by Monica James
Getting what I wanted, I slowly pull away, not wanting to draw attention to my desperate withdrawal. I may have the legal side covered, but I still don’t have the emotional side down pat. I know regardless of what my NDA says, if I don’t break her down, she’ll go after Maddy until she cracks.
When we first consummated our sin I remember thinking that I was the damn woman in the scenario and she’s worn the proverbial pants ever since. She’s always been in control. But now, it’s time to put that bitch back in her place. It’s time I get my balls back. It’s time she knows who’s boss.
I’m done being fucked over. It’s time I do the fucking.
“I better go,” I whisper into her ear. Just as she’s about to protest, I say, “I know I’m leaving you high and dry, but I want you to go to bed and think of me as you fuck that wet cunt of yours. Picture my fingers dipping into your warmth and brushing over your gorgeous tits as you make yourself come. Can you do that for me?” I bite the flesh between her neck and shoulder as encouragement.
“Yes,” she moans loudly. “Yes, Dr. Mathews. I can do that.” Her breath is choppy, and I can hear her rubbing her thighs together.
And just like that, I know I’ve won.
We all have a trigger, a button one can push. And in Juliet’s case, her trigger is sex. I’ve just made the undesirable feel desired, and in turn, I’m now in control.
They don’t call me New York’s finest shrink for nothing.
“Okay, good, Ms. Harte,” I say, addressing her as I would if we were in a session. “Don’t touch yourself until I leave,” I instruct, not at all interested in seeing her get off. Reaching for my tie, I slowly make my way to the door, watching Juliet’s trembling form.
“Goodbye, Ms. Harte.”
“Goodbye, Dr. Mathews.”
As I close the door behind me, I scrub my mouth with the back of my hand. Dashing to the elevators, I pray I don’t see Madison on the way out.
Thankfully, I don’t.
Driving home, I look at my reflection in the rearview mirror. Do I feel guilty for manipulating someone who had no qualms manipulating me?
Absolutely not.
Deep down, I knew it would always come to this. This entire time, I was looking for “some other way.” And this option, this is my other way. I’ll do what I have to in order to survive.
Losing a piece of my soul is worth it for the girl who makes my entire existence worthwhile. And besides, I never said I was the hero of this story, or even the good guy. However, who wants to be good when it feels so good being bad?
10
Message on a Coaster
DIXON
It’s Friday night and although I’m overjoyed I haven’t heard from Juliet, I’m feeling quite the opposite in regards to the radio silence from Madison.
I don’t know what I expected. An acknowledgment that she’d received my letter would have been nice. I guess I’ll just have to hope she shows up on Sunday, otherwise, I don’t know what to do.
Finch is down for the count with the flu, so it’s just Hunter and I, which usually means trouble. I’ve been in enough trouble this week, so I suggested we have pizza and beer at my place as this limits the possible danger we can get into.
“Where’s the pizza? I’m starving,” says Hunter as he barges through my front door.
“Please, come in,” I sarcastically reply, looking up at him from the sofa. I must remember to lock my door.
He ignores my mockery and slumps down onto the cushion next to me. “How’s your week been?”
I shrug and sip my beer. “Apart from Maddy giving me the cold shoulder, it’s been good.”
He pulls back, appearing stunned. “Good? I thought I’d come over and you’d be listening to Michael Bolton while curled in the fetal position.”
“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Hey, I just know how hung up you are about her, that’s all. So why are you good?”
The joys of knowing someone your entire life is they know you better than you know yourself. Seeing no point in denying it, I confess, “I saw Juliet the other night.”
“What? By choice?” The disgust is clear in his tone.
“Yes, by choice. Ironically, I had no other choice.”
Just as I raise my beer to my lips, Hunter snags it from me. “I have a feeling I’ll be needing this.”
I don’t argue.
“Dr. Chad Turner visited me this week and, to cut a long, fucked-up story short, I’m now in the running to win the Gerald Harriet Award.”
“Fuck me, that’s awesome. Congrats!” Hunter’s silence reveals he’s piecing together why I needed to see Juliet. “What did you do, Dix?”
Although I’m not proud of what I did, I lean forward and snatch the NDA off the coffee table. I pass it to Hunter, who reads it over, his eyes widening. “How the hell did you get her to sign this?”
When I look away, he groans. I’m brought back to earth when my neck jars forward, thanks to a slap to the back of the head. “You stupid motherfucker. So help me God, I will cut off your dick if you tell me you fucked her.”
I shift away, afraid for me and my dick’s safety. “Again, thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“I’m sorry, but there is no way that dirty slut would sign this without—” When he pauses mid-sentence, I see the light bulb. “I take it back. You smart motherfucker. You totally used your smarts on her, didn’t you?”
I nod. “Just like she did, I used sex—well, the illusion of sex—to get what I want.”
“Holy shit.” He whistles, appearing genuinely impressed with my mastermind plan. “I guess they don’t call you Dr. Love for nothing.”
I chuckle, rolling my eyes. “No one calls me that. I’ve got the legal side covered, but I still have to ensure she won’t tell Maddy.”
Hunter sips his beer, deep in thought. “So you’re totally ignoring Finch’s advice then?”
Feeling like a total ass, I confess, “Yes and no. This is the only way I can tell Madison the truth, Hunt. I can’t lose her, and I know that’ll happen if I tell her everything. There are some things people can’t forgive someone for, and this is one of those things. And even if she does accept it, it’ll change everything between us. She’ll never look at me the same way again. Especially if that baby is mine.”
Hunter shudders. “So you think Juliet’s really knocked up with your kid?”
I raise my shoulders in defeat. “I think there’s a good chance that it’s mine.”
“Fuck.”
“My thoughts exactly. Can you now see why I’m doing this?”
Hunter nods, although he looks a touch disappointed. “I get it, man, I do. But Finch was right. How can you trust Juliet? What are you prepared to do to keep your secret under lock and key?”
“I don’t have a PhD in psychology for nothing.”
He blows out a deep breath. “So you’re going to take my advice and use your psychobabble bullshit?”
Running a hand through my hair, I reply, “Yeah, man, I am. There is no other way. The truth will fuck me over. This is the only way.” I look at him intently, hoping he agrees with me. Hoping he tells me that I’m not as messed up as I feel.
“And you think she’ll fall for it?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.
“She already has,” I declare, rubbing the back of my neck.
“Well, fuck me with a cherry on top. This plan of yours, although completely and utterly unethical, just might work. You’re totally playing on her weaknesses to break her down. It’s quite an ingenious plan.”
His comment makes me feel like Dr. Evil, so I feel the need to clarify. “I’m not a total bastard. I do intend on getting to the root of her issues. How I deal with them, well, that’s still undecided.” I know I’m abusing my knowledge, but what other choice do I have? Telling Maddy the truth is no longer an option, it never was. So at this stage, this is the only plan I’ve got.
Hunter brings forward a question I’ve desperate
ly been trying to avoid. “That’s great and all, but you need to ask yourself this—can you really do this? You may get away with it and Madison may never find out, but you will know the truth. You will know what you’ve done. For the rest of your life you’ll know you lied to the one person who has never lied to you. Can you live with that on your conscience?”
Sighing, I run a hand down my face. “It’s a small price to pay. I’d rather that than lose her forever. I was kidding myself, Hunt.”
Hunter raises an eyebrow.
“I tried to tell her the truth, but it was like some higher powers from above stopped me,” I openly explain. “And besides, telling her is the right and honorable thing to do, but I never said I was honorable.” There, I said it. Do I feel better for it?
No.
“It’s your call, Dix,” he replies with a shrug. “I can see why you’re doing it, as I tend to agree with you. I don’t think Madison will forgive you for what you’ve done, but you just need to think what this will do to you. Sooner or later, you won’t know the truth from the lies you’ve told. Just be careful, dude.”
I want to tell him to lighten up, but I can’t. His concerns are the same ones that have plagued me all week. But there’s no other way. In this circumstance, there is no gray area—only black and white.
I tell Maddy the truth—I lose her. I lie to Maddy—I lose myself. I know which option I would rather.
A knock on the door gives me the pardon I need. “Must be the pizza.”
Hunter casually nods and turns up the TV when the baseball comes on. And just like that, this conversation is over.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out my wallet and open the front door. However, my neighbor, Mr. Amos, stands before me. Unless he’s now delivering pizzas, I have no idea why he’s here.
“Evening, Mr. Amos.”
“Good evening, Dr. Mathews. I’m sorry to intrude but I seem to have your mail by mistake,” he replies, producing a wad of letters.
I raise an eyebrow, my heart beginning to pick up the pace. “Thank you for bringing them over. I really appreciate it.”
“It’s not a problem at all. We must have a new mailman. George would never make such an error,” he says, each word drawn out. I’m convinced that the older people get, time no longer exists to them.
“Yes, you just may be correct.” I’m practically bouncing on the spot, waiting for him to get the hint and leave. Thankfully, he does.
“Well, goodnight. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He winks, while I let out a strained laugh and a quick goodbye before shutting the door in his face.
Extremely rude, I know, but I’ll make it up to him when I don’t possibly have a letter from Madison in my hands. I throw letter after letter over my shoulder, as most are bills.
“C’mon,” I mumble under my breath.
The commotion has Hunter turning to look at me while I litter my home with insignificant junk. “Where’s the pizza?” I ignore him and continue hunting through the stack of letters. It has to be in here.
As I near the bottom of the pile, my optimistic heart begins a slow decline into despair until I see a white envelope with my name written in a beautiful script. “Yes! Motherfucking yes!” I exclaim, tearing into the envelope with eager fingers.
Taking a deep breath, I open the seal but halt when I see a coaster inside. “What in the hell?” I mutter, my brow crinkling in confusion.
Tipping the envelope upside down, the coaster slips into my sweaty palm. Thanks to my outburst, Hunter is now standing by my side, also looking down in confusion.
“I don’t get it,” he says, tipping his head to the side.
“I don’t either.” Why would Madison send me a Bud Light coaster? Is this a hint that she’s been resorting to alcohol to deal with our fight? Or that I’m to drown my sorrows because she’s not coming?
“Who’s it from?” he asks, reaching for the envelope and turning it over. His action gives me an idea and I do the same thing with the coaster.
What I see has a strain of profanities leaving me.
I’ll be there…
Holy shit! She’s coming.
Hunter looks down and lets out a sigh of understanding.
This is beyond words. And the fact she’s written it on the back of something readily available to her at work proves that I’ve been on her mind.
“This,” I say, holding up the coaster in front of his face. “Makes everything worth it, my friend. She makes everything worth it.” Unable to hold back my excitement, I cup Hunter’s cheeks and plant a big kiss on his lips. It’s not a kiss per se, more like a slamming of lips for a millisecond.
“Eww, get the fuck off of me! Save your kisses for your girl,” he states, pushing me away with a grin while wiping his mouth.
“This is fucking amazing!” I say, ignoring his staged disgust. “This calls for a drink.”
“This calls for ten drinks. I need to clean the doctor from my palate.”
“Ah, c’mon, you know you liked it,” I tease, walking to the kitchen. My bad mood instantly evaporates, and just like that, I’m me again.
I may feel like an ass for choosing the road that I have, but knowing a reconciliation with Madison may be on the horizon makes me forget my sins and focus on why I chose the coward’s way out.
As I open my fridge, Hunter’s humor dissolves my last trace of worry. “I now see why the chicks dig you, Dix. Five more seconds and I would be blackmailing you to have sex with me.”
And just like that, weirdly enough, everything is where it should be.
11
Unseen Bruising
MADISON
I have no idea what I’m doing here, but the masochist in me has me locking my car door and walking toward the address Dixon gave me.
His letter sits in my pocket, as it has since the moment I received it. Who would have thought a simple thing like a letter could be life-changing? But that’s exactly what this letter is.
Having my first real fight with Dixon cemented that he has the ability to break my heart. And he did. I went home numb, unsure of what came next. I switched off from humanity and slept my pain away. I awoke the next day to an abundant amount of missed calls and text messages, but while I was originally hurt, my pain was overtaken by anger.
He said that I was to stop allowing Dylan to control my life, but honestly, I felt like he was doing the same. He apologized for having his hands on me, but the worst thing was that it felt like he was trying to step into my brother’s shoes. That fact overshadowed the faint bruising on my arm, because it was the unseen bruising which hurt more.
But Dixon is persistent, and it seemed the more I ignored him, the more unrelenting he became. I wasn’t ignoring him to gain attention. I needed to sort myself out. When he’s close by, he clouds my judgment.
So the past week, I’ve done some soul-searching and spoken to my doctor about what I should do next. The fact Dylan will be living in the same building as me has really stirred up a lot of memories, ones I thought I was slowly overcoming. Once again, I feel like a prisoner in my own skin.
The only thing keeping my mind from going stir-crazy is school. However, when I stumbled on questions along the way, all I could think of was that I needed my personal tutor to show me the way. Nursing internships are steadily approaching and the possibility of being miles away from New York seems all the more appealing.
So I’m here because, honestly, I don’t know what else to do. This past week has been awful, and no matter how much I try and ignore Dixon, he simply won’t go away. Not just physically, but emotionally. He’s embedded firmly in my heart, and I feel lost without him. And I hate it.
Today, I will listen to what he has to say because ignoring him is no longer an option. I’m curious to know why I’m here, and I also want answers to how he knows Beth.
So many emotions are running through me right now; if I escape this day unscathed, it’ll be nothing short of a miracle.
My palms begin
to sweat the moment I amble up the driveway and am faced with the broad back of Dr. Dixon Mathews. His head is lowered and his defeated exterior reflects how I’m currently feeling. I press on, anxious to know what happens next.
The invisible pull which has been evident between us from the very beginning sizzles, and with a slow, steady turn, Dixon spins to look at me. My choppy breath gets caught in my throat because no matter how confused I am, I’m ecstatic to see him. Instead I squash down my glee and remind myself I’m here for answers. I will my legs to move until I am standing a few feet away.
We stand staring at one another silently, so many unspoken words passing between us. How I’m going to get through the day without it ending in tears is beyond me.
“Hello, Madison.”
His voice breaks my daze, and I nod, not trusting myself to speak.
“Thank you for coming. Shall we go in?”
I can feel him watching me intently underneath his sunglasses, waiting for my reply. Is he afraid I’ll say no? Or can it be he’s afraid I’ll say yes?
I have no idea why we’re standing at the bottom of the steps of Sunnyfields Hospital, but I have an inkling it’s got to do with his dad. Dixon has gone into little to no detail about his father, but since he’s shared that his father had a breakdown after his mom passed away, I figured he was in a rest home. The security guard manning the well-enforced glass doors tells me otherwise, however.
Looking up at Dixon, I nod once again, still too afraid to speak.
With a sigh, Dixon turns and climbs the steps, his pace slow and poignant. I can see he doesn’t want to go in here, but he does anyway. He stands at the top of the stairs, holding the door open for me. I enter quietly and am instantly hit with the smell of despair. Looking around, I see soft pastel colors everywhere, colors which conceal the loneliness which inhabits these walls.
