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The Rivals

Page 101

by Allen , Dylan


  She stifles a yawn and moans softly. “Can we talk about this later? I feel like garbage and my kids will be home in a few hours.”

  I yawn, too and slide down to lay beside her. “No complaints, I’ve been up all night.” She curls around me, draping one of her shapely legs over my hip, and resting her chest on mine. I cup her head and stroke the thick tangle of curls. I can’t believe we’re here.

  Just like that.

  “Sleep. Then food. And I’d love to meet your kids.” I let my eyes drift closed.

  “Okay.” She tilts her head downward.

  “You’re stretching out my socks,” she grumbles.

  I crack an eye open and the smile on her face is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

  “I can’t sleep barefoot. My toes get cold.”

  Her chuckle is the last thing I hear before I drift off.

  Chapter 57

  So Domestic

  Regan

  “Mommyyyyy, catch me,” Henri shouts at the same time he launches himself up into my arms. I catch him, but stagger to stay upright when Martinez wraps his arms around my legs.

  “Did you miss me or something?” I ask, delighted by their warm hugs and the weight of their small bodies melding with mine. I hitch Henri on my hip and take Martinez’s and turn to smile at Eva.

  “Hi, angel.” I blow her a kiss.

  “Hi, I guess I’ll get the bags,” she grumbles, but with a smile on her face. I lean down to drop a kiss on her cheek. She smells like chlorine and sunscreen. Eva climbs back into the car to get her brothers’ backpacks, and my mother hops down.

  “You let them go swimming already, you’re getting soft.” I raise an eyebrow at my mother’s mock disapproval.

  She shrugs. “They’re much nicer than you were.” She smiles and walks past our huddle toward the house. I pivot and rush after her as fast my clinging children will allow.

  “Are you coming in?” I ask, when I catch up.

  She glances at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Don’t I always?”

  “Wait. I want to tell you someth—”

  “Qui est cet homme?" Martinez digs his heels enough, to bring me to a halt, and I follow the trajectory of the finger he’s pointing, and even though this isn’t going according to plan, I can’t help but smile.

  Stone stands in the doorway freshly showered and dressed in the same jeans and shirt he was wearing last night, looking like a dream come true.

  “I see,” my mother drawls, and looks at me with arched brows.

  “C'est un ami et il voulait vous rencontrer tous,” I explain to wide-eyed Martinez.

  “You made a new friend?” Henri shrieks at my explanation, jumps down from my hip and strides up the walk. “I am Henri Landel. I’m the oldest boy in my family.” He extends his hand for Stone to shake.

  For all his earlier talk about being nervous, he looks as relaxed as ever. He grins down at my son, “Hello, I’m Stone Rivers. I’m the second oldest boy in my family. Very nice to meet you.” He drops to his knee so they’re almost eye level and they shake hands.

  “Mom?” Eva calls, tentatively from behind me and I turn to face her, Martinez still clinging to my leg.

  “Are you okay?” I ask when she just stares at me.

  “Is that…your boyfriend?” she mouths.

  “Women your mother’s age don’t have boyfriends,” my mother answers loudly and I give her an exasperated glance.

  A flushing Eva makes her way toward the door and Stone stands and meets her halfway. “Can I help you with your bags?” he asks.

  She cocks her head and considers him, “Would you offer to help if I was a boy?”

  “Eva!” My mother chides.

  Eva’s undaunted, “Well?”

  Stone nods. “Absolutely,” he confirms.

  “Okay. That’s good. And thanks, but I got it.” She turns around to give me an inconspicuous thumbs up. I drop my head into my hands and laugh. This couldn’t be any more wonderful if I’d planned it.

  “Well, let’s take this little party inside, shall we?” my mother says and starts to herd up toward the open front door.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I came out here because I just called in to work. I’m sorry,” Stone grimaces.

  We planned on me bringing the kids in, introducing him and having lunch together.

  But Martinez’s grip hasn’t eased, and I think maybe it’s for the best.

  “Maybe come back for dinner?” I ask.

  “Yes, I’ll cook,” my mother chimes in.

  He smiles at her like she just offered him a pot of gold. “I can’t wait.”

  Chapter 58

  Make it Official

  Stone

  LATER THAT EVENING.

  I slip out of bed and drop a kiss on her head and leave an invitation to the hospital’s biggest fundraiser of the year by her bedside along with a note.

  Venus,

  I had to go to work and I’ve got shifts every night this week. That’s an invitation to a Rivers Foundation fundraiser. I’d like you to be my date.

  I know it’s more public than you’re ready for. But I’m certain that after dinner with your mother, we’re ready.

  And, I won’t pretend you’re not mine anymore. I know you love me, but love isn’t enough. I need you to trust me, too. It would be fucking awesome to make a life with my soul mate, so I’m praying you’ll choose me over everything else - the fear, the worry. Have faith in us.

  Love, Stone

  * * *

  I walk out of there knowing I’ve put my heart back in her hands.

  What if she decides that as much as she wants me, she wants other things and people more?

  I’d like to think that I’d get on with my life.

  But hell, I don’t want to think about living without my Venus. I’m hers. Body and soul, heart and mind.

  We could do incredible things together. I can only hope that in the face of this leap of faith I’m asking her to make, she’ll want what’s on the other side more than she fears the fall.

  Chapter 59

  Make Them Stop

  Regan

  After putting it off all week, this afternoon, I gathered my kids to tell them that Stone was more than a friend.

  He’s picking me up tonight, and I wanted them to understand before he arrived.

  They were all happy. He’s been over a few times this week. And, he’s even working on his French and has won Martinez over. Henri likes him because he’s tall enough to climb. Eva likes him, because he likes me.

  I reassured them that he wouldn’t be trying to replace their father. We also talked about how they felt about their father and I not being married anymore.

  Because we’ve lived apart for so long, they’re used to the long stretches of him being gone. Eva is still not speaking to him, and I can’t say I blame her. But I also encouraged her to try talking to him. She said, “You first.”

  So, I called Marcel, and all four of us had a civil, somewhat stilted conversation.

  What he did was so wrong, but he’s not a monster. He’s just living proof that marriage isn’t for everyone. And despite his failings as a husband, I know he loves his kids. I don’t want them to have hang ups about love or to look at their parents’ less than stellar track record and think that it had any bearing on them. By the time we were done talking, we all felt better.

  But I saved the most difficult conversation for the last possible moment.

  “Okay, guys, time for bed,” I say, and wait for them to get their grumble out before I shoo them upstairs.

  “Eva, can you wait, please? I want to talk to you,” I call after her, and pat the spot next to me on the small sofa.

  “Okay,” she bounds back, smiling, because she loves when she gets to hear things her brothers are too little to.

  My stomach cramps, as I watch her walk toward me. What would I do if someone hurt her the way I was hurt? I hope that by telling her, she’ll make better choices and understand that sile
nce and secrets don’t do anything but fester and make us sick.

  This week has been a watershed. Besides agreeing to go with Stone to his event, I finally told my brothers about the podcast and then about what happened. They were both devastated and so angry at Pops when they heard the role he played in all of it.

  But even as I help them navigate their anger, grief, and guilt, them knowing isn’t a burden. In fact, it’s lightened the one I’ve been holding.

  If I can use my considerable platform to shed light on the plague of sex trafficking that’s part of Houston’s underbelly, maybe I can do some good.

  So, I’ve decided to come out on The Jezebel, to say my name with pride. I want people to understand that anyone can become a victim of it, but that it doesn’t have to ruin your life, And I want my daughter to be the first to know.

  I won’t let her listen to the podcast.

  It’s for audiences 17+, but I’m also very aware that the girls who are affected are much younger. But at eleven years old and on the cusp of young adulthood, I decided to just give her a very broad overview of what happened.

  “So, I want to tell you a story of something that happened when I was nineteen. I promised when you were born that I wouldn’t ever lie to you. That I would protect you with my very life, and I meant it.”

  Her light amber eyes grow wide. “Mom, you’re scaring me.”

  My heart thuds and my gut knots, but I smile and take her hand. “I don’t ever want you to be afraid. But I also want you to know that fear is normal. If you’re scared, just remember that darkness exists so that we can see the light, okay?” I tell her.

  She nods, solemn and brave. My heart swells with love for her. I push my own trepidation to the side and follow my daughter’s lead and let my courage propel me forward.

  “When I was nineteen, I was taken by men, who sell human beings and force them to do things against their will. All sorts of things. I’m fine. I was rescued after only a few days. And I’m very, very lucky that I had a family to fall back on.”

  Her face has turned ashen and her wide eyes are glassy with tears. “Someone sold you, Mommy?” she asks in a small, high pitched voice made thick by the tears she’s holding back.

  “Yes, but I got out and I’m here,” I tried to reassure her, but she had been beside herself.

  “Can they still do that?” She asks.

  “To me, or you? No. They’d have to kill me first, baby. But there are people who still do it, and who hurt other people the way they hurt me,” I say and hold my breath and pray she doesn’t ask for specifics.

  She brushes her tears away and sits up straight. “We have to stop them, Mom. They can’t do that,” she says, her eyes brighten with anger and for the millionth time, I fall head over heels in love with my daughter.

  I pull her into a hug. “No, they can’t. And we will stop them. Or die trying.”

  Chapter 60

  At Last

  Regan

  “I’m so sorry. But she’s still crying. I can’t leave her like this.”

  I hit the little blue arrow and send Stone the very last message I wanted.

  I’m despondent, as the three dots populate and disappear half a dozen times, before a response finally pops up.

  “I understand. I’ll call you when I’m leaving. And don’t take that dress off…you promised me that privilege, and I plan on collecting.”

  Oh, that man…he does things to my heart.

  “Mom? Are you almost done?”

  At the sound of my daughter’s voice, my heart leaps and nerves assail me. I came into my bathroom to text Stone when it seemed like she wasn’t going to calm down any time soon. Someone reposted that picture of me and Stone on Snapchat and tagged her in it. She was devastated and has been sobbing all night. I had just finished getting dressed when she came to show me the post.

  My mother is here, and I know Eva’s going to be fine, but I feel terrible going out when she is so upset.

  With one last peek at my reflection, I turn off the light and step out of my closet.

  Eva is sitting on my bed, her eyes glued to her phone, her fingers flying.

  I smooth the fabric of my dress and clear my throat to get her attention.

  Her head whips up, and I’m startled by the wide smile on her face. “Holy cow, Mom. You look amazing.” Her eyes wide with wonder, her grin one of pure delight. She throws her phone onto the mattress, hops down and rushes toward me.

  “Really? You sure?” I ask out of habit, but I can see the sincere appreciation in her gaze as she looks me over from head to toe.

  “Yes. Stone is going to love it.” She grabs my hands and spins us around.

  I force a smile, as I trot, in my precariously high and narrow heels, to keep up with her.

  She stops spinning and teeters backward to the bed and flops back, lands spread out like a starfish, her hair framing her face like a halo. I flop down next to her, with as much ease as my skin tight mermaid-style dress will allow. We stare at the ceiling, and I try to catch my breath.

  Eva nudges my leg with her toe, and I turn my head to look at her. She’s watching me intently, but the storm has cleared from her eyes, and she’s smiling.

  “Are you okay? Ten minutes ago, you couldn’t even speak,” I remind her, with a skeptical smile. I trace a dried trail of tears over her cheeks.

  “I was sad because I hate them for trying to hurt you. But I’m so proud of you. You are so strong. I know I’m just eleven, but I see you, and I am so glad you’re my mom.”

  Tears sting my eyes. Children love so easily. Even when their parents don’t deserve it. I see now how helpless I was to my grandfather’s whims. It’s not a matter of judgement, we’re wired to crave the approval of our parents.

  “Aren’t you worried about what your friends will say?”

  She looks at me like I just said something ridiculous. “Mommy, rule number one, remember?”

  I laugh out loud, relief and gratitude mingling and swelling into one.

  That’s my daughter. “I’m so proud of you,” I say, with a teary smile and pull her into a hug.

  “Oh good, you’re finished, Tyson’s on his way.” My mother strides into my bedroom.

  I let Eva go and sit up.

  “For what?” I ask, as I scoot to the edge of the bed and stand.

  “When you said you weren’t going out because she was upset, I intervened.”

  “Mother!”

  She shrugs. “Good thing I did, no? You still have time.”

  “I told Stone I wasn’t coming. I glance at my clock and grimace, he’s probably already there.”

  “But I could drive myself, right?” I ask, tentative hope rising.

  “Nonsense, Tyson will drive you. He owes you a few favors. He’ll be here in five minutes.”

  I glance down at my daughter. “You feel okay, babe?” I ask.

  She nods and smiles. “You look too beautiful to stay home,” she urges.

  “Okay.” I shoot them both a nervous grin.

  “You can’t wear that,” my mother says, eyeing my dress with deep disapproval.

  “Why not?” I smooth my hands down the length of my black sequined sheath dress with a mermaid style train that trails behind me.

  “Because it’s something anyone would wear.” She eyes me with displeasure.

  I wrinkle my brow in confusion. “That’s the point.” It’s bad enough that Stone’s dating the most notorious adulteress in Houston. I don’t want to cause any more of a stir tonight than my mere presence will. It would be nice to make a good impression on the people Stone respects so much.

  My mother mimics my confused look and then rolls her eyes in exasperation. “He didn’t fall in love with just anyone. He didn’t invite you so just anyone would show up. He asked you. You should go.”

  The truth about my father coming out, seems to have liberated my mother. She’s not a whole new person, but she’s definitely a whole new kind of parent.

  “Oka
y, I’ll change,” I say, and she starts tugging my zipper down and follows me to the closet.

  Ten minutes later, with both their stamps of approval, I’m on my way.

  “Mom,” Eva calls after me, as I hustle down the stairs. I look up and our eyes meet. “Be happy.” She grins and gives me a thumbs up.

  With those words beneath my wings, I go get my man.

  Chapter 61

  Scarlet

  Stone

  “Holy Mother of God, you do not deserve all of that.” Dare nudges me. I look up from the email I’m drafting under the cover of the tablecloth.

  “Huh?” He’s staring, with rapt attention across the room. Bewildered, I glance at Beau, and find his attention focused in the same direction. In fact, everyone at our table is looking at something and whatever it is, it’s making Hayes’ jaw clench furiously.

  I follow their gaze and then, I understand.

  It’s Regan. The man she’s speaking with points in my direction and she looks up sharply. The distress on her face vanishes and is instantly replaced with a smile that speaks of complete satisfaction. When she steps onto the crowded dance floor, a path clears for her.

  She’s stunning and the meaning of what she’s wearing isn’t lost on me for a single second. Her dress is a scarlet satin with a neckline that plunges to her navel where it knots in a bow before falling all the way to the floor in a curve hugging sea of fabric that shimmers with every step she takes.

  Her hair is pin straight and is scraped back and caught into one long ponytail that I know is going to wrap nice around my fist later.

  Her heart-shaped mouth is painted the same siren red as her dress and the smile that lifts the corners of it grows wider with every step she takes.

 

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