by Staci Hart
So I sat at my desk, wishing I were home, wondering what Hannah was doing while the kids were at school, wondering what we would all do when I made it home, considering how early I could actually leave without getting me in any more trouble than I was already in. I wanted to avoid dealing with that for as long as possible. The clock was ticking on me; I could feel it.
It was early afternoon when I looked up from my desk like I’d felt her coming.
Mary’s head was high as she walked through the office toward me, every face in the room turned to her. I was almost too shocked to believe it was actually her, to believe I hadn’t manifested the vision of her as some sort of penance for my happiness.
But she was real, very real.
My heart dropped into my stomach, and my stomach hit my shoes.
I stood before she reached me, rushing toward her as anger surged in my chest, grabbing her by the elbow to wheel her around.
“God, Charlie, what the hell?” she hissed. As if she had any right to be upset.
I tossed her into a conference room—the office was completely silent and watching—and shut the door behind me.
“What in the fuck are you doing here, Mary?” I threw her elbow back at her.
Her face bent and flushed in anger. “I came to talk to you where we could be alone.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, trying to find some level of composure. “You could have called. You could have emailed. We could have set up a fucking time, but you cannot just show up at the house and my job. This has to stop.”
She had the nerve to look hurt. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t think you’d answer me.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“To talk.”
I glared at her and swept my hand, as if to say, Be my guest.
Mary took a deep breath and softened her face. “I know what I did was wrong. I’ve made a lot of mistakes, and I don’t know how I’ll ever make it up to you and the kids, but I want to. So what do I have to do?”
“Right now, it’s not really an option. Not until the divorce is final.”
Something flashed behind her eyes, but I couldn’t place what it was before it was gone again.
“I couldn’t sign those papers, Charlie. You … you were always the steady one, the one who knew what to do and what you wanted. You always did the right thing. But I only ever felt … stuck. Do you know what I mean?”
I nodded once, not knowing if I was standing in a trap or an apology.
“I just … I don’t know if I want a divorce.”
“Well, you don’t really have a choice. It’s filed and done.” I bit my tongue. The last thing I needed was to give her any information she didn’t have about what could happen if she changed her mind and tried to fuck things up even worse.
She looked wounded again. “I thought … Charlie, you were always there, even when things were bad.”
“And you thought I’d just wait?” I laughed, a dry, joyless sound. “How many years would you have gone on fucking Jack? Because my guess would be all of them, as long as you could get away with it. And I’d be willing to bet that if he hadn’t cut you off, you and I wouldn’t be standing here right now.”
Tears glistened in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
She stepped toward me, but I held my ground, jaw clenched.
“I just wish there were some way to change your mind.” Her eyes were big and sad, her face turned up to mine, her hand reaching for my fingers as she closed the space between us.
I jerked my hand away from hers and took a step back, staring down at her with a raging fire burning in my chest.
And in an instant, the doe-eyed woman was gone, her face twisting. “I can’t even believe this, Charlie. You’re doing this? You’re doing this to me—refusing me? You really want to throw me away?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I screamed. “Mary, for fuck’s sake, you walked away! You left us! You threw us away. And, now … now that it’s almost finally, mercifully over, you want to come back and try to make amends? Try to manipulate me again into doing what you want? You’re out of your fucking mind.”
“This is about that nanny, isn’t it?” she asked with flaming cheeks and a quavering voice.
And then it was all too clear. “I don’t know, Mary. Is it?”
“You’re fucking her, aren’t you?”
“That’s none of your goddamn business.”
She fumed. “Those are my kids, Charlie. Mine. That is my life she’s living.”
“That was never your life. You never wanted to be a mother. If you hadn’t gotten pregnant, we wouldn’t have gotten married. If it hadn’t been an accident, you wouldn’t have ever had kids. And you were the one who wanted Maven. I’m not sorry for that, I could never be sorry for that, but that was your plan, and for what?”
“Because I was losing you!” she howled, angry tears streaming down her cheeks. “You pulled away, and I thought you would leave me! But I knew, if we had another baby, you’d stay. I knew you’d stay, and you did.”
My hands and face tingled from the surge of adrenaline that shot through me. “And the second you had Maven, you started fucking Jack,” I said coolly. “So much for happy endings.”
She drew herself up, her breath shuddering and eyes flinty. “You can’t keep me away from my children. I’ll go to therapy with you, have a mediator, whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want. Maybe once you’re through with that cow-faced girl who’s standing in for me, you and I can see if we can start again. You’re my family. Mine. Not hers.”
I took a breath. I let it out. I pulled myself together and said, “Have your lawyer talk to Pete.”
Mary stood there before me for a long, angry moment until I opened the door and stepped aside, staring her down. Only then did she leave.
My hands quaked as I walked back to my desk with a face of stone, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. It was only when I was sitting at my desk that I let out a troubled sigh.
I dropped my face into my hands, plagued by anger and guilt and madness and confusion.
This was what she did. She did her best to make everyone feel like it—whatever it was—was your fault, not hers. I thought it was because she actually believed it herself. She believed she wanted to see the kids, maybe even believed she still held some claim on me.
The reality was that when she left me, she had given me an out from a situation I never should have gotten myself into in the first place. There was nothing to mend, nothing to repair, nothing left in my heart for her but resentment.
But there was one thing I couldn’t deny, no matter how much I hated her.
They were her children, too.
If she wanted to see them—even if her motivation was impure—she should be able to. Not for her sake, but for the kids. She was their mother, for God’s sake, and they needed her. What kind of father would I be if I didn’t let them see her?
The thing was that she couldn’t really see them, not yet, not without some sort of a plan. I just hoped to God she’d reach out to Pete so we could get something together.
Confusion and loss washed over me, followed by a wave of guilt.
I wanted to tell Hannah. I wanted to go home that very minute and lose myself in her. I wanted to confess everything, tell her all that was in my heart, all that Mary had said, all the ways she’d hurt me and used me and betrayed me.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I was afraid.
I had happiness in my grasp, and now that I’d found it, I had everything to lose. I trusted her with my heart, but how could I trust her with my past? How could I expect her to bear the weight of my divorce and my ex? My baggage would have her packing hers and leaving me.
If I lost Hannah because of Mary’s interference, I would never, ever get over it. If Mary found a way to hurt me through Hannah, I would never, ever be able to let that failure go.
I’d promised Hannah I�
��d tell her everything, and I decided then that I would. When the time was right, I would tell her everything. But for right now, I would hang on to what I had with all that I had.
“Charlie, we’ve got the Logan Tower conference call in five,” one of my colleagues said as he walked by.
I sat and nodded, trying to gather myself as I gathered my paperwork for the meeting, swearing to myself that the minute I could get out of this building, I would. And I’d go somewhere I was safe.
To Hannah.
Hannah
I kissed Sammy’s forehead and answered three more questions before he let me leave, and the second I turned around from his door, I saw Charlie.
He stood at the foot of the stairs looking up, his face bent with pain and hurt and worry, and I felt mine match.
“Charlie, what’s—”
But he was already taking the stairs two at a time, his eyes on mine like a tether until he pulled me into his arms and kissed me with desperation, holding me against him, breathing heavy, lips hard against mine.
And I let him, let him take what he needed, kissed him back with as much fire as he gave until he broke away and pressed his forehead to mine.
“Charlie,” I breathed.
“I need you,” he whispered and crushed my lips with his.
So I gave myself to him.
He swept me into his bedroom and into his bed, the room he’d shared with her, and with every kiss, he banished her. With every breath, he filled his lungs with me. And I knew the room was no longer theirs any more than his heart was.
Our clothes were shed with no care until we were skin-to-skin. His hands were rough and fast, spreading my legs, gripping his length to press it against me. And with a hard flex of his hips, he filled me to the hilt, not pausing to savor the feeling before rocking his body.
“Hannah,” he said, voice as rough as his hands.
“I’m here,” I breathed as he slammed into me, sending a shock up my body, my breasts jostling from the force.
His frantic hand held my face, fingers in my hair, body urgent and speeding toward his edge, his face so full of despair and desolation and emotion that I sped toward mine. And when I felt him throb inside me, when he bowed his head and came, I was right behind him, riding the wave of his body until the surge faded.
He collapsed on top of me, his weight pressing me into the bed, his face buried in my neck and heart thundering through his rib cage. And for a long time, I held him. I let him be, let him feel, let him just exist there in my arms with no questions. None I spoke at least. My mind was full of them, circling and whirling and whispering doubt.
He rolled us over, separating us with the motion, pulling me into his chest where he held me, kissed my hair, slipped his thigh between mine to wind our legs together.
“Are you all right?” I finally said quietly, the most innocuous thing I could say.
“Better now,” he answered.
I pressed a kiss to his chest.
“Bad day, that’s all. I just wanted to be here where things are simple.”
My heart ached, and I leaned back to look at his face. “I’m sorry things are so hard. I only want you to be happy.”
His brows tightened. “When I’m here, I’m happy, and when I’m not here, I’m not happy. And the only thing that’s changed is you.”
He was afraid, I realized; he thought I might go, that I might leave.
He didn’t know just how impossible that would be.
So I touched his face, wishing I could wipe his worry away with my fingertips. “I’m here, Charlie. I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.
He pulled me into him for a kiss, a kiss that told me he didn’t believe me. So I kissed him back and told him without words that he should.
17
The Other Side
Hannah
A few days passed, as did Charlie’s desperation. He would come home from work by eight or nine every night, sometimes even early enough to read the kids stories and put them in bed. He was cavalier and irreverent with his time—gone were the days of Charlie’s long hours and absence—and I couldn’t stop wondering what price he would pay.
He hadn’t told me what had upset him that day, hadn’t done anything but spend every spare moment with the children and with me. That was something I couldn’t complain about at all.
The weather had gotten cooler, the leaves almost completely fallen as November drew to a close. My mind was on Charlie while I walked to get the kids from school with a smile on my face as I daydreamed about the moment when he walked through the door. I imagined the smile I’d come to know so well, and my own smile just stretched wider.
I greeted Caitlyn, who stood behind the counter at the preschool with a look of surprise on her face.
“Hey, Hannah. Can I help you?”
My brows drew together. “I’m just here to get the kids.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean? They’re not here.”
Cold fear slid through me, trailing goosebumps across my skin, seizing my heart. “I’m sorry?”
“They … they’re not here. Their mother picked them up two hours ago.”
The chill was replaced with a rush of fire. “Oh God,” I breathed.
“I didn’t think … I mean, she’s on the list. I thought it was strange—she’s only been in a few times ever—but I didn’t have instructions or …”
I didn’t hear the rest of what she said, not with my mind racing, not with my shaking hands reaching into my bag for my phone.
Caitlyn was still talking, apologizing.
I reached for her hand on the counter and squeezed it. “It’s all right. I need to call Charlie, okay?”
She nodded, but I barely saw her. My eyes were on my phone, my feet flying and breath huffing as I rushed out the door and down the sidewalk.
Charlie picked up in just a few rings. “Hey,” he said happily, his voice warm and velvety. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Mary has the children,” I said, the words tight.
A pause from Charlie. “She … what?”
“I just went to pick up the kids and they weren’t there. Charlie, she has them. I don’t know what to do. What should I do?” Panic rose in my chest, climbing my throat.
“Go to the house right now. I’m on my way.” His voice was calm, succinct, direct—a lawyer’s voice—though underneath that was an undercurrent of the panic he couldn’t so easily hide.
“All right,” I said softly.
“Hannah, it’s going to be okay. I’ll be right there.”
The words soothed me, the certainty, the comfort he offered. “Okay.”
We hung up, and I almost ran, my calves and shins burning from exertion and restraint, my heart pounding with fear and worry.
It took me three tries to unlock the door, the key unsteady in my hand, but when I got it open and stepped inside, I found myself completely unprepared for what I found.
In the hurried walk home, I had imagined scenario after horrifying scenario. But never had I imagined Mary would be sitting with Maven and Sammy in the kitchen, eating ice cream.
I froze in the threshold of the kitchen, my eyes wide and staring at the scene without understanding what I was seeing. Their faces turned to me—two with smiles, one without.
Sammy dashed out of his chair and over to me, cheeks high and ice cream on his face. “Hannah! Mommy came back, and she took us to the park and then got us ice cream! She got me ah-sash-io—it’s green, like a turtle—and Maven got strawberry ’cause that’s her favorite. Come here! Come say hi!” He took my hand and pulled me into the room.
Mary’s face was all sharp angles, her voice with just as much of an edge. “Oh, look. The pretty nanny. Hope I didn’t alarm you by picking up my children a little early.”
“She really is pretty, isn’t she, Mommy?” Sammy beamed.
“Yes. Very pretty.” Mary stood, squaring her shoulders.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Her eyes narrowed. “In my house, you mean? With my kids?”
“Charlie said—”
“I don’t really care what Charlie said. These are my children, and he can’t stop me from seeing them.”
Sammy clung to my hand, his smile gone. “Hannah?” he asked, unsure, a little afraid.
I bent to his level and smiled at him. “Why don’t you go get the iPad and put on a show? Daddy will be home any minute. That way me and your mommy can talk, yeah?”
He nodded, glancing back at his mother before turning to leave.
When I stood, Mary looked murderous—lips flat, cheeks flushed, brows knit together and eyes flashing. “So sweet, aren’t you? No wonder Charlie’s fucking you.”
I sucked in a stinging breath, my neck and face hot. “He’ll be home soon, and you can talk to him. This is none of my business, and I’m none of your concern.”
She laughed, a cheerless, empty sound. “From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re in my seat, Hannah.” She said my name as if it were bitter poison.
“That seat was empty when I got here.”
“You bitch—” she started.
The door opened and closed with a slam. “Hannah?” Charlie called anxiously.
“In here,” I said, not breaking eye contact with Mary.
His footsteps grew louder, stopping completely right behind me. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled, the sound so deep and angry, it took everything I had not to turn around.
“Just had an afternoon with my kids that’s all,” she said, as if it were that simple.
“You’re out of your fucking mind, Mary,” he shot.
“I told you at your office the other day that I wanted to see them.”
Cold awareness climbed my ribs. Now I knew why Charlie had been so upset. He’d seen her, and he hadn’t told me. He hadn’t told me when he’d promised me he would.
“You can’t just—”
“I can!” she shouted. “I can, and I will. You can’t tell me I can’t see my children because I will find a way.”
“Are you threatening me?”
He stepped around me, and I chanced a look. His face was hard as stone.
