by Lauren Runow
“They were building this huge dinosaur, and I got to place a few of the bricks!”
I chuckle at the happiness in his voice, something I needed to hear badly right now. “That’s great, baby. Are you being a good boy?”
“Yes, Mom,” he says with what I assume is an eye roll. “I held hands and followed all the rules. I even sat on the bench with Grandma for an hour because her ankles were swelling.”
I smile. That’s my sweet boy.
“I’ve been so good that Grandma and Grandpa Mason said they’re taking me to the Sea Life Acarium.”
“You mean, the aquarium?” I guess.
“Yes, the acarium. I want to live here. They have a theme park and a waterpark and an acarium. I love Legoland!” he shouts into the phone, causing me to lightly pull it away from my ear.
“There’s been a change of plans. Grandma and Grandpa are going to take you home tomorrow morning.”
“No! They promised I’d get to see the sea turtles!”
“It’s okay. I’ll take you to the Aquarium of the Bay near our house. I want you home.”
“But, Mom,” he cries, “I was going to see the sea turtles like they have in the Great Barrier Reef where Dad lives. He told me today that he swims with them all the time. I promised him I’d find one for him at the acarium. I promised!”
And this … this right here is the reason my rules are in place. My five-year-old is hysterical in tears because he wants to keep a promise to a man who won’t ever return the favor.
“Baby, it’s nothing you did wrong. It’s just time to go home. Grandma and Grandpa are tired—”
“No, they’re not. They bought the tickets already.” His words come out in panted breaths as he tries to talk through the tears.
Eleanor comes back on the line. “Do you hear what you’re doing to this child? Really, Tessa, telling him he can’t enjoy the day because you’re punishing us—”
“Don’t make this out to be my fault. Tell me, when Ashton spoke to Charlie, did he even acknowledge that Charlie’s in kindergarten?”
She pauses and then makes a noise as if she means to say something and then goes quiet again. “He probably didn’t think of it because we’re on vacation, not doing homework.”
“He doesn’t even know what grade Charlie’s in. Hell, he doesn’t even know his birthday. His meaningful conversation with Charlie was as impactful as if he were talking to a tourist trying to rent a Jet Ski.”
There’s an even longer pause as I listen to Charlie carrying on in the background and Eleanor sighing heavily into the phone.
“Let me calm him down and get him settled for the night. I’ll call you in the morning when we’re in the car on our way home.”
Her surrender makes me feel like a world-class asshole.
“Thank you. I don’t get the best reception where I am, but I’ll check my messages first thing in the morning.”
We hang up, and I feel awful.
My coffee is getting cold, which is fine because I no longer have the desire for it. Rising from the seat, I cross my arms around my body and walk around. I throw my coffee in the garbage and look back into the coffee shop. Bryce isn’t there, so I walk around the side to look for him. When I get to the front of the building, I see him pacing the parking lot. His phone is on the ground, and he’s running his hands through his hair.
Not in the mood to talk, I walk over to the car and let myself into the passenger seat. My elbow is on the frame as I lay my head in my hand. The driver’s door opens, and Bryce folds himself into the car, the phone is now in his hand so he tosses it on the center console and starts the engine.
He pulls out of the parking lot and drives us back toward the house. The radio is off. All I can hear is the sound of the tires on pavement as we head through town. While the car is silent, my head is screaming at full volume.
“He spoke to Ashton,” I mutter, still in disbelief that Charlie spoke to his father for the first time in his entire life, and the Masons are acting like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “And, now, he wants to go see the damn sea turtles.”
I bite my thumbnail as I peer out the window. Bryce remains stoic.
My feet start to move with nervous energy as I think of the last time I spoke to Ashton.
“Get rid of it. Don’t call me. Why are you sending me a sonogram when I said I didn’t want anything to do with it?” I say in a quiet mock Ashton voice, half in thought and mostly to myself. “And, now, I’m the bad guy.”
I glance over at Bryce, whose eyes are trained on the road. His jaw is clenched as he looks straight ahead. It’s as if he hasn’t heard a word I said.
“Charlie spoke to Ashton today,” I say out loud.
Bryce doesn’t seem to hear that either.
I speak again, “Charlie spoke to his father.”
Finally, he seems to snap out of his daze. His eyes are still trained on the road, but his brows are furrowed. “You’re upset.”
I pop up straight and raise my hands in the air. “Charlie doesn’t need to know a man who begged me to abort him, who has wanted nothing to do with his life for the last five years.”
He runs his hands around the circumference of the steering wheel and then grips it tight. “Maybe, now, he wants to get to know him. That should be a good thing.”
“It’s not a good thing to get a little boy’s hopes up. You have no idea what that will do to him. I’m the one who will have to explain why we haven’t heard from him or why he doesn’t come see him.”
“Horrible things happen in this life. Fathers wanting to have conversations with their sons is not one of them.”
“Are you serious right now? You have no clue what it’s like to be a parent.”
He has a pinched expression. “Sometimes, you have to do the right thing in this world. Even if it means putting your pride to the side and having a dinner with someone you despise.”
“What are you talking about?”
“No matter what has transpired in the past, he’s his father. Family is everything, Tessa. You always talk to your father.”
“He was the sperm donor who begged me to murder my child,” I spit in pure venom.
“People make mistakes.”
I am totally baffled. “My little boy’s heart will break wide open if he doesn’t show up or, if he does, when he leaves again, promising to call but never does. Because that’s exactly what will happen. Charlie will get attached, only to have his heart broken.”
“Are you talking about Charlie now, or are you talking about yourself?”
“Excuse me?” I state my words long and with attitude.
There’s a visual change to his posture as the insult he just flung at me settles in. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did. You don’t lie, remember?”
Finally, he takes his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at me. His chest rises with a deep inhale as he shakes his head and looks straight again, his jaw clenched. “My head isn’t in the right place for this. My brother and his girlfriend—my assistant, mind you—royally told off my father and stepmother before bailing on them at dinner. Austin had one fucking thing to do, and he couldn’t even do it.”
“Okay. So, he went to dinner and got into a fight with your dad. Families fight.”
“You don’t understand my family, Tessa. They’re cutthroat. All Austin had to do was play nice for one night.”
“That’s your solution? Play nice? And what happens tomorrow when they go back to behaving the way they have in the past? One dinner or one phone call doesn’t make things right.”
“Better than telling a five-year-old he can’t know his father.”
“How dare you!”
“Tessa—”
“Don’t say another word!” I scold him over the console. I puff out my cheeks and try not to scream. “You have this deranged idea of what a family is. You speak of your brother like he’s the most worthless human being, and you idolize your m
other, but it doesn’t even sound like you give your father a chance at anything. You passed up love and travel and living your best life, so you can work twenty-four/seven. You haven’t taken a day off in years. So, what is this?” I motion between us and this thing that we have going on. “The stalking, the dinners, the gifts, and weekend away? Is it all some sort of way of saying fuck you to your family? Because I am not a ploy, and neither is my son.”
He runs his hand along his hair and pulls at the ends as he turns into his driveway and parks the car, tearing the key out of the ignition. He bangs on the steering wheel. “Stop acting like you know anything about my family. My stepmother would rather see me and my brothers in jail than see my mother’s dream succeed. My father has his balls in a vise and can’t do anything about it, and I don’t know why. I know what family is, and I know what I want. This thing with you isn’t a ploy. I like having this space with us as a place where I can leave all of that bullshit.”
He falls back into his seat and looks up at the roof of the car. The anguish he’s feeling on the inside radiates on the outside as he clenches his eyes shut and scrunches his mouth. His hands fist at his sides. “What have I been doing?” He’s talking, but I don’t think it’s to me. “Taking days off. Sneaking around at night to see you. Running off to Tahoe. Meeting your kid when you didn’t want anyone in your lives.”
The way he’s shaking his head as he speaks is confusing me.
“You’re speaking in code, Bryce. Spit it out.”
“I don’t know if I can do this. My job is my life. My family is being held together by a thread.” His eyes open, but he’s looking up at the ceiling.
I lean back with my hands on the seat and dash, my back to the door, and stare at him with wide eyes. “You don’t know if you can do this?”
His head rolls to the side, and those coal-like eyes are set in a pained stare.
“I didn’t want this, Bryce,” I shout despite the confines of the small space. “I was fine on my own, but you pushed, and you pushed. You forced your way into my heart, and now, you don’t know if you can do this.”
“Tessa—”
“No, Bryce. First, you tell me how I’m raising my son is wrong. Then, you tell me you don’t know if you can do this thing between us. This is exactly why I didn’t want a man in my life. Men leave. Men fuck you and leave you. My mother was right.” I rip the keys out of his hand and bolt out of the car, slamming the door.
I’m unlocking the front door as he comes barreling around the car and up the front steps.
“Tessa, wait.” He grabs my arm, but I pull it away.
“Don’t touch me.” I unlock the door and storm into the house, toward the room where my suitcase is. He’s right behind me, so I turn quickly and hold a palm to his chest, pushing him away. “Don’t follow me. For the love of God, Bryce Sexton, don’t say another word. You told me, if I wanted you to leave me alone, you would. This is me saying leave me the fuck alone.” I lower my hand and back up.
It surprises me that he isn’t speaking. Like a defeated man, he’s giving me my request. I don’t know how I feel about this, but I square my shoulders anyway and fight back the tears.
“It’s over,” I say, backing into my room. “I’m going to pack my bag, and I’m going home.”
I close the bedroom door and start to gather my things. A few minutes later, I hear his footsteps as he finally leaves the hallway and goes back toward the master bedroom. My stuff is ready to go in minutes, and I’m at the car, waiting for him in the backseat.
When he walks out the front door, he has a book tucked under his arm and his own bag in his hand. He looks in the passenger seat with a tilted head and then sees me in the back. His expression is stoic, so I don’t know what he’s thinking. What I do know is, he puts our suitcases in the trunk, gets in the driver’s seat, and brings me back to San Francisco with me lost in the book I downloaded to my phone and him sitting in absolute silence.
21
BRYCE
I’ve never been so torn as I pull away from Tessa’s building and drive off. Where to? I don’t know. I can’t go back to Tahoe, and I don’t want to go home.
As I drive over the Golden Gate Bridge and the dense fog over the bay, all I can think of is Tessa. I didn’t want to insult her. I didn’t want to push her away, especially after the time we’d had, but there I went again, fucking things up as usual.
It’s for the best. My whole life has been a testament to what I am never supposed to have. I was just a chubby kid with no friends who went to work with my mom, so I had something to do. When I finally sprouted and the girls took notice, I never forgot the way they’d treated me. I refused their advances and focused on my studies … until college.
Maria was the only girlfriend I’d ever had and the only woman I loved … I thought I’d loved. I should be mad at her for leaving me, but I had chosen work over her long before she chose travel over me. I know I’m not still hung up on her. That feeling went away years ago. What never left is the feeling of … isolation.
I even let go of many of my closest friends. Bar-hopping and football Sundays are out of the question. The news cycle is twenty-four/seven. Everything else has to compete with newspaper deadlines and meetings.
Even when I had that asinine idea to adopt a kid, I quickly dumped it, realizing I’d just end up neglecting the one person who counted on me the most. It was stupid, and so am I.
Maybe Austin has the right idea. Be reckless and give no fucks. I should just cut ties with him and let him go off into the world, racing cars or playing action hero—whatever the hell it is he wants to do.
I don’t know why I’m bringing Tanner into this. The kid’s too smart, too artistic, too kind for this life.
I pass the exit for Sausalito. My mom loved the art galleries and concerts. She’d bring us there for lunch on the waterfront and fishing on the pier.
I remember, one day, it was just her and us boys. Tanner was only eight and wanted to know why we didn’t have more days like that, just taking a drive and eating crab by the bay.
“I wish we could do this every day, but Mommy has to work.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Because things don’t come for free. They cost money,” she replied, ruffling his blond curls.
“We have everything we need,” Austin chimed in. “A nice house, the place in Tahoe, and Dad even bought that fancy car.”
My mom rolled her eyes at that. “Daddy has nice taste and big dreams for us. He wants to get a new house and a boat.”
“We don’t need any of that,” I said. “If you want to cut back on work, it’s okay with us.”
She put her arm around Tanner, who was seated next to her, and extended her hand out to me and Austin, who were on the opposite side of the table. “I don’t do it all, so Dad can have nice things. This is for you. I want my sons to have a legacy, something you can build upon when you get older. Bryce, you love photography and travel. We can start a magazine someday. Austin, you’d make a fantastic movie critic, and you’re so good at math. I bet you’ll be doing the financials someday. And, Tanner, you are going to run the entire marketing division. Everything I do, I do for you. And, if you don’t want it, that’s okay, too. The company will be so successful; the doors will open for you wherever you go. Just don’t ever worry about me. I love Sexton Media. I love the stories we tell and the people we serve. It brings me happiness, and someday, it will for you, too.”
When she died, fulfilling the legacy she’d created for us became the priority. It brought her joy and purpose. It gave her a sense of familial obligation.
I’m not as happy as she was when she ran the company. It’s not because of the work. I actually relish the challenge. I like the stories and the obstacles I’m presented with. I love the success and feel pride every time a paper is printed or a blog gets another share.
I took over my role, thinking my father would be by my side. He’s been absent since the moment I walked through the
turnstile. Then, he had his childlike girlfriend work for our company, giving her a top position. The two of them have been undermining me every step of the way.
I assumed it would be a few years of constant work until my brothers were old enough to join me. Then, Austin joined the Marines. Although admirable, it was only in an effort to avoid the life I had chosen. I resent that more than anything. My own brother turning his back on family. On me.
Most people don’t know that he was blown up by an IED and carried to safety. When my father called with the news, I broke down in fear of losing my brother. I was so angry with him for running away, and now, he was broken.
I was on the first flight to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center when Austin came home from war with a torn-up back. I brought him home, got the best surgeons, and fixed him beyond repair.
When he was healed, I thought I finally had him back. He took his position as president of Digital Media within Sexton Media. While his body is present, his mind is elsewhere. He’s still running. He went from machine guns to turbocharge engines and street racing at night.
Part of me thinks he wants to get arrested. He wants to surrender his shares to our father and give him control of our company. Control to dismantle it.
Tanner thinks we should do it. Give it up and move on.
What’s wrong with me that I can’t let go? What’s wrong with me that I’m choosing it all over a beautiful woman?
I don’t deserve her.
The light on the dash ignites, letting me know I’m low on charge. I’ve been driving for so long; I forgot to keep track of the miles. I pull over to the side of the road and look up the nearest charge site. There’s one in Petaluma. I can get a hotel for the night and recharge. Both my car and my head.
I’m pulling back onto the highway. My phone rings, echoing through the speakers. When I hit the Accept button, I hear the one thing I’ve been dreading for eighteen months.
“Austin crashed while street racing. He’s on his way to the hospital, but … I don’t think he’s gonna make it.”
