by Shey Stahl
Because he’s a fucking idiot. I don’t say that. Instead, I draw in another breath, trying to find the courage not to say anything bad about him. “I don’t know, buddy. Sometimes when you’re in a relationship or marriage, feelings change over time and someone who once made you happy, doesn’t any longer and you find someone who does.”
Shit. That wasn’t the right thing to say, was it?
“Do you hate him?” Cash asks, staring at his hands as he fidgets with the edges of what looks to be a drawing or a card. “Do you hate him for being friends with Brie?”
I have to watch what I say, because in many ways, ways they won’t understand until their old and have children of their own, I do hate Austin. I hate what he’s done and the example he’s set for them. But that’s also something they don’t need to know. Those are my reasons and should never be theirs.
I brush my hands over Cash’s face, pushing his hair from his eyes. He blinks, steady, always controlling what he doesn’t want anyone to see. In many ways, he’s a lot like me. Always trying to control and perfect everything. “I don’t like his behavior, but him as a person, no, I don’t hate him. He gave me something incredibly precious, and for that, I will always love him, in some form.”
“Do you love Ridge?” he then asks, his voice steady, never wavering, but his eyes are on the paper in his hand.
Can I admit this to them? We’ve already confused them enough. “How do you guys feel about Ridge?”
Cash looks to Grady, who finally smiles and hands me the folded-up piece of paper in his hand.
“What’s this?”
They smile, again. “Happy birthday, Mommy.”
Opening it, I cry, like I did when I found out I was pregnant and knew my life was changing forever. I cry because this is similar. Though it’s not a birthday card, it’s more. It’s so much more. My life is changing forever.
On my twenty-seventh birthday, they asked another man to date their mom. Not because they were forced to accept a change in their life, but because they asked him to be a part of it.
And Ridge said yes.
Through tears, I pull them into my arms, hugging their heads to my chest until they squirm away, laughing, giggling, being kids again.
Wiping the tears away, I look them in the eye. “Do you want Ridge in your life?”
They both nod. “We do!” Grady says, his expression no longer one of pain, but hope.
I can’t deny them, like I ever would when it came to them accepting Ridge into our lives, our love complicated lives.
“I’m telling you, man, toddlers are the death of parents,” Henry remarks after telling me how Ada took a pair of fingernail clippers and tried to cut his chest hair while he was sleeping last night.
I laugh and hand him a beer. “This might help.”
After a few drinks, he levels me a serious look. “Why didn’t you tell me you fucked T back when we were kids.”
Whoops. Let’s be honest. You knew this would come back to haunt me at some point, didn’t you? I did too. “Didn’t think it really mattered. You weren’t together at the time.”
“Still, I thought you would have told me.”
I raise an eyebrow, lifting my own beer to my lips. “Really?”
“No, not really, but still. I had to find out by accident.”
I laugh it off, though Henry finds no humor in it. “How’s your house guest?”
Tatum, Tori’s younger sister, has been sleeping on their couch lately. He stares at me for a half a second and then a look of realization comes over him. “You should rent this house out.”
“Why?”
“Because you and I both know this house is too much for you.” He’s right. It’s something like three-thousand square feet and way fancier than I want to live in. Dad bought this house back when he was still with Madalyn, so naturally, it had to appease her too. All that means is I don’t want to live here.
“I guess I could.”
“You should, and Tatum can rent it from you because she needs to get off my couch.” He downs the remainder of his beer. “I can’t sleep in my own bed because Tori’s constantly letting the baby sleep with us like it’s some kind of common bed house. . . and now I can’t sleep on my couch either because Tatum is there, crying over being knocked up.”
Henry’s got problems, doesn’t he? No wonder he let it go that I slept with his wife first. He certainly has more important things on his mind. Like sleeping.
“Why aren’t you over at Aly’s tonight?” He stands beside me, looking at the photos on the mantel.
For the first time since I’ve been back, I’m finally at my dad’s house, going through his stuff. I avoided it for over a month, but now it’s time. “Austin is over there. Figured I’d stay away until he leaves.”
I’m not sure what I’m going to do with my dad’s house. Maybe renting it out is a good idea. I like living in the trailer. You know me and the simple things in life.
I look up from the football trophies scattered on Dad’s mantel, memories he saved of me and my football career. It’s years of games, wins, from peewee football all the way up to my last college game where he stayed through pouring down rain to see me play. It didn’t matter how I treated him, how angry I was that he sent me to live with my uncle, he still made an effort.
He was there for birthdays, holidays, games, graduations, all of it because I mattered to him, and he needed me to know it. Believe it or not, I never once asked my dad the truth behind what happened between him and my mom, and though I know he had an inclination I knew he wasn’t my biological father, we never discussed it.
Henry laughs, picking up a framed photograph. “Remember this?”
I turn my head toward him, a folded-up piece of paper falling to the ground when he lifts it off the mantel. The photograph is one of me, Aly, Austin, Henry, and Tori at the track. We’re kids, probably nine or ten, sitting on our butts in turn three against the concrete barriers at the track.
I remember that day. It was Aly’s birthday and I’d made a cupcake for her, licked the frosting off and gave it to her. I still have chocolate on my lips in the picture.
It’s not the photo that catches my attention so much as the folded piece of paper on the ground. Bending over, I pick it up and much like the note from the boys earlier today, I gasp at what’s written on it.
I’m not sure my dad ever planned on giving it to me, or maybe it was his plan for me to find it after he was gone.
Dear Ridge,
I never intended on telling you. I didn’t. I never wanted you to know. It wasn’t that I thought you didn’t deserve the truth. It was because I didn’t want to see the truth. In my eyes, you were mine. I chose you. I knew you weren’t my blood, but I never saw it that way. I loved you, unconditionally, selflessly, and more than my own life. I had no idea what it was like to love someone so deeply you’d give your own life to make them happy, until you were born.
I’m sorry I never told you, and I hope you can forgive me for keeping it from you. Maybe not in this life, but someday, when you’re given a choice to be in someone’s life because you want to, not because you have to, you’ll understand. I’m sorry. I am. I learned a hell of a lot more from you than you ever learned from me.
Love, Dad.
Do you see that guy standing near the mantel holding his father’s truth in his hands? He knows why he returned now, and it had nothing to do with the track or even the girl he left behind. It had to do with loving something more than yourself.
If you don’t know what that means, someday you will, just like I did.
Tears sting my eyes, hundreds upon hundreds of memories of a man who might not have told me he loved me often. His love was in his actions, his decisions to always do right by me. I thought for a long time him sending me to live with my uncle had something to do with him not wanting me. I was angry at him for it, but now, I’m. . . grateful for the things he didn’t give me, but made me earn. Made me appreciate. Like this, now, even a
fter he’s gone, his presence in my life is still unmistakably greater than I’ve ever realized.
Had I stayed here, I would have destroyed my relationship with Aly, more than I already had in the car that night, and eventually lost her forever. Leaving brought closure to a time in my life I needed to let go of. I had been so angry with the lies everyone had told me I wasn’t willing to see anything but that.
It wasn’t until I returned home, that I finally saw it for what it was.
Henry grasps my shoulder, shaking me with a gentleness he doesn’t have. It’s like being hugged by a grizzly bear. “Mike was a good man, and you’re a spitting image of him.”
He doesn’t mean in appearances.
It’s late when I make it over to Aly’s house. The boys are in bed already, and I’m disappointed I didn’t get to say goodnight to them or work on math with Cash. I was beginning to enjoy that strange routine we had where I was helping out and picking up the pieces Austin constantly dropped.
I had plans when I came over here, and while most don’t involve anything but getting her naked on her birthday, they certainly don’t include her in tears when I walk into the house.
Closing the front door behind me, Aly’s head snaps up, her face flushed, tears sliding down her cheeks and a pile of wadded-up tissues surrounding her. I’m angry, instantly, because I know the source of her tears these days. It’s always him.
Sitting next to her, I bump her shoulder with mine. “You in tears on your birthday wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for. I was hoping I’d find you naked in bed.”
She’s quiet for a moment and then leans into me, her head on my shoulder, wiping tears with a tissue in hand. “I know.” She pauses, breathing out a shaky breath. “Austin’s moving to San Francisco.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
“I just. . .” She pauses again, anger in her words, trembling in their exhale. “I hate it for the boys. Why can’t he ever consider them before he makes a decision?”
I shrug, not seeing the problem. It’s not like he’s around much for them anyway. “They’ll get over it.”
“Will they?”
Her question hits me kind of funny. I know what she’s doing. “Don’t do that. Just because I don’t talk to Madalyn doesn’t mean anything.”
Aly chews on her bottom lip like she’s going to bite it off. “You don’t regret not having a relationship with your mother?”
“Let me ask you something, how often is Madalyn a part of the boys’ lives?”
“Not much.”
“Exactly. She made about as much effort to be my mother as she does to be their grandma. Not having anything to do with her is a decision I made, and I’ll live with that. You can’t make decisions for Austin. He’s the only one who can change his situation. Not you, not Cash, and not Grady.”
She knows I’m right. “This is so complicated!”
“Love is complicated, Aly.” I lean in, kissing her temple. “Love is fucking complicated and selfless. She doesn’t understand that, and neither does Austin, yet. And he might not ever. It should be selfless. Another person giving their love with no intention of getting anything in return.”
She stares at me. “How is that love if you’re not getting it in return?”
“Because it’s not about you, it’s about them. Love is knowing you would sacrifice things that you didn’t even know you could sacrifice. It’s not the little things. It’s not phone calls or dates or fucking text messages. It’s not even memories. Love is knowing you’d sacrifice things you didn’t even know you could sacrifice to keep the love there. True love. . . the love you have for them. . . it’s selfless.”
She stares at me for a hell of a lot longer than I anticipated her doing, but then she smiles, and it’s soft, and. . . selfless. “The boys showed me the card they made you.”
I laugh, but emotion swells up in my throat. Men don’t cry, damn it. But fuck if those little blue-eyed boys draw it out of me every damn time. It’s then I realize what my dad was talking about in having a choice. I don’t have to be in Cash and Grady’s life.
I want to be.
I choose to be.
Reaching into the bag I brought over, I give Aly all the cards the kids made her. With confusion in her eyes, she takes them, opens them one by one and cries harder with each one.
“How’d you get them to do this?”
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes, handing her the last one I made her. “They love me. All I had to do was ask.”
She opens the card, red and pink glitter fluttering out and onto her thighs. She brushes it away, smiling. “Were they sad it was your last day?”
“A little. I don’t think they understand how cool I am yet, but they’ll see.” I’m elbowed in the stomach. But I’m disappointed she hasn’t acknowledged my card yet. “Can we please acknowledge that I made you a heart-shaped card with glitter asking you on a date?”
Twisting toward me, tissues fall from her lap as does my glitter-heart card, but it’s okay because it’s her heart I want close to me. She straddles my lap, pressing her mouth to the shell of my ear, pulling it between her teeth. “I’ll go on a date with you.”
My hands move from my sides to the cheeks of her ass, squeezing. “Wanna do it in your van again?”
She laughs, throwing her head back. “Sounds like a good time. I wonder if Frank’s working tonight?”
Once outside in the garage, a place we seem to be in a lot, I sit down on the edge of the van between the front seat and the back. Aly kneels beside me and then lowers herself on my lap, her legs falling to the sides.
Removing my shirt, her hands linger over the ridge of each muscle as though she wants to remember the feeling and texture. Looking down at me, her left hand rises to cup my face, bringing my lips to hers. With a need I can’t explain, I gasp at the feeling of being covered in her skin.
Taking a deep breath, I fold my arms behind my head and lie back.
Moving down my body and kneeling on the concrete floor of the garage, she works on the buckle of my jeans, just enough to get to what she needs.
I can’t speak when she draws me into her mouth. So warm. So soft.
“Jesus, Aly,” I groan, cradling her head with both hands.
Thoroughly determined, her hands reach around my hips to draw me deeper into her mouth, her movements speeding as though she can’t get enough of me. It’s just the opposite. I can’t get enough of her.
My hands grip her tighter, trying to tug her up when I feel the familiar stir in the pit of my stomach. “You should move if—”
She pushes my hands away but doesn’t slow her motions. She isn’t done with me, and that excites me even more.
“It’s like you know exactly what to do.” I stroke the side of her face tenderly.
She looks up but keeps me in her mouth, her eyes soft, and I watch carefully as I slide in and out of her full lips.
My breathing turns erratic as I try to fight the feeling, make it last a little longer. Regardless that she slows her movements, the way she’s looking at me, and the way my cock looks sliding in and out of her beautiful mouth, I give in to the hold she has on me. My head falls back against the floorboard, my body clenching, and I know I can’t hold off.
After swallowing, Aly crawls back up my body, and her lips find mine as my head lulls to the side.
She doesn’t say anything, but I do. “I thought it was your birthday. Not mine.”
“Yeah, but I just missed your birthday before you came home, so call it making up for lost time.”
I pick her up, twist around and lay her before me just like I had been. “In that case, I have a lot of making up to do.”
And I do. For hours.
You’re probably wondering what happened to Austin moving, right?
It happened. He leaves Saturday morning, but instead of coming by the house himself, because I told him if he steps foot in my house again, I’m calling the cops, he has Brie come by and pick up a few things
he’d left in the garage.
I don’t know how this co-parenting is going to work out, because at this point, the boys refuse to see him and while I don’t want to allow him to see them, I’m not sure I have a choice.
I called my attorney this morning and left a message for him, asking him for my options but seeing how the parenting plan is already filed and agreed upon, we would have to reopen and agree on the changes.
Do you see the two women standing outside in the driveway beside the minivan? There’s one biting the inside of her cheek so hard blood pools in her mouth. There’s one nervously shifting from one foot to the other, contemplating what she’s going to say to her friend. Ex-friend.
And here we stand, face-to-face, alone for the first time since she stabbed me in the back. I have to wonder if anything that comes out of her mouth is going to be truthful.
I’ve gone over the night in my head. The night I discovered Austin cheated on me, but I now know it started way before I had any idea of him cheating. Still, my thoughts wander to how did it start?
I imagine that song by Little Big Town. You know, the one, “Girl Crush.” Only I don’t have a crush on Brie. I have a hate rush anytime I’m around her. I think if anyone had a crush, she had one on me and took what was essentially mine.
But she didn’t get the best part of Austin. She never would.
I do wonder what Austin said to get her in bed or what did she say to him?
Honestly, I’d rather catch my pinky toe on the bed frame then to talk to Brie, but it’s inevitable at some point because, after everything, I deserve an answer, don’t I?
That’s the bottom line, isn’t it?
You know a little bit about my friendship with Brie Baker. What you don’t know—and I probably should have shared this in the beginning—is that I was her only friend when she first moved here from New Jersey. No one liked her. Everyone made fun of her pasty white skin and her braces.
Not me. I was nice to her. Always.
We went through every single stage together growing up, from the first period to the “dude, I got boobs finally.” She was literally the sister I never had, and I always wanted her to be my kids’ super cool aunt. Never once through any of those phases in our life together did I think there would come a day where we would no longer be best friends.
