by Raquel Belle
“No,” I say. “We haven’t spoken for weeks. And I haven’t seen Tate McCullough in a week or so, either. Not since the kids started camp elsewhere. And I like it that way. Those men were too much drama.”
“Well, consider me the gossip fairy, then,” she says. “Young Rob Duncan had to go up in front of the faculty judiciary committee for review recently. Apparently, he was accused of giving grades for sex.” She puts her hand over her mouth and makes a scandalized expression.
“Whoa,” I say. “What happened?”
“Supposedly, they found him not guilty, but I heard that there were at least three graduate students who admitted to having consensual, sexual relationships with him over the past few years.”
“Can you do that?” I ask. “I would think you’d be fired for sleeping with students.”
Meredith shrugs. “I mean, it’s certainly frowned upon. It might have been more serious if they’d been undergrads. Graduate students are a little different, in the eyes of the university. They’re certainly older. They work more closely with the professors. There have been a handful of profs who’ve gotten into friendships and romances with grad students over the years, and as long as both parties agree it’s consensual and there’s no evidence that the sex is payment for better grades, then there’s no specific rule barring two consenting adults from having a relationship together.”
“Wow,” is all I can manage. I feel sick thinking about Rob sleeping with students. It just doesn’t seem like something he’d do.
Meredith chatters through the game, telling me other neighborhood gossip and then asking why I’m not seeing more of Tate. I tell her again that I don’t need the guy drama right now. “He’s been sweet, but I just don’t have an interest right now,” I say.
“Well, maybe he’s just not the one you want?” she asks.
“I don’t think I want anyone at the moment.”
“Well, the crazy monkey sex was fun while it lasted,” she says. “At least for married ladies living vicariously.”
“Glad I could be of service,” I say with an eye roll.
Later, the neighbor’s teen daughter comes over to watch the kids, so I can take a shift at the bar. She comes an hour early, which ends up working out perfectly, because this thing about Rob is really bugging me. I drive over and park in front of his big Victorian. There are a few lights on, so I assume he’s home.
Nervous, I rub my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans before ringing the bell. A young woman with short, dark hair opens the door. She wears only a sports bra and running shorts. No shoes. Pink toenails.
“Is Rob at home?” I ask.
“Robbie?” the girl yells over her shoulder. She turns away and heads to the bottom of the stairs, yelling his name again. “There’s some woman here!”
My stomach roils. I’ve always called him Robbie. As far as I knew, he only allowed it from people with whom he was really close. The sick feeling in my gut intensifies as he wanders lazily down the hardwood stairs, his jeans riding low on his hips. It’s obvious he’s just pulled them on and he’s not wearing a shirt or shoes.
He frowns when he sees me. “Maria, wait upstairs,” he orders at the girl, who looks me up and down blankly before following orders and heading up the stairs and out of sight.
Rob steps outside and shuts the door behind him. He folds his arms over his defined chest. “What do you want?”
Chapter Twelve
“I wanted to check in,” I say. “Who was that, Rob?”
“None of your business,” he says.
“A student?” I ask. “Because I heard what happened at school, Rob. You’ve slept with students? How many?”
Rob sighs and looks off into the distance. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
“Why would you sleep with students, Rob? Especially when we …”
“When we what, Hope?” he snaps. “When we had a fucked up relationship where my balls were in a vice? When I was expected to be there all the time while you stomped on me by keeping me at arms length and then fucking me and then falling for someone else?”
I wince at his tone, at the way he levels cuss words at me like weapons. “Have you been drinking?” I ask.
“You’re not my mother,” he says. “You don’t get to ask questions like that. You don’t get to show up here unannounced, and then judge what I do or don’t do. You have no sway over me.”
“Rob, I understand you being angry with me. Truly, I do. But this is your career …”
“What do you care about my career, Hope?” he asks. “Why does it matter to you? You expected me to be a monk, and then you’re shocked to find out I’m not.”
“I never expected that,” I say. “I never asked about your sex life. I never asked you to wait for me.”
“And if I’d found something real?” he asks “You wouldn’t have been devastated if I’d found someone, settled down, gotten serious?”
“I only ever expected your friendship, Rob. You’re my best friend. It’s all I needed from you.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” he says. “You wanted everything from me. My time. My loyalty. My love. You wanted a husband without being required to commit to marriage. You didn’t want to take the risk of commitment. You didn’t want to get hurt, so you used me, and I went along with it because I thought that, with enough time, you’d come around. You’d realize I was good for you.”
I’m dumbfounded. I’m sure my mouth is hanging open. Anxiety flutters in my belly, and I have to brace my hand on the open screen door to keep from passing out. I manage a meek, “I’m sorry, Rob. I didn’t realize …”
Rob lets out a harsh, bitter laugh. “Bullshit. You knew,” he says. “You pulled me in and made me believe there was a future. And then when we moved things forward, it felt like something real was happening, and then you ripped me to shreds without a second thought. You knew.”
“You know what?” I say, pissed. “Don’t make this all about me. You chose to stay around. You chose to sleep with students. You chose to be the creepy professor who stepped over the lines.”
“I chose what was easy, Hope,” he says. “They didn’t expect anything other than a good lay. They could move on when their programs were done. There was zero baggage, which meant I could stay the dutiful lapdog you always wanted. It was just sex because my heart was always in a box under your bed, waiting to be placed back in my chest whenever you were ready for it.”
“Well, I’m glad you found something that worked for you,” I say bitterly. “And I never held you hostage. You could have left any time.”
“Well, I didn’t leave, because I thought you needed me, and I wanted to be there for you. Like friends are,” he says, sneering. “And you found something that worked for you, too. Computer sex with a guy you said you hated, then acting it all out with me. Disgusting.”
“Disgusting?” I nearly shriek. “It’s disgusting to have sex with a person I thought was my best friend? It’s disgusting to be with someone I thought cared about me? I felt safe with you. I chose you!”
“You chose me to serve as his proxy. You wanted him, and I got the consolation prize.”
“You got me! I’m not a consolation prize. I am the prize. And you got me. Not him. You! And now you call it ‘disgusting?’” I point toward the house. “You want to talk disgusting? Sleeping with students is disgusting, Rob! Is that girl a student, too? Does she know you’re using her?”
Rob just smirks at me, so I push past him and run inside, up the stairs. I find the young woman lounging with a textbook in Rob’s bed. She looks up, startled, as I appear.
“You shouldn’t lower yourself like this,” I say to her. “Sleeping with your professor? You think he’s going to want to have a relationship with you? He’s just getting his dick wet. Feeling like hot shit that young women want to be in his bed.”
Behind me, Rob says, “Hope, you look like a desperate hag right now. Jealous much?”
I wheel on him, baring my
teeth, shoving my finger into his chest. “Don’t you do this, Rob Duncan. Don’t you dare put this on me, or make it out like I’m the bad guy, here. You decided to go down this path, and I’m just sad I didn’t realize what kind of man you were a long time ago. You kept secrets and made mistakes, too. And this one? This is on you.”
I turn and run down the stairs, out of the house, into the car. I drive a few blocks, tears hot on my cheeks, before I have to stop the car, so I can throw up in the road. I heave violently, nausea consuming me for about ten minutes.
As I manage to pull myself together, I start the car again and drive toward the bar, my mind a jumble of thoughts. I’m sick about what is going on with Rob, but then I realize I’ve been feeling sick a lot lately. I’ve chalked it up to work and life stress, but now that I’m really analyzing, did I miss my period?
I pull into a parking spot and open my phone, checking my Cycles app. And there it is … proof of what I fear most. Oh god. I am four weeks late.
Chapter Thirteen
“Have you slept?” Meredith asks as she comes through the front door, plastic pharmacy bag over her arm. “You look like shit.”
“I have not,” I say. “And thanks. That’s helpful.”
I grab the bag and stalk off to the bathroom. The kids are out in the back yard with the dog, and I’m terrified that they will come back in soon, so I pee on the little plastic stick and set it on the counter. Washing my hands and heading back out into the living room.
“And?” Meredith asks.
“I couldn’t look,” I say.
She makes a noise and heads in to check it for me. When she comes out, her face says all I need to know. When she says, “Congratulations. You’re pregnant by your best friend,” it’s confirmation of what I already knew.
“Fuck,” I say, sinking down onto the couch.
“Yep, that’s how it happens.”
“That is not funny.”
“I mean, it’s not like you’re too old to have another baby,” Meredith says. She’s trying to be helpful, I know, but it just makes me feel like I want to cry.
“I’m divorced, poor, and the father of this baby wants nothing to do with me. My age is the last thing I’m worried about,” I say. “I cannot have this baby, Mere. I cannot have another kid from a broken relationship.”
Meredith comes over and sits beside me, taking my hand. “Well, you could probably have an abortion if you wanted. Maybe Rob would pay for it?”
“I don’t even know if I can tell him, Mere,” I say. “He has not been acting like himself lately.”
“Well, I mean … I kind of see his side of things …,” Meredith says. When I practically snarl at her, she raises her hands and says, “Hear me out, Hope. He’s been around a long time. He’s always been there for you. He’s smart, talented, successful, good looking. And he’s been in this relationship with you since college basically. He’s seen you in and out of a bad marriage. He watched you have kids with someone else. He stuck around when things fell apart. He could have moved on any time, started his own family.”
I’m crying in earnest now. Sobbing, really, my face in my hands. She’s right. Rob has been in my life this whole time. He’s helped raise my children. He’s supported me in so many ways. Basically, he’s given up his own life, his own chance to have children and get married, in order to be with me, even though I boxed him into the friend zone.
“He’s always had flings with women. He could have had a relationship with any of them.”
“And how would you have felt, Hope? If he’d moved off and started a life with someone?”
“I’d have been happy for him. I would have been happy to see him fall in love.”
“I kind of doubt that,” she says. “I think you would have been jealous, and sad, and betrayed because you always expected him to be there for you, waiting for you.”
“That’s not true,” I say, adamant. “It’s not true. He’s my best friend. I wanted him to fall in love and make a life.”
“He did, Hope,” Meredith says softly. “He did. He fell in love with you. He raised a family with you. Yes, it was non-traditional. Yes, he went outside of that relationship to fulfill his sexual needs. But this is the path he chose, and he chose it because he loves you.”
“And what now?” I ask, still crying. “Now it’s all come crashing down around him.”
“But is that entirely all on him?” she asks. “He made crappy choices in sleeping with students, yes, but nothing about this situation is normal, and in his mind, he maybe thought that quick flings would be easier than having to deal with someone looking for a real emotional connection. I can kind of understand how this would be more efficient. He wanted to save the true emotional connection for you. For when you were ready. And then he thinks you are, and you push him away. I can understand why he’s so hurt and angry.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “I really messed up.”
“Kind of,” Meredith says. She’s quiet for a while. “Why do you think you were able to set aside your hatred for Tate so easily?”
“What do you mean?”
“Why sabotage yourself, I guess? I mean, you have this great guy in your life. He obviously adores you, and you obviously connect with him. Why ruin it like this?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
“That’s a cop-out, friend. I’m sorry.”
I sigh and it’s a sad, sniffly sound. “I think that when things happened with Alex, it was just easier to hold the idea of relationships or love at arm’s length. Rob had always been there, as a friend, and I just left him in that box because it was easier.”
“Didn’t you say you slept with him before you met Alex?”
I nod. “We slept together once in college, yes, and we agreed it shouldn’t happen again because we didn’t want to risk our friendship. I met Alex not too long after that and everything was a whirlwind from there.”
“You didn’t want to risk the friendship, or he didn’t?” she asks.
“I mean, we both felt that way, I think? It was a long time ago. I think Rob said that if it happened again, I’d be his ‘forever’ or something. He said that a lot. All the time, even after Alex left.”
“And he was content to just be there after that?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. He was just there. Always. I never really asked him whether he was happy.”
“And Alex and Rob didn’t get along?”
“No,” I say quickly. Harshly. Alex told me not to be friends with Rob. He was really controlling. How I wore my hair, what I wore, who I was friends with. He was the one who didn’t want me to have a real career. He told me I should work an easy job, so I would be able to take care of the kids.”
“I remember some of that,” she says. “I mean, I only saw it from the outside because you and I weren’t such good friends then. But I remember thinking it seemed like you weren’t a very happy person.”
“I wasn’t.”
“And now?”
“I think I …” I breathe in through my nose. “I think I’m just trying to survive. Happiness is a pipe dream.”
“That’s really sad, if it’s what you really believe.”
I just shrug in response.
“You could have pushed for child support,” Meredith says.
“I know,” I say. “It seemed easier not to. Easier to keep him out of our lives. Easier to stay angry at him. I was so embarrassed when I found him with that woman, but honestly, it was a great excuse to send him away. I was relieved when he left.”
“I’m sure it was easier to vilify him and play the martyr,” Meredith says. There’s no bite to her tone; she’s just making an observation.
I nod in response, and she asks, “Have you asked if he wants to see his kids? If he’d be willing to pay child support in exchange for limited visitation?”
“I haven’t.”
“Maybe you should,” she says. “Won’t Alex’s parents want to see their grandchildren? Don’t the children deserv
e to have a relationship with their father?”
I can’t do this. I just shake my head, the tears coming again. I fold myself into a ball on the couch but pop up like I’ve been shot from a cannon as soon as I hear the back door bang. The kids are back inside. They can’t see me like this. I grab the plastic pee stick and run for the bathroom, shutting the door quickly before falling to my knees and throwing up in the toilet.
Once my stomach is empty, I stand, wash my face, and wander back out. Meredith is making the kids some sandwiches. I apologize and make a big deal about telling everyone I think I’ve picked up the flu. Meredith says she should get going, and I walk her to the door.
My friend pulls me into a hug. “You’re going to be fine,” she whispers. “Just remember to ask for help and accept help that’s offered.”
“Okay,” I say weakly. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that advice, actually.”
“Well then it must be just what the doctor ordered. I know we haven’t talked about Alex a lot, but I’m not sure you’re being entirely truthful about when he left. I think you need to be honest, at least with yourself, if with no one else.”
As she leaves, I watch her get in her car and realize I was honest. With Tate. I told Tate the whole story, and my reasons for not pushing Alex for child support. At least I have that going for me.
I also realize I am resting my hand protectively on my belly. There is a life inside of me right now. It’s tiny, but it’s Rob’s baby.
Oh god, there’s a baby inside of me. What am I going to do?
Chapter Fourteen
I have an interview.
I think I have pulled every single piece of clothing out of my closet, trying to find something that doesn’t make me look like a sad, underpaid administrative assistant. I decide on a slim, black pencil skirt with a bright yellow, sleeveless blouse and black pumps. I pull my crazy curls up into a messy bun and decide on a light application of natural-looking makeup.
