by Portia Moore
I want to tell her no. There’s nothing I want more than to avoid having to look Alex’s mother in the eye after everything that’s happened, but I realize that I can’t. Not only because of the faint hope I still have that Alex and I can work things out—because if by some miracle he forgave me, I know it would help if his remaining family didn’t hate me—but because Kate is my baby’s grandmother. She’s going to want to be in her grandchild’s life. I can’t escape Alex’s family because I’m tied to them just as much as I am to him with this baby. “Okay,” I say slowly, trying to hide my reluctance. “I can meet you for lunch tomorrow if you want.”
“Tomorrow works. I’ll text you a place. Goodbye, Madison.” She hangs up the phone before I can even respond.
The phone call is all I can think about for the rest of the day. I can’t get anything done, not job applications or even apartment hunting. Instead, I turn on the television and watch it numbly until Parker gets home, at which point I blurt out the moment she walks through the door: “Alex’s mom called me today.”
Parker sets her purse down, looking at me with surprise. “Really? What did she want?”
“She wants me to have lunch with her. Tomorrow.”
Parker stares at me as she comes around to sit down next to me on the couch. She looks surprised, but she only shrugs. “Well, of course you shouldn’t go. She’s going to be horrible to you. Can you imagine how that’s going to go? What would you say to the person who was engaged to your son after you found out that they were sleeping with your son’s father?”
“I mean, I completely agree,” I say quietly. “But I don’t see any way around it. I can’t alienate Alex’s family; they’re related to the baby too. They’re going to want to see him or her. It’s just going to make everything worse if we all hate each other.”
Parker sighs. “There’s no changing your mind when it’s made up. I can take the day off work and come with you if you want, that way you don’t have to do it alone.”
I smile at her. “You’re an awesome friend,” I tell her, feeling soothed by how supportive she’s being. If only Melissa could be like this. “But I need to do it alone. It’ll be fine, the worst she can do is be upset at me, and I think I’m prepared for that. Whatever she says to me can’t be worse than all the things I’ve said to myself or imagined Alex or his family saying to me, all day and night when I think about this.”
Parker doesn’t say anything, but she gives me a small smile, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it gently as she sits back against the couch with me. I squeeze it back, knowing that she, at least, truly feels bad for me and wants to help.
At least there’s one person in all of Manhattan who I can trust to have my back.
Chapter 5
Present day
Alex
Sunlight filters through the blinds, and my alarm goes off shrieking in my ear. I roll over with a groan, reaching for Madison to pull her closer to me. Maybe even some morning sex, if I shave some time off of my shower this morning…
My hands touch the side of the bed next to me, which is cold, and my eyes fly open as I come back to reality.
It’s like I’m stuck in a time loop this past week. I wake up every morning, rolling over to pull Madison close to me and realize she’s gone, and the events of the last week hit me like a semi-truck all over again. I stumble into the shower and stand emotionlessly under the hot water, and then follow the scent of breakfast down the hall after I dress, where my mom is in the kitchen.
She’s stayed here the entire week so far, moving Alyssa out onto the couch in the living room and sleeping in Alyssa’s old room. The result is that the apartment feels more than a little cramped and messier than I’m used to, despite my mother’s clean-freak nature. Alyssa leaves clothes, wrappers, cups, and plates out faster than my mother can keep up with it.
But I can’t exactly complain. It’s meant a home-cooked breakfast every morning, not whatever frozen shit I would have heated up for myself, and something to look forward to—my mom’s cheery face happy to greet me as I walk into the kitchen. I think I might have gone crazy those first few days if the only other person in the apartment was Alyssa.
My mom gives me a quick hug as I walk into the kitchen, setting a plate of food down with coffee, and smiling at me. “How are you feeling this morning, honey?” she asks, genuine concern on her face. That’s something else that’s helped me get by this week—feeling like someone’s actually worried about how I’m doing. I know Alyssa thinks I should call Madison and try to talk things out with her, but it feels like she’s not taking the situation as seriously as I feel she should. Or, at the very least, Alyssa doesn’t understand how I feel.
“I’m alright,” I tell my mom, giving her a reassuring smile. “I’ve got a meeting with a potential new client, so that’s good.”
“Yeah?” She raises an eyebrow as she walks back to the stove. “Alyssa, come on! Breakfast is ready!” She glances back at me. “What kind of client?”
“A social media influencer,” I say, laughing as my mother rolls her eyes. “Hey, she’s a big deal. Three million followers on Instagram, one million on Twitter. Her agent contacted me about doing the catering and bartending for her birthday party.”
“Sounds exciting,” Alyssa says as she walks in, taking a plate from my mom and sitting across from me at the table. “More exciting than anything I’ve got going on.”
“How’s the job hunt going?” my mom asks her pointedly, turning around to look at her. “Any leads on something new? Something that might enable you to pay your brother some rent?”
“It’s crap out there,” Alyssa says, taking a bite of bacon. “Honestly, I’m thinking about asking Jackson for my job back.”
My mother and I both look at her in unison with the same exact glare on our faces.
“Oh my god,” Alyssa says, rolling her eyes. “I was joking. I’m not asking him for my job back. But my only interview this week is at a law firm that wants to pay me four dollars an hour less than Jackson was paying me, so, wish me luck, I guess.” She rolls her eyes, taking another bite of her breakfast as she shoves her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
It doesn’t take her long to bolt down the rest of us and give a perfunctory goodbye before heading off to the interview, leaving my mother and me to finish breakfast together at the table. I pause as I get up to refill my coffee cup, looking over at her. “You know I love having you here,” I tell her sincerely. “But you should probably think about going back home. It’s been a week, and I know John misses you. I’ll be fine, I promise. You can’t babysit me forever,” I say with a forced laugh as I sit back down.
“I planned on leaving tomorrow anyway,” she says, glancing over at me. “After I meet an old friend in the city for lunch. But are you really okay? I’m worried about you. I remember how things were after Holly, and this seems…worse.”
“I’m fine, Mom,” I insist. “I’m eating, and sleeping, and going to work, so I’m fine. All good things.” Despite all of that, I feel empty and numb almost every second of the day, but I don’t tell her that. She doesn’t need to know; it would only worry her. As long as I can function, that’s good enough.
“Have you talked to Jackson?” she asks quietly, and I feel myself tense immediately, giving her a pointed look. I haven’t, and I’m not going to, the look says, and she picks up on it immediately.
“Okay, I get it,” she says with a regretful smile. “But I want to talk to him. About what happened.”
“You can do whatever you want,” I say flatly. “You’re both grown adults. But I have no plans on speaking to him ever again.”
For a brief second, my mom looks as if she wants to say something, but then she shakes her head and smiles. “Stubborn like both your fathers,” is all she says before returning to her breakfast.
---
Ending on that note leaves me in a bad mood, but I manage to push it aside as I head out to my meeting. Work has always been the one thin
g that can distract me no matter what, and I’ve thrown myself into it this past week. Besides, it’s the only thing in my life that seems to be on the upswing, and I’m not about to sabotage it by wallowing.
The meeting is at the social media star’s home, and as I get out of the elevator to her penthouse loft apartment, I can’t believe what I’m looking at as I ring the doorbell and the door opens to the massive space.
And not just the apartment, either. The girl who opens the door is one of the most stunning women I’ve ever seen, maybe thirty, with sleek chestnut hair that stops just below her shoulders in a blunt cut. She’s wearing a cream-colored dress that somehow looks professional while still clinging to the curves of her waist and hip, and high heels that click on the marble-tiled floor as she shows me into the living room, where a much younger girl is slouched on a sofa on the far end, glued to her phone. She’s wearing jeans that are more rips than denim, a shirt tied up high enough on her waist to show off her diamond belly piercing, and her hair is colored every shade of the rainbow.
“Is that the client?” I ask the tall girl, who smiles ruefully and holds out her hand for me to shake. “I’m Jade,” she says by way of introduction. “The agent. And yes, that is my client. You are…Alexander?”
“You can call me Alex,” I tell her as I shake her hand, catching a whiff of some light, expensive perfume. “No need to be super formal about it. So this is for her birthday party?”
“Yes, twenty-first. Although I’m going to warn you,” she says, dropping her voice to a low whisper, “she acts way younger than that. She’s kind of a brat, to be honest. All the money and fame went pretty quickly.”
I’m not surprised, looking around at what I can see of the loft. The carpet is lush, the kitchen is done in real hardwood and gleaming stainless steel appliances, and overall the size of the home could have fit my tiny apartment several times over. There’s a huge balcony outside, and I know what’s on top of this building—a rooftop pool exclusive to the penthouse apartment. I’ve delivered food here before, back in the days when I took odd jobs to help make the rent.
“I can’t believe how much these influencers are making,” I mutter, not meaning to say it aloud, but Jade just laughs.
“It’s ridiculous,” she agrees. “But hey, they’re paying our bills. But let me go ahead and introduce you, that way, the meeting doesn’t run long.”
The girl on the couch, who Jade introduces as Blaire, barely looks up at me as Jade tells her that I’m a potential hire to bartend her birthday party.
“He’s got quite a following,” Jade presses. “He’s known for making quirky drinks, unique twists with a gorgeous aesthetic.”
Quirky isn’t really how I would describe them, but I decide to roll with it. This job, if I get it, will put me way ahead in my savings for my own bar. Where I won’t have to listen to people describe my bartending as quirky.
Blaire sighs, tossing her phone aside and taking a drag on her vape. She looks me over from forehead to toes, finally shrugging as she raises an eyebrow and looks at Jade. “Sure,” she says carelessly. “He’s fucking hot. Go ahead and hire him.”
I blink rapidly, unsure how I feel about this strange, not-even-old-enough-to-drink-yet kid calling me fucking hot, but Jade quickly grabs my elbow and steers me away. “I do have a few questions for you,” she says, her professional demeanor much more my speed than whatever is happening on the couch.
“Shoot,” I tell her, crossing my arms as we walk several paces away from Blaire.
“How did you build your following?”
Madison. I wince and try to hide it, feeling suddenly guilty for my thoughts about Jade’s appearance when I first saw her. But why should I? She’s gorgeous, and I’m single.
And Madison fucked my dad.
“My ex-girlfriend was a social media manager and graphic designer,” I say smoothly. “She helped show me some tricks, what photos to post, hashtags to use, that sort of thing. But I picked it up pretty quickly on my own,” I add hurriedly. “So it shouldn’t be affected by her, um…”
“Of course,” Jade interjects, saving me from having to keep talking about it. “That’s good to hear. Now, the party is for Blaire’s twenty-first birthday, so you can expect it to be a blowout, pretty crazy. Her friends are a lot like her, and the guest list is long, over five hundred people. Is that something you think you’re capable of managing?”
I look at her and grin confidently. “In the two months that I’ve got to prepare? Sure, I can pull it off. It won’t be a problem.”
“Actually, it will be one month,” she says, and my eyes go wide.
“Blaire wants to go to Bali for her actual birthday, so she’s going to have two celebrations.”
Shit, a month? I pull out my calendar to make sure the date is open. I have a small wedding shower we’re set for, but that shouldn’t be too long.
“Works great,” I tell her, with more confidence than I feel.
Jade smiles at that. “Well then, I think I’m in agreement with Blaire that you’re the right fit for the job. Thank god,” she says, laughing. She digs in her small purse and hands me a card. “I’m available if you need me,” she says, and then looks up at me with an expression in her green eyes that I recognize all too well. “You can call me anytime,” she says, sliding the card into my hand and letting her touch linger for just a second. “I mean it. Anytime.”
Well, that was unexpected, I think as I start to head back to my apartment. It’s my day off, other than the meeting, and although going back to the apartment to sit in front of the television all day doesn’t sound particularly enticing, neither does anything else.
I’m just pulling my phone out of my pocket to call an Uber when it goes off. To my surprise, it’s a friend I haven’t heard from in a while.
“Harland!” I say with surprise. “I haven’t heard from you in forever! How’s Boston these days, buddy?” I’ve only seen him a few times since we graduated from college, although we keep up with each other on Facebook.
“It’s good, man, it’s good. Hey, I’m in the city right now closing a deal with a new client. How’d you feel about meeting up for some drinks tonight? You working?”
I cringe. As nice as it would be to see an old friend, I’m hardly in the mood to go out and drink and pretend to have a good time. And if Harland is the same as the old days, he partied harder back then than I ever could—and definitely harder than I can now. A few beers at the local bar can very quickly turn into shots, and then the club, and then a strip joint, with Harland at the wheel.
“I don’t think I can tonight, man. Sorry, I’ll have to take a raincheck for some other time.”
“Old ball and chain keeping you home?” Harland asks, laughing at his joke.
I start to tell him that Madison is far from a ball and chain—and then I remember that she isn’t anything to me anymore, except a painful memory. I’m single, and I’ve got nothing better to do besides re-watch movies with my mother and sister in my cramped apartment, which sounds like the lamest thing any newly single New York man my age could possibly do.
“Fine,” I relent. “But only a couple drinks, alright? I do have to work tomorrow.”
“Sure thing, man,” Harland says, in a way that tells me it’s not a sure thing.
Fuck it. At least it’ll be a distraction.
---
The bar Harland’s picked is surprisingly upscale, and I’m glad I dressed decently well in nice jeans and a button-down shirt rolled up to my elbows. I get more than a few looks as I walk through the bar to join him, and I’m reminded of the way Jade looked at me earlier, clearly flirting with me. I have her card in my wallet, and I could call that number…if I wanted to.
“Hey man!” Harland calls out, waving me over. He stands up and gives me a one-armed hug, settling back onto his barstool as he waves over the bartender, a slim and pretty blonde. “Two scotches, alright sweetie?”
She glares at him but turns away to pour the drin
ks for us.
“How’s it going?” Harland asks. “How’s business?”
“Well, I’m bartending these days,” I say, laughing. “I work gigs for a catering company. The office life just wasn’t for me, you know? I like having some freedom, meeting new people. I’m trying to save up for my own bar, actually. How’s yours?”
“Can’t keep up. It’s going so well,” Harland boasts. “Had a record sales year, gearing up for another one. Lots of work and lots of play, you know how I am.”
“I sure do,” I say, laughing as I take a sip of my scotch. “Any girl manage to lock you down yet?”
Harland laughs. “Many have tried, man, many have tried. I’ve got a girl, sort of. She’s a fucking stunner, but nothing official yet. Too many options, you know? Now there’s apps for it and everything. I’m too young to settle down just yet. That was always more your gig. Speaking of which, how’s Holly?”
I wince. “Man, it really has been a while since we’ve caught up, huh?”
Harland groans. “I guess it’s not good?”
I shake my head and down my scotch. “I could use another one of these.”
We order another round, and I start to fill him in on Holly. “I was living her life,” I tell him, shaking my head. “It just wasn’t for me. But I thought I was happy. And things were great between me and Jackson—my bio dad. Then Holly got pregnant, and I was over the moon, man. Just thrilled. I always wanted a family, you know that.”
“So what happened?” Harland sees me finish my drink and orders me another, this one a Manhattan. The story comes out easily as the liquor fills my veins.
“She lost the baby. Or so I thought. I’ve never been so broken up in my life. We had the nursery painted, everything. I knew we were jumping the gun, buying shit, but we were just so happy. Or I was, anyway. Come to find out, she’d gotten offered a job that she couldn’t have taken with a new baby. So she…well, she picked the job. Didn’t tell me, let me think it was a miscarriage.”
