres of irrigated farmland, just three miles outside the city. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t what I’d grown up with. No, after I started making decent money with the HitFlix series, I sent a chunk to them and then kept sending it.
I owed them everything, so of course I wanted them to be comfortable and spoiled.
Pulling up to the closed wrought iron gate, I punched in the code I’d had set up for them and drove in. Their three-story country home shone bright, the large floor-to-ceiling windows illuminated by lights that were on throughout the house.
My heart kicked in my chest with apprehension as I pulled closer and put my car into park. It was due to excitement about seeing them, and also hearing what they might know about Bexley.
“Ryan!” my mom exclaimed from the stoop of her well-lit front door. She wore a flowy sweater and had her hair back in a loose braid, the graying strands almost silver under the lights.
“Hey Mom,” I replied, scooping her into a tight hug. My father came out after her, wearing his pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt under a blue robe, a pair of thin glasses perched on his nose.
“We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow, son,” he said into my shoulder as he pulled me into a hug.
“Yeah, well, I needed to come out and see you guys.” I smiled, following them into the house.
Percy and Penelope, my parents’ Corgis, ran around my ankles, barking at my intrusion.
“Come in, sit. Want some pie?”
my mother asked, moving around the kitchen toward the fridge. Gloria Prince was the best hostess I’d ever known. She always had pie on hand. Always.
“No, Mom, that’s okay. I won’t be here for long tonight, I just wanted to talk a bit.”
My mother’s indigo eyes slid toward mine in a knowing way. “This talk wouldn’t have something to do with you getting engaged, would it?” she carefully asked, while my father tapped away on the tablet in front of him.
What the actual…
“No, no way…where’d you hear that?” I laughed, sitting down on one of the barstools. My skin felt too tight at even the implication of being engaged to Henna. I didn’t like not having control over what people said about me, not that their opinions mattered, but some small space inside me felt as though someone was in control other than me.
My dad piped up from his spot at the table. “That trash TV channel your mother can’t seem to get enough of.”
“Oh stop, Gary. You know I only watch that show because there’s nothing else on,” my mother replied, but I caught the hint of red flushing her cheeks.
“Well, what’d they say?” I laughed, hoping to make her feel better.
“That you and Henna are here visiting your family to announce your engagement and that Henna was seen wearing an engagement ring today at the resort.” Pie landed in front of me, my mother’s smile waning a bit.
I already knew how she’d respond if I ever told her I was getting serious with a girl; she knew how badly my heart had broken after Bexley.
“I’m not engaged, not getting engaged. If anything, Henna and I…we’re breaking up after this little trip,” I explained, digging into the rhubarb pie my mother had plated for me.
“Oh good.” My mother let out a sigh of relief.
Laughing again, I lowered my head as I brought up why I’d come so soon.
“However, tonight…I did come with ulterior motives.”
My mother wiped a few crumbs off the counter as she inched closer to me, and my dad lowered his tablet and straightened his glasses.
“Guess who I saw today.”
“Who?” My mother’s light eyes lit up with curiosity.
I watched her move easily around the kitchen, feeling foolish for even caring enough to bring this up…but I had to tell someone and sort through my thoughts.
“Bexley Black.”
Saying the words out loud made me feel like I was back in college, twenty years old and losing control of my future…sitting at my parents’ table, explaining to them why I needed to take a break for a year, why I couldn’t focus on my studies or football.
“Well,” my mother started, taking a seat at the table across from my father, “I thought I saw her a year or so ago…but I assumed my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
I watched, waiting for more of an explanation as my mother drew in a breath.
“I thought I saw her walking down the sidewalk…she had a little boy holding one of her hands and a little girl holding the other. I was more shocked at how much they looked like her than believing it was actually her. I was driving, so I didn’t think much of it after I passed them,” she finished, sounding somber.
A little boy and a little girl? Suddenly the room felt too small. It felt like those places I’d buried and hidden away were coming back to slap me in the face. I’d never healed from Bexley; I’d just found my own way of burying the hurt…now she was right there, in person, at a job where she couldn’t hide from me.
“What’s your plan, son? I can already tell your wheels are turning, but I just want to remind you that your past with that girl isn’t a good one. I think whatever it is that’s in your mind to do—don’t.” My dad leaned forward, delivering his warning.
“I don’t plan on doing anything,” I lied, finishing off the pie.
My parents shared a look, but I refused to acknowledge it. I pulled out my cell phone and started digging around for as much intel as I could find regarding Bexley Black.
7
The warmth from the mug in my hand spread to my fingers, scorching and soothing my skin. I barely noticed as I watched the sun rise from the swing on my front porch. My mind wasn’t on my overly warmed skin or the fact that my coffee was too bitter. It was on the fact that I hadn’t been able to sleep the night prior. Not after seeing Ryan.
Memories swirled and danced in my head as I tossed and turned all night, remembering the smallest details about him; the ones that, after all these years, I was sure I had missed. His smile seemed different, which meant he’d probably had surgery done. Obviously, he was bigger, more perfectly toned and more obnoxiously handsome than he ever was before.
I missed his narrower frame, his simple six-pack, and those biceps that weren’t too big, just perfect for throwing footballs. Now they were massive, and he had tattoos that wrapped around his arms, winding down his forearms and wrists, down to his fingers.
I thought back to his first tattoo, the one he got with me there by his side. My memories pranced along the timeline of our lives, back to when I’d first seen him my freshman year of college, then bounced to the very last. It was the summer after our junior year of college. Ryan and I had talked about our summer plans, though argued was more accurate of a term because he needed to train and I wanted to travel. He’d just been interviewed and talked to by two teams from the PFA, but he hadn’t made his choice yet. I knew it was his one dream, but he was mine so, like a jealous girlfriend, I didn’t want to have to share him.
It wasn’t fair to him, which was why I had never voiced it during our relationship. We’d met freshman year and fallen in love after we both tried to be casual. He’d mentioned his dream to play in the PFA, but stupidly I assumed it was just a phase, thought he’d focus and learn, fall in love with me, and want a future we’d build together. Slowly, so carefully, I tried to wedge myself further into his heart, hoping to pry it out of football’s grip, all so he’d choose me and not the bright lights, the billions of fans, or the hefty contract. I wanted to be his everything. I wanted to be his chocolate ice cream, the one thing he wanted more than anything else.
It was childish. Now, looking back, I couldn’t believe I’d been so juvenile, so insecure. And when that defining moment came between us, I didn’t stick around long enough for him to choose something other than me.
It had been a decade; maybe I could finally just have an honest conversation and ask him, put it all behind us. He had moved on; I had moved on…sort of…but, we could be adults and get the closure we were both owed.
Standing, I headed inside from the porch and began to get ready to leave. Logan had texted that he’d drive the kids all the way back home because he felt bad about everything. So, now I had the morning to myself, and instead of tackling the million projects I had in my inbox or doing anything productive, I had decided to get an early spot at the local hair salon.
I needed something fresh to get me out of this funk; not wanting to date because I hadn’t done any beautification in recent months was a shit excuse not to put myself out there. I had already texted Shay and told her to set me up with someone. She’d made me swear on my children’s lives that I’d show up, but at least she’d agreed to do it.
I rarely approved of using my credit cards, but when I needed a mental shake to get myself out of a rut, I’d do it. So, after my cut, manicure, and waxing appointment, I’d hopefully be free of this strange sensation working its way through me.
“Bexley, did you see this?” Caitlin, one of my coworkers, asked, whispering while her eyes darted around the room. She’d been a little on edge this afternoon, since I had arrived around four. I thought maybe it was just the fact that there were more people visiting today than normal, but now that her eyes ran down the list in her hand, it made me wonder if it was something else.
I peered down, gently grabbing the clipboard from her. Narrowing my eyes, I read over the paper.
“It was emailed to Judy this morning,” Caitlin added while I scanned the page.
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It was a contract, a non-disclosure agreement everyone in the center was required to sign.
“It’s so we don’t share any personal photos or anything we might overhear from that celebrity couple that’s staying here,” Sondra explained from her spot near the register.
“Wow…they must be big potatoes,” I mused, trying to laugh it off. I closed the packet and handed it back to Caitlin.
“You need to sign on the line in the back.” Caitlin handed it back over to me, eyeing Sondra who ducked into the back.
“I think I should have my lawyer look it over first. There are some really complicated terms in there,” I joked, pulling out a pair of latex gloves. Today, I was more than ready to clean every surface of this stupid place. I was trying to push down the nerves this stupid topic had brought up. I didn’t need to sign that paper because now that Ryan knew I worked here, he’d find every reason not to come back.
There were two other sports centers on the resort, so there wasn’t any real reason for him to come to this one, except that it was closest to the villa he was staying in. I couldn’t say that to Caitlin though.
“Hey, Bexley’s in!” Jonah exclaimed excitedly while setting his things down and clocking in. His young face lit up with a bright smile. He was an adorable eighteen-year-old; he’d break hearts when he left for college in a month.
“Hey Jonah.” I smiled, unsure why he was so excited about my presence.
“We’ve been dying to ask you how you know him,” Jonah said hopeful with anticipation.
Caitlin’s eyebrows drew together in confusion.
“Wait, how you know who?”
“Ryan Prince! He showed up yesterday and he called her out—by name,” Jonah explained in awe while jutting his hands out toward me. “She smiled at him and said, ‘Hey Ry, it’s nice to see you.’” His voice went up a notch as he mimicked what I’d said to Ryan. My face flushed, like I was back in high school along with these kids. My freaking coworkers.