by Kara Hart
“I don’t want to listen,” I tell him, tears about to fall down my face. I thought things were supposed to be good from now on. I thought I was going to have a break from all this shit. Of course, right when I start to feel better about everything, tragedy comes into my life yet again.
“I just want to turn back time. I wish I never met you, Walker. I’m sorry to say that because it sounds so harsh coming from my mouth. But it’s the god honest truth. You’ve completely fucked me up,” I admit.
I turn around and head back toward the house. He jumps out of the van, in an attempt to stop me. All I can think about is Aidan. How’s he going to feel about all of this? Not to mention, Walker has no idea I have a fucking kid. Once he finds out, he’s going to leave. That might be for the best, honestly. I don’t think I want him around. He’s not exactly a picture-perfect father figure.
“Wait,” he says, touching my shoulder. The hairs on my skin start to rise and for a second, my body betrays me. I grow wet. Images flash across my eyes. I see and feel his hands around my body. His mouth is around my wetness. He’s sucking on me like he’s loving every second of it. And then I feel him cum inside me and everything takes a turn for the worse.
I should have known that the condom broke. How could I not have felt it? I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have taken a morning after pill. I keep all the blame directed at me, despite the fact that it’s not all my fault. In the end, it’s him who wouldn’t pull out. It’s him who decided to leave the next day. I can’t let myself take all of the blame. Not forever, anyway.
“What do you want, Walker?” I turn back around, at the foot of my door. Inside, if he looked, he’d find a bunch of action figures, scattered across the floor. He’d see Aidan’s room, complete with dinosaur bed sheets. He’d see both our cereal bowls, half empty with cheerio’s inside. He wouldn’t understand. He just wouldn’t.
“I…” he stops himself and gulps down. “I love you, Erica,” he says. “I’ve been thinking about you every single night over there. It’s been so horrible. I vowed to myself that I’d come back and find you, that I’d get you back somehow.”
“Yeah?” I look at him and my heart expands and contracts. It hurts to see him like this. He looks so honest. Yet, how can I believe someone that tricked me into a life I never asked for?
No. I can’t do it. I just can’t. “Well, you can go back to London, or wherever it is you were. I don’t believe that your mother was dying. I don’t even believe you’re who you say you are. In fact, I don’t really give a damn what the truth is. I just want you to stay away from me. Do you hear me? Just stay away!”
Here I am, full on crying and he’s just staring at me with his own set of tears in his eyes. Only, he doesn’t let them fall. He holds them back as much as he can. I can see in his eyes that he’s not done fighting for me and that only makes me feel sicker. I need him to answer me, truthfully. Why didn’t he ever call? But I can’t manage to actually ask him.
“I’ll do anything you ask,” he says, finally. “Even if that means staying away from you. I’m sorry. You have to believe me.”
“I’m sorry too,” I tell him. “But that doesn’t mean we should be together.”
“You’re right. Maybe I fucked it all up,” he says. “If you ever want to talk, here’s my number.” He gives me a piece of paper with a number scribbled on it.
“No more boyfriend experience?” I ask him, out of the blue.
“No. That part of me is over. It was stupid, anyway. It’s really embarrassing to think about,” he says. “Anyway, goodbye, Erica. You look more beautiful than I remember.”
He turns around and heads back to the rental van. I have no words, only the world’s most complex maelstrom of emotions. It takes everything in me not to fall down on my knees and weep. Right now, everything seems like a false reality. I hold his number in front of my face and it seems hollow.
“Goodbye, Walker,” I manage to say. If I was to tell the truth, it would come out like, “I miss you. More than you know.”
21
Walker
There’s nothing here for me anymore. She’s moved on and I wasted too much time back in England. Hawk made sure that I would never want to come back here. He probably even anticipated me leaving. So be it. I’m stuck here now, in this empty apartment, with my broken heart.
The only thing now is to pick up the pieces of my life and try to move on. I never used to get hung up on women. That wasn’t part of the deal. I was supposed to be unattached, yet unavoidable. Of course, just seeing her was enough to make me go insane.
She never asked me why I didn’t call her, though I’m not sure what I would have told her in the first place. “My mother passed in my arms,” I could lie. But it all seems so fucking wrong. No, I should have told her the truth, that I never grew up in London, that I was a child born in the northern streets of England. I should have told her about the debts I owed and what it might take to be released from them.
Hawk won’t release me. That’s the punch line of the fucking joke. And I know that far away, he’s waiting for me to make one mistake that’ll alert him of my exact location. When that happens, there will be fireworks. It’ll come down to me and Hawk, settling the score, once and for all. Let’s just say I’m not too excited for that day.
It’s been three days since she let me down hard. Three whole fucking days in hell. My head is still spinning, heart still aching, and I keep pushing myself to fall asleep so I can dream of us together again.
When my phone never rings, I eventually have to force myself to get out of bed so I can get some fresh air. I can’t keep living the way I’ve been living because of her. It’s been a long while since I’ve done any type of workout. I figure that’s the best thing for me to dive into right now, besides the loads of alcohol I have tucked away in my pantry. I leave my lonely apartment and go on a run.
I don’t stop, until my body nearly shuts down. No, I’m not stopping for anybody. The wind whips around my face. I breathe in the cool, morning air. My feet hit the pavement, but when I close my eyes for a brief second, a soccer ball nearly ends my life.
“Watch out!” I hear a young voice yell. I open my eyes and it hits me square in the face. Nice wakeup call, I suppose.
“Sorry!” a young boy smiles.
“It’s no problem,” I mutter, bending down to grab the ball. I smile and hand the young lad the ball. “Training for the world cup?” I laugh.
The boy keeps his distance once he has the ball. Am I really that frightening? “Mom says I can’t talk to strangers,” he says.
“Good. Listen to your mom,” I tell him. Talking to strangers is what got me into this mess years ago. If I ran away from Hawk when I was younger, maybe none of this would have ever happened. Maybe I would be at this park, watching my boy play on the swing set while I read the morning paper and drink my coffee from a thermos. I smile to myself because it’s a warm thought.
I watch as the boy runs back to his mother. For a second, I brace myself to continue my run, but when I see her face, I have to stop myself. Erica. Shit. She’s stunned when she sees me too. It’s a mixture of repulsion and curiosity. How the hell did I manage to run into this woman… again?
“Erica?” I blurt out.
That can’t be her kid. That would be impossible, right? When I left her, she was on her way to being an independent woman, free of her ex-husband’s grasp. She was ready to start a new life. She was excited. She must’ve take on a job as being a nanny. Besides, the child looks nothing like her.
She pats the kid’s back and he runs off, hitting his soccer ball around with some friends. She walks toward me and nods. “Hi,” she says. “I didn’t know you went on runs around here.”
I shrug and smile, so happy to hear her speak again. It’s a fucking miracle. “It’s as good a place as any,” I say. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to run into you, if that’s what you were thinking.”
“No,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’m s
ure you didn’t.”
This is already off to a rocky start. I shouldn’t have left the apartment. I knew it was a bad idea. The best thing for me to do right now is move back to England and give myself up to Hawk. He’ll chop my fingers off, no doubt, but at least I won’t embarrass myself like this anymore.
There’s a long and awkward pause from both of us, but she breaks it after a few seconds, to my surprise. “So, how’ve you been?” she asks me.
“Managing,” I say, but that’s not exactly the full truth of the matter. “Well, if I’m being honest, it’s been pretty bollocks. I don’t do much now that I’m back.”
“Bollocks,” she pokes fun at me.
“Rubbish,” I laugh. “Absolute rubbish.”
“You miss England,” she says it as a statement, but in that way that lets me know it’s really a question.
“I hate England,” I admit. “I never should have gone back there. It was a dreadful idea.”
“Your mother. You had to, right?” she looks away from me, clearly hurt by the whole thing. I want to reach out and comfort her. I want to touch her arm and calm her down. I want to tell her that everything is alright and will be better, that I could make it up to her. Instead, I say nothing. It’s in these pivotal moments that the options seem to dwindle down and acting on anything seems almost impossible.
“Yes, my mother,” I lie. I want to tell her the fucking truth. What is wrong with me? Why am I hiding everything from her? For her protection? Yes, I suppose it’s partly that. The other part of me is too afraid of her reaction to the whole thing. She’ll feel gutted. Betrayed. More so than she already does now.
“You’re a nanny now?” I ask her. “Or are you just babysitting for a friend?”
She gives a hurried look over her shoulder at the boy playing soccer with his friends. She frowns and says, “Yeah, a friend. She works a lot.”
“Listen,” I say, “I’m not that same man you met. I’m better than he was. I want the chance to at least prove it to you.”
“It’s not a good idea, Walker,” she says. “I mean, the whole thing from the get go was absurd. I was just playing out a fantasy with you. The boyfriend experience. That’s all I was getting from you.”
Hearing those words hurts. A lot. I didn’t realize she was just like all the other women. I thought she was different. I thought she might have wanted something more. Shit, when did I become so fucking sappy? What have I become?
“Let me cook you dinner,” I say. “The boyfriend experience is over and done with, but maybe I can make one exception.”
Her heels bounce against the grass. She’s hardly making eye contact with me. Still, I know she wants to say yes. I know that it’s her pride that’s saying no to me. She wants someone. I know she does. “Walker, I—”
“One date and I’ll be out of your life forever,” I say. “I promise. Just give me one date.”
She sighs and looks down at the ground, heavy in thought. “One date? That’s it?” she asks.
“That’s it. And I’ll be gone. I’ll go back to fucking England if you want me to,” I say. She thinks about the offer and I hold my pinky out for her. “Pinky swear.”
“Pinky swear? You know that’s the strongest promise there is, right?” she smiles a little and it sends shivers down my spine. My cock starts to rise uncontrollably and my face turns warm. I want you, woman. I want to tie you down and fuck the life out of you. I want to feel your warm skin against mine, that aching, punishing, obsession, and the happiness that comes after those feelings.
“That’s why I’m doing it. I won’t break my promise to you,” I say. “I swear on my life.”
She bounces high on her heels, but comes down to a full halt. She looks at me for a good five seconds, long enough to get my heart going. Those beautiful eyes. Those light freckles on her cheeks. Fuck, I’m spinning.
“Alright,” she says, quickly wrapping her pinky around mine. “It’s a deal. But afterward, you have to leave me alone.”
“I’ll never leave my apartment,” I tell her. Excitement soon washes over me. I’m bathing in the best of emotions. She said yes. She actually said yes!
“Give me your phone,” she says. “Here’s my number in case you forget where I live.”
“I remember,” I say.
“Right. Of course you do,” she laughs. “You were stalking me long enough to get it imprinted in your brain, right?”
I have to laugh at myself. I’m fucking out of my mind. But sometimes, when you’re that madly in love with someone, you do some crazy shit. “Sorry,” I say.
“I get it. You had to see me,” she says.
“I did,” I tell her.
“Tomorrow then,” she says, walking away.
22
Erica
Fuck, fuck, fucking fuck! He had to come back. He had to see me with Aidan. He even talked to him. This is so beyond bad.
But when I saw him at the park yesterday, something was still there. Inside of me, I felt the desire slowly creep in my body. After six years of being gone, he’s managed to keep himself in better shape than when he left. Looking at his body gets my panties wet. Hearing his voice sends me reeling.
Now, it’s only an hour before he’s supposed to come over and I have no idea what to do. Once he steps foot into this house, he’ll know the truth. He’ll know that Aidan is my son. Pretty soon after, he’ll put it all together. He’ll realize he’s a dad.
“Aidan, baby, tonight is a special night for Mommy. She’s having a friend come over,” I tell him, feeling sick to my stomach. “So, can you stay in your room and finish your homework?”
“Why can’t I be with you?” the little detective in him starts to come out. “Is Renata coming over? I like Renata.”
“No, it’s not Renata. Remember the man from the park?” I ask him, gently.
“The stranger? I thought you told me not to talk to strangers,” he says.
“Yes, but he’s not a stranger. I’ve known him for a long time,” I say. He’s your father. He’s your daddy. He fucked me and left, only to return six years later. Surprise. “You can play PlayStation if you finish your homework fast.” Bribery. It’s the only thing that works on kids.
“Deal!” He smiles and runs to his room to finish all of his homework as fast as he can.
I still don’t know what I’m going to tell Walker. On the outside, I hate his guts. But I’ve been secretly wishing he would come back for years. There’s so much I wanted to ask him. I even had fantasies of cussing him out for leaving me all alone with a son to raise. Now, that seems insane. I can’t just tell him. The whole thing is just so fucking complicated.
And Aidan is a blessing. No, he’s an angel. He’s so perfect in every way. I always wished he had a daddy. I can tell he wants one so bad. Someone to throw the ball with, to watch way too violent movies with… I can picture it. I didn’t expect Walker to come back. Maybe it won’t be such a cluster fuck when he gets here.
The doorbell rings right after I’ve cleaned the whole house. Only problem is, I look like total shit. I’ve got an old pair of jeans on, complete with a Motley Crüe band t-shirt I bought in college. “Coming!” I yell.
My hand touches the doorknob and my mind is racing. I take one last look and I don’t see any toys lying around. Aidan is quietly working in his bedroom. Oh, God, this is all such a bad idea.
I open the door slowly and peek my head out. “Welcome,” I manage to say. Welcome? “Come in.”
It’s sickening how good he looks right now. He walks in holding a giant bouquet of flowers, bottle of red wine, and a couple grocery bags of food. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he says, kissing my cheek. My body tenses up and then I smell his cologne. Fuck, he smells so good. It’s his smell. I miss it so much.
“Thank you.” I blush. “You look okay, too.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he laughs. “These are for you, darling.”
He hands me the flowers and I put them up to my nose
and smell the arrangement. I hate to admit it, but they’re beautiful. They look so fresh, as if they were just picked today. He must have spent a fortune on them, not to mention the food and wine. No, I tell myself. Don’t fall for his charm again. You know what happens when you do, Erica.
“You have a beautiful home,” he says, as we walk into the kitchen. “Is it okay if I grab some pans and get to chopping? I bet we can finish half this bottle of Merlot while the meat simmers.”
“That sounds nice,” I tell him. My mind darts back to Aidan and I start to feel that familiar melancholic feeling creep inside my body. I think he can sense it because he comes around me and starts to massage my shoulders. “Come on, Walker. Don’t.”
“Sorry,” he says, taking his hands off. “You just seem a little tense is all.”
Tense? Are you kidding me? You don’t even know what tense is, guy. Try raising a kid on your own for five years and talk to me about tense. “Yeah, maybe a little. Rough week at the office.”
“I understand,” he smiles, chopping up a large onion. Somehow, he manages not to shed a single tear while doing it. It’s just another thing I resent him for. “This is going to be the best pasta you’ve ever tasted. Guaranteed.”
I’ve opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses. I quickly take a big gulp for myself and pour some more in. He watches me with careful eyes, though he doesn’t say anything. “A Brit making the best pasta I’ve tasted? You know I’ve been to Italy, right?”
“I’ve taken a handful of cooking classes. This is something I pride myself on,” he laughs. “No, really. This one is special.”
I toss him a strawberry-colored apron and I watch as he carefully ties it around his perfect waist. His biceps bulge as he moves his arms behind his back, and when he starts the actual cooking, it’s hard not to look on with lust.