by Piper Lawson
Chased by disappointment when she realized I wasn’t bleeding in a ditch.
I wanted to argue that I could be there for her and Rory. But I wouldn’t make excuses by saying I’d had a chance to win the brewery back.
It was another foolish bet. Part of me knew it the moment Nellie dangled it in my face, but I couldn’t resist the temptation of hitting an Easy Button that promised to solve everything.
No matter how many miles I run or reps I do this morning, I can't free my brain. No matter how much work I do on the partnership with the restaurant or building my business plan and presentation for the board meeting, I can't get her words out of my head.
She might be done, but I’m not done.
At five that evening, I pull up in front of Kendall's place. She’s likely not home yet, so I intend to sit in the car, but as I sling an arm out the open window, tapping the door with my fingers, movement catches my eye.
A guy who’s a few years younger than me with dark hair and a plaid shirt is hanging out by the front of her building, glancing up the side.
His gaze pulls to me as I make my way up the walk.
"Can I help you?" I ask.
"Came to see my kid but can’t get in."
I stare at the button he's been pushing and draw a rough breath.
I recognize bits of the man now. The chin, the ears.
At his side, there’s a bike with a bow on it.
"Present for my son,” he says in an easy way that has my hands fisting at my sides. “Yesterday was his birthday."
"I know," I grind out.
Surprise flickers across his expression. "You know Kendall?"
"I'm her boyfriend.”
The surprise in his gaze fades quickly, replaced by an affable we’re-all-friends-here look on his face that makes me want to punch him. "I'm her husband."
Even before he says the words, every muscle in my body is tight.
"Ex-husband,” I correct, but he—Blake, I remember—grins. "What?"
He waves me off and drops onto the step, looking at ease. "Relax. You're not her type."
As someone else walks into the building, I step back, nodding at the woman. Blake does the same.
And because I’m—at worst—the second-to-last person Kendall wants to be hearing from, I take the moment to grab my phone and fire off a text to warn her Blake is here. I can’t imagine she invited him to stop by when she wasn’t here.
"Don't see how you know her type,” I say, tucking the phone away without a word. “You walked away from her."
The smile falls away, and he shakes his head, resting a foot on the frame of the bike. "That what she told you? There's a few things you should know."
I snort. "I’m not going to believe you."
He shrugs. "Up to you. You can go on back to your fancy car. Or while we're both killing time, I can tell you how it all went down."
27
"Anything happen today at school?" I ask Rory as we walk home from Bumblebee.
"Nope. Day after your birthday is the most boring, especially when it’s someone else’s birthday. They sang for Ainslie instead." He shifts his bag higher on his back. “Is Logan coming over soon? I want to tell him about a new recipe I'm working on. "
I swallow as we round the corner to our street. It’s been a long time since I broke things off with someone. When Blake and I split up, Rory was too small to have an opinion.
"Honey, I don’t think we’re going to be seeing as much of Logan as we have been.”
If I thought this would be easier to deal with in the daylight, I was wrong. My entire day at work I was miserable. But I have to be strong for my son. Tonight, when I sink into bed, I’ll let myself wallow.
I dig in my bag for my swipe card, noticing the blinking on my phone and pulling it out at the same time.
Blake: Where are you and Rory? I thought school let out at three or four or something?
Followed by:
Logan: Your ex is at your apartment. Thought you’d want to know.
I frown, confused, as Rory pulls up where the pathway to our door meets the sidewalk.
We’ve officially entered a parallel universe, because Logan and Blake are sitting on my doorstep. Talking.
Logan spots me first, but he’s too far away for me to decipher the expression on his face.
Blake shifts off the step to approach Rory. "Hey, bud. I brought you a present. Meant to get it to you last weekend, but your mom didn’t tell me you’d be visiting."
I ignore the dig as I force my feet to carry me up the walkway as Blake wheels the bike onto the grass in front of the building.
"I remember you liked blue, so I had a blue seat put on it."
Years ago. Rory prefers red now, but I don’t say anything because this is Blake’s version of making amends. I know because it’s accompanied with that puppy dog “look what a good thing I did, give me a medal” expression.
My son reaches for the handles, running a finger along the rubber. "I don't know how to ride.”
Blake lets out a noise of disbelief directed at me. "He doesn't know how to ride a bike?"
"I haven't had time to teach him," I say under my breath.
"I'll teach him."
"Did you bring a helmet?"
"Come on, Kendall."
Rory's standing with one hand on the bike, looking between us.
"Do you want to sit on it?" I ask Rory. "But you can't go anywhere until you have a helmet."
He swings one leg over and toes it forward a few steps. Blake lifts the kickstand as I say, "In the sand. Feet on the ground."
Rory proceeds to walk the thing around the tiny playground next to our building while Blake looks on with pride.
As much as I’d love to deny ever feeling the same way as Blake, we have a kid together, and a past.
I turn to Logan. “Hey. Thank you for the text.”
“I’m guessing from your face you didn’t know he was coming.”
I shake my head. “Can you give us five minutes?"
Logan shoots me a hard look but crosses to the swing set and sinks into a swing. I turn back to my ex.
“I said you could come tomorrow.”
“I’m working tomorrow. You want me to leave?” he hitches a thumb toward the road.
I really want to say yes.
"I’m not trying to cut Rory out of your life. I’m also not going to stand by while you raise his expectations and then undercut them. If you moved back to Orange for… whatever reason, that’s on you. But I won’t try to prevent you from seeing your son.”
Blake studies me for a moment, looking genuinely confused. “So, why’re you looking at me like I screwed up?”
“I wish you’d let me know. So we could plan."
"Well, you can plan for next time. Your parents mentioned a talent show in a couple weeks. I'll drive up with them," he says.
"The tickets are sold out." For once, I'm grateful for Nadine.
"I can stand in the back. Now, I gotta go.”
“What? I said you could stay!”
“I know, but I can’t. I made plans with friends for dinner tonight.” He flashes the smile I used to find charming. “But I'll see you at the talent show. And Kendall? Take some good pictures of Rory with the bike.”
Before I can come up with a response, he takes off. I watch him go, wondering how I ever found him so charming I couldn’t think straight.
I head to the swings and drop onto the one next to Logan.
We sit in silence for a moment before he speaks. “He’s shorter than I figured.”
I can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out even as tears burn the backs of my eyes. My fingers grip the chains until they hurt.
"I came to apologize for yesterday,” Logan says, his voice rough.
"You don’t have to apologize. You bought us dinner, and you weren’t even there."
“The money’s not the point.”
“No, it’s not,” I say softly.
“You rea
lly don’t think this could work, huh?” Logan’s raw voice scrapes at my heart.
“You have no idea how much I want to say yes. If this were happening a few years ago, and if it was just about me… maybe,” I say honestly. "Most of the world does whatever they want on Rory’s birthday. But I'm his mom, and to me, that day's all about him. And someone who wants to be in my life has to do that too. He's everything to me."
I lean back, my hands gripping the chains and my eyes never leaving my son as he gets off the bike and proceeds to look at the gears instead.
"He's not everything."
My gaze cuts to Logan, his beautiful hands playing with the swing chain as he stares me down.
"You have wants and needs. It's admirable what you do for your kid, and I can't pretend to know what it's like to be a parent, but don't hide behind your choices."
"What are you talking about?"
"Blake said a few things about how you split up." Ice forms in my stomach. "I don't know if they're true, but I'd like to hear from you what happened."
I watch my kid. It's hard to believe he's nine. It feels like days ago in some ways and a lifetime ago in others. I was young and immature and full of hope and blind faith.
"I had this idea of how life would be,” I tell Logan at last. “I wanted to fall in love with someone I was meant to be with. Blake and I were teenagers, with overblown emotions and hormones and all these expectations from our families and our church… He was the embodiment of everything I wanted. And though looking back, I realize I gave in to temptation, at the time? It felt like what I was meant to do.
“When we got pregnant, it felt like all we had was one another. But we decided to get married, both because it seemed sensible and because it relieved our families. We both had dreams, though Blake’s were about traveling all over the country and mine were about having a career.
“I made sure we talked about all of it, and he said he understood my need to be my own person. I wanted to have my own skillsets, my own income. Not because I wanted to spend money on myself, but because I liked feeling self-sufficient.”
I can still feel the hope that girl had. The hum of excitement that everything would work out as it was meant to.
"After Rory was born, I stayed home with him while Blake was working a lot. Six months in, I raised the idea of me taking business classes. We didn't have a lot of income, but I said my parents could help look after Rory. Blake did a one-eighty and said wanted me to stay home and raise our son.” I trace my toe in the sand as I think about the way he looked at me as if I was crazy. "For a while, I tried to go with it. I know Blake gave things up to be with me, opportunities at work. I thought if I tried hard enough, maybe it would be okay.
“But over time, I realized Blake giving up opportunities had nothing to do with me. He didn’t want to change, or take more training, or work more hours in the short term in exchange for something bigger long term.
"I knew I had to do something. That left to his own devices, Blake wouldn’t be able to take care of us. So, I started figuring things out on my own. My parents had said they’d take Rory, but that was more in theory than in practice. They love him, but they were busy with church activities or running around for my brothers. So, I found a babysitter while I took an online class at community college.
“Blake found out, and we argued. But then he told my parents, and everyone at church, that I was a bad mother. Over the next year while I was taking classes toward a diploma in marketing, he acted like I was deceptive. Like I'd trapped him even though we’d talked about me working from the beginning.
“It all came to a head when he got offered a job in Colorado. It was the same level he was at, with a company that was already on shaky ground. But he’d always wanted to travel there.
“I’d been doing some research, taking interviews. I was offered a job in marketing in New York. It paid more than Blake’s job, which infuriated him. I knew I had to make a decision." I swallow as I lift my gaze to find Logan watching me. "I left him and took Rory with me. My dad and the church, they all took his side. I was the black sheep, the one who’d turned my back on them. A bad wife. A bad mother." I take a steadying breath.
Logan’s gaze cuts to Rory still walking the bike around.
"I'm sorry Blake didn’t hold up his end of the bargain. And that the people who raised you rejected you."
"I got over it," I say softly.
"You didn’t.” My back stiffens at his easy response. “You're not over it, or you wouldn't be hiding who you are. You wouldn't be afraid to live how you want.” Logan stands, reaching into his pocket, and holds something out as he stops in front of me. "Are you afraid I'll let you down? Or are you afraid of what they'll say if I do?"
My hands grip the chains as I shift out of the swing to stand, my feet slipping in the sand.
"I'll do the best I can, Kendall. But you have to give me that chance." Logan drops his mouth to mine. It's gone the second I register the feel of his warm, familiar lips.
When I blink my eyes open, he's half a dozen steps away, and my hand is closed around a piece of plastic.
28
Three sets of eyes look up as I enter the penthouse at the Charlotte, and the laughter falls silent.
"Surprised to see you, Hunter. Monty figured you wouldn't make it," Tanner comments.
"It's poker night." I grab the unused Herman Miller task chair from the office portion of the suite and drag it to the table in the living room. My back sinks into the mesh.
"You missed last week. And the week before.”
"Last week we had a private game. Hunter's been licking his wounds." Nellie moves his chips around the table, and I feel my jaw tic.
Last week. The day everything went to shit. The day I made a play to avoid losing something…
And wound up losing everything.
My stomach feels raw, my muscles aching for no good reason.
"Finish your hand," I grind out because they're still staring. They finish playing, and I glance around the room. "What're we doing up here?"
"Parents are renovating the basement. Not up to standards anymore, apparently. Dad got back from touring hotel properties in Japan. Said you could eat off the laundry room tile."
"Is he buying more hotels?" Monty asks.
Nellie nods. "Building an empire."
"Making up for his tiny dick," Tanner decides. "Must run in the family."
I go to grab a beer, still half listening.
"Models in the Riviera didn't have a problem with my dick." Nellie raises the bet. "I'm sure they would've put up with yours too, Hunter, if you'd bothered to show."
I don't rise to the bait. "Maybe next year."
He cocks his head. "Who the fuck are you lately?"
Three sets of eyes stare at me.
I can’t remember the last time my fist connected with some guy’s face, but I swear if someone picks a fight with me tonight, I'm up for it.
Monty shifts in his seat, rubbing his jaw. "Hunter. You’re drinking Heineken."
I stare at the bottle in my hand.
It's not my friends' fault. They're just in the crossfire.
It's been more than a week since I went to see Kendall. We haven’t seen one another since.
I set the beer on the table with a clunk as Nellie nods at the chips. "I'll deal you in."
He does, and we play a couple hands. Then he's betting big, ratcheting up.
"You can't top my hand," Nellie taunts.
I glance at my cards. Toss in a stack of chips. And win.
"Shit. That's the biggest pot in weeks," Tanner whistles.
I ignore him, and Nellie sneers. "Don't you want your chips?"
I sweep the chips right off the table, then send my chair rolling across the carpet as I stalk toward the kitchen. It's all slate and wood, and I remember thinking last year of redoing my kitchen to look like this one. Now, I couldn't care less.
I grab a beer and pick at the label, tearing a strip off it as if
it'll fix what I'm feeling right now. Because I haven't felt like this ever.
The past two months with Kendall, I’ve found something I didn't know I was looking for. Something I hadn't found in years of traveling the world.
I'd lay down everything I fucking have for her, everything I am.
But she doesn’t want it.
Knowing that makes my bones ache.
"Logan. What's going on?" Monty grabs a Hunter’s Cross from the fridge.
"Not in the mood for cards."
“If this is about the bet, you’ve done everything you can to make sure Nellie’ll lose. Short of reneging, which I’d do in a heartbeat. You were always stubborn when you got it in your head to do something. Even had my back when I got into trouble freshman year on the basketball team."
I drop the beer and the torn label on the counter. "Got a two-game suspension."
"And when I missed an exam, who sweet-talked the TA into letting me rewrite it late?"
"I fucked the TA."
He blinks. "Seriously?"
"I don't remember. Maybe." I smudge a finger along the stainless fridge. "I never even liked this penthouse. The layout's weird. Who puts a sink in the island?"
I shove my hands through my hair.
In the days since I walked away from Kendall, I’ve only heard from her about the bet. She's emailed a few updates on the campaign and final budget numbers for approval. I told her to spend whatever she needs to finish this thing.
It's twisted because I feel like shit about her, but I can't even dwell on it because my work's not done. If this is what it feels like to be normal—to work and have responsibilities—it sucks ass.
"I know what's at stake here. My grandmother will hate me. You will. We'll lose the wealth my family built, that I never worked for or deserved in the first place."
His eyes flash. "I wouldn't go that far—"
"But when I walk in the door at the end of the day? The bet barely makes my short list of problems because Kendall and I are done.”
The words are out before I decide to say them.
Monty looks past me toward the other room as he leans a hip on the slate counter. For once, I know he’s not thinking about work. “I’m sorry.”