Only One Night (Only One Series 3)

by Natasha Madison

  “Yes, please,” he says, getting on the stool in front of me, and we talk about the plays he’s going to make. We are both sitting down, getting ready to eat when Murielle comes downstairs dressed in short shorts and a tank top.

  “Morning,” she says, walking over to the coffee machine. She makes her coffee and sits on the stool next to me. “What time did you come home?”

  “Not late,” I answer, eating and ignoring the fact that she is sitting so close to me. She reaches over me to grab a slice of turkey bacon, and I glare at her. She knows I won’t tell her to fuck off in front of Jaxon.

  She just smiles at me. “What time do you have to be gone today?”

  “We leave here at ten,” I say of Jaxon and me. “His game is at eleven.”

  “I wish I could come, but I have a foundation meeting. We are going to be doing a toy drive in December,” she tells me. I will give her that—she is very involved with the foundation. I mean, she has to be since she’s the captain’s wife. “Sorry, buddy.”

  “That’s okay,” he says, getting up and placing his plate in the sink. “Can I play on the iPad a bit?” he asks, and I nod.

  “We leave in forty-five minutes. So you get thirty minutes on the iPad. Is your bag packed?” I ask. He nods as he skips off to the couch, grabbing the iPad.

  “Are you going out after the game?” she asks, and I look over at her. “I’m just wondering.”

  “I don’t ask you where you go, so you don’t ask me.” I get up, putting my plate in the sink.

  “You could ask me,” she says, and I turn around and look at her leaning against the counter. “I’m an open book.”

  “Oh, you are open all right,” I say under my breath. I watch as she drinks her coffee, and I don’t know what comes over me. Maybe it’s the fact that I had Evelyn. Maybe it’s the fact that I was happy for two point three seconds. Maybe it’s the fact that I finally admitted I deserve to be happy instead of miserable. I deserve to wake up every morning and not dread seeing the woman who shares my house. “Aren’t you tired?” I ask, and she just looks at me, confused. “Of this?” I point at her and then at me. Her eyes show me that she is still not getting it. “Of living a lie? Of pretending? Don’t you want to be open and free?”

  Her eyes glare at me as she looks to the couch to make sure that Jaxon isn’t listening. “I don’t know about you,” she says, her voice low, “but I sleep very good at night.” She folds her arms under her chest. “Now if you want to change things and come back to our bed, I wouldn’t say no.”

  “Are you insane?” I say. “Murielle, it’s over. It’s past over. It’s buried and dead.” I look at her, and I ask her again.

  “Do you love me?” She just looks at me.

  “Yes,” she says, and I laugh, shaking my head. “I do love you.”

  “Okay, what do you love about me besides my money and status?” I tilt my head to the side.

  “We have a good life,” she says. “A great life. We are both . . .”

  I put up my hand. “Save it, Murielle.”

  “Why are you like this?” she asks. The doorbell rings, and I look over at the camera to see it’s her fuck buddy.

  “Your scratching post is here,” I say, pushing away from the counter. I look back at her, stopping beside her. “If you change your mind, we can talk about it.”

  She glares at me. “There is nothing to talk about,” she hisses at me, and the bell rings again. She pushes away from the counter and starts to walk out of the room.

  “The minute my son figures out that his mother gets fucked in the basement, it’s really over,” I say.

  “Our son,” she repeats. “I would hate to have to take our son away.”

  I grip her hand in mine when she tries to walk away. “You caught me off guard the last time,” I say, my voice as low as I will allow it. “This time, I’m ready for you.” She snatches her arm out of my hand.

  “Don’t you dare threaten me,” she hisses.

  I shake my head and smile at her. “I wouldn’t dare think of threatening you,” I say and walk away, going to the couch. “Let’s go, buddy.” I pick up Jaxon, and he laughs when I throw him over my shoulder.

  “Dad!” He laughs, and I walk up the stairs at the same time that Murielle is opening the door. I make sure he doesn’t see as I walk to my side of the house.

  “Are you leaving again?” Jaxon asks when I take out my going away tote bag and place it on the bed while he plays on his iPad.

  “Just for a couple of days. I leave tomorrow, and then I come back on Wednesday.”

  “Can you take me to practice when you get back?” he asks.

  I grab my phone, and my heart does a little flip, hoping there is a text, but then is let down. I check my schedule. “I think I can. So far, it looks good.”

  He gets up off the bed when the timer goes off on the iPad, letting him know he has to get dressed. “Thanks, Dad,” he says, walking out of the room.

  “Anything for you,” I say to the empty doorway. “Anything for you.”

  Chapter 16

  Evelyn

  “You look tired,” Veronica says to me when I get to the restaurant, and I laugh.

  “That’s a polite way to say you look like shit.” I kiss her cheek and then bend to kiss my brother’s. “Sorry I’m a bit late.” I kiss my nephew, and I’m shocked when I see Jaxon there. My heart speeds up in my chest, and I look around nervously to see if he’s here with his mother or his father. I spent the whole night thinking about him. Thinking about what he said. Thinking about the fact that I met him one week ago today, and it feels like I’ve known him forever. It’s so stupid.

  “Hello, you,” I say to Caleb, kissing him on the head, and Jaxon looks up at me and smiles. “Hello, you, too.” I ruffle his hair, and my face scrunches. “Why is your hair wet?” He laughs at me. “Is it hockey sweat or shower?” His laughter gets louder. “Please tell me shower.” I try to keep my heart at bay as I look around without making it look so obvious.

  “We took a shower,” Jaxon says, laughing. I look over at Tim and Veronica and see two empty chairs, and my mouth gets super dry.

  “Are we just us?” I ask, trying not to make a big deal out of it. They both nod their head, and I let out a sigh of relief. I sit next to Veronica, leaving the seat next to me empty. “So how was the big game?” I ask the boys.

  “We lost by one,” Caleb says. “Jaxon scored two goals.” My mouth opens, and I put my hand up.

  “High-five for the two goals.” He reaches over and high-fives me. “Is that a trick?” I ask, looking at them as they laugh at me.

  “Auntie Evie, I told you already,” he groans out, putting his hand to his forehead. “That’s three goals,” Caleb says, shaking his head. “I told you this five times already.”

  I put up my hands, laughing. “I don’t get hockey.” I look back at Jaxon, who laughs with Caleb. “Well, I’m sure you can do it next time then,” I tell him, and he just looks at me. Then Caleb and he both look down at their menus.

  “You should come to the hockey game with us tonight,” Tim says, and I just look at him. My stomach twists and turns at the thought of seeing Manning.

  “I would rather sit on my couch and catch up on that Joe exotic guy,” I tell him. “And then search how I could adopt a tiger.” I shrug, knowing that I’ll be on my couch curled up and spend the night trying not to think about Manning.

  Veronica laughs. The waitress comes over, and the kids both order burgers with bacon and fries. Jaxon asks if he can have soup with that, and then Caleb asks him if he ate breakfast.

  “I did,” he says. “Dad made me blueberry pancakes with sausage and turkey bacon.”

  “Wow,” Tim says. “Well, you played hard today so you can have whatever you want.”

  Lunch is chatty with both of them talking loudly to each other. I use one ear to listen to the stories he tells, wanting to hear about Manning. I wonder where the mother was while he made breakfast. Was she there?


  I lean over and grab a fry from Caleb's plate and then grab one from Jaxon, also laughing with them. “Who is going to get dessert?” I ask them, leaning on my arm. “I want a bite of each.”

  “No.” Caleb shakes his head. “Not some of mine.”

  “You can have a bite of mine,” Jaxon says. “But I’m ordering chocolate.”

  “Oh,” I sing-song, “I love chocolate.”

  “Me, too,” he says, and his eyes go big. “Dad and I love it. Mom doesn’t.” I smile while swallowing around the lump at the mention of his mother and his father.

  “Go wash your hands,” Tim tells them, and they get up and go wash their hands.

  “He’s a nice boy,” I say, watching them as they walk to the bathroom.

  “He is,” Veronica agrees, drinking the rest of the wine she had in her glass. “I hate his mother,” Veronica says, and I just look at her.

  “Don’t start,” Tim says to Veronica.

  “Don’t start, my ass. It’s your sister. Who is she going to go tell?” Veronica looks at him, leaning forward on the table with her arms. “Tim says I have to be nice.”

  “I just said behave,” he says, leaning to her, and she kisses his lips, and something in me makes my chest hurt.

  “I do behave. We all behave.” She rolls her eyes. “She’s a class A bitch. In case you didn’t know, her husband plays for the NHL.” I pick up my glass of water and bring it to my lips. I hope they don’t notice the glass shaking in my hand. “He’s the captain, so if we need anything, she can get it for us. You know us little people are peasants.”

  “She is not that bad,” Tim says, laughing.

  “Last month, she came to see me to tell me that all snack and cupcakes have to be organic and all that shit.” Veronica looks at him while she talks. “Then she asked me if I could afford it. Me. I’m a fucking doctor. She’s . . .” She throws her hand in the air. “She’s a stay-at-home mom with a nanny, a cleaning lady, and a chef.” My heart sinks as I think about Manning and what he told me. “Don’t even start with me, Timothy,” she says his full name, and I open my mouth, looking at him.

  Tim rubs her back. “Okay, okay, enough. It’s not Jaxon’s fault she’s like that.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” she says. “It’s a good thing he’s nice like his father because . . .”

  “Shh,” I say, hushing them when I see the boys walking back. “Did you use soap?” I ask, and they both nod.

  They get their dessert, and my heart literally is going to burst in my chest when he asks the waitress for two spoons so he can share with me. I look at him with a smile. He really is like his father.

  He hangs around with us until Tim gets up and drives him back home with Caleb. I hug Veronica and thank her for lunch, then make a stop at the florist before going home.

  I kick off my shoes when I get home, and I spend the night watching some show on Netflix. Then I fall asleep, but this time, my dreams are of Manning and Jaxon. Sunday flies by with the bridesmaids fitting and then dinner. The whole time, I remember the last time I was with them, and when I get home that night, I’m exhausted from spending most of the day trying to block him from my mind.

  By the end of Wednesday, I walk into the house, kicking off my heels at the door on the way to my bathroom. A soak in the tub is just what I need. Only when I get out, I order a burger instead of a salad as I walk back to the bedroom and put on my shorts and tank top. I grab the long cashmere sweater, putting it on as I walk to the fridge and take out the white wine.

  So far this week, I’ve been in back-to-back meetings with everyone my father wants to switch over to me. I also had about fifty-five million questions about what I do and don’t do. It’s almost as if I’m interviewing for a job each time someone new walks into the room. The cool wine goes down smoothly as I turn on the television and it’s on SportsCenter. Okay, fine, I was watching the hockey game last night. I caved, and just seeing him on the ice gave me butterflies. I lasted three minutes before the butterflies turned to dread, and I changed the channel.

  The doorbell rings, and I put down the remote next to the glass of wine and make my way to the front door. I unlock the door and open it, expecting the delivery guy, but it’s not.

  “Manning,” I whisper. He stands there in his suit with his hands in his pockets, and he looks even better than he did in the club. “What are you doing here?”

  “I . . .” He starts to say, and he looks up at the sky. “I know I shouldn’t be here. I know that.”

  I don’t say anything to him. I can’t because I’m still in shock. “I was trying to tell myself not to come and this was a bad idea. But my car started coming here, and I just,” he says, “I couldn’t not see you.”

  He walks toward me now, my heart beating in my chest. “Manning,” I say his name.

  It’s the only thing I can actually say. His hands come up to my face. “Evelyn,” he says, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs. “You saw Jaxon?” he says, and I nod my head. “I have never been so jealous of my son before in my life.” He smiles, and I can’t stop the smile that fills my face. I couldn’t if I tried. “I can’t stay away from you.” He bends his head, so our foreheads meet. “Your face,” he says. “It haunts my dreams.”

  A tear escapes my eyes. “I watched you last night.” I finally say the only words that come out. “I couldn’t last for more than three minutes without my chest hurting.”

  “Evelyn,” he whispers, and my heart speeds up, my stomach flips, and I know what he’s waiting for. I know he won’t go any further until I tell him it’s okay. I know that no matter how much he wants me, no matter how much it kills him, he will not make the next move. It’s up to me.

  “Manning,” I whisper. It’s the only thing I say before I make a move. I move my head just a touch so my lips touch his, enough for him to know I’m okay with this. “Manning.” It’s the last thing I say before his mouth claims mine again, and I feel like I’ve been kissing him my whole life. I feel like this is where I was always supposed to be. But with his lips on mine, everything else disappears.

  Chapter 17

  Manning

  “Evelyn,” I say. My hands are tangled in her hair after she asked me to kiss her. I bend my head again and take her lips. This kiss is like nothing I remembered. Our tongues dance together softly, gently as we savor this fucking moment. I’m about to pick her up when I hear a car approaching. I turn to see a car parking in her driveway.

  “Go inside,” she tells me, and I suddenly wonder if she was expecting someone. My eyes watch the guy open the driver’s door and then lean over to the passenger side. “It’s my food. He might recognize you,” she says, and I nod my head. I hate that I have to leave her out here by herself. Hate it. I walk into the house and go to the family room, and I look around. Her light gray couch is in the middle of the room with plush black pillows. An oversized gray table is in the middle of the room in front of the television hanging on the wall and is paused on some show. I see a glass of wine on the table. I look around, seeing family pictures placed on the side tables. She’s been here for less than a month, and this house already feels like a home.

  I didn’t know what to expect when I rang the doorbell. I didn’t even know if she would let me in. It didn’t matter, though, because there was only one thing that mattered. I had to see her, even if it was six feet apart. Even if she slammed the door in my face, I knew that I had to see her.

  “Sorry,” she says, coming back, and I see that she has on shorts under her long robe. “I just didn’t want the guy to see you and then make trouble for you.” The feeling happens again in my heart—like a thud—but I’m not sure what it is.

  “You were worried about me?” I ask, not sure I understand it.

  “Well . . .” She puts the brown paper bag on the counter, then turns to me. “He might know who you are and wonder why you’re here.” I nod my head, hating another thing that comes with the territory that I’m in. “Did you eat?” she asks, a
nd I nod as she walks to me. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she says softly.

  “Trust me, I know,” I say. I want to take off my jacket and sit on the couch with her so we can talk. She walks to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the couch.

  “Give me your jacket,” she says. I shrug off my suit jacket, and she gently folds it, then lays it on the arm of the couch. “Come sit. We need to talk.”

  Nodding, I walk to the couch and sit down. She sits down away from me, and I lean over and bring her closer to me. “I missed you,” I say when she’s under my arm. “It’s fucking crazy, and I can’t even explain it if I tried, but I just . . .”

  “I know,” she says. Her hand comes up to touch my face, tracing my lips with her index finger. “I missed you also, which is insane to say since I didn’t even know you until last week,” she says and looks down as if she is embarrassed by the declaration. I put my finger under her chin and raise it so I can see her eyes.

  “Don’t hide from me,” I say, and she tilts her chin forward. I lean in and kiss her. Her mouth opens for my tongue, and the kiss turns needy. Both of us are needing to feel the other. She leans in now just a bit more, and I pull her to me. Her legs go over mine as she straddles my lap. Her pussy lands straight on my cock, who is ready to come out and play. “I didn’t come here for that,” I say, making sure she knows I really didn’t come here for this. “I came to see you.”

  “I know,” she says, leaning in and biting my bottom lip before I slip my tongue back into her mouth. My hands have a mind of their own when I cup her tits over her tank top. Her nipples are itching to be played with. While our tongues fight with each other and our heads move from side to side to deepen the kiss, I pull down her tank top, and my finger moves over her nipple lightly. She lets go of my lips to moan. I bend, taking the nipple into my mouth while she arches her back and her hips move. “Manning,” she says, running her hand through my hair. I pull down the other side and bite the other nipple. “God,” she hisses out.