Nobody But You: A Single Dad Romance

by Megan Green

  And with that, the door slams in her face, and I beeline straight for the kitchen.

  Yanking open the fridge, I pull out the six-pack of beer I purchased the other day.

  Fuck my one-beer rule tonight. Hannah’s at my mom’s. My marriage is finally done. And the woman I love never wants to see me again.

  I twist off the top of the first bottle, chugging it in only a few swallows. I look down at the remaining five beers.

  Yeah, that’s definitely not going to be enough to dull this ache.

  I grab my keys from the counter, my broken heart set on only one thing.

  The liquor store.

  22

  Maddy

  The needle pierces the tip of my finger, the blood instantly welling as it clatters to the table.

  “Son of a bitch,” I curse, my right hand coming up to squeeze the left in an effort to soothe the sting and stanch the bleeding.

  Cami peeks her head around the partition between our two work tables. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I mutter, lowering my eyes so as not to meet her gaze while I reach for a sterile gauze pad. I can feel Cami’s eyes on me as I move.

  “Please tell me that needle was clean. I really don’t feel like hauling your ass to the hospital.”

  “It was clean,” I say as I dab the gauze against my skin.

  “Good. I’d hate to lose another boss to puppy HIV.”

  I nod. “Yeah, that would be bad.”

  “Almost as bad as that one time you caught cat chlamydia.”

  “Mmhmm,” I murmur as I reach across the table for a bandage.

  “You know, Dr. B once caught the whole slew of feline STDs. He never could stay away from pussies.”

  “That’s interest—wait, what?” I gasp in shock as the words she said finally register.

  “Ah, welcome back to the land of the living, boss lady. I was starting to wonder if I’d lost you for good.”

  I roll my eyes. “Oh, come on. I haven’t been that bad.”

  Cami eyes me thoughtfully. “No, you’re right. Like yesterday, when you bit into a still-frozen Hot Pocket. Or the day before that, when you wore two entirely different styles of shoes—I’m still not sure how you failed to notice sliding your foot into one sandal and another into a zippered boot. Or what about this morning, when you walked into the Newtons’ exam room with a syringe full of pentobarbital?”

  I wince at the reminder. The poor Newtons brought their ten-year-old goldendoodle in for a routine checkup, and I walked in with a needle, immediately launching into how very sorry I was for their loss.

  Pretty sure I lost a client for good there.

  “So, maybe I’ve been a little distracted,” I admit sheepishly.

  Cami laughs. “That’s one word for it. Let me just say how glad I am that you’re not a human doctor. I’ve seen Jane the Virgin. I know what happens when you accidentally inseminate the wrong person.”

  I lift a brow at her. “What in the world are you talking about?”

  She blows out an exasperated breath. “We seriously have to get you a Netflix subscription.”

  I start to tell her that I don’t have time to use it anyway, any free time I have away from this place being spent with Mason and Hannah. But then I remember that’s no longer the case.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right. It would be nice to have something new to pass the time,” I say, sadness swarming deep inside my belly.

  This is my life now. Nights spent with Netflix and a cheap bottle of wine because I’m too poor to buy the good stuff. Maybe I should get a cat—or seven while I’m at it. Really complete the whole spinster package.

  Cami’s hand slams down on the table beside me. “Okay, seriously, what is with you?”

  I sigh and turn away from her. “Mason and I broke up.”

  “Yes, so you’ve said. But from what I gathered, that was your choice. So, why are you walking around like all you want to do is eat brains?”

  “You seriously watch too much TV,” I say, trying to change the subject to anything but my relationship with Mason.

  Former. Former relationship with Mason, I remind myself.

  “I watch as much as any normal American. It’s not my fault you’re a weirdo who doesn’t like binge-watching. And don’t think you’re getting off that easy,” she says, and I see her point at me out of the corner of my eye. “Spill it, boss lady.”

  I shake my head. “I’ve told you a hundred times. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “And I’ve told you a hundred more. I. Do. Not. Care. You might not want to talk about it, but you need to. Now, knock off the bullshit and tell Auntie Cami what’s wrong.”

  “Auntie Cami? You’re, like, six years younger than me.”

  Her brows only lift higher in response, her lips pursing together in an impatient twist. She folds her arms across her chest, and her left leg swings over her right, her foot immediately starting up an impatient rhythm.

  Knowing there’s no way out of this—and also desperately wanting to confide in my friend, no matter how many times I’ve told myself that I can handle this on my own—I exhale slowly.

  Tears are already stinging my eyes as I begin to speak, “I can’t stop thinking about him, Cami. I see him everywhere, in every inch of this place. Everywhere I look, I see him, or I see Hannah, smiling and laughing as we talk, waiting for Hope’s latest test result to come in. Every little girl who comes in here reminds me of her. Tiny smiles that break my heart because they’re not hers. They’ll never be hers again.”

  Cami reaches over and covers my hand with her own, giving it a gentle squeeze. She doesn’t speak though, as if somehow sensing I need to get this all out without interruption if I have any hope of getting it out at all. My eyes fall to our hands, and I draw strength from her comfort.

  “And every man who walks through that door … well, they remind me of him in the ways that they aren’t him. A clean-shaven man will only make me realize how much I miss his beard. A man in his twenties makes me wonder what Mason was like at that age. Even the way they smile, the way they smell … every man I see, I compare to him. And I can’t seem to get it to stop.”

  Cami’s silent for another second to ensure I’m done before she speaks.

  “Sweetie,” she says, giving my hand another squeeze and pulling my gaze back to hers, “what you’re describing? That’s love.”

  “I know,” I say with a sob. “How do I get it to stop?”

  Cami gives me a sympathetic smile. “If love were as easy as switching it on and off, there would be far less pain in the world. It takes time to fall in love. It’s not like you’re going to stop overnight.”

  “That’s just it though,” I say. “Falling for him was as easy as breathing. I didn’t even have to think about it. It just happened.”

  “Because it was real. Which is why it hurts so much more when it ends.”

  I sigh, leaning forward and pressing my forehead to the table. “Will you stop making sense and let me wallow?”

  “Nope,” Cami responds.

  All of a sudden, my chair is being dragged across the room, my pitiful ass going with it. Cami spins me around once we reach the center of the lab, leaving me completely exposed and unable to hide behind any partition or bury my face against a table. She leans down and places her hands on the arms of my chair, getting right in my line of sight.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, stunned by the boldness of her moves.

  “It’s time for a come to Jesus meeting.” She quirks a brow at me, as if daring me to protest.

  “A what?”

  “A come to Jesus meeting. You know, those scenes in books and movies when the best friend shows up and tells the idiotic heroine how much of a dumbass she’s being.”

  “Did you just call me idiotic? Wait, did you just call me a dumbass?” I ask, my mouth falling open.

  Cami lifts a shoulder. “You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. But, yes, you’re an idiot. A dum
bass idiot.”

  I scoff, “Well, thanks, Cami. You sure know how to pick a girl up when she’s feeling down.”

  I crane my neck, so I can see around her, no longer interested in this conversation. I fix my eyes on a poster of the canine skeleton on the wall behind her when a light slap lands on my cheek.

  “Did you just slap me?” I gasp, my attention instantly shooting back to her and my hand coming up to touch my cheek. Really, you could barely call what she did as a slap, the slight twinge of pain I felt at the contact already fading. But still …

  “Yes. And if you fire me, then I guess I deserve it. But I couldn’t just let myself stand by and watch you self-destruct.”

  “I am not self-destructing, Cami. My relationship ended. There’s a difference. I’m allowed to be sad for a while.”

  Cami shakes her head. “Not when you’re the only reason it’s over.”

  I grit my teeth. “You don’t even know what happened,” I state, trying to defend myself.

  “Why don’t you enlighten me then?” she challenges back.

  “He’s still married!” I blurt, pressing back into my chair and waiting to watch her reaction.

  Cami slowly blinks, and I think I might’ve finally gotten through to her, shown her that this isn’t my fault.

  But then her eyes narrow, her lips pulling into an impatient frown. “And?”

  “And? What do you mean, and?”

  “And … so what?” she elaborates.

  I hold my hands up in front of me. “Look, I don’t know what kind of shit you’re into. But I’m not about being the other woman.”

  “Oh, come off it, Maddy,” she says, pushing herself from my chair. She turns and starts pacing the room. “You know that isn’t true. You were never the other woman.”

  “He. Has. A. Wife!” I reiterate, pausing between every word. “In what world does that not make me the other woman?”

  “A wife he hasn’t seen in over five years! A wife who abandoned him and his newborn baby. In what world do you think there’s even a semblance of a chance of them rekindling that relationship?”

  Her tone makes it sound like it’s the most impossible thing in the world. And hearing her words …

  “Fine. Maybe they won’t end up getting back together. It still doesn’t change the fact that he lied to me. Again,” I remind her.

  Cami rolls her eyes. “Oh, please. I thought we put that whole not telling you he married your enemy thing to bed. I thought you were over it.”

  “I was,” I say, pausing to inhale deeply. “But that was before I found out he was still married to her.”

  “And it never occurred to you that this might still be the case? Did he not tell you she took off in the middle of the night and he never saw her again? When exactly did you think they signed those divorce papers?”

  I open my mouth, ready to retort, but the words stall on my tongue. Because she’s right. “I … I never really thought about it. I just assumed—”

  Cami lifts a hand, waving a decisive finger at me. “And that’s your problem. Once again, you assumed instead of talking it out.”

  My head starts shaking as soon as I realize the direction she’s going. “No, this is entirely different, Cami. Yes, I know I can be quick to jump to conclusions. But this isn’t something like him supposedly scheming behind my back. He lied to me,” I say, drawing out the word this time, as if maybe repeating it enough and slowing it down will somehow make her see things my way.

  Cami lifts a hand to her brow. I hear her mutter something under her breath, but I can’t quite make it out. When she finally raises her gaze to mine, some of her anger has vanished, replaced instead by defeat.

  “Fine, Maddy. He lied. I get that. He had a million opportunities to tell you, and he didn’t. He was wrong for doing that. I’m not saying he wasn’t.”

  “Then, why does it feel like you’re trying to pin this entire thing on me?”

  “Because, Maddy, I’m worried you’re throwing away what might be the best thing that’s happened to you in who knows how long for nothing.” She holds up a hand as she sees me about to interject. “No, let me finish. I know him lying about still being married isn’t nothing, but when compared to the grand scheme of things? Couples fight, Maddy. Couples lie and hide things and get angry. Sometimes, it’s over little things, like a hidden stash of chocolate when you’re supposed to be dieting together. And sometimes, it’s larger. The point is, no relationship is one hundred percent perfect. But it’s how you deal with those imperfections that makes or breaks it. You can get angry, decide the hassle isn’t worth it, and leave. Or you can work through them. And I’m telling you, you need to work through them.”

  “What if I can’t?” I ask, sniffling back tears.

  Cami crosses the room and pulls me up into her arms. “You can. Because you’re stronger than you think you are. And, Maddy? What you and Mason have is the type of thing that only comes around once in a lifetime. Don’t throw that sort of connection away over something as inconsequential as a bitchy ex-wife.”

  I laugh, stepping back and wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “She really is a bitch. I wasn’t in the room for more than two seconds before it was like high school all over again.”

  Her hands reach up to cup my face. “You are not that girl anymore. Seriously, Mads, I don’t think you realize how fantastic you really are. You save animals’ lives day in and day out. You didn’t think twice about stepping into the role of stepmother to Hannah. And you’re just an all-around badass. Though, I have to say, I think that if I’d known the Maddy back then, I would’ve liked her just as much. Mean girls be damned.”

  “Thanks, Cami,” I say, tugging her back in for another hug. “That means a lot.”

  “So, what are you going to do?” she asks, pulling away and giving me an expectant look.

  I lean back and blow out a heavy sigh.

  If that isn’t the million-dollar question.

  23

  Mason

  “What in the fuck?”

  My head lifts up from the throw pillow smashed between my face and the couch, my body twisting and falling to the floor at the sudden shock of another voice.

  I scramble out of the blanket that usually hangs over the back of the couch—the one that still torturously smells like Maddy—and climb to my feet, whipping around to see who’s pulled me out of my second nap of the day.

  Or maybe it’s the third. Fourth? Fuck, who knows at this point?

  I’m not even entirely confident I could tell you what day it is.

  My brow furrows in anger when I see Reese standing before me.

  “What the hell are you doing here? And how in the hell did you get in?” I add, remembering the door was locked and this asshole most definitely does not have a key.

  He pulls out a little red key ring, one I instantly recognize. “Your mom sent me on a rescue mission.”

  I groan, rolling my head on my shoulders as I slump down to the couch. “Well, your services aren’t needed here. You can tell my mother I’m perfectly fine.”

  Reese looks around the room. “Dude, you most certainly are not fine.”

  My eyes follow his, landing on the numerous takeout containers littering almost every surface. Thank God for food-delivery apps; otherwise, I’m pretty sure I’d have starved to death by now.

  I shrug. “I need to clean up a little. But so what? It’s not like your place is spotless, dick.”

  “At least my place doesn’t smell like week-old cheese left out in the sun. Seriously, what the fuck is that?”

  I sniff, unable to make out what it is he’s talking about. “Whatever. You’re so full of shit. It smells fine in here.”

  “Yeah, if you live in a trash can. I’m going to have to start calling you Oscar.”

  I flip him off. “The door’s over there if my place displeases you, princess.”

  Reese walks over to the TV stand, grabbing a container of what I’m pretty sure was the Chinese
food I had for dinner … what was it? Last night? Night before?

  Fuck. Do I really not know what day it is?

  Letting out a heavy sigh, I look up at Reese. His lips are curled back from his teeth, his nostrils flared as he uses a leftover chopstick to open one of the flaps on the box. I watch as he peers slowly inside, his face paling and his stomach heaving when he sees the contents. It would almost be funny if the reason he was so repulsed wasn’t because I’d turned into such a fucking slob.

  “What are you doing here, Reese?” I ask even though I already know the answer.

  He drops the box of noodles back onto the TV stand, his hand coming up to cover his mouth as he turns to face me. “That,” he says from behind his palm, “is fucking disgusting.”

  Sad thing is, I can’t even disagree with him. Now that he’s disturbed its contents, the smell wafting across the room is one even I can’t deny.

  I get up and head toward the kitchen, grabbing a plastic grocery sack from the stash under the sink before rejoining him in the living room. Picking up the offending box of Chinese, I toss it into the sack before moving on to the rest of the room, collecting garbage as I go.

  “Why are you here?” I prod, reminding him of my unanswered question.

  Once I’ve cleared most of the takeout containers, Reese drops his hand, giving the room a tentative sniff before finally seeming to deem it safe enough to breathe.

  Crossing his arms over his chest, he pins me with a hard stare. “Do you even know what day it is, asshole?”

  A laugh bubbles up out of my chest, his first question hitting a little too close to mind-reader territory. But rather than admit to him that I have no fucking clue, I roll my eyes up in my head, giving it serious thought.

  “Friday?” I say, though it definitely comes out sounding more like a question.

  Reese drops his head, raising a hand to rub across his brow. “It’s fucking Monday, man. Your boss called your mom this morning when you didn’t show up for work because you have her listed as your emergency contact.”