by Max Monroe
Rocky: I can’t talk right now. I’m in a meeting, and I really shouldn’t be texting either, but I couldn’t let this wait.
Me: I understand. Maybe we should just talk when you’re done today.
Rocky: No. I need to get it out now.
I wait as she types more, but never in a million years would I have expected the message that comes. If I’d been able to, I would have coated myself in Teflon and shatterproof glass.
Rocky: You should go back to New York. To your life. To your friends. Things are just too complicated here, and as much as I respect you and care about you as a person, I just don’t think we’ve thought all of this through enough. I think we had the right idea when we were just trying to be dedicated co-parents.
What? No. That doesn’t even make sense.
My hands shake as I type out another message.
Me: You can’t just decide this without us really talking, Rocky. I want a say in this. A chance to prove to you how good we are together.
But her far-too-quick response does nothing for the deep-rooted ache in my chest and gnawing pit in my stomach.
Rocky: I don’t want you to stay in LA anymore, Harrison. We had a good time while it lasted, but your being here just makes everything more stressful. I can’t handle another person trying to make decisions in my life. You told me to stand up for myself, and that’s what I’m doing. Go back to New York. I promise to keep you involved in the baby’s life.
Go back to New York? My being here makes everything more stressful?
It’s all such bullshit.
You know what? Fuck that! All this time together, and all I’m supposed to get is a text message goodbye? There’s no way in hell I’m going to let that happen.
Me: I’m not leaving until I talk to you in person.
I stare down at my phone, waiting for another response, but it doesn’t come.
One minute. Two minutes. Ten fucking minutes go by and nothing.
What the fuck.
I check the time and see it’s quarter till six, and I start to create a plan in my head.
Rocky had to go to set early today, and being well acquainted with her normal shooting schedule, I know she should be back home by nine, ten at the very latest.
I’m just going to have to wait this out for a few more hours because no fucking way will I let shit end like this.
Raquel
Even food isn’t bringing me joy today.
“Raquel, honey, it’s Toby. Are you okay?” a voice calls from the other side of my trailer, and I sigh.
“I’m fine,” I say and swipe at the tears slipping down my cheeks. “Just need a moment.”
“Can I get you anything?”
“Nope. I’m good. Thanks.”
Footsteps shuffle away from the outside of my trailer, and my shoulders sag farther into the couch.
What should be a glorious dinnertime experience is me, locked inside my trailer, wishing I would’ve snagged my phone from Heidi before I snuck off on my own for a few blessed moments of alone time between takes. Well, I didn’t so much as sneak off on my own… More like I shouted at my manager, the crew, pretty much everyone on set that I would be taking my dinner break alone, without any interruptions.
Call me a diva; I don’t care. Between all these freaking hormones flowing around inside my blood and the extended work hours my director added to the schedule and the whole messy argument with Harrison that has yet to be solved, and I am done with this fucking day.
I just want to go home.
I just want to see him.
The stupid plate of food that sits on the small table in front of me holds no appeal, which says a lot. Generally speaking, breakfast, lunch, dinner, snack time, any-freaking-meal time, usually has my big, preggo self damn near drooling with excitement.
But, no. Fuck the food.
I just want to talk to Harrison.
I also would really love it if I could stop crying.
God, these stupid hormones.
The thick emotion has been clogging my throat for the past few hours, and it’s taken a Herculean effort to swallow it down and stay focused on set.
But the moment Max told everyone it was time to take a short break for dinner and I screamed my need for peace and quiet, I all but hauled ass to my trailer so I could release all of this pent-up emotion that’s been building inside me.
The instant I stepped into my trailer and locked the door behind me, I just fucking lost it.
Loud, choking, uncontrollable sobs escaped my lungs for god knows how long, and now, I’ve reached the point where the wails have lessened but the tears just keep slipping down my cheeks.
Three soft knocks to my trailer door fill my ears, and I scowl.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Raquel, it’s Wilson. Max wants to know if you’re okay with the dress for the next scene.”
“Yes, I’m fine with it,” I say through clenched teeth. “I thought we already made that clear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Wilson,” I all but spit back. “It’s fine. I already fucking told Max it was fine. Now, leave me be, okay?”
“Okay. Well, can I get you anything?”
Oh, sweet Lucifer, go away!
I inhale a deep breath and try to make myself calm down before I respond.
Just count to three and calm down. Shouting at everyone isn’t doing you or the baby any good.
Only when I feel like I have my anger reined in do I respond. “Nope. I’m fine. Just need a few minutes of peace and quiet before we start shooting the rest of the scene. So, please, spread the word. I don’t want to be bothered right now.”
Silence follows my words, and then, the glorious sound of footsteps walking away from my trailer fills my ears again. Thank everything.
God, how I wish Harrison were here. He’d know how to help me stay calm. He’d know how to help me work through all of this freaking anxiety and frustration and anger and sadness and whatever else that’s commandeered my bloodstream.
Yeah, but you basically told him to fuck off last night, and now he’s not talking to you.
Ugh.
Deep down, I know I’m probably being irrational. I know my pregnancy hormones are most likely just amping everything up, but I can’t seem to stop feeling unsettled and worried and scared.
I don’t know why he didn’t want to talk to me today or why he didn’t want to stop by the set this afternoon, but I also know the kind of man Harrison is. The kind of man he’s been to me. And that man, well, he would probably have a good reason why he didn’t come to set today. You know, like work or something equally important. A reason that he’ll tell me later, when we finally get a chance to talk.
I sure hope you’re right.
I sag farther into the couch and lean my head back and shut my eyes.
If I just rest here for a little bit, I’ll be able to go back out there and get these next two scenes done in a hurry. And the sooner shooting is done for the day, the sooner I can—
“Hello? Raquel?”
My eyes pop open when more knocks to my trailer door echo inside the room.
“It’s Toby,” the very unwelcome visitor announces. “When do you think you’re going to be done with your alone time?”
Oh, what the hell?
“I will be done a hell of a lot sooner if everyone would stop fucking bothering me.”
“So, like, fifteen minutes?”
Why does it feel like everyone and their freaking mother wants something from me right now? Max gave the entire crew forty-five minutes for a dinner break, and by my calculations, that means I have another thirty minutes to go.
“Toby, go away.”
“Twenty minutes?”
“Go away!” I yell. “I told you I don’t want to be bothered right now.”
“But Heidi wants to know when you’ll be ready for another makeup and hair fix. How about I just send in Alejo and Roberta now, and they can do that while—”
“No,” I answer before he even finishes the question. “I asked you to leave. So, leave!”
Unfortunately for me and my sanity, silence does not fill the space after my words.
“Okay…well… Can I get you anything before I go?”
How hard is this to understand? I mean…hell.
“Please just go.” A deep, heavy, exasperated sigh escapes my lungs. “I asked you to go. That’s what I need right now, okay?”
“Oh, okay. Well, let me know if that changes.”
And then, like the skies open up and the heavens shine down upon me…silence.
I shut my eyes again, resting my head on the couch, hopeful that I’ll be able to sneak in a little nap during this break.
But sleep never comes.
How can it, though, when everything in my life feels like a fucking mess?
Harrison
I am officially the world’s most impatient man.
When only the light of the moon shines through the windows of my apartment and I see it’s half past ten, I throw in the fucking patience towel.
I feel like I’ve been holding my breath for the past several hours, waiting for Rocky to reach out to me, but nothing ever came. I even tried to call her again and again and again…a total of five times since she sent her last text early this afternoon, but she never answered her phone.
Fuck. I can’t take this anymore.
Finally fed up, I take the elevator up to her apartment and lift my hand to knock on the door when Heidi opens it right out from under my fist.
“Step aside,” I say. “I need to talk to Raquel.”
Heidi’s face is stern, as always, but it’s not malicious toward me for perhaps the first time since I met her. Instead, she looks semi-contrite. “I tried, but she doesn’t want to talk to you.” She shrugs. “I think the best thing you can do is give her some time. You know how hormones can be. Give her a couple of days to cool down. Try calling her then.”
“I need to see her, okay?”
Heidi sighs. “All right. Try for yourself. But don’t tell me I didn’t warn you.”
I breathe a sigh of relief as she steps aside to let me in, and I go immediately to Rocky’s bedroom door. I try the knob, but it’s locked, so I settle for talking through the door.
“Rocky? It’s me. Please, we need to talk.”
“Go away!” she yells. “I told you I don’t want to be bothered right now.”
“Fine. But I’m going to stay right outside this door until you talk to me.”
“No,” she says back swiftly. “I asked you to leave. Leave!”
“Rock,” I say softly, my heart breaking. “Please.”
“Please just go. I asked you to go. That’s what I need right now, okay?”
I chew on my lips and choke back tears as I step away from the door with a nod. I guess it doesn’t matter what I want or how hard I try.
The decision has already been made.
Raquel Weaver is done with me, and it’s time I got the memo.
My walk is swift as I head straight for the front door. Heidi calls out behind me, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Everything was perfect forty-eight hours ago, and now it’s all gone.
And as soon as I can pack a bag, I’ll be gone too.
The only luck on my side in this scenario is that being the CFO of one of the biggest companies in the world makes it pretty fucking easy to get a flight whenever I want.
Yeah. Some luck. You get to head back to New York with nothing but a hole in your fucking chest.
Raquel
I am tired, my body weighs exactly one million pounds, but I refuse for this night to be over yet before I do the one thing that’s been weighing on my mind and my heart. I need to talk to Harrison.
After a long day on set, I finally drag my used-up carcass into my apartment building at two-thirty in the morning, nearly twenty-four hours after I left.
It’s late, horrendously so, but I can’t help but stop by Harrison’s apartment on the off chance he’ll be willing to talk. Other than the time I spent on set, when I had to get into character and focus on a scene, I’ve been thinking about him. I’ve replayed our disastrous conversation from yesterday over and over again inside my head.
And every time I got an opportunity today, I checked to see if he’d called or texted, but nothing. But I understand. If he needed some time to heal after the way I discounted the decision we’d made together about the exploitation of our baby, I should give it to him. I never should have wavered, no matter what Heidi threatened me with as a consequence, and I definitely shouldn’t have taken my anger out on Harrison.
But the world doesn’t feel right anymore without him at my side, and while I’ve tried to give him some space today after finding out he didn’t want to come on set or talk to me, I can’t do it any longer.
I just need to see him.
I knock feverishly on the door, bouncing on my tired toes and waiting. Waiting for him to hear me and come to the door, so we can put it all behind us.
I knock again, harder this time, but an answer never comes.
I take out my phone, find his name in my contacts, and hit call.
Fuck it. Who cares if it’s the middle of the night? I have to talk to him. But the moment I put the phone to my ear, a message plays. “We’re sorry. The number you’ve dialed is temporarily out of service. Please try again later.”
What? No. That can’t be right.
I try again and again, what feels like a thousand times of me demon dialing his number and hoping for a different outcome, but each time, I get the same sad message.
I have no how idea how much time has passed, how long I’ve been standing outside his apartment alternating between banging on his door and trying to call him, but eventually, there’s nothing else I can do but leave.
Tears fall as I walk to the elevator and take it up to my apartment. Freddie opens the door as I approach, but I can’t even muster a ”thank you” as I step inside to the dark loneliness.
It’s ironic, really, since people flurry around everywhere doing God knows what at this hour of the night. But I’ve never, ever felt this alone in my entire life. Not even when my parents and my brother, Luca, all left me behind.
Heidi stands from the couch and pulls me into her arms, showing me the first form of real affection I’ve had from anyone but Harrison in the last eight years of my life.
She hugs me tight, stroking my hair like I imagine a real mother might do.
“Oh, Raquel. I’m sorry.”
I shake my head against the pain and let the tears fall down my cheeks unchecked.
“He came here earlier.”
I jerk back quickly. “He did?”
She nods solemnly. “Just to say that he was leaving.”
“Leaving?” I question brokenly. “For good?”
Eyes full of pain and hands rubbing comfortingly up and down my arms, Heidi nods. And my world falls apart.
He’s been the one stable thing in my life since…well, forever.
He’s been there for me in a way that no one ever has. Not my parents, not my brother, not my team, and maybe most shamefully, not even myself.
I thought this baby would be one of the hardest things to deal with. I didn’t know how I would manage all the turmoil it brought to my life.
I never expected it would bring so much peace. But it did.
It brought me Harrison Hughes.
And I’m the idiot who pushed him away. Again.
The morning of August 16th, 7:30 a.m.
Raquel
Two orgasms from a real, live man with a Lion King penis and the kindest green eyes I’ve ever seen.
My freshly clean clothes feel warm as I pull them gingerly over my electrified skin.
Two orgasms, and a virgin I am no more.
On a night when I didn’t expect any at all.
Guilt niggles at me slightly as I start to comprehend the lies I told him—or committed by omission.
Good going, Raquel.
Not only did I leave out the fact that I’m a virgin, I actually implied I was on birth control when I am not. Granted, I’m a day shy of starting my period—at the very end of my mostly reliable cycle—and nowhere in the neighborhood of when I should be ovulating, but I still lied.
It’s freaking terrible, but I can only claim insanity fueled by the needs of a desperate woman. A woman trapped by her life and her circumstances with no way out. I couldn’t stop, not even for the drawer without condoms, and I wouldn’t change it even if I had the chance now.
This was what I needed—I actually feel free.
It’d just be better if I had a completely clean conscience when it comes to a really great guy.
A guy I know I’ll never be able to see in this way again.
Because for as much of a good time as I had, the perfect storm only happens once. I’ll never get away from my team, go about my night without being outed or discovered, or have the desperate drive of a publicly ridiculed virgin fueling me.
I move around his bedroom with ease to the pile of my clean stuff that he left and slip on my socks and shoes before sitting down on the bed and fingering the purity ring on my finger. I slip it off and drop it into the hollow of my palm.
It feels weighty in my hand, as if the expectations of my parents when they gave it to me are physically attached to it.
I set it down on the surface of the nightstand as a test, and everything they thrust upon me lifts away again.
I nod. The ring is staying.
I don’t want it, and I don’t need it.
And maybe, just maybe, when Harrison sees it at some point in the future, he’ll think of me and the perfect night we had together.
Resolute in my decision, I stand from his bed and make my way down the hall to his living room without looking back.