Flawed

by Claudia Burgoa

  Harrison: I vote for Tacos. Heck, I’ll bring them.

  Hazel: Yes! Let’s do Mexican Monday.

  Willow didn’t respond even though she’s part of the group chat. Is she not going because of me? Yesterday morning, when I dropped her off, she asked for a little space. She needed time with her grandfather and her therapist. Too many things had happened at once. Our week had been intense, and we were both too demanding of the other.

  “As much as I need to be in your arms, I also know I need time to myself. Too much happened at once.” She kissed me; it was soft, loving. “I want to make sure this is something I can handle now. You mean too much to take a step without being sure of it.”

  I hate it. But I understand, and I promised not to pressure her.

  “Take your time, gorgeous.” I cupped her face, kissing her lips lightly. “I warn you, once you’re back home, I won’t let you leave again.”

  She stared wide-eyed for two full heartbeats and smiled. Extending her hand, she said, “Sounds like a good compromise, Mr. Everhart.”

  I shook back. “We can seal the deal before I leave. One last time for the road.”

  “That’s what you said in Brazil, then at the airports, and on the planes.” She showed me three fingers. “What did you call it after the third time?”

  I winked at her. “The platinum mile-high club.”

  Me: Are you not going to dinner?

  Willow: I am, why?

  Me: You didn’t respond to the texts on the group chat.

  Willow: I didn’t see the point of saying yes. I’ll be eating at home.

  Hunter: Is it okay if I join?

  Willow: Do you want to join?

  Me: Only if it’s not weird.

  Willow: It shouldn’t be weird. We are keeping things friendly.

  Me: Friendly?

  Willow: As in you keep your hands and your dirty thoughts to yourself.

  Me: I can do that, just don’t try to read my mind. It’s been more than twenty-four hours since I had you. They are getting dirtier by second.

  Willow: KEEP THEM TO YOURSELF!

  “I’ll join,” I say, closing my computer. “Harrison should be arriving with the food soon. Might as well head there now.”

  “Are you planning on talking about you and Willow?”

  I shake my head, locking my door.

  “Everyone is aware of what’s been happening the last few weeks,” he continues, not dropping the subject. “I just don’t get why she didn’t stay with you last night.”

  “Drop it, Fitzhenry. Get a life. Maybe you should try to settle down.” I call the elevator and look at him.

  “Settling down isn’t in my vocabulary.” He steps inside as the doors slide open. “I never settle. That’s how I win the big bucks.”

  Thirty-Five

  Family

  Friends are the family you choose. ~ Anonymous.

  Hazel asked if I wanted to have dinner at home with everyone. I replied yes to her text. The next wave of texts were the Everhart boys agreeing on dropping by Grampa’s apartment. By then, I’d had enough time to go to my therapy appointment and chat with my agent who received two calls asking if I’d be interested in going to auditions. My show is bringing producers and casting directors knocking on my door. I had to be honest with Marie, my agent. My focus right now is my mental health and building my theater career. My ambition is to be in a Broadway play—that’s my current goal. Movies and other television shows aren’t on my current list of plans.

  Marie understood. That’s one of the reasons why we are working together. She is ambitious, knowledgeable, and practical. Just as she works with the goals of her clients, if I ever decide to move to Los Angeles and change the course of my career, she will support me. Looking around my grandfather’s apartment, I can’t see why I’d want to leave the city. I’d never leave my grandfather and sister for something that doesn’t fulfill my profession or my ambitions.

  The elevator chimes. When I turn around I see Hazel and Gramps chatting, then, stop when they see me.

  “We can continue this conversation tomorrow. As you said, we aren’t bringing work home.” Gramps hugs me. “Were you out, too?”

  “I had therapy and walked around the park while talking to Marie.”

  “So much for your ‘I’m not working today,’ Wills.” Hazel kisses my cheek and loses her heels. “Much better. Hey, one of the apartments on the third floor is up for grabs.”

  “Okay?” I glare at her, afraid she’s kicking me out. What happened to this is your home too, Willow?

  “Remember Hunter mentioned he wants to move out of his parents’ apartment.”

  I nod. Clearly, she ignored his brothers calling him names for wanting to move out. He called it a step to a grown-up Hunter. Harrison referred to it as a bunch of crap. Since we are still on a hiatus, I am not going to ask why he wants to move out or his future plans.

  “Well, I was thinking he can buy the apartment downstairs.”

  Gramps scratches his chin. “I was thinking about buying it as an investment.” Then he nods. “We have to move fast, talk to that boy, and find out his plans. If not, I’m putting in an offer tomorrow.”

  I salute him as I watch him walking down the hall to his room. “Yes, sir.”

  Pointing toward him, I look at Hazel. “What was that?”

  “That would be Gramps wanting to buy a piece of property.” She snickers, letting out a squeal. “He’s like a little boy in a candy store. I love that man.”

  “I’m going to take a quick shower and put on something comfortable.” Looking at her watch, then at me. “Fitz said they were ten minutes away; in case you want to change.”

  She waves, and I rush to my room. I change into something more comfortable. Applying mascara and lipstick, I head to the living room where Fitz and Hunter are already standing.

  “Hi,” I greet them.

  Hunter smiles, walking toward me. He stops right in front of me. He’s so close I can feel the heat of his body. The amusing twitch of his mouth drags a chuckle out of me.

  “Don’t move,” he orders, leaning closer to me, watching me. His mouth captures mine, and I feel like I’m losing my balance. I wrap my hands around his neck. He kisses me deeply. His strong arms press me tightly to him. I don’t want this to end. God, I’ve missed him so much, and it’s only been less than two days since the last time I saw him.

  “Good evening, Hunter,” Grandpa greets him with a sharp voice.

  “I said no hands,” I hiss releasing his neck.

  He moves his fingers. “They never touched you.” The amusement on his face is contagious. I laugh, too. “How are you, gorgeous?”

  “She’s doing well, ready to eat?” Harrison and Scott step out of the elevator.

  Harrison looks over my shoulder and says, “Beesley, get the table ready and bring some drink. You better be as hungry as you said because I have plenty of food.”

  We scatter around to set the table. I look puzzled at all the take-out boxes Harrison is setting on the table. Mexican Monday looks more like a big fiesta. My sister loves Mexican food; I think it’s because the family we grew up with is part Mexican. I think it’s okay, but I don’t love the food. I enjoyed their Irish dishes the most.

  “Where did you get the food from?”

  “Juanes,” Hazel reads out loud, then turns to look at Harrison. “You went to lower Manhattan just for me?”

  “Don’t get all excited, Hazel. It’s just food,” Harrison says, opening the takeout boxes. “There are twenty tacos of each. Al Pastor, suadero, chorizo, chuleta, huitlacoche, lengua, chicharron, and carnitas.”

  Looking up at Hazel he arches an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”

  “Quesadillas?”

  “The cheese would’ve been hard by the time I arrived.”

  “Are you planning on feeding the entire building, Harrison?” Gramps picks up one of the takeout containers to inspect it. “Why would you bring so many?”

 
“Because I’m his favorite person ever.” Hazel grabs a plate and takes two of each.

  “No, I went there because you said, ‘they are the best tacos in all of Manhattan.’ I had to verify your findings.” Harrison grabs a few tacos, smothers them with salsa, squeezes a lime and takes one, studying it, as if this is art.

  “It’s a taco,” I remind him, preparing myself a plate.

  “Clearly, you and I have different ideas about tacos, Willow.” He shoots a glare to Hunter that says, is she for real?

  Harrison takes a bite of one of the tacos he grabbed and starts moaning. “Mm yeah, they are good tacos. Almost Mexico City quality.”

  Wiping the salsa dripping from the corner of his mouth, he looks at Hazel and grants her a smile. “You might’ve found the best place in Manhattan. I still have to take you to the best in the world.”

  “That reminds me.” Scott pulls his cell phone out of his pocket. “I have work to do. Are we going to Mexico?” Then, he directs his attention to Hazel. “Is there a way you can jump into a couple of projects, sweetheart?”

  She nods without looking at her schedule. “Give me until Thursday, and I’ll go to your office. Email me what you need me to do, though. I can start on it Wednesday night. Does that work?”

  Scott responds with a simple yes.

  Harrison’s head lifts, and he looks around the table. “Yes, about that trip. Can we schedule it for next year? I have to head back to work.”

  “As in leaving?” Hazel’s voice lowers. “For a mission.”

  He nods.

  She sighs. “Just make sure they don’t kill you.”

  “That’s always the plan. You’ll be fine, right?” He turns to look at me and then back at Hazel.

  “Yeah?” Her brows draw out together.

  “Going to visit your parents without me,” he explains, devouring yet another taco. “I will send you with a security detail.”

  “Ah, nope. We don’t need babysitting,” Hazel says, grabbing more tacos and then looking at me. “Are we planning on traveling?”

  She had said it was up to me. After talking to my therapist, I feel more confident in my decision to wait for now. My parents have the tools to reach out to us, and I personally want to see them trying to be a part of my life. I love them—they are my parents. Also, they have to understand our relationship has to be mutual.

  I shake my head, lifting my tablet. “My schedule is tight. Maybe at a later date. Like next year, who knows when we will have time to take another trip together.”

  “Labor Day weekend,” the four Everhart boys respond.

  “Where are we going?” I ask putting away my tablet and eating a disgusting taco of cow tongue, but I hate to agree with Harrison and Hazel, it’s delicious.

  Gramps takes on the conversation suggesting places we can go. We all have different opinions. International destinations are the choice of Scott and Fitz. Harrison just wants a few days away from the job. Hunter says he’ll do whatever the majority decides. I want to go somewhere quiet with gardens and a pool. Hazel insists on going surfing. Grandpa suggests we go to Lake Champlain in September, and we can choose a beach destination for Christmas break.

  Once we all finish eating and clearing the table, we go to the media room to watch my show. Hunter hasn’t watched it, and no one else seems to mind the reruns.

  “Sit with me.” Hunter’s lips caress the back of my neck.

  “Hands, mouth, and thoughts to yourself, Mr. Everhart.”

  “Your wish is my command.” He grins, a quick flash of pure Everhart-charm.

  Thirty-Six

  I’ll walk on the edge for you

  I’m yours, don’t give myself back to me. ~ Rumi

  There’s a rumble somewhere in my room. I close my eyes tighter and ignore whoever is trying to vandalize it. It’s too early to open my eyes. It’s too early to confront anyone. Not after the horrible night I had. Who can be roaming around opening and closing drawers?

  “Fuck, I need at least one.” That’s Hazel voice, and I stop breathing, afraid she’s going to wake me up because she needs to borrow something. I love and hate to live with my sister. I hate it because she’s always borrowing my jewelry and losing something. I love it because I can borrow her shoes, though she hated me when I accidentally broke the heel of her red Jimmy Choos. Or that time when I scuffed her suede Prada boots. “Are these my new sandals? I swear I’m going to buy a safe for my stuff.”

  Yep, she hates me. What did I do now? If she bitches about me taking her things, I’ll remind her of my Louboutin lipstick. That thing cost me nearly a hundred bucks. She has no idea where she left it. I have a lot to say if she dares to wake me up because of something I borrowed. I’m ready to lash out anyway. But I don’t get a chance to say anything. She closes the door of my room. Whatever happened, it’s not important enough to wake me up.

  Of course, I spoke too soon. Seconds later she’s knocking hard on my door. “I’m going to the store,” Hazel calls.

  Stretching my hand, I grab my phone to check the time. It’s 6:27 in the morning. “Isn’t it a little early to go to the store?” I groan, regretting last night and promising myself I won’t touch her stuff ever again. At least not today.

  “It’s an emergency.” She enters my room. “I checked everywhere in the house. We are out of tampons.”

  Pushing myself, I try to look friendly. Do not throw a pillow, remain calm. She’ll leave soon. Look helpful.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing?” I get out of the bed, going through all the places where I could’ve put one. “Nothing.”

  “I guess I’ll need a box, too, please.” I search for my purse, but I don’t know where it is.

  “No worries, I’ll pay.” She scrunches her face. “Are you okay? You look a little green.”

  “Kind of, I was puking all night.”

  She twists her lips. “Maybe it was the fish I made. I’ll bring you some seltzer and crackers.”

  “Thank you,” I say, going back to bed.

  Resting my head back on my pillows, I close my eyes. I need five more minutes. Then, I’ll start my day. Why does she have to wake me up about tampons? I’m glad she’s bringing me some. I will need them . . . As I pull up the covers, it hits me.

  “No, no, no.” I start searching around my room for my planner.

  Where is it, where did I put my stupid planner?

  Rushing through the house, I turn everything upside down until I find my purse in the media room. Opening it, I start searching for the note where I wrote down my last period. As I continue flipping pages, my heart hammers faster. I find it and start counting the days. Five fucking weeks and five days since it happened.

  No.

  No.

  No.

  It can’t be. What other proof do you need, Willow?

  All the signs are here. Last night I threw up five times. I haven’t had my period, and the biggest factor—we had unprotected sex for almost two weeks.

  But I’m on the fucking pill. It’s only ninety-nine percent effective. Of course, that one percent will fuck me seven ways to the end of the world. My life is over. Over. This can’t be happening to me. No one is going to hire a second rate, pregnant actress. I can’t be pregnant. I can’t have children. My DNA is faulty—my family sucks at raising children. My mother is the best example. What am I supposed to do now?

  I run to my room, closing the door behind me. Calm down, Willow. Do. Not. Let. Your. Emotions. Run. This. Show. I go through my flash cards; clinging to a positive emotion doesn’t work. There’s not one positive thought inside my head. Let go of your worries. How the fuck can I do that? Pacing back and forth, I try to think of a solution.

  This can’t be happening. Of course, it’s happening. Hazel always says it, just when I have my shit together, I find a way to sabotage myself. Months of hard work wasted on a lustful week. I knew better than to have sex with him. Stay away from him, I told myself. We haven’t even discussed our relationship.


  Without thinking, I text Hunter that I need to talk to him. It’s urgent that we discuss this. After I send it, I regret it. No. He shouldn’t know. He’s going to think I did this on purpose. Did I? A way to tie him to me. My subconscious played this well. Do I want that kind of love?

  “Are you okay?” Hazel enters my room carrying two boxes of tampons.

  “Yeah,” I answer with disdain. “Sick, but whatever. Nothing I can’t fix.”

  “I’m going downstairs to the gym,” she says, carefully, setting the boxes on top of my nightstand. “You know I’m here for you.”

  “To laugh at me?” My voice drips with spite, and I’m on the verge of collapse.

  “I’m sure it’s hard for you to talk about whatever is going on with you, but I’ll be here when you need me.” Her voice is neither condescending nor loud. “I bet there are a lot of emotions you have to work through before you can discuss it.”

  “It’s upsetting me even thinking about it,” I respond, lowering my gaze.

  “Okay.” She walks to the door. “Are you sure you don’t want my help?”

  I shake my head, looking at my hands. The door closes, and I feel like I’m drowning. No one will be able to rescue me. Sitting on the floor, I start thinking about the possibilities. Not one of my options is helpful. A child is a big responsibility. There’s no way I can give this child up. It doesn’t take long before I feel Hazel’s movements. In no time, she’s sitting right next to me, not saying a word. Not touching me, just being there, waiting patiently.

  “I think I’m pregnant.” I let the words out after a long time has passed.

  “I can see this must be a huge surprise,” she says, taking a deep breath. “How would you like me to help?”

  Hugging my legs, I stare at my toes. “You were right. I always do something to screw up my life.”

  “With all due respect, Willow. I said that a long time ago, and that was me being stupid and neurotic. Sometimes, you shouldn’t listen to me.” Hazel takes my hand. “I know how you feel. I’ve been there.”