by Ashley Munoz
“No. We haven’t done this in ten years—we aren’t doing it now.” I picked up my plate and headed for the sink.
“So you’re just going to hate that woman for the rest of your life because you’re too proud to hear her side of things?” She stood with her hands out, placating me. Her eyes betrayed how worried she was; they were always happy, jovial…but when she got angry, they turned glacial. I used to call her eyes magic stones because they always seemed to change color or intensity based off her mood.
“What’s there to hear? She left…” I turned away from her, hating the cold sensation working its way through my chest.
“How did you react when she told you?” my mother asked from somewhere behind me.
We both knew what my mother was referring to, but I couldn’t bring myself to have this conversation. Not when my lungs felt like they were filling with lead, or with the way my mother watched me in that pained way, like she knew how painful that night had been but would make me relive it anyway.
I blinked against the memory and walked out the door, slamming it shut.
I spun the black cell on the counter for what was probably the hundredth time. Indecision wasn’t something I did well with, but no matter how many times I went to text Bexley that our dinner plans were off, I kept stopping myself.
She hadn’t done anything wrong…I knew she hadn’t. I couldn’t punish her for having an ex or having someone in her life who’d happened to give her children. I could be mature about this and take her to dinner, find out what the nature of their relationship was. Maybe they were casual, like Henna and I were casual.
Shit, I hope not.
That thought soured my stomach even more, forcing me to lean my head down and gently pound it against the counter. Every time I closed my eyes, I’d see that guy…Logan, standing behind Bexley, a possessive hand on her shoulder, then her waist. His tone, cutting through the space—warning me to back off, telling me Bexley was his.
I immediately had to get out of there because there were old, aggressive places inside me that might have been dormant but were ready to assert that Bexley wasn’t his. In fact, she’d never been anyone’s but mine.
But the fact that she had two kids with him slightly proved me wrong. She’d left me, found someone else, and given him the one thing we…
“Fuck it,” I muttered, grabbing the phone and pulling up Bexley’s contact info. She was still under that stupid title she’d given herself as a college fling.
I eyed the clock on the oven in my rental and saw that it was nearly four in the afternoon—plenty of time to cancel our plans.
A few rings in, Bexley finally answered, “Hello?”
That’s right—she doesn’t have my number yet.
“Hey, Bexley, it’s Ryan,” I said formally.
I didn’t want any feelings or anything else attached to this conversation.
“Hey.” She breathed out and…did she sound happy to hear from me, or was that just me?
I could hear someone in the background singing, and a boyish laugh echoing through the phone. Then Bexley went and nearly did me the fuck in with a giggle.
“Baby Bell, keep it down. Momma’s on the phone.” Her voice was muffled, likely due to a hand over the speaker, as she laughed.
I couldn’t stop the smile growing on my face as I pictured them there, laughing together, at what sounded like Bella singing. My chest suddenly felt hollow as I realized there wasn’t anywhere else I wanted to be except there with them.
“Sorry about that, Bella is trying to sing to her brother to make him feel better, but when she sings, she gets very serious. Like, diva status, with dead-serious looks and even more serious dance moves,” Bexley explained, giggling in between each word.
“This sounds like something I need to see,” I joked back, because dammit, why did my heart feel like this? These were another man’s kids. These were Bexley’s kids.
“Well, you’re invited to come watch—the kids have already asked about you a few times. I mentioned I would see you tonight to talk, but that didn’t exactly excite them when they realized we’d be leaving to have our conversation.” She laughed into the phone again, and it was like some poetic shit, like someone had opened the clouds, letting the sun shine through.
“About that conversation…” I cleared my throat.
“Yeah?” she asked, sounding wary. Did she know I was going to bail on her? She probably did; she knew I was a coward…always had been. The conversation with my mother flickered into my conscious. How did you react when she told you?
“I was thinking maybe we could do dinner altogether, and then you and I…we could talk after they go to bed, or on the porch while they watch a movie or something?”
My heart rate spiked, waiting for her to turn me down, but my mother was right—when faced with news that felt too big ten years earlier, I hadn’t reacted well to Bexley. I owed it to the both of us to have this conversation, once and for all.
“I’d like that,” Bexley finally confessed, softly and still a little warily.
But her acceptance felt like a jolt of electricity pummeling into my chest. I stood up straight, my eyes dancing around the empty room.
“Yeah? When do you want me there?” I asked, sounding a little too hopeful.
“Whenever. We’re here, and we aren’t going anywhere.”
I smiled. “Okay, see you soon.”
I parked then slowly exited, wishing I could kick my own ass for forgetting my hat. Instead, I adjusted my hair to the left, just a bit, and grabbed what I’d picked up at the store. Internally, I reminded myself that it wasn’t a big deal that I’d picked anything up. It didn’t mean anything.
Heading up the walkway, I cleared my throat a few times in a pathetic attempt to soothe the nerves eating away at my stomach. It was still plenty bright outside as I jogged up Bexley’s porch steps, giving anyone driving or walking by a clear view of who was visiting the single mom of two.
Shit, what was I thinking?
I made a fist and rapped my knuckles against the door. Behind me, on the street, three women ran by pushing strollers. I knocked again as my heart rate spiked. This would be a PR nightmare, because it looked like I was dating the person who lived here. I was definitely not dating her, but looks are deceiving. Story of my fucking life.
“Ryan, you’re here?” Cole said, hobbling on his booted foot. He must have seen the orthopedist since the last time I saw him. Missing that felt strange; I had missed this kid’s entire life, but some strange space existed where I wanted to be included in things like seeing him get his boot or hearing all about how to take care of it. I blinked to clear away those thoughts because what the fuck?
Cole’s eyes went wide as he took in the black bike leaning against my SUV.
“Is that…?” He exited the house fully, standing on the porch. The bike had dark blue zigzag designs along the frame, a headlight, a bell…the kid probably didn’t know it’d cost upwards of a thousand dollars.
“I figured you’d need a new bike once you can start riding again.” I shrugged.
It isn’t a big deal.
My eyes glanced around briefly; another set of joggers ran past the house, this time turning their heads toward us.
“Here, let’s head inside.” I ushered him back in. “You supposed to be up, walking on that?” I eyed his boot.
“Mom’s in the bathroom, shaving her legs or something girly like that, and Bella is rehearsing her song to sing to you, so there wasn’t anyone else around to let you in.” He shrugged, limping his way back to the couch.
I observed the house as I walked through it, trying to take in all the tiny details before Bexley came out and noticed that I was obviously snooping.
Hardwood floors ran under my feet, softened by beige throw rugs. Nicely accented mirrors hung on different walls, with green branch-like things and flowers attached. A nice side table sat under a large rectangular mirror; it was bare except for her purse, a charger, some me
dication bottles, and a few bills. I made sure Cole couldn’t see me as I leaned over to see the status of her accounts.
Past due…all of them…
Guess Logan isn’t doing his fucking job.
A basketball, a black helmet, and a pair of knee pads—or elbow pads, something that probably belonged to Cole—sat on the floor next to the little table. Moving further into the house, I noticed family pictures along the walls, but they were only of Bexley and the kids, or just the kids… none of Logan.
Her living room was modest but cozy, which had a small smile turning my lips up for some reason. This place suited Bexley; it seemed like a comfortable little haven, just her and the kids against the world.
“Hey, sorry about that,” I heard Bexley say, coming from somewhere down the hall.
She must have stopped in the kitchen, because I couldn’t see her yet. “No problem,” I replied toward the direction she seemed to be in.
A second later, her white-blonde hair came into view. It was curled, a side piece fastened with a black hair pin. Her blue eyes were lined with dark liner, her pink lips glistened with gloss, and her white tank hugged her, complete with that little V cut in the material, giving a small glimpse of tanned skin. My eyes lowered to her skintight jeans, ripped at the knees, showing more of that skin; then they traveled further, down to her bare feet and painted toes.
I nearly swallowed my tongue. She was stunning. I hadn’t seen her in anything but a work uniform, pajamas, or casual jean shorts since coming back into contact with her—not that she didn’t look stunning in those outfits as well, but damn.
She put every woman I’d ever dated for any length of time to shame.
She was perfect. I mean, she always had been, and this, seeing her like this, just proved she always would be.
Ten fucking years away from this and my heart still slammed in uneven beats with desperation. I want her.
“Oh my gosh, you brought flowers?” she exclaimed, cutting across the living room. Her rosebud scent caught in my nose, nearly drawing out a guttural groan from me.
Fuck.
It felt like someone had reached into my head and tugged out all my memories of Bexley, scattering them around like confetti. All the pain-laced images I’d been careful to tuck away were suddenly swirling around as her scent invaded my senses.
Instead of refusing them, like I so often did, I indulged. Thoughts of pushing her up against the wall, shoving my nose to her skin, and inhaling her while I licked my way up her body filled my head, which wasn’t conducive to functioning around the company we had.
Clearing my throat, I said, “For the diva of the house.”
Bexley smiled while eyeing the card on the side of the flowers. “Oh man, she’s going to flip when she sees these.”
Her eyes turned up, her lips slung to the side. I wanted to kiss her. I took a step closer to her on instinct, but Bella ran out a second later, breaking the moment.
“Prince!” Bella jumped into my arms.
Her tiny, golden curls bounced against her back as she adjusted her pink crown.
“Hey, heard you were a professional singer!” I joked, arranging my arms to better fit around her massive princess dress.
“Yeah, but only for Cole, cause he’s hurt.” Her little voice rasped and lisped the Rs and Ls.
“Would you guys want to go to dinner and maybe get ice cream tonight?” I asked.
Cole sat up, yelling his response. “Yeah!”
Still holding Bella, I looked over at Bexley, who quickly glanced away, swiping at her face.
“Let’s head out, guys.” She cleared her throat, walking toward the door. We followed after her while she locked up; I walked toward my SUV, opening the door for the kids.
“I need my booster,” Bella said, pointing toward her mom’s minivan. Bexley walked toward her older-than-shit car and opened the side door at the same moment I spoke.
“I,…um, actually I bought one for you.”
Bexley’s face whipped over to where we were standing.
“Just in case, I mean it was no trouble. I figured it would be easier than carting it around, and you can have an extra one now, for whenever you need it.” My words rushed out of me, and I hated how stupid it made me feel to have purchased something for a kid that wasn’t mine and even risk getting attached to people I couldn’t keep.
“That was considerate of you,” Bexley muttered, walking toward us.
She stopped at the sight of Cole’s new bike.
“Where did this come from?”
“His other one is ruined, right?” I started settling Bella in her seat, grabbing for the buckle.
“Yeah, but we were just going to get a new one from a thrift shop,” Bexley explained, bringing her hands down along the handlebars of the bike.
“Well, now you can save yourself a trip.” I didn’t want to mention money, because she’d consider it charity. Logan was clearly doing a shit job of paying child support and caring for his kids. He’d come over that morning, but why hadn’t he removed the trashed bike for Bex? It was still sitting against the side of the house, as well as a few other boxes and pieces of plywood.
“Well, it’s not necessary…” she started, and for whatever reason, I needed her to let me give her kid this bike. I couldn’t explain it and I hoped she wouldn’t make me.
“It’s just a gift, Bex,” I said evenly, while shutting Bella’s door.
Thankfully, she dropped it with a smile and a small nod. I walked past her, moving the bike to the porch so it was a little more secure.
I was overstepping boundaries. Bex knew it; I knew it. Thankfully, neither of us were brave enough to say anything about it.
I slid inside, next to Bexley, while Cole buckled in next to Bella’s seat in the back. I started reversing, not hating at all how normal this felt, how having them all in my car with me felt like I’d finally found that thing I’d been missing and ignoring for the past ten years of my life.
13
Every time one of my kids laughed, it felt like a small mallet was slamming into my chest. Ryan had made them so happy by taking them for burgers and ice cream, something I hadn’t been able to do for the kids in a long time. We went to their favorite spot, which also happened to be a tourist obsession.
Dandy’s had maybe five hard backed booths inside, but with the amount of people in and out of the establishment, it was always better to eat outside. Our picnic table was moderately distanced from the others, but it didn’t stop prying eyes or phones from swinging toward us. My stomach churned with anxiety as we ate and tried to enjoy our time, but every time I saw a whispered conversation, it would just remind me that Ryan wasn’t the man I’d once known.
He was a celebrity now; he had money, status, over fifteen million followers on Photogram, and at least three trending titles on one of the world’s largest streaming services. He’d had work done on his crooked smile, his nose, and Lord knows what else. He was a totally different person than the guy I’d known ten years earlier, and no matter how much my stomach fluttered when he glanced at me with a familiar hunger in his eyes or how often he bought my kids random, thoughtful gifts, I had to remember this wouldn’t last.
Our evening was coming to a close as Ryan pulled back into my driveway. The kids were still chatting a million miles a minute about movie magic and how he’d played a superhero in that one film. I smiled and nodded, playing the part, but my mind was racing toward the end of the night, where Ryan would talk to me on the porch and maybe leave our lives forever.
“Can we watch it tonight?” Cole asked as we headed inside.
“That’s up to your mom.” Ryan laughed, helping Cole the last few steps. Bella was once again plastered to the celebrity’s chest, her little arms wrapped around his neck. Ryan moved with ease while holding her, like he’d been born to do it… like he’d done it his entire life.
“You guys can watch whatever you can agree on. I need to talk to Ryan outside for a bit.” I smiled, hopi
ng to encourage them. My stomach was a tangled mess of nerves while I turned on the television and clicked around the menu options. The kids both shouted out their desired titles until we settled on something. Ryan watched the kids snuggle in, Bella getting under a blanket, near Cole’s elevated leg; his face was so peaceful, like watching them made him feel at peace.
I turned away, just like I had earlier when I witnessed how he looked at my kids, and I headed for the front porch. I had a string of outdoor LED lights hanging around the interior of my porch roof, creating a dreamy glow. As far as seating options, there was just the hanging swing, so we'd both be on it, unless he didn’t want to sit with me. I sat down first so I didn’t have to endure the aforementioned awkwardness.
Ryan came out a second later, shutting the door behind him. He shrugged out of his blazer and folded it over his arm. It left him in just his navy blue, V-neck t-shirt that wrapped around his toned arms and torso like a second skin.
He slowly sat down on the swing, pushing his left leg in front of him, kicking the right slightly behind. His masculine scent draped around me, cradling me in old memories and happier times, back when we were…
“So, where do we begin?” Ryan started, cutting off my thoughts.
I whipped my face to the side to inspect his expression, unsure why it mattered; I just wanted to know that he wanted to be here. I had been almost positive he was going to cancel our dinner tonight; since he’d followed through with it and now this, I wasn’t sure what to think.
“I guess at the beginning?” I offered, pulling my knees into my chest.
I hadn’t faced this part of my past in so long. Even when Logan would talk about or mention Ryan, I’d never fully allow myself to think about it.
“That night I came to your dorm room…and I told you about the pregnancy,” I started, feeling shallow, hollow breaths assault my lungs. I hated this part…