by Lauren Asher
“Please!” He squeezes my neck tighter. “You’re the bestest uncle ever.”
“Thanks. It was a tough competition with myself, but I’m glad I won.”
Chloe giggles and I want to hear more of it.
“So yes?” Marko whines.
“Why don’t you go run around some more?” Go run. Go hide. Go rip grass from the ground like I did when I was your age. Anything to give me an ounce of privacy with Chloe.
“Then I get pukey.” He fake retches.
Chloe’s deep laugh has my dick waking up like it’s time to play.
“Then sit.” I pat the grass. If it worked on me, maybe it’ll work on him.
He moves onto Chloe, crawling into her lap and holding her face with his pudgy hands. “Princess, can you take me? Tickle dragon is grumpy.”
The little shit.
Chloe looks at me with a raised brow. “I don’t want the tickle dragon mad at me.”
“Please.” Marko pouts.
“Fine. We can go.” I exhale.
“Yes!” Marko claps and stands up, offering his hand to Chloe. “You coming?”
Chloe opens her mouth, clearly wanting to reject Marko.
I jump in. “You don’t want to disappoint a four-year-old because they tend to hold grudges. And this little guy is the worst at them. He forced me for an entire week to dress up as Elsa because I didn’t want to watch Frozen with him.”
She chuckles to herself as she packs up the few items she had strewn out on the grass. “Sure. Why not? I don’t have anything else to do tonight.” She rises from the ground with ease.
I make a move to get up before remembering I can’t do it the same way anymore. The vein above my eye throbs as I prep myself.
Fuck. This was a terrible idea. Getting up is way worse than going down.
“Hey.” Chloe bends over, hitting me with two sapphire eyes. “Marko calls you Iron Man, right?”
I raise a brow, ignoring the clenching of my stomach muscles from the fresh wave of nerves. “Yes.”
The scar above her lip twitches as her lips part. “And do you know what makes Iron Man special?”
“His suit?”
She laughs and leans into my ear. The hot air from her mouth sends sparks down my spine. “No. Iron Man is special because he owns who he is, no matter what people think of him. He is unapologetic and people are drawn to him like a magnet. Personally, I don’t care if it takes you a minute or an hour to get up. All that matters is that you do.”
How the hell did life throw this girl in my path? I’m destined to destroy her before she has a chance to get away. She’s too good for the likes of me.
I swallow back the lump in my throat. “Is this your game-day speech?”
“This is my get your head out of your ass speech. I reserve game-day speeches for special occasions like sex marathons and getting out of bed on Sundays.”
My dick is interested in both options with her. Chloe is the perfect blend of sweet and sexy, giving me a hard-on from her presence and words alone.
She moves away from me, taking her warmth with her. Marko asks her to watch him race across the grass, and she walks over to him.
I do what Chloe told me to and push aside the idea of her staring at me. Instead, I focus on the motions of getting up. I grab my prosthetic and cross it over my left leg. Rolling onto my knees, I bring my left foot forward and press it into the ground before standing.
I brush the dirt clinging to my hands. No one pays me any attention, and I enjoy the warmth spreading through my chest at my accomplishment. Instead of my usual hatred toward myself, I feel stronger. Not only because I could get up, but because I found someone whose first instinct isn’t to baby me or avoid talking about my injury. Honestly, it seems like Chloe doesn’t give a shit about it. She treats me as an equal, which is more than I can say about many people. It has me wanting to get to know the real her rather than the lie I created in my head. And I’m not exactly opposed to it anymore.
I can’t tear my eyes away from Chloe licking the chocolate gelato off her spoon.
Why did I think inviting Chloe to this was a good idea? My body is out of control, reacting to anything and everything Chloe does. I shouldn’t find licking a spoon erotic. Clearly, I’ve stooped to new lows during my time in isolation. Lows that include one visit already to the bathroom for me to readjust myself.
It’s not like I’m bringing women back to my house to fuck me. The last time that happened was over a year ago, and the woman only had sex with me out of pity. I could tell by the look in her eyes after I stripped out of my jeans. Rather than remove my leg to be comfortable, I kept it on and went along with the act anyway. The hopeful part of me believed it would make me feel better about myself if I was sexual with someone. It didn’t. I never bothered again after that occasion because I felt worse than I ever have in the bedroom.
By now, I’m practically a born-again virgin. So, yeah, watching Chloe lick her spoon is like viewing live porn for me at this point. Sad but fucking true based on how my dick threatens war against the zipper of my jeans.
Chloe pushes her cup of gelato away, and my cock weeps.
“Well, that was so good. Thank you.” She looks over at me before turning her attention toward Marko. “I loved seeing you again.”
“Will you come tomorrow on the boat?” He bats his lashes in a way I recognize as something Maya did as a kid.
“Oh. I have things to do.”
“What things?” I blurt out.
“Um…work.”
“Where do you work?”
“The coffee shop next to the bakery on the main road.” Her eyes fall to her lap.
“We swim tomorrow. You can come!” Marko demands.
It’s a sad moment to realize my nephew has more pull with women than me and he’s only four. No doubt he will be a real charmer when he’s older.
Chloe’s head snaps up, her eyes searching mine for help.
I shrug. “Saying no to him is exhausting.” Right. “What time do you get out of work?”
“I’m done at noon.”
“Does one o’clock sound good, then?”
“Sure.” Her voice sounds anything but sure, but her face remains calm.
I ask for her phone number, just in case anything comes up. She rattles off the digits before leaving the two of us behind.
“I’ve got to hand it to you, kid. You’ve got your dad’s skills for getting what you want.” I offer him my hand to smack.
“Hell forking yes.” He shoots me a huge smile and slaps my palm.
Hindsight truly is twenty-twenty. Inviting Chloe swimming was a bad idea. The thought kept me up way too late last night after Marko went to bed.
I’ve officially voted my nephew the worst wingman ever. Neither one of us can recognize when our ideas suck, and that’s a deadly combo.
Like an asshole, I text Chloe while she’s at work about postponing our plans because Marko came down with a nasty cold. It’s the oldest trick in the book, but I’m fresh out of ideas. This is the last thing I want to do but I have to. I can’t bear her seeing the real me without any pants or barriers hiding my leg.
No amount of counseling or physical therapy I’ve completed makes the feeling of inadequacy go away. I can’t do it, no matter how much I want to spend time with Chloe.
My stomach sinks as Chloe texts me back.
Chloe the Criminal: Oh no :( Poor guy. What’s he feeling?
Yeah, Santiago, what is he feeling? One look at Marko jumping across couches yelling something about not touching lava makes my chest tighten.
Me: Sore throat and the sniffles.
And a case of bullshit inherited by yours truly.
Chloe the Criminal: No worries. I hope he gets well soon. Maybe we can go another time when he’s feeling better.
I can’t find it in me to respond.
Marko asks me to take him for a walk by the lake. We spend an hour trying to skip rocks across the water. He claps and does
a victory dance when one of his rocks skips across the flat water. It reminds me of Noah and me winning on podiums together, chugging champagne to blasting music.
The memory has my body tensing before I can push it away. I do my best to keep those hidden away but spending time with Marko brings back the oldest ones.
Marko’s voice snaps me out of my daze. “What’s that?”
“What?”
He runs up to a paper bag laying on the ground about twenty feet away.
My mood goes from bad to worse as I walk up to it. I analyze the contents, finding different kid’s medicines and a Tupperware of hot soup. The get-well package lacks a message, but it’s obvious who would bother showing up with one.
Guilt hits me, with my stomach tightening to the point of unease. I tug my phone out of my pants to find a new message.
Chloe the Criminal: Glad to see Marko’s feeling better. Thank God being a lying dick isn’t contagious.
My palms shake as I think up a way to explain myself. To make her understand why I made the decision I did because of my insecurity with myself, not her. I type out my first message, wanting to send something, and buy myself a second to think.
Me: It’s not what you think.
I keep typing. The dots on her side of the message come and go as fast as they appeared in the first place. I don’t have time to send my next response before my phone pings again.
Chloe the Criminal: You’re right because here I was thinking you were someone you clearly aren’t. I should’ve known better the first time you lied about us to your family. Do us both a favor and lose my number.
Me: You don’t understand. Give me a chance to explain.
Chloe the Criminal: Compulsive liars are a hard limit for me. I’ll pass on your offer.
Marko looks at me funny when I groan. All I have done is lie in front of her, around her, with her. Everything we have done together has been a show for someone else. Well, everything but our private conversations and yesterday. That was all us.
Except you’re hiding your true identity, and that’s still a lie.
Me: I’m sorry.
Chloe the Criminal: Sorry. This number is no longer in service. Get a hint like I did and forget I ever existed.
Me: But what if I don’t want to?
I stand by the lake with Marko for another ten minutes, waiting for a reply that never comes. It’s obvious that I fucked up. Period. It doesn’t matter what my reasoning was in the first place.
The worst part about all of this is knowing she’ll never accept me. If this is how she reacted from a small lie, I can’t imagine how she will feel after I tell her I’m actually famous. Or was.
My list of flaws continues to grow while the redeemable parts of myself shrivel into nothing but distant memories.
12
Chloe
“What a dick.” Brooke speaks over the beeping horns of a busy morning in New York. It’s unlike her to call me on her morning walk, but I entertained her since Matteo left the shop already.
“Tell me about it. I can’t believe he would lie about a child being sick. Who even does that?” I swipe the mop across the coffee shop’s floor.
“Someone who’s used to lying to get his way?”
I scrunch my nose. “Ugh. I should have known better.”
“What are you going to do about him then?”
“Well, I’m hoping we never run into each other again.”
“Speaking of running into someone…”
I suck in a breath. “What happened?”
“I ran into your mother.”
“No. When?”
“Yes. She stopped by our apartment again this morning. I didn’t see her when I ran out the door, so I ended up spilling my coffee all over my favorite blouse when our bodies collided.”
I wince, mentally noting that I need to cover Brooke’s dry-cleaning bill. “You’re joking.”
Brooke sighs. “Sadly not. While I stood there, soaked with burning hot coffee, she had the audacity to ask me if you were there. I told her you were in Europe.”
“You what?!”
“Fuck. I knew it was the wrong thing to say.” She groans. “I’m sorry. My bad. But to be fair, I wasn’t thinking straight. All my coffee had landed on my shirt rather than in my mouth.”
I sigh. “You don’t need to apologize to me. She’s not your problem.”
“But I still feel guilty.”
I hate putting Brooke in this position. She shouldn’t have to act as a buffer between my mother and myself, especially when I’m not there to help. “Don’t. Please. She’s the one who was in the wrong. What did she say when you told her I was out of the country?”
“She asked if you were now working as a flight attendant because that’s the only way you could afford to travel.”
“What a bitch.”
“I agree. I told her to fuck off and have a nice day.”
I lean against the counter, brushing my loose hair out of my face. “Should I call her and tell her to stop coming to our place? I don’t want her to bother you while I’m not there.”
“No. Don’t give her any attention. If there is anything I’ve learned from my creepy ex-boyfriends, it’s that attention only reinforces their behavior.”
“Really?”
“Yup. I tested it time and time again. First, they get upset because you aren’t giving them what they want, but eventually they give up and find someone else to harass.”
“And it works?”
“Eventually. It’s not like she can get money from you if you’re not even here.”
“You’re right.”
She laughs. “As per usual.”
“Thank you for dealing with her and putting up with me. How will I ever make it up to you?”
“Find me a husband. All I ask is for someone with a big—”
“Brooke!”
“Heart! A big heart.”
I giggle, erasing any anxiety about my mother. She can’t bother me when I’m thousands of miles away. And in the end, I’m the one who gives people permission to hurt me. Finally, I’m taking my stand against her and leaving that part of my life behind me.
My cell phone rings, startling me awake. I groan as I sit up and grab the phone from its holder. “Hello?”
“Chloe. Thank God you answered. I need your help. Please.” Santiago’s voice comes out as a half growl.
I haven’t bothered answering any of his texts since yesterday’s lake incident. Instead, I ignored his apology like it never happened. Giving him a chance in the first place was a mistake. I should’ve known better with how easily he lied to everyone else in his life. If someone can lie to their own sister, they can lie to anyone.
I hate to admit I enjoyed faking our relationship in front of Maya and Noah. It was fun and I felt like I was part of a family for a solid thirty seconds. But in the end, lying isn’t right and it’s something I avoid at all costs.
Well, lying isn’t something I usually do with anyone but Matteo. But that situation is acceptable. I can’t exactly storm the castle and confess who I am without him knowing me.
Marko cries on the other side of the line, snapping me out of my thoughts.
“Shit.” Santiago groans.
“What’s going on? Is Marko okay?” I throw the covers off my body and stand.
“I need your help because Marko is actually sick this time. I swear I’m not lying. He’s puking his guts up and I don’t know what to do and I desperately need your help. He’s crying for his mom and she’s halfway around the world right now, so you’re the next best thing I can think of right now.”
“Did you give him any fluids?”
“Just water, but he can’t keep anything down.”
Marko’s wails carry through the speaker.
“Fuck, I’ve got to go. I wouldn’t ask this of—”
I ignore the urge to stand him up. It’s what he deserves after what he did to me. But Marko crying out for his mom on the other side of t
he line has me shelving my anger toward Santiago.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
I use the side gate like a normal person this time and enter Santiago’s house. Crying from down the hall guides me to a bedroom on the first floor.
Marko squirms on the mattress. His PJ shirt is a crumpled mess on the floor, covered in vomit.
“Chloe!” Marko cries out the moment he sees me.
Santiago stands by Marko’s side and clutches his hand with a steel grip. He looks over his shoulder, and relief instantly floods his face. “Thank you so much for coming. I’m so grateful that you’re here.”
I push aside the fluttering in my stomach at his sincerity. Pull yourself together, Chloe. This man is bad news. He’s the human equivalent of the newspaper’s obituary section.
“No problem. Let me check him out.” I place my hand on Santiago’s shoulder and give it a squeeze. The muscles tense under my touch.
“Seriously. I owe you. I have no clue how to fix this or how to help.” The wrinkles in Santiago’s forehead lessen. He steps back, giving me some room.
I smile down at Marko. “Hey, little guy.”
“Hi,” Marko rasps, sitting taller.
“What’s up?” I brush his damp hair away from his forehead and press my hand onto it. “At least he doesn’t feel hot. That’s good news.”
“I go bleh.” Marko scrunches his nose.
“I think his fever broke after he threw up the second time.” Santiago’s breath heats my neck, making me shiver.
Chloe, focus on the child, not the hulking figure behind you.
“I miss Mommy. She kisses me better,” Marko mumbles.
“I know. Mommy wishes she could be here, too. Will you drink some water? It might make you feel better.” I grab the plastic bottle off the nightstand and pass it to him.