Only One Night (Only One Series 3)

by Natasha Madison

  I slip on my robe and walk to the couch, turning on the television. Grabbing the throw blanket, I lie down. I put the phone on the table in front of me, and I don’t know when I drift off to sleep, but I wake up and see it’s after three in the morning. I get up, seeing that he texted me.

  Manning: Hey, something came up. I won’t be able to make it tonight. I’ll call you in the morning.

  I don’t bother answering it. Instead, I walk to my bed and slip into it and fall asleep. I get up angry, and I hate it. I walk to the coffee maker and start it, turning on the television while I do it. The movie from last night is still playing.

  Grabbing my phone, I sit on the couch and open my Facebook. Using my thumb to scroll through my newsfeed, I see nothing good. I open Instagram, and the picture hits me right away. I see it’s from the Dallas Oilers. I started following them two days ago.

  My hand shakes when I see Manning in some ridiculous sweater with a moose and his wife next to him. My stomach sinks, the sting of tears come now. His wife is wearing a leather skirt, and I use my fingers to zoom in just a bit. Her arms are around his waist as she smiles and his arm around her. The caption is what pushes it over the edge.

  The captain and his wife at the team's ugly sweater party last night. A great time had by all.

  I unfollow the team and then close the app. I get up and walk to my bedroom. I slip on my blue jeans with a white long-sleeve shirt. After grabbing a thick knitted gray sweater and my purse, I leave my house.

  I look at the time and see that it’s just after eight o’clock in the morning. I also know that I rushed out of my house in case he just showed up this morning because I am not ready to face him. I’m not ready to see him. So I go to the bakery that I have been eyeing for the past two weeks. I pick up two boxes of sweets, and I head over to my parents’ house. I call my mother on the way there to make sure she is up.

  “Hello,” she says, and I’m thankful she sounds awake.

  “Hey there. I’m on my way over to help with lunch,” I lie to her. “I got some goodies.”

  “Wow, you are up early,” she says, laughing. “See you soon.” I disconnect, and a ping shows me that I have a text. I pick it up and see it’s from Manning.

  Manning: Morning. I’m so sorry about last night. I missed waking with you in my arms.

  I throw the phone on the seat next to me, not bothering to answer. I know that I’m going to have to face the music, but I’m going to do it when I’m ready and not when he’s ready.

  I walk into my parents’ house and see my mother already dressed as she stirs her pasta sauce. “It smells amazing in here,” I say, and she looks over at me.

  I put the two boxes of pastries that I bought on the island. “How much stuff did you buy?” She comes over to me to hug me and kisses my cheek.

  “You know what you always used to tell me.” I walk to get a cup and make a coffee. “Never shop when you're hungry.” I walk over to the fridge, grabbing the milk. “You were right.”

  She throws her head back and laughs. “I told you.”

  I roll my eyes. “You also used to tell us not to go swimming after eating, or we would get a cramp and die.”

  She gasps out. “I never said you would die. I said you would get cramps.” I laugh, and my father walks into the kitchen.

  “I thought I heard your voice,” he says, coming over to me and kissing me on the cheeks. “Now this is what I want to see.”

  “Me in your kitchen at nine a.m. on a Sunday?” I shake my head, and my phone rings from my purse. I walk over to it, taking it out and see that it’s Manning. I decline the call as my father turns on the television in the family room adjoined to the kitchen.

  I hear the announcer. “The Dallas Oilers had an off night last night,” he says and then laughs. “But from the pictures all around social media, it was a fun night.” He throws up a picture with the whole team in sweaters. I see Manning in the back of the picture, his face filled with a smile as he stands with his guys. The next picture is of three couples, and there he is in the middle with his wife on his side. Okay, fine, he isn’t touching her, and she’s standing in front of him. The other two couples have their arms around each other. But the last one is the one that I stumbled upon this morning. “Our captain looks like he is having a great time, don’t you think?”

  I look down now, blinking away the tears threatening to come out. I walk out of the room, going to the bathroom and closing the door. The phone is ringing in my hand. I shake my head and look down at it.

  Manning calling. I press the red decline button and just sit on the toilet. I refuse to look at myself in the mirror, not sure I can even stomach myself right now. I wash my hands, and with my hands wet, I pat my cheeks and then dab them dry.

  I’m walking out of the bathroom when my phone pings.

  Manning: Hey, just tried to call you a couple of times. Wanted to hear your voice.

  I delete the text and walk back into the kitchen, slapping my hands together. “Okay, what can I do to help?” I ask my mother, and she looks at me, not sure what to say. She sees my eyes red and just smiles at me when I shake my head.

  “Well, how about we make the meatballs?” She walks over to the fridge, and I take off my sweater and ignore the ping of my phone again from my back pocket. I take it out and put it on vibrate, but the last thing I see is the text that is across the screen.

  Manning: I miss you.

  Chapter 23

  Manning

  Me: I miss you.

  I delete the text and put the phone in the pocket of my shorts while I flip the pancake for Jaxon. Last night was a clusterfuck of clusterfucks, and I am still pissed about it. “Get the syrup.” I look over at Jaxon while Murielle walks into the kitchen.

  Her hair is piled on her head, and her “glam makeup” is still on. She is still wearing last night’s clothes on top of that. Her eyes look like raccoons. “I need coffee.” She walks and stops beside me, reeking of alcohol.

  “You need a shower, too,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I can’t believe you left me in your car,” she hisses. “I had to crawl up the stairs.”

  “You’re lucky I even drove you home,” I say. I should have known that something was up when she took the picture with me and then stumbled on her heels. Little did I know, she was doing shots with two other wives all night long.

  When her voice started getting louder and she starting getting touchy-feely, I knew it was too late. “Why are you being such a prude? So what if I drank a bit.”

  “You drank a bit.” I scoff, laughing, placing the plate in front of Jaxon, who is watching us. “Eat up, and then you can go play your Xbox,” I tell him, not willing to talk more in front of him.

  Murielle lays her head on the island, closing her eyes. “Why is the room still spinning?” Jaxon finishes as fast as he can to get away from her.

  He walks over and puts his plate in the dishwasher. “I’m going to go play the game, and we can watch a movie after.”

  “Sounds good, big man,” I tell him and wait for him to leave before I talk to her.

  “That is the last time that is going to happen,” I say, cutting a piece of egg and then looking at her.

  “Oh, please,” she says, not moving her head. “It’s not that big of a deal. Angela was drunk, too.”

  “Angela is always drunk,” I say. “I’m talking about you hanging all over me.”

  Her eyes open now. “Is your memory foggy?” I say. “You were hanging onto my neck.”

  “It’s not that big of a deal. You’re my husband, after all,” she says. “Yet you left me passed out in the BMW.”

  “I told you we were home,” I say. “You groaned, so I figured you were okay.”

  “I woke up and didn’t even know where I was!” she yells.

  “That sounds like a you problem and not a me problem,” I say, and I get up now, going over to the dishwasher. Pissed that she was drunk, I knew I couldn’t just leave Jaxon alone. I fe
ll asleep on the couch, waiting for her to come in, and when I finally woke up, it was after five in the morning.

  “Goddammit, Manning. It was freezing outside.” She slaps the counter.

  “It’s November in Texas.” I laugh at her. “There is no freezing.”

  “Why the fuck are you such an asshole?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Why are you still a bitch?” I ask, but I don’t wait for her to answer me. “Why the fuck won’t you just give me a divorce, and we can be amicable?”

  She glares at me. “I will never fucking give you a divorce.”

  “Never say never.” I push away from the counter. “I have to go and spend time with my son,” I say.

  “Fuck you,” she mumbles.

  “Right back at you,” I say. Walking up the steps, I take my phone out and see that Evelyn still hasn’t texted me back. I pick up the phone to call her again as I walk into my room and sit on my bed.

  “You’ve reached Evelyn. I can’t take your call right now. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” I smile as I listen to her voice.

  I wait for the beep and then speak. “Hey, it’s me. Just wanted to hear your voice. Talk to you soon.” I hang up and send her another text.

  Me: Are you okay?

  I get up, going into the cinema room, and sit down to play a couple of games with Jaxon. The whole time, I’m watching my phone, waiting for her to text me. Murielle doesn’t come in at all, and when we walk down for lunch, I see that she isn’t there.

  I pick up my phone and send Evelyn another text.

  Me: Getting a bit worried. Hope you are okay.

  An uneasy feeling comes over me and the rest of the day goes by at a snail's pace. I feed Jaxon dinner, and only when he’s going to bed does Murielle finally come out of her room.

  “I have a meeting with Becca,” I lie to her. “I’m leaving after I put Jaxon to sleep.”

  She looks over at me. “You’ve been having a lot of meetings with Becca lately.” I ignore her question and tuck Jaxon into bed. I change into jeans and a shirt.

  I call her one more time before I show up, and it still goes to voice mail. My stomach is in my throat, thinking that something happened to her, and I wasn’t there for her. I see her car in her driveway, and I breathe out a sigh of relief.

  I jog up to her door and ring the bell. My heart speeds up even more when I hear the locks. The smile on my face can’t help but come over me when I see her there. “Hey,” I say, walking in. I wrap my arm around her waist, and I notice a change in her right away.

  “Hi,” she says, her hands staying on my arms and not going around my neck. She usually puts her head back so I can kiss her, but this time she doesn’t.

  “I’ve been calling and texting you all day,” I say, releasing her.

  “Yeah, I saw. I was with my parents at a family lunch,” she says, stepping back. And I’m suddenly jealous that she had family time.

  “That sounds nice,” I say, and the whole room is filled with tension, and I hate it. “What is going on right now?”

  “I think we need to talk,” she says, and I see her cross her hands together.

  “What is going on right here?” I ask, my heart hammering in my chest.

  “I can’t do this,” she tells me, and I see the tears come out of her eyes. “No matter how much I try to think I can, deep down inside me, I can’t.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask, and I want to hug her. I want to sit down and hold her in my arms.

  “You said you had a function. What you didn’t tell me was that your picture with your wife would be splashed all around social media today,” she says, and I’m so confused.

  “What?” I ask her, and the blood drains from my body when she shows me the picture of Murielle and me. The only picture I took with her. I look back up at her, and my heart hurts. “It’s not what it looks like,” I say, my voice going low.

  “That is the whole thing,” she tells me. “I hate feeling this way. I hate that I feel this way. I hate that I ignored you all day because I had to process this. I hate that I doubt myself. I hate that I doubt you,” she says, using the back of her hand to wipe away another tear. “I just . . .”

  “I was making sure she didn’t fall,” I say. She has to know that at least. “Nothing happened. Nothing. I left her sleeping in the car.”

  “But it’s not just last night,” she says. “It’s about you going home to her. It’s about you sharing a life with her.” She looks at me. “Put yourself in my shoes. How would you feel knowing I was going home to someone else? Knowing I share a life with this person and sleep under the same roof as him.” My stomach hurts, thinking about it. My stomach sinks just thinking about kissing her good-bye and knowing she would go home to someone else. “Bottom line. You’re not divorced. You are still married.”

  “Evelyn.” I say her name in almost a plea, praying she just gives me a little bit more time. I just need more time.

  “I won’t be the one who makes you chose. I will not be that person.” She shakes her head. “I won’t ever let you choose between your son and me because the only answer should be your son. Always. So I am going to walk away.” My heart literally breaks, the pain coming so fast I have to put my hand to my chest. “Maybe it was never meant to be.” I want to yell at her and tell her no, it’s meant to be. That this thing between us is strong for a reason. “All day, I kept thinking that there was a reason, but then I couldn’t think of one.”

  “Evelyn.” It’s the only thing I can say. “Please.”

  “If you care about me, even just a touch, you will let me be.” Her voice goes low. I see her bottom lip tremble, and I can’t bear the thought of her hurting. I can’t bear the thought that she felt this hurt all day, and she had no one to turn to. She felt this way all day, and I am the one who caused it.

  This woman who has done nothing but accept the little that I have to offer and refuses to let me pick a side. She is giving me up so I don’t have to fucking choose. “I’m sorry.” It’s the only thing I can tell her. “I’m sorry that you hurt. That I hurt you even for one second in all this.”

  I walk to her now, not willing to leave without giving her one last kiss. She doesn’t move back, so I put one hand on her cheek. “Evelyn.” She shakes her head.

  “This sucks,” she says. “You’re amazing.” She looks in my eyes. “Jaxon should know how amazing you are.”

  The fact that she cares about my son more than herself makes her even more perfect. “This sucks more than you know,” I say, and I look into her eyes when I say the next words. “You’re perfect, Evelyn.” I bend down and kiss her lips softly for the last time. My hands fall from her face, and I walk over to the door, grabbing the handle. My whole heart feels like it’s shattered in my chest, like I’ve been stabbed. I take one more look at her. “This time with you, the little time we did have was everything.” I turn and walk out of the house, closing the door behind me. The sound of the door closing echoes in my ears even when I get in my SUV and drive away.

  Getting home, I walk in, hearing the television playing from the family room. I don’t bother stopping and go straight to my room. The silence doesn’t make it easy. My eyes close, and all I can see is Evelyn’s face. All I can do is feel her pain. I lie here and say good-bye to the only woman who wanted me for me.

  Chapter 24

  Evelyn

  Five days. It’s been five days since I’ve last seen him—one hundred and twenty hours—yet at night, he comes in my dreams so vividly that when I wake, I want to go back to bed. “You are starting to look better,” Tim says, coming into my office.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I’m feeling a bit better.” When I came into work on Monday, I was pale as a ghost, so my father sent me home to work. I pretended I had a fever, and I only came back to work on Wednesday because I refused to be stuck in bed. They said I was only allowed back at work when the fever resolved, so Wednesday, I walked in with cof
fee and doughnuts for everyone, and I went to my office.

  “Don’t forget you promised Caleb you would be at his game tomorrow,” Tim says. I want to crawl into a hole and die. I promised him last Sunday at lunch when I was put on the spot. “It’s tomorrow at noon. I have to be there at eleven, but you can come from ten to twelve, so he can see you there.”

  “Yeah,” I say, swallowing down the lump in my throat. It’s one thing waking every day and going through the motions, but I’m not sure I’m going to be okay seeing Manning again. Especially now. I want to ask Tim if Dallas is in town playing. Maybe he’s on the road, and I’m freaking out for nothing. “I can’t wait. Should I buy flowers and stuff like if he scores a goal?”

  Tim shakes his head, laughing. “Flowers?”

  I throw my hand up in the air. “I don’t know. What does one do if they score?”

  “You can buy him a slush,” he says, and I laugh.

  “We can take him out to Chuck E. Cheese,” I say, excited now for the first time in the past week.

  “Why don’t we play it by ear?” he says, shaking his head and walking out.

  I spend the whole night on the couch yet again. I’m waiting for my couch to tell me to get my fat ass off it and go do something.

  I toss and turn all fucking night long. The looming thoughts of seeing him are in the back of my head where I pushed them. It’s where I put everything that has to do with Manning. It’s the only thing I can do, or I’d text him and ask him if he’s okay. I would text him to tell him I’m sorry for not having more faith in him. I would text him to tell him I made a horrible, horrible mistake and that I want to have anything that I can have of him. But deep down in my heart of hearts, I can’t do it. I can’t. I kept thinking about how Christmas would be, knowing he’s spending Christmas morning with her exchanging gifts. It was just too much, and frankly, it would make me into a person I’m not and don’t want to be.