Hating Tate - A friends to lovers romance.

by Raquel Belle

  “He’s not in the picture,” I say.

  “At all?” she asks. “No visitation? No child support?”

  I shake my head. “No. I found him with another woman and kicked him out. Aside from the day our divorce was finalized, I haven’t seen or spoken to him.”

  She asks more questions about Alex, about our relationship, and about my decision to cut him from our lives so decisively. Then she asks about the baby, and who my best friend is.

  “Rob Duncan,” I say. “We’ve been friends since college. He’s never been shy about saying how much he loves me. And I’ll admit that he’s been a lifesaver for me, so many times. He’s the only reason I can function most of the time. But we … I allowed lust to get in the way of our friendship, and now things are a mess.”

  Theresa asks questions about my relationship with Rob, and I feel I have to share about my dalliance with Tate. As we talk, I admit that I felt disgusted by my attraction to a man I thought I hated. Was sure I hated. I used Rob to direct my sexual energy in a way I felt was safer, more secure.

  “I admit that I have always held Rob just slightly away. I never wanted to cross that line with him because I didn’t want to take a chance on being hurt again. Alex ruined me.”

  “People often do harmful, self-sabotaging things in the name of trying not to get hurt,” Theresa says. “I’m impressed that you can see it and admit it. Most people can’t, or won’t.”

  “But how do I fix it?” I ask.

  “With work. And time,” she says. “Tell me more about Tate.”

  “He’s ex-military, and I’ve always hated that about him. He was militant in his approach to the programming my kids were in. He would charge me a bunch for being late to pickup. I just hated everything about him.”

  “Until you didn’t,” she says. “Which was when?”

  “He came into the bar where I work sometimes. We talked for a minute, and then he kissed me. And I liked it.”

  “You liked the kissing?”

  “Yes,” I say. “It had been a really long time since someone kissed me like that. It made me feel sexy and wanted.”

  “And angry and confused?”

  “That too,” I say with a huff of a laugh. “So, like any rational person, I went straight home and had sex with my best friend.”

  “You went where you felt safe and secure.”

  I nod. “Yep. And then it just kept happening. And Rob thought we were making a commitment, which I thought I was okay with, but Tate kept showing up and making me confused.”

  “Are you confused now?” Theresa asks.

  “No,” I say. “Tate is a friend but whatever that was, it’s gone now. And I realize I’m in love with Rob Duncan, but I worry I’ve messed things up beyond repair.”

  “Where did you leave things with him?”

  “I told him I needed to work myself out. I needed to get my head on straight.”

  At the end of an hour, Theresa says she would like to see me at least six more times. “I have homework for you,” she says as she walks me out to the door. “I want you to call Alex. Talk with him about what happened. See where it leads.”

  I must look stricken. I feel stricken, at least, and I’m sure it must show on my face. I hold my slightly-swollen abdomen, feeling like I might throw up.

  “This is important, Hope,” she says. “You need the closure on this before we can work on anything else. Just call him.”

  I leave and throw up as soon as I get to the parking lot, then I sit in the car crying for like twenty solid minutes. Finally, I get myself together and call my attorney to see if he has access to Alex’s contact information. I’ve asked him to keep it on file in case something very bad happens to the kids. He asks if I want him to make the call for me, but I say no, I need to do this on my own.

  I get his cell phone number and am shocked when he answers on the first ring.

  “Alex,” I say.

  There’s a heartbeat of a pause and then, “Hope?”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” I say. “I, uh …”

  “Is everything okay with the kids?” he asks. There’s real worry in his voice, which makes me feel unsteady.

  “They’re fine,” I say. “I mean, Eric’s been in and out of the hospital a couple of times for seizures but they seem to have a fairly benign cause.”

  “Seizures?”

  “Yes, and it’s been scary, but they think it’s a hormonal imbalance. We’re trying a few supplements before going to a more rigorous treatment plan. But he’s okay, seriously. He’s playing summer baseball. They’re going to camp all summer.”

  “I wish you would have called sooner. I could have come,” he says.

  “I didn’t … I wasn’t sure if you’d …” I take a second to breathe. “I never considered calling you, Alex. You haven’t been around for two years, so …”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah. You’re right. I haven’t been there. There’s no reason for you to think to call me.”

  “I try not to think of you at all,” I say.

  It’s true but it’s also a lie. I think about him all the time. Our relationship left scars.

  “That’s fair, I suppose,” he says calmly. “Do they ask about me?”

  “Amy asked if you love her and Eric not too long ago. She’s been having trouble normal pre-teen stuff. We don’t … have a lot of money. And it’s hard for her sometimes.”

  “I’m sorry, Hope,” he says. “That I haven’t been around to help.”

  “That’s empty. You could have offered to help a long time ago. But you never did. Saying sorry won’t cut it.”

  “You kicked me out and cut me off. I expected to pay support. And then? No kids. Nothing. My whole life was just gone.”

  “Well, I’m so sorry for you. I’m sure your blonde girlfriend kept you warm, at least.”

  “Okay, I get that I deserve that,” he says.

  “It was easier to cut you out than to have to face you again,” I say. “I was glad when you disappeared.”

  “So why call now?”

  “It’s part of my therapy,” I say.

  “Ah. Well, that’s good. I’ve done a bunch of it myself. I’d been thinking about you all recently. A lot, actually. I think this conversation would have happened sooner or later, even without your therapy.”

  I mull over this, the silence heavy between us. Finally, Alex speaks again. “I’ll bet they’ve gotten big.” His voice hitches a bit, and I’m taken aback once again.

  “Alex …,” I say. “How can you be sniffling over the kids right now? You haven’t even sent so much as a birthday card these past two years. Our address hasn’t changed. We’re still in the same place. You never even tried.”

  “I know,” he says. “It’s just … I got remarried about a year ago. We have a three-month-old. And having the new baby really made me think a lot about what an ass I’ve been. To all of you. I should never have just disappeared like that, but I knew how much you hated me, how little you wanted to deal with me.”

  Alex and I end up talking for an hour. I tell him more about the kids, and he asks about Rob, saying he’s glad I’ve had someone in my life. He apologizes, saying he knows he wasn’t a good husband and that he knows he hurt me.

  “You were abusive,” I say. It’s the first time I’ve ever said it to him out loud. “You wanted to control me. You told me who I could have for friends, what I could wear, what I should eat, what kind of job was right for me. Do you acknowledge this?”

  He’s quiet on the other end of the line. I need him to answer me. I never knew how badly until now.

  “Yes,” he finally says, almost a whisper. “Yes, I was abusive.”

  “I can’t believe you admitted that.”

  “It was hard, but I’ve said it to my own therapist, so it was time to say it to you. Hard to say it, but it needed to be said.”

  “Are you like that with your new wife?”

  “I hope not,” he says. “I try to be better for them both.”


  “Good.”

  “They know,” he says, “about you and the kids. She thinks I should try to get visitation because she knows how I feel about the way things ended. I know I wasn’t good to you. I know I walked away without a fight. I know I don’t deserve it. But I miss them. I love them. And I’d give anything to see them.”

  “I’ll have to think about that, Alex,” I say. I take a deep breath and let it back out. “I will think about it. I think … I think they’d like to see you, too.”

  When I hang up, I feel oddly empty. Not in a bad way, but in a clean way. In a hopeful way, like I’ve emptied out my closet to make room for something new.

  ***

  “Okay, here I go again,” I say to my reflection. “You got this.”

  I’m on my way to an interview. It’s a similar, administrative role to the one I just left but one of my friends tells me the pay and work culture would be much better. I think about how to explain why I chose to leave my most recent role so abruptly and how to casually mention that I’m due to have a baby in less than six months.

  I drive to the office location, pleasantly surprised that it takes less time than it took to drive to my last job. A middle-aged woman greets me at the front desk. She offers me coffee and then ushers me into a small conference room, where I’m told to wait.

  A few minutes after I take a seat, a younger man comes into the room. He’s handsome and dark-haired, and he introduces himself as Ari Hirschfeld.

  “I’m Hope Elmore,” I say. “Nice to meet you.”

  I’m wishing I hadn’t chosen to wear my black pencil skirt today. It strains against the tiny bit of baby belly I’ve got now. I adjust my posture to try to get some relief, and I’m sure I look like I’m trying to avoid passing gas or something. In fact, I’ve been gassy lately and the thought brings on a new round of panic. What if I fart in this interview?

  “Tell me about you, Hope,” Ari says, smiling placidly, as if he’s reading my mind. I really hope he isn’t reading my mind.

  “There’s not too much to tell, really. I went to State College for business administration. I’ve spent the last six years at Ribbon Financial in a similar role as this one. I recently led a major database transition there, and it went really well.”

  “When you say you led the transition, what does that mean?”

  “I did everything. My former boss picked the vendor, but I worked with them to do all of the data migration and process mapping. I managed the data integrity testing and adjusted the levers where needed to meet the needs of the new system. I tested on small client groups as well.”

  “Wow,” Ari says. “That’s a big project. How many records?”

  “About three thousand,” I say. “It’s a fairly small company.”

  “Still, that’s a big project for an administrative assistant to manage. Was this in addition to your regular duties?”

  “Yes,” I say. “I still managed Roger’s work flow, prepared him for meetings and presentations, and managed the business operations of our office. This project required several weeks of additional time outside of normal work hours.”

  “Did you leave because you were required to work those extra hours?” he asks.

  This is a sticky question, and I know he’s trying to see if I’m the type of person who only works my eight-to-five hours and then throws a tantrum when I’m asked to do more. Luckily, I expected it, and prepared an answer.

  “It was an exciting project, one I felt was a much better fit for my actual skill set,” I start. “I did it happily but when my son was ill and had been taken to the hospital, Roger was not understanding. I felt I had gone above and beyond, and done a damn good job at it, only to be slapped on the wrist when I needed time for my family. This seemed patently unfair to me, and I made a choice to leave.”

  “I appreciate your honesty,” Ari says. “You mention your son; is he okay now?”

  I nod. “He’s fine. We’re working through treatments for what the doctor’s think is a slight hormonal imbalance. He was having seizures as a result.”

  “Oh,” Ari says. “Well, I’m sorry to hear he was ill, but glad to hear he’s feeling much better. And you have other children?”

  “A daughter, yes,” I say. “How about you?”

  “My wife and I have three children,” he says. “Hopefully more someday.”

  “You’re outnumbered,” I say.

  “Happily,” he says. “I’ve always wanted a big family.”

  “I suppose this is a good segue, actually,” I say, my heart beating a bit faster. “In full disclosure, I should mention I am pregnant. I’m due in February.”

  He nods but his expression is neutral. “We have a great benefits package here, including six weeks fully paid and another six at half pay for full-time employees. We never work on weekends, and we rarely ask people to work beyond their regular work hours. There are exceptions, but those are usually worked out way ahead of time and usually come with some form of flex time or additional compensation.”

  “What a novel idea,” I say, grinning. “Sounds lovely.”

  We chat for a few more minutes about the role, and I know I’d be a good fit. He mentions the pay range, and it’s slightly more than I made at Ribbon Financial, but not life-changing. Still, it’s a job and Ari seems nice and the culture seems good.

  I leave feeling strongly that I did well enough to at least be considered for the job, as long as my being pregnant doesn’t scare them off. I feel upbeat and hopeful, as I walk to my car.

  Once I get in, I check my phone, which I purposely left outside to avoid distraction. There’s a message from Lauffett Consulting, asking me to call them back. With shaking, nervous hands, I dial the number, and they ask if I can come in for another conversation. I admit that I am actually free right now, and they tell me to come right over.

  Rachel Lauffett is just as put-together as I remember her when she greets me at the door. She’s in skinny jeans and a fitted blazer, sky-high heels, and a simple white t-shirt. She sure knows how to make casual look good.

  I’m yet-again overdressed for the casual environment.

  “Are you out on another interview today?” Rachel asks, nodding at my attire.

  “Actually, yes,” I say.

  We go into her office, and she takes a seat behind her desk. “Well, I guess I’d better make you an offer before I lose you to someone else, then.”

  I smile widely at this. “Maybe you should.”

  “First, though, I want to hear about your situation. Just be honest with me. About life, about why you’re looking for a new job.”

  I open my mouth but nothing comes out immediately. I realize I have my hand on my abdomen and that Rachel is staring right at it. She knows. I meet her gaze, and she raises an eyebrow.

  “Wow,” I say. “You are astute. I am pregnant. Due in February. I’m a single parent and my son recently had a health scare. My previous employer was not supportive of my need to balance work and family needs, and he had me work on that very large data project with no extra pay or flexibility. So … I quit. It was irrational and impulsive, and I’m freaking out about it, if I’m being honest.”

  Rachel laughs lightly. “Well, sometimes we hit our limits and we have to act, right?”

  “I hit my limit, alright,” I say.

  “So you’re due in February. We have a six-week onboarding and training program here, which means you’re looking at maybe three-to-four months of work time before needing to be off.”

  I cringe, feeling the crash and burn of what was on track to being a pretty sweet, new job.

  “It’s not ideal,” Rachel says, “but it’s not impossible. Would you be open to taking on some light work while you’re out? I wouldn’t say more than an hour or two a day, but it would allow us to justify your access of our benefits package so early in your tenure. Our health insurance pays for ninety-five percent of all maternity costs, and we offer twelve weeks of maternity leave at full pay and an on-si
te day care at nearly half the price of other facilities for when you return.”

  “It all sounds amazing, and I’d absolutely be willing to take on projects while at home. I really want to work here and would be one-hundred-percent to showing my commitment.”

  Rachel puts a finger over her mouth as she thinks. I bite the corner of my lip nervously. Finally, she says, “I think this will work. I’d love to hire you to consult on projects specific to small business operations and their data transitions. The salary for this role is a base of seventy-thousand-dollars annually, with bonus opportunities starting at twenty thousand and ranging upward to fifty thousand annually. Are you interested?”

  Seventy thousand dollars! Did I just hear that correctly? I live in poverty making twenty-eight-thousand-dollars a year. With bonuses, I could make three times that amount. Talk about life changing.

  “I’m absolutely interested, yes,” I say, beaming.

  “Great, when can you start?” she asks.

  “Um, tomorrow?” I say with a laugh.

  “How about Monday?” she counters.

  “It’s a deal.”

  “See you at eight-thirty. Be comfortable. This is a casual environment unless you’re going out to see clients.”

  I thank her and she walks me to the door. I drive away in a shocked, happy stupor, a dumb smile plastered across my face. Things are changing, finally, for the better.

  Chapter Twenty

  I can hardly contain myself as the shock wears off and the reality sets in. And there is only one person I want to share this with right now. I find my car already knowing my intention, as I look around and realize I’m very near the college campus where Rob works.

  I check in with the College of Fine Arts, and they tell me he’s teaching a ceramics seminar right now, so I wander toward his studio classroom and slip in the door to watch him finish his class.

  He sees me and grins, raising a hand in greeting before finishing his review of the students’ work. Once he dismisses, he approaches, kissing me lightly on the cheek.