by M. A. Foster
A boy around ten or so stands between Tyge and me while his father takes a picture with his phone.
“Marry me, Tyge Reynolds!” another woman yells, and I can’t help but laugh. Tyge shoots me a glare, silently telling me to fuck off.
The crowd dissolves, and we take off to my car.
“Yo,” Deacon calls out just as I’m about to climb behind the wheel. “Change of plans. I’ve already called the guys. Cookout at my house. Milana says she won’t take no for an answer.”
Smirking, I shake my head slowly. “Pregnancy is making your wife very bossy.”
“Pregnancy makes my wife a lot of things,” he retorts, wiggling his brows suggestively before climbing into his truck and peeling off.
Last year, I stood as Deacon’s best man when he married my other best friend, Milana, in a very private ceremony. They’re expecting their first child in late November.
I introduced Deacon to Milana a few years ago at another one of my birthday parties, and they hit it off immediately, just as I knew they would. She’s one of those down-to-earth people who will talk to anyone. The woman just loves people. Which is a rarity, because who the fuck loves people? People suck.
I never replied to Milana’s text the night Vanessa left. In fact, I deleted her number with no intention of ever talking to her again. The following summer, I ran into her at a party. Vanessa and I were divorced, and I was there with a date—some public figure whose name I can’t remember—arranged by my agent to help clean up my drunken, manwhore image.
I spotted Milana on the other side of the room, talking to a couple, but her attention was directed on me. A frown tugged at her lips, and a pained expression crossed her features. I felt bad. What happened between Vanessa and me wasn’t her fault, but it was obvious Milana was harboring some guilt. The night Vanessa left, I was angry with Milana for talking to her. She had no right. But as the angry fog cleared, I realized she was just trying to do the right thing. She’d assumed I’d told Vanessa about her, because that’s what I should’ve done. I had no one to blame but myself.
But a crowded party wasn’t the time or place to hash it out with Milana, so I avoided her that night.
A few days later, I went for a run on the beach and saw her out on her deck. I figured it was time to talk, so I jogged up the steps and plopped down in one of her patio chairs.
“Hey,” I said, gasping for breath.
“Hi,” she drawled skeptically.
“I owe you an apology.”
She set down her book and shook her head. “No, Liam, I’m so sorry.” Her voice was shaky. “I saw Cam a couple weeks after my run-in with Vanessa, and he told me she left you. I’ve been so sick over it. I’ve wanted to stop over and apologize, but I was afraid of what you might say. Please believe that I didn’t mean to cause any problems between you and Vanessa.”
“I know. It’s my fault. I should’ve told you I had a girlfriend from the very beginning, and I should’ve told Vanessa about you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about her?”
I shrugged. “I thought you were cool the night we met, and I liked talking to you. You have to understand, I’ve never been friends with a woman I haven’t slept with.” She scoffed. “I was afraid if I told you I had a girlfriend, you’d get all weird about it and wouldn’t want to hang out anymore.”
She barked out a laugh and shook her head again. “Wow. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re an idiot.”
I was an idiot, among other things. Sitting on her deck, I filled her in on everything that happened with Vanessa and the divorce. When the conversation was over, we were back to being friends again. Before long, she’d become one of my best friends.
I’ve been tasked with manning the grill because Deacon can’t cook a decent steak for shit. Halsey’s “Without Me” plays over the outdoor speakers, and a few of my teammates are spread out on the outdoor furniture behind me, talking about the game.
The back door slides open, and Deacon appears in the doorway. “How are those steaks coming?”
I point my bottled water at him. “Go back to boiling your lobsters. I got this.”
Milana squeezes her pregnant belly past her husband, setting an empty tray on the granite countertop beside the grill before wrapping her arms around my middle. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed your face.”
I give her a half hug using the arm holding the water bottle. “I’ve missed you, too.”
“Stacey was asking about you yesterday.”
Stacey is a friend of Milana’s, and a woman I call when I want company. I haven’t called her in months. I was serious about taking a break from women.
“Hmm. What’d you tell her?”
“I told her that you were doing fine, and that if you haven’t called her by now, you’re probably not going to.”
She knows me well.
“So, are you going to put me out of my misery?” I ask, changing the subject.
Tilting her head back, she looks up at me, obviously confused. I nod to her belly. “Am I going to have a niece or a nephew?”
Unhooking her arms from around my waist, she steps back and looks over her shoulder. I follow her line of sight and notice Deacon has disappeared back inside the house. “We’re going to announce it over dinner tonight, so don’t tell Deacon I told you.” I mimic crossing my heart. “It’s a boy.”
Curling an arm around her shoulders, I draw her to my side and kiss the top of her head. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” She gives me a quick squeeze, then backs away. “Now hurry up. I’m starving.”
I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”
Deacon returns just as I’m placing the steaks on the platter. I pass the tongs to Milana as Deacon takes the platter and carries them inside.
I turn off the grill and toss the empty water bottle into the recycle bin. My phone buzzes inside my pocket, so I quickly search for a towel to wipe my hands before fishing it out.
My heart twists in my chest when I see the name on the screen. Tapping the green Accept button, I bring the phone to my ear. “Vanessa?”
“You didn’t wish me happy birthday,” she says by way of greeting. Her voice is soft, just a hint above a whisper. The sadness in her tone hits me like a goddamn dagger to the heart. Her birthday was two days ago, and yesterday would’ve been our five-year wedding anniversary. We eloped in Vegas on her birthday, but technically it was after midnight. Even though we were apart and she never answered, I still called her every year to wish her happy birthday.
I don’t tell her that I had to give my phone to Tyge so I wouldn’t call her this year, because what was the fucking point? She’s engaged to another man.
Tilting my head back, I stare up at the sky and draw in a deep breath, trying to keep my emotions in check. Why does it still hurt so fucking much?
“Liam,” Milana calls out, and I spin around in surprise. “Get that fine ass in here.”
I quickly cover the phone and nod. “I’ll be right there, beautiful.”
Her brows pinch, and a concerned expression crosses her features. “Vanessa,” I mouth, and her eyes widen before she nods and heads back inside with my teammates filing in behind her.
Vanessa mumbles something that sounds like “It figures,” drawing my attention back to her.
“What?” I ask.
“I saw your family tonight at dinner.” There’s something off in her speech. She sounds drunk.
“Who?”
“Max and his family. Willow is so cute. I didn’t know they had another baby.”
“They didn’t.”
“I met Zach, too. That boy is hawt,” she drawls. Yep. She’s drunk. “Jayla’s a lucky girl.”
“You’re in Heritage Bay?” I ask.
“No. Home.”
“Where’s your fiancé?”
“Hmm.” She sighs. “Not here.”
“Vanessa?”
Her answering “Hmm” is barely audible, and I know she’s on
her way to being passed out cold.
“Happy birthday.”
VANESSA
Thump.
“Oh, John….”
I peel my eyes open and blink until the mostly dark room comes into focus. Moonlight filters through the partially closed blinds over the bedroom window. My head is fuzzy, and it takes a minute to register that I’m back in my childhood bedroom. I reach for my phone on the nightstand to check the time, but it’s not there.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The room begins to spin, and my stomach roils. My eyes flutter closed and I take deep breaths, willing myself not to puke.
“Yes, John.”
My brows pinch in confusion. What the…? Is the TV on?
“Oh, yes!”
Is that…?
Are they…?
“Mmm….”
Ohmygod. I jerk upright in my bed and immediately slap a hand over my mouth. Did they forget I’m here? Princess Buttercup whimpers beside me, seemingly annoyed I’ve interrupted her sleep.
No. No, no, no. This is not happening.
“Call me Coach.”
He did not just say that. Kill. Me. Now.
Grabbing a pillow, I place it over my head in an attempt to drown out the sound.
“Mmmm, Coach.”
I can’t.
Kicking furiously at the covers, I attempt to scramble from the bed. Something crashes and skitters across the floor. My foot gets tangled in the sheets, and I fall flat on my face. Yanking my foot free, I push up on my hands and knees and crawl the rest of the way to the connecting bathroom. Using the sink, I pull myself up, swaying on my feet as I fight back the vomit threatening to come up. I brush my hand over the double toggle switch and flip them both up. The sound of the exhaust fan and a bright light flood the bathroom simultaneously. I flinch at the sudden assault on my eyeballs before catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Then I lose the battle with my nausea.
After emptying whatever was left in my stomach, I move to the sink and splash cold water on my face. I catch another glimpse of myself in the mirror and decide I need a shower.
There’s a gentle tap on my bedroom door just before it opens. Princess Buttercup’s tail wags in excitement, shaking the entire bed.
“Vannie,” my dad whispers.
“Hmm.” I peek one eye open.
“You left your purse in my truck.” He drops my clutch on the nightstand. “I’ve got a faculty meeting this morning, so I’ll see you later. There’s a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen.”
“Okay. Thanks, Dad.”
“You’re welcome.” He goes to pull the door closed but pauses.
“What?”
He clears his throat, and I notice a flush of red on his cheeks. “I’m, uh… sorry.”
My brows pinch and I wince. My face hurts. “For what?”
“Last night, Kelly—”
Groaning, I roll over, putting my back to him and pulling a pillow over my head. “Oh my God, Dad. Can you not?”
“Sorry.” He chuckles awkwardly. “I’ll take Princess out before I leave. Come on, girl.” He whistles, and Princess B dives off the bed and follows him.
Tossing the covers back, I slide out of bed and shuffle into the bathroom. I throw my hair in a messy bun on top of my head before brushing my teeth and washing my face. When I step back into my room, Princess B is back on my bed, tail wagging as she watches me move around the room.
I find my cell on the floor facedown near the wall behind my door and bend to pick it up. Except it’s not my current cell, it’s my old one. What the hell is this doing on the floor? I press the Home button, displaying the time on the screen over a picture of Liam and me in the background. It’s the one he took of himself kissing my cheek on prom night. Flashes of a conversation with Liam pierce through the haze of my hangover.
Did I dream that?
Dropping down on the edge of my bed, I swipe the screen and bring up the call log. My stomach sinks when I see a seven-minute phone call to “Baller.”
Shit. I called him.
Why did I call him? What did I say?
“Fuck!” I fall back on the bed and slam my fist into the mattress. “Fuckity fucking fuck!”
“Vanessa?” Kelly calls from the other side of my door.
I frown. Dad didn’t mention Kelly was still here. “Yeah?”
She peeks her head inside, concern etched on her face. “Are you okay?”
I blow out a breath. “Yeah. Sorry.”
She pushes open the door and leans in the doorway. From my angle on the bed, I can see she’s dressed in a cream-colored blouse and a high-waisted black pencil skirt. Her caramel-colored hair is pulled back into a chignon at the nape of her neck. Kelly works in the dean’s office at UH. That’s where she and my dad met. They’ve known each other for several years but only started dating last year. She’s a stunning woman, maybe an inch taller than me, thin, and in her late thirties, maybe forty. I never asked. And she’s nice. Like really nice, but I only know her on a surface level. We’ve never shared a deep, meaningful conversation.
“Vanessa,” she starts, “we never really got the chance to talk much after what happened with Jake. Your dad was pretty upset about it. I wanted to call you, but I didn’t want you to think I was being nosy. Your dad asked me not to bring it up, but I want you to know that I was married to a serial cheater, so I can relate to what you’re going through.”
Wow. I never would’ve guessed. She always seems so put together and happy.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” She waves it off with a flick of her wrist. “I did what I had to do for my daughter, and luckily everything worked out the way it should’ve.”
My brows lift. “You have a daughter?”
“I do.” She nods once. “Her name is Piper. She’s a freshman at UH.”
“You don’t look old enough to have a daughter in college.”
“Thanks,” she preens. “I was just a teenager—nineteen—when I had her.”
That would make her thirty-seven or thirty-eight. I was close.
I’ve spent enough time with Dad and Kelly. Why am I just learning she has a daughter?
Kelly sees the question on my face. “When your dad and I started dating, we agreed we’d wait to see where things were going between us before we brought our kids into the mix. Your dad is very protective of his relationship with you, so when he finally introduced us, I knew it was his way of telling me I meant something to him. And when I witnessed the affection between you two, my heart melted. I think that was the day I fell in love with him.”
“Has he met Piper?”
“He has. They got along well, and I think it made her more comfortable knowing he had a daughter, too. Teenage girls are tough. Piper was not happy about my divorcing her father, but she also doesn’t know the hell that man put me through. Tom was dick for a husband, but he’s a good father. I’ll give him that.”
“Tom’s an idiot,” I quip.
She smirks. “You got that right. Listen, I know you have your girlfriends to talk to, but if you ever need to talk or want advice on anything, I’m here.”
“Thank you, Kelly. That means a lot.”
Nodding, she straightens from the doorway. “I care about you, Vanessa. No, scratch that. I love you. And it really pisses me off when someone hurts the people I love. If I ever lay eyes on Jake again, I’m gonna kick that cheating fucker in the balls.”
I bark out a laugh as I roll from the bed and make my way over to her. Wrapping my arms around her shoulders, careful not to wrinkle her blouse, I say, “I love you, too.” I pull back. “And I’d love to meet your daughter sometime.”
She smiles proudly. “You’ll love her.”
“If she’s anything like you, I’m sure I will.”
VANESSA
“Fuck my life,” I murmur as I slide into the booth beside Katie and across from Gabbi.
“What’s wrong?” Katie asks.
“Liam
’s parents are here,” I mouth as if they’ll hear me over the raucous chatter.
“Really?” Gabbi cranes her neck. “Where?”
“Can you not?” I snap, eyes wide. “I don’t want them to see me. Especially after—” I wave a hand. “I need to tell you guys something.”
“Will we need more alcohol for this conversation?” Gabbi grins, bringing the champagne glass to her lips.
“Lots.” Propping an elbow on the table, I tuck my fist under my chin. “I did something really stupid last weekend,” I start, prompting Katie to wave a hand in the air to get the server’s attention.
“This is gonna be good.” She holds up three fingers and gestures to her champagne glass.
“I don’t want a champagne,” I groan, falling against the back of the booth. “Champagne is for celebrating.”
Just then the server arrives with three mimosas and sets them on the table. “Would you mind bringing her a Bloody Mary?” Gabbi points to me as she reaches for my mimosa. “I’ll keep this.”
“Sure,” the server says with a smile before walking off.
Katie shifts in the booth to face me. “What’s going on?”
“Remember I told you how we ran into Liam’s brother and his family last week at dinner?”
“Yeah,” Katie replies.
“What I didn’t tell you is that I drunk-dialed Liam later that night.”
Katie snorts, and Gabbi nearly chokes on her drink. She sets her champagne glass down on the table with a hard thud and picks up her napkin to dab her chin.
“I know.” I wave a hand before either of them can chastise me for being a dumbass.
Gabbi leans forward. “Explain.”
I lift a shoulder. “He didn’t call me on my birthday this year, and Saturday would’ve been our five-year wedding anniversary. I had too much to drink at dinner, and seeing his family just… it made me miss him, okay?” Miss what we could’ve had. For a short time, they were my family, too. Even if they weren’t aware of it at the time.
