by Ashley Munoz
Ryan swung us by shifting his boot back and forth, his left arm inching closer to my side of the swing with every motion.
“I guess, I just… You were so upset, and the way you accused me of planning it, of tricking you…” My voice had muted to a whisper. The pain from this memory was too much. “I think in order to understand why it mattered that you went there with your words, you’d need to understand that I truly considered football to be the greatest threat to our relationship.”
“What?” Ryan scoffed, just like I knew he would.
“Just hear me out,” I requested, relishing that we’d gotten past this once; we weren’t still living in the painful moment. “I was so in love with you, Ryan…but I knew football came first. You told me that in the beginning. You said you could fall in love with me, even marry me, but football would always hold first place in your heart.”
Ryan’s grunted response was confirmation that he remembered saying that. I should have left then, but I had already been a goner. My mother’s face always came back when I considered why I had made the decision to leave.
“So, I stayed, thinking I could make you love me more than football. I was sure we were meant to be, and I was sure that even if you did go pro, you’d take me with you. You wouldn’t leave me behind…so then I thought you could have both.” I swallowed the golf-ball-sized lump of anxiety as I went on with the rest of my story.
“That weekend we were in Canada…when your friend, Jack Hammer, took us up to his family’s cabin last minute…remember?”
Ryan kept his eyes down on his legs as he nodded, his lips drawn into a firm line as he rocked and listened.
“We didn’t take anything with us, and you kept saying it would be fine because we could pick something up there. We joked about how the size of that condom you purchased at that market felt off somehow…anyway, I don’t know what happened. All I know is several weeks later, I was peeing onto a stick and that little plastic window said pregnant. I didn’t lie to you. I gave it to you in that Ziplock bag so you’d know I was telling the truth.”
“I knew you weren’t lying,” Ryan chided.
You’re lying. You said you were on birth control—how could you do this to me?
If he didn’t want to revisit what he’d said, I wouldn’t either.
“You said you needed time. After we got into that fight…you said to give you time. But what I realized on my way home that night was your response was the confirmation I was looking for regarding the whole football situation. I had been deluding myself by thinking you’d ever choose me first. I was an idiot,” I explained, bringing my hand to my heart.
“So, you dropped the bomb that you’re pregnant on a twenty-year-old guy, one who’d only ever wanted to go pro with his football career, and then instead of giving him time to process it, you decided to just leave?” Ryan accused with a slight rasp in his tone.
“I left because I knew in that moment that I’d always be second choice, and the prospect of my child being second choice…” I had to stop because of the lump crawling up my throat, threatening to unleash tears. I’d grown up as an afterthought; I refused to marry someone who considered me one too.
“I, like you, needed some time to process. I didn’t even get a text or call from you for five days, Ryan. Five days you left me alone with the knowledge that a positive pregnancy test sat between us.”
“I just needed some time to wrestle with the fact that things were changing. I didn’t mean anything I said to you, didn’t mean to hurt you. I just…I knew going pro wasn’t in the cards if a baby was coming,” he explained, each word laden with so much raw emotion that it had those tears surfacing again. I knew if I looked into his eyes, his might be misty too.
“We could have done it. You were already getting offers by that point—Seattle had already reached out. Why wouldn’t it have worked?” I felt my face furrow as confusion set in. If that was why he’d needed to take time, why even bother? He absolutely could have had us and his career; it was me who’d had the hang-up.
“Because I had already signed the contract with Seattle…I didn’t tell you because I wanted to surprise you, but you surprised me instead. How on earth could I tell you I was signed and that the idea of becoming a father felt more like a shackle than something to celebrate? The only thing I wanted was to play…and for that reason, it wouldn’t have worked for me to. I’d get caught up in the cameras, the life, the training…it would be too stressful, worrying about you, becoming a dad. There was no way I could do both things well. One of them I’d fuck up, and I’d rather do that with my career than a kid.”
I didn’t know what to say to him. Would I have tried to make it work? Yes, but his initial response was the answer I needed. He’d already made his choice. He didn’t need time to wrestle with it; that first response was his response. Unfortunately, he would have resented me eventually. Sometimes in life we only get a few seconds to tell our truth, and no matter how much we want to change it, we can’t erase it from other people’s lives.
“I needed a few days, but you didn’t respond to my calls or anything after I reached out.” I could feel Ryan’s gaze dip down to my lowered head, to my fingers that pulled at a loose thread on the swing cushion.
“I didn’t want to say anything until I went to the doctor and knew for sure,” I answered, remembering how lonely that appointment felt, how shallow and hollow it felt to have this tiny possibility flicker like a candle, only to go out within a second. I had assumed the pain in my abdomen was a side effect of the stress; my stomach had been in knots since finding out and telling Ryan. I couldn’t tell the difference, and when I spotted and read that it was normal, I didn’t think anything of it; I went into that office with hope and left with grief.
“You went alone—how do you think that makes me feel?” Ryan’s voice tipped with emotion, betraying the fact that tears were on the brink of breaking through whatever defense he had set up.
My heart decided to pick up the words he chose to use—‘makes me feel’—tossing them around like a word scramble. It wasn’t past tense…he used present.
“That voicemail ripped me open, Bex. Hearing that we didn’t have a baby while you were God knows where, upset, hurting—it destroyed me. I was supposed to hold you…you were supposed to hold me. I started hoping…” He trailed off, his voice breaking. “It made no sense because I wanted football so badly, but when I thought of having a kid with you, something like hope began to grow inside me.”
“I hoped too,” I whispered, hating the grating against my heart his confession created. I hated how much hurt swirled between us, how much I’d caused. If I had just stayed and been brave, we would have faced that moment together.
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I’m sorry for leaving like that. I’m sorry for telling you over voicemail. It was shitty of me…I hated myself after. I hated myself so much for months and months…” I cried, swiping at my face. I couldn’t hold them in any longer. It felt like a betrayal to our tiny possibility to even consider holding them back.
Those tears belonged with our small hope, lost in the tiny plastic screen of that pregnancy test. Maybe it hadn’t ever really been there, but I had taken three tests over the span of two weeks and all of them said I was pregnant. Then I just suddenly wasn’t.
“You must not have hated yourself too long if you moved on that easily. Cole is almost eight, right?” Ryan’s cold tone smothered whatever fire was being rekindled between us, or maybe that was just in my mind. Maybe there was nothing here and he was just a famous asshole now.
“Don’t judge me, Ryan. You have no idea…” I started, but he turned, causing my legs to fall and my posture to shift.
“I wouldn’t know, would I? Because the girl I’m in love with left me, just fucking left. I called you for a year, Bex. I grieved losing you and our baby for an entire year! Every fucking day, I wrote you, I called you, I left you long, pathetic messages. I missed parties. I’d look for you on campus, convinced one day yo
u’d show up…until it was too much and I eventually lost my contract.” He seethed, his anger palpable and alive.
My heart thrashed with horrible hope that I didn’t deserve, and that stupid place in my mind that was analyzing every little thing clung to the fact that he’d said ‘the girl I’m in love with.’ Did that mean he still felt that way? Probably just a slip of the tongue.
“You got what you wanted—you signed with Seattle. I watched your press conference. Don’t put your injury on me.” I was angry that he would put all his baggage on me.
“You know…” He shook his head, letting out a small laugh. “One day you’ll hear the whole story of how I got injured, and you might not agree that it wasn’t your fault. I was consumed by you, Bex. Fucking swallowed whole by your absence, with no end in sight.”
His explanation sobered me. I didn’t know the details. As excited as I’d been for him to get signed, I hadn’t been able to stomach watching him retire due to a career-ending sprain. My heart physically ached for him for weeks after I heard that. He was only down for about a year before there was news of him being cast in the huge HitFlix drama that began trending immediately.
“All I can say is that I’m sorry.” I didn’t want to talk about my own past, but it felt like he deserved to know what had happened with me and why I’d ended up with someone. “Logan was just a friend…he was…”
“Stop,” Ryan demanded breathlessly. “I can’t hear how you met him, or how soon after you left me you started casually fucking him. I can’t sit here and listen to the story of how you started a life with him.” Ryan suddenly stood, choking out his words.
I sat, frozen on the bench, unsure of what to do with that information. His pain was palpable, the tension in his shoulders so thick I wanted to step up behind him and press my hand there to ease it out.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Ryan. I’ve never wanted to hurt you. I loved you, and I still care about you,” I said flatly, my heart racing at the lie. Loved wasn’t accurate—I was in love with this man, waiting for him to come back to me. I’d ruined my relationship with Logan because of my hang-up.
“I think that’s probably enough for one night…” He stepped away from the swing, his fingers tunneling through that head of hair as he let out a heavy sigh. He lowered his foot to the first step on my porch then twisted toward me one last time to say, “Let’s leave things where they’re at, Bex…maybe we weren’t meant to have another shot at this. There’s too much water under the bridge, and I’m not in the mood to drown.”
I stood, crossing my arms over my chest, trying in vain to guard my pathetic heart against his words.
“Okay.”
What was I supposed to do, ask him to stay? I had nothing to offer him. I had no fresh starts or happily ever afters in my future, and this new version of Ryan had them in spades.
He gave me one last look before jogging down the stairs and heading toward the black SUV.
14
“We’re ready to start production,” my producer said around a bite of food, or at least that was what it sounded like. He was on my Bluetooth while I ran in the gym, but it was getting increasingly difficult to hear him.
“What? It sounded like you said production was moved up,” I clarified, slowing down and taking a long drink of water from my Hydro Flask.
“It has, you heard right. We got Shelly Cambria to play the lead role, and it needs to fit in with her next release in order for this one to work, so we’re bumping everything up,” Grant said with more lucidity and excitement.
I had just recently signed the contract within the last few days after my little rehash with Bexley. I hadn’t even realized I’d been biding my time with them, waiting to sign for some reason, even though technically I wasn’t supposed to do shit while on this vacation, but my agent had sent the contract through anyway with notes from my lawyer already scrawled on Post-It notes, none of which I read. I could have called if I wanted to, but it was all cut and dry. I just hadn’t realized it would all be happening so soon.
“Shooting location?” I asked, realizing I should probably be somewhere private for this call.
“Brazil. It’ll be hot,” Grant enunciated the T at the end of his sentence.
I didn’t want to go to Brazil; I didn’t particularly want to work with Shelly again either. Grant probably didn’t know this, but I knew Shelly—knew her in the biblical sense. It had been casual, but she’d still spread rumors about me and how I broke her heart to the tabloids. It had been five years, but still…I didn’t trust her.
“I can’t get on a plane until the end of the month,” I said, making an internal decision. I ignored why I had made it, and the warning in my head about why it was such a stupid statement to make. I should have just hopped on a plane and gotten the fuck out of here.
Jogging down the steps, I eyed the sports center crew that was working and subconsciously wondered what time Bexley would be coming in. I needed to train my thoughts to stop this shit because I had just told her three days ago on her porch that there was too much water under our bridge to ever be in each other’s lives in any capacity. I hadn’t called her, she hadn’t called me…I had, however, stayed up thinking about her and the kids, and I hated myself for it.
“I need you here by the end of the week. That’s the only way we can make this movie and the timeline work,” Grant explained.
“You’re going to have to meet me halfway with this…Shelly wants this film to fit her schedule, but what about mine?”
“You didn’t submit a pending contract that was time sensitive…if you had, we’d consider your schedule.” Grant laughed, mocking my attempts to get more time.
“Okay, fair…but this vacation was already set up, already on my calendar when you offered me the role…so technically that needs to be considered too,” I shot back.
“Fair enough…you can have two weeks. That’s all I can do.”
It wasn’t all he could do, but for the sake of time and the fact that I didn’t want to talk to him anymore, I agreed.
I hung up, hating the cutting sensation building in my chest. Acting had filled a spot in my life for a time, but recently it was starting to feel like I was imprisoned by it. I’d often see actors fall off the grid, hear that they’d settled down, started a family. That wasn’t me, never had been. Every single girl I’d met since Bexley had been a temporary fix, just scratching an itch.
But something was pulling at me, this image in my mind that started unfolding at night before I went to sleep. It was of, telling bedtime stories, early morning breakfast in pajamas, cartoons on the couch, water fights in the yard…family.
I blinked in rapid succession as that image came in and faded just as fast. During those five days away from Bexley back in college, it had been a similar image that’d brought me out of my stupor. An image of waking up to Bexley for the rest of my life, holding her while she was pregnant, making love to her, laughing with her, loving her.
Someone running past me in a blur had me snapping out of my memories and taking notice of my surroundings. I glanced back toward the parking lot right as a plum purple minivan pulled into a spot. I started toward my SUV as Bexley hurried out, ducking her head to look into her purse. She didn’t notice I was in front of her until I said her name.
“Bexley, hey…”
Her head snapped up. Her hair was swept half up, the rest hanging straight in little strands around her face. Her neon green shirt that matched the other sports center employees had a nametag attached over her left breast.
“Wow, looks like you’re official.” I pointed toward the small rectangular magnet.
She forced a tight smile. “Yeah, guess so. Sorry, I need to get to work.” She shouldered past me, but I turned with her, gently grabbing her arm.
“Wait…” I asked, unsure of what I was even going to say. Her blue eyes searched my face while I hesitated.
Why had I ignored her after our talk? I’d done it again.
Fuck.<
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“Where are Cole and Bella?”
Bexley shifted from one foot to another, hoisting her purse higher on her shoulder. From what I remembered, she had previously worked evening shifts, but it was currently almost nine in the morning, so it made me curious about her babysitting arrangements.
“With the neighbor. She helps me sometimes when I need it.”
Her saying she needed help rubbed me wrong, especially when it came to someone watching her kids.
“Let me take them for the day.” The words flew from my mouth before I could even process that I’d thought them, but I wouldn’t take them back. No, the more I considered it, the more it made sense. I liked Cole and Bella, and I was doing absolutely nothing all day while their mom worked.
“No, that’s okay. Thanks though.” Bexley smiled tightly again, trying to move past me.
“You’re mad at me,” I declared, holding up two hands to block her from moving.
“I’m not mad, I just already have a babysitter.” She scoffed, trying to dodge again.
I moved with her. “You’re mad that I didn’t call you, which is fine. I’m mad at myself too.”
Her eyes softened, probably searching for some kind of lie. “Then why didn’t you call?”
I knew it. I smiled in response. “Because I’m a coward…I didn’t know how to call and not still act pissed at you for everything we talked about.”
“Pissed at me?” she yelled, pointing toward her chest. “Why are you pissed at me?”
“Because you started talking about your Betty Crocker life with your husband and babies,” I yelled back, jokingly.
“Logan was never my husband.” She exhaled heavily.
What?
Why the hell hadn’t Logan locked her down?
“Look, I’m sorry for being an idiot…please let me hang out with the kids today.” I stepped closer, inhaling her scent. She was going to be late for work, but I didn’t care. Somewhere in my subconscious, I was already paying for Bexley’s house and buying her a new car.