by Portia Moore
Tiffany shrugs. “Last I saw he was talking to Alex. And trying to start a poker game, unsurprisingly.”
“Men.” Cassandra laughs, waving her hand.
“I’m actually going to go find Alex,” I say quickly, seizing the opportunity to get away from Cassandra. I can’t stand her kindness a second longer; She has no idea who I am, what I’ve done, and I know the nausea in my stomach isn’t just from the champagne. “If I see Mr. Scully, I’ll tell him to find you two.” Mr. Scully. I sound like a fraud just saying it.
I have to find Alex. I don’t know what I’m going to say but I have to find him before Jackson talks to him. I’m scanning the crowd when a hand closes around my wrist and yanks me back, towards the hallway.
It’s Jackson. I pull my wrist out of his grasp, but he motions to a doorway. “Come in here,” he says sharply. “We need to talk.”
We do need to talk. But I don’t want to. I stand as far away from him as I can inside the study that he’s pulled me into. “You didn’t tell me you had a son!” I snap.
“I didn’t think we needed to discuss my kids to have you not sleep with one!” he fires back indignantly.
“I met your wife,” I say crisply, raising my chin and staring him down. He looks away from me briefly. There’s a note of hurt in my voice that I wish wasn’t there. I don’t want Jackson to have the satisfaction of knowing he’s hurt me any more than he does already. I expected anger and resentment. What I didn’t expect is the hurt I see on Jackson’s face, the pain etched over every line of it. He looks miserable and confused. His expression mirrors mine, and it makes this situation all the more terrible.
“Did you do this to get revenge?” Jackson asks quietly, ignoring everything I’ve asked as if I’d never spoken at all.
I stare at him, dumbfounded. Whatever I’d expected him to say, it wasn’t that. “What?” I blink, my voice faltering. “Why on earth would you ask that?”
“Revenge,” he repeats, like I’m a small child that doesn’t understand. “Because I didn’t tell you I was married. Why else would you drag my son into this, if not to get back at me? I would have been hurt to see you dating anyone else, Madison, but my son. How could you do this?”
“I didn’t even know you had a son!” I shout, and his eyes widen.
“Shh!” He steps closer to me, and I flinch. “Keep your voice down,” he pleads.
“You haven’t told Alex?” I ask him desperately.
“No. I don’t know what to say Madison. I didn’t know what to think.”
“I didn’t know he was your son. I would never do that to anyone, least of all you.” I let out a long breath, my heart pounding. “You guys don’t have the same last name. I met Alex’s parents! His mom…and who I thought was his dad. I didn’t know it was his stepfather. He never mentioned having a father named Jackson.” I can see the flash of hurt on his face at not even being mentioned, and it brings me a small, petty moment of joy. He deserves to know what it feels like to find out that he’s second to someone else.
That he’s being hidden. Kept a secret.
“You can’t keep seeing him, now.” Jackson crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes blazing. He’s even more handsome when he’s angry, and I can’t help but notice it. I start to see the resemblance to Alex; how didn’t I see it before? When I met Alex for the second time, the absolute last thing I wanted to think about was Jackson. And the first time, in Miami…there was something familiar about him, like someone I knew in preschool or something.
Now I know what.
Nothing could have ever made me think that the hot bartender flirting with me was the son of the man I was sleeping with, who would have thought his dad was filthy rich. Sons of men like Jackson don’t work in beachfront Miami bars. They go to Harvard and become corporate lawyers or politicians, or at the very least live off their trust fund while sleeping their way through every continent. I guess that sort of was Alex at one point, the Alex before everything went to hell with Holly. I wonder who Alex would become after everything goes to hell with me.
I’m in a tailspin of emotions—love and shame and fear and anger all mixed together—but I know one thing for sure. I’m not giving him up. I love him—and knowing me, I doubt I can ever find that again.
“You can’t tell me who to date.”
“You really think Alex is going to stay in a relationship with you if he finds out about us? And besides, that’s not the only reason you can’t be with him.”
I’m trembling now, I’m so angry. “Alex loves me. We’ve gone through so much already. When I tell him that I didn’t know any of this—that I didn’t know you were married or that he was your son, he’ll believe me. He’ll believe me because I love him. We’re stronger than this.” I desperately want to believe that it’s true. I’m trying to convince myself with every word, because I need it to be true. I need to feel as if Alex and I can walk out of this unscathed. I don’t know if I’ll survive losing him again
“At the restaurant the other night, you said you were in love with someone else.” Jackson’s voice is quiet, pained. “You were talking about Alex.”
“Yes.” I look him dead in the eyes, my face impassive. I don’t want to hurt him but at the same time I don’t care if it does. He hurt me far more than I ever could hurt him. “I was talking about Alex. I didn’t meet you to get back with you, Jackson. I met you to let you know that it was over. Really over. So you’d stop sending flowers and phones and trying to win me over. I don’t care if you’re maybe going to get divorced. I’m done with you.”
“You love me.” I’ve never heard more certainty in his voice before, such need.
I did love him once. But I know, deep down, that what I have with Alex is concrete, special, and alive. Alex has taught me what love is supposed to feel like.
What I had with Jackson is dead.
“And I love you.” His eyes won’t let go of mine and what I thought was dead causes and after shock.
The statement makes my heart flinch, the words cutting through me, causing my chest to tighten and my heart rate to skyrocket.
“No,” I say sharply. “You think you love me. I can’t love you.”
He doesn’t say anything. He only looks at me, sadly, and my pulse flutters in my throat. There was a time when I would have given anything for him to say that he loved me. Now I hope that he doesn’t. I don’t want to think about how he’s feeling now. He shouldn’t be my concern anymore!
My phone rings and I snatch it out of my purse. “Hello?”
Alex’s voice comes through the line. “Madison, where are you? I can’t find you anywhere. I got you a drink from the bar, we should find our seats before they start serving up brunch.”
I try to collect myself as quickly as possible, glaring at Jackson with an expression that I hope clearly says: Be quiet. Don’t give this away. I hate lying, to Alex more than anyone, but right now I don’t see a choice. “I’m just freshening up,” I say quickly. “If you find our seats, I’ll catch up with you in a minute.”
“I can do that.” His voice is happy, cheerful. I can’t bear the thought that I’m going to ruin that. “Love you.”
“I love you too.” My voice is dangerously close to breaking as I hang up the phone. I stuff it back into my purse, and I can feel the cracks starting to form in my heart.
I should have known better.
Love always ends badly.
“We have to tell him,” I say, surprised at the calm surety in my words. “We can’t keep this a secret.”
“You said you can’t love me, not that you don’t,” he says stepping toward me, and I instantly step back.
I stare at him.
“Jackson, look around! We’re at your daughter’s wedding. I’m your son’s date, not only that but his live-in girlfriend. If I did love you, where the hell would we go from here? Your wife is out there!. God I can’t believe you’re even contemplating this. What the hell are you thinking?” I ask frantically, and he loo
ks down at me guiltily.
“I don’t know,” he admits and the sorrow and confusion in his expression is a mirror of what I feel. Minutes pass like an eternity. It feels like we’re on our own island, there’s no food and a gun with one bullet, and both of us want to use it on ourselves. “We don’t tell him,” he finally says, nodding his head as if he’s convincing himself.
“If you don’t love me, then there’s no need for him to know. For anyone to know,” he says, taking a few steps towards me again. I can smell his cologne now, spicy and familiar, and I battle back the wave of nostalgia, memories. I don’t want them. I can’t have them now.
He takes another step closer, his eyes full of longing, and his eyes go to my lips. I know what’s next, what would come next if Alex didn’t exist. “Jackson don’t,” I say weakly, but sternly take a step backwards.
“Did you love me? Could you have?” he asks, and I fight the prickle at the back of my eyes.
“How can you ask me that? In your wife’s house, at your daughter’s engagement brunch, that I’m attending with your son—I knew you had balls, Jackson, but this is something else entirely.” I’m spitting out the words, furious at his audacity, but deep down I know it’s more than that.
The truth is, I can’t answer it.
I’m horrified that I can’t answer it, that I can’t flatly say: No, Jackson, I don’t love you anymore. I don’t feel anything for you. I should be able to say it!
When I met him for dinner, it didn’t matter if I still loved him or not. He was nothing more than an ex, the man who tricked me into being his mistress, who I couldn’t in good conscience go back to. But suddenly it matters because not only is he all of those things, he’s also the man I love without a doubt father.
But I can’t make myself form the words and hiding this from Alex would be wrong. If he ever found out it would destroy us, it could destroy him. Holly broke his heart but this would shatter it. We can’t grow on a lie; this isn’t just a little white one, this is a nuclear bomb of a lie.
“I’ll give you some time to figure it out,” I say quietly, deflecting. “How you would want to handle it, when Alex knows the truth. But we do have to tell him, sooner rather than later. This isn’t a secret we can keep, Jackson. And the longer it takes for us to come clean, the worse it’s going to be for all of us.” I pause. “By the way,” I finish, my voice icy, “your wife is looking for you.”
Jackson’s face is a picture of misery. He looks hopeless, like a man going to his execution, and it hurts to see him this way but I can’t help him figure this out. I’m just as lost as he is and as of now my only loyalty and responsibility is to Alex. I slip out of the room holding on to that fact.
When I find Alex, he’s at a table with three other people—two men and a woman. The woman looks about our age, dressed impeccably in an emerald green satin dress that contrasts beautifully with her tanned skin. A stunning diamond necklace rests on her chest and she has thick dark hair. She’s holding the hand of the man next to her, a very attractive blond dressed in a tailored navy suit, and next to them is a redhead with a cheerful, freckled face, and a suit that’s slightly too big in the shoulders, but it works for him. He looks as if he spends time thinking about anything but the fit of his clothes, and I like him for it already, before we’ve even been introduced.
Alex stands and reaches for me, pulling me to his side. “You got lost babe?” His smile makes me mirror his.
“Oh, I was with Tiffany, and then I got a little lost. This place is massive. But I’m here now!” I brush off his concern, hoping to distract him. One look at him is enough to distract me; he’s changed clothes since Tiffany whisked me off, and he looks better than I possibly could have imagined. He’s wearing a pair of fitted charcoal trousers and a lavender button-down, with a grey paisley tie. There’s a suit jacket thrown over the chair, and though his hair is still messy and his eyes still twinkling mischievously, I suddenly see how he fits in here, in this place, with these people. He looks elegant and sophisticated, and the shift throws me for a loop. This version of Alex is who I expected Jackson’s son to be, but the Alex smile is still there—his eyes lit up, his expression mingled between admiration and desire—and it sends warm sparks over my skin.
He whistles, a low sound among the noise in the room, and shakes his head. “Damn, you look amazing. You’re keeping this dress.” He leans closer, his lips at my ear. “Even though I want to take it off of you right now.”
For a second, Jackson is the furthest thing from my mind. “How fast can we get to the car,” I whisper, with a mischievous grin.
I hear someone at the table clear their voice, and the woman’s voice pipes up. “Aren’t you going to introduce us, Alex? Where are your manners?”
He clears his throat and his wicked grin transforms to a charming smile. “Of course, I’m sorry. Madison, these are my friends from school. Claire, her boyfriend Rick, and Blake.” He gestures towards the three of them. “Guys, this is Madison, my girlfriend.”
I’m his girlfriend.
Commitment has always terrified me, but with Alex, it’s calming. It’s one of the worst cosmic jokes ever, that the one man who makes me want to actually believe in forever is going to be the man, if I’m honest with him, could possibly not want anything to do with me ever again.
We sit down and Claire hits us with a barrage of questions immediately, enough to distract me from my racing thoughts. Where did Alex and I meet? How long have we been together? Are we going to move in together?
“We actually lived together before we dated,” Alex says, laughing. “I knew if I kept her around long enough, she’d eventually give in.”
“You found the only woman in the entire northern half of the country who needed to be convinced to date you,” Blake says, snorting. “Although Alex didn’t always have that kind of luck.”
“Please don’t tell the story that I think you’re going to,” Alex groans, and I lean forward, propping my chin on my hands.
“You have to now,” I say egging him on.
“Well,” Blake begins dramatically, as Rick and Claire watch and stifle giggles, “Alex had his eye on this girl junior year. We all had our eye on her, hell, I think maybe even Claire did, too.”
Claire rolls her eyes with a dramatic playful smile.
“She was stunning, long black hair, tanned, legs for miles. She worked as a lifeguard at the pool in the summer, and we’d go just to get a look at her in that red one-piece. She always wore it hiked up, so you could see the curve of…”
Rick clears his throat. “Maybe not so much detail,” he cautions.
Blake snorts. “Anyway, we were all vying for her attention, but Alex seemed to be getting most of it. She was talking to him one afternoon, and he’s bragging about how athletic he is…”
“I was not athletic at all,” Alex confirms. He’s starting to turn vaguely red, and I’m enjoying it. He’s cute when he’s embarrassed. I feel accepted, and cozy, pulled into the circle of his friends, welcomed without any question.
It feels good.
“She calls him out on it,” Blake continues, “and tells him if he’s so good, he should do a flip into the pool. He says that’s against the rules, and she dares him to do it, if he’s not a pussy.”
“Clearly there’s no worse thing a girl can call a seventeen-year-old boy,” Rick intones dramatically.
“So, Alex does it, of course, because she’s hot, and he’s certainly not a pussy. Except he’s actually as coordinated as my mom’s pregnant house cat…”
“I’ve improved a lot sense then,” Alex mutters and gives me a wink.
“ I can attest to that.” I say flirtatiously and Alex squeezes my waist.
“…and not only does he not finish the flip, he hits his chin on the edge of the pool and bites clean through his lip. There’s blood everywhere, it’s all he can do not to cry, and everyone is laughing their asses off. Suffice it to say, he didn’t get the girl.”
“She w
ent out on one date with me,” Alex corrects him. “But it was definitely a pity date. The only date I’ve never get a kiss on.”
They keep telling stories, and before long we’re all in stitches. I laugh until my sides hurt, and for a few moments I forget all about Jackson and the inevitable cost of what I’ve learned today.
The room is filling up with people, the smell of the brunch buffet stations spreading through the room as we get ready to eat, and I see that Jackson, Cassandra, Tiffany, Phillip, and Phillip’s parents are at the table across from us.
Why do they have to be right there? Jackson glances in my direction, and a cold chill travels down my spine. How am I going to get through this? How can I sit next to Alex, and know I’m lying by omission every second that I don’t spill the truth to him?
As we file up to the buffet, I see Cassandra holding Jackson’s hand, her manicured fingers sliding through his, and I remember the papers he showed me at dinner, the dissolution of marriage that he said he was giving to her. She is either clueless about all of this or a fantastic actress. She’s portraying a woman in love with her husband and he’s playing along, smiling at her, reaching out and kissing her gently as the line stops, and she tips her chin up. Is he pretending with her or was he pretending with me? Who’s the fool? Most likely both of us, and it makes me feel sick—the cheating, the plans for divorce—all things I was a part of. And all I see as I watch Cassandra touch her husband’s cheek and kiss him once again on the lips is a woman whose heart is going to be broken if the truth comes out.
I try to swallow the hot wave of anger as he kisses her again, smiling at something she says, laughing with her. I know how those lips feel on mine, I know the kinds of things that make him smile like that, the jokes that get a laugh like that from him.
Am I jealous?
I can’t be, but all signs point to yes, and I’m both ashamed and confused. I have Alex—I love Alex, I’m happy with him. I don’t want Jackson back…I don’t. But kissing his wife makes me see red?