by J. J. Bella
But lately, I hadn’t really gone out of my way to find any woman to sleep with or share a night with. I just found women a headache in general, especially when some of my flings took a turnabout with the women wanting more and me being not ready to give them the “more” they needed. It ended in tears and lots of bitterness on their end, which I just couldn’t be bothered with. Sometimes I wondered if my experience with Evelyn had left me bitter and jaded. Other times, I just thought I shouldn’t bother and concentrate my efforts on raising Isla right.
Besides, I could always slake my own lust with my hand, which was often what a soldier did, anyway. It was the goddamn truth, especially when we were all stuck with each other for weeks and months on end.
Lately, though, I couldn’t deny that I used my imagination a lot, too—particularly flashes of a certain image that involved curly brown hair and pretty green eyes. Rachel’s hair had been long, and she let it down right before I left the house for my mission. It had been a sight, really—and being the damn horny man that I was, I couldn’t help fantasizing about how that hair would look when it was spread out all over the bed, her eyes closed and her mouth parted open as she moaned out my name.
Jesus.
And just like that, my hard-on was out of control.
I thought about her more than was necessary in my week away—and more than appropriate, really, considering I was goddamn fifteen years older than her and only knew her for a day. But she’d been so shy and charming during dinner, and I could tell she and Isla hit it off—there were practically sparks flying between them as they chatted animatedly.
A rush of excitement filled me at the thought of seeing Isla again. I missed her. I took out my phone from my duffel bag before sliding the bag in my vehicle, my fingers already pressing the on-button. To my surprise, messages filled it when it opened up, blasting me on the screen with notifications.
Seven voicemails in total.
I listened to the first one, then progressed from there. My excitement died down as I heard Rachel’s panicked voice when she told me about the accident, then her calmer one when she promised she’d give me an update—then, her subdued one when she told me Evelyn took Isla home and she apologized profusely. Then I listened to my ex-wife’s messages, which were filled with derision and threats that my ears pretty much bled from it. Basically, she was threatening to get custody of Isla and telling me that I deserved to be miserable for how I abandoned her in the past, then now abandoned our daughter. Right. Who abandoned who? She was the one who cheated and left. Anger filled me, and I wanted to call her and fight back right then and there.
But I knew anger would get me nowhere, and what I needed was a calm mind. If I yelled at her now, she would just record it and use it against me, vicious creature that she was. I realized that despite all the years we grew apart and away from each other’s lives, she still held a grudge for everything that happened between us, laying all the blame on me for our failed marriage. I knew she considered her cheating a result of me being away too much. I called that bullshit, of course, which only seemed to anger her all the more and made her lash out in every way she could.
And now, she was trying to hurt me in the best way she could think of—by using my daughter to get back at me. She knew how much Isla mattered to me, and she knew it would hurt me if Isla no longer lived with me.
Goddamn it. I wanted to punch something.
Since it was confirmed Isla was with Evelyn and I knew Evelyn wouldn’t do anything to Isla in the meantime, I decided to call the other person who left me a voicemail. Rachel picked up after the third ring, her voice so small and so hesitant that I felt for her right away. It was like she was afraid of me—probably afraid I would lash out at her and fire her instantly. But she hadn’t done anything wrong, and I knew whatever drama happened before Evelyn took Isla was all Evelyn’s doing, considering how much of a drama queen she was.
To ease Rachel’s mind, I started with the first gentle words that popped in mind. “How are you?”
Surprise filled me when she remained quiet on the other line. Then I realized she was crying. Oh, shit. She wasn’t a hysterical crier like most women I knew—in fact, she did it so quietly that I could have mistaken it for simple silence.
“Hey, everything’s going to be alright. I’m about to get in the car and I’ll be home in a few minutes. We’ll sort this out.”
She finally spoke, her voice unsteady but clear. She kept apologizing, rushing over her words and her explanation and telling me she really didn’t mean any of it to happen. Well, of course she didn’t. Poor thing. What the hell had my ex-wife said? Knowing her, it had to be something vicious to have Rachel act this way. Realizing that a phone call wasn’t going to help calm her down, I decided to cut it short and slipped on the driver’s seat.
“There’s some red wine in the pantry. Top quality, hidden behind the scotch collection. Please help yourself to some. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“I don’t drink,” she whispered, sniffing as she did so.
“Okay, I’ll find you something.”
“You don’t have to, Mr. Bartlett,” she insisted.
“Peter,” I insisted back. “I’m driving now. See you.”
I hung up the call. Then I turned on the ignition and drove out of there.
Having stopped by to get some fast food and milk tea for her—because I remembered her mentioning to Isla how much she loved milk tea—getting home took longer than expected. When I got there, I found her in the kitchen, staring at a glass of red wine that she poured for herself. It looked untouched, which meant she probably took my advice to get it but couldn’t really get herself to drink. I was quiet on my way in, but she looked up when I got to the kitchen.
Her face crumpled instantly, and she stood up to apologize again. I cut her off by holding out my hand and placing the food and the milk tea on the kitchen island, sort of as an offering. Her eyes widened as she stared at them. Then her gaze turned back to me, and worry and terror reflected in them.
Wanting to keep things calm first, I opened the bags and ushered her to sit down. Then I slid the milk tea towards her and sat, too, until we were face to face.
“My wife left me a voicemail, so I know the situation,” I said before she could speak. Her eyes widened all the more. “First of all, don’t believe whatever she said. It’s not your fault. Isla fell during her practice and that’s an accident. There’s nothing we could have done about it, and she’s okay now. Understand?”
Silence filled the room. Finally, she nodded her head tentatively.
“Good.”
“Second of all, my ex-wife would do anything to hurt me, so her threats were more towards me than you. Don’t be afraid of getting fired, because I’m not firing you for what happened.”
I thought my words would ease her, but she just looked more worried. Those bright green eyes stared solemnly at me.
“I’m not afraid of getting fired,” she said. “Mr. Bartle…Peter…I’m afraid Isla will be taken away from you now. Because of what happened to Isla under my watch.”
Immediately, realization hit me at what her worry was all along—it hadn’t been getting kicked out of her job. She was afraid for me and what would happen to Isla and how she’d get taken away from me.
It struck me that she didn’t have to be so worried, but here she was worrying about it so much. That made her more genuine to me than anything, and suddenly I didn’t want her feeling this bad. Anger flowed in me again for my ex-wife’s insensitivity, but I banked it down and tried to find soothing words.
“I’m worried about that, too,” I admitted, keeping my voice low but sincere. “My ex-wife taking my daughter away is a constant worry for me.” Slowly, I began to tell Rachel about how Evelyn had only come back into our lives recently, and I had been so wary of letting her in again, especially in Isla’s life. But I also knew the importance of Isla knowing her mother and had let it happen. Despite Evelyn never making that threat until
now, it had still worried me endlessly. “My ex-wife is married to someone wealthy, while I’m a single father who has to leave for work most of the time. To the court’s eyes, that’s more substantial than how much I love my daughter, especially when Evelyn shows them that she loves Isla, too—and I’m sure she does, in her own odd way. But she can certainly convince the court that she has a more stable environment…and she can certainly win custody if she proceeds with it.”
Silence filled the room as Rachel absorbed my words, and it was me who finally reached out for the wine and gulped it down. Dimly, I remembered that I hadn’t changed nor taken a shower yet, but the thought fleeted away quickly. The scent of the Chinese food wafted in the air, and my stomach grumbled in response.
As if it was the wake-up call needed, Rachel sighed. I pointedly looked at her milk tea again, then waited as she reluctantly opened it and took a sip. Then she turned to me again. “Peter…is there anything I can do to save this situation? Please tell me.”
I watched her thoughtfully, her question getting to me. Generally, there was nothing she could have done, because she wasn’t even related to us. A thought crossed my mind, one so absurd that I couldn’t help smiling. She eyed my smile in puzzlement, and I debated telling her what I was thinking or not. I was pretty sure it would freak her out—possibly make her quit on the spot and run away from this house.
But maybe she could use a not-so-worrying moment. I turned my smile towards her.
“I mean, short of marrying you, I don’t think you can help. But yeah…if we get married, we can prove to the judge that we can take care of Isla, and Evelyn’s claim can be contested.”
It was meant in good humor, and I even let some of my amusement tinge my voice. I stood up and took out the plastic utensils from the takeout, making conversation again and telling Rachel to eat. Hell, she’d probably been too worried about the situation to eat. She said something, but it took a while to register as I was too busy unpacking.
When it finally registered, I froze.
“Why not?”
8
Rachel
I could tell when Peter suggested marrying that he was joking, based on the inflection of amusement in his tone and the way he said it almost too lightly. My mind processed the words, and I expected something inside me to panic and back away, as was my natural instinct when it came to guys coming on to me. Michelle called it the weirdest thing ever, because apparently, no one said no faster than I did.
But imagine my surprise when instead of the resounding no, or maybe waving it off with a laugh…my mind said only two words.
Why not?
It shocked me so much that I didn’t reply for a while. But his words turned over and over in my mind, and the same words responded in me. Sure, I was taken aback…but well, why not?
I hadn’t really created a life of my own yet, considering I was just twenty, turning twenty-one soon. I already cared for Isla so much more than I anticipated, and I wanted to create a good home for her. Heck, I wanted her to be happy, which she didn’t seem to be when she was with her mom. If she got taken away, would her brightness dim? Would she get so sad there that the lively, bubbly Isla I knew would be nothing but a shell of her former self? I didn’t want that. That child deserved so much more than a parent who didn’t pay attention—a vindictive one at that, based on what Peter said. I could sense his sincerity when he told me about how Evelyn treated Isla when Isla was there, and it made me sad and made me feel helpless at the same time. Isla deserved happiness. She deserved a happy, positive home that encouraged her hyper, creative side rather than stifle it.
And if I was really honest with myself, that wasn’t the only reason I was considering this.
Call me crazy, but I guess I was curious. Peter fascinated me in a way no other man had ever done, and I could feel his love for his daughter from the bottom of his heart. It touched me, and it made me see him differently than how I saw all the guys who came before him. Again, it reminded me that he was all man in a good sense—responsible, caring, loving and willing to protect those who mattered to him at all costs.
Even to the point of half-joking to marry me.
But again, if I was really honest with myself, there was yet another reason I was considering this—a purely selfish one.
I found myself still attracted to him—too attracted to him, in fact, that it bubbled up inside me and threatened to come out. I was attracted to him the first time I met him, but it was so different now that I got to know him more. Now, I saw his compassionate side when he didn’t fire me on the spot, and I saw the fierce loyalty in him when he talked about his daughter and his failed marriage. I think, if Evelyn hadn’t cheated on him and left, they would still be together despite their problems, because he was just the kind of person who didn’t abandon those he cared about. Instead of feeling jealous of Evelyn, I only felt bad for them, because she didn’t get to appreciate this side of him. Or perhaps she just didn’t care.
There were so many qualities in Peter that I liked and appreciated. Heck, the fact that he brought me milk tea and food, as if he was worried about me, touched me so much that I was afraid I would break down then and there earlier. But oddly enough, he kept me strong, too, when he said those encouraging words and told me it wasn’t my fault. It was no wonder his daughter adored him.
Then there were his looks.
I’d seen handsome men in college, most of them older than me. But their good looks did nothing to me, really, especially when coupled with how they generally liked to treat women. Combined with Peter’s fascinating personality, his good looks just set the bar higher, and I could already imagine those hands of his taking me in for a warm hug, that deep voice whispering words of encouragement. I could already see that smile directed at me in a fond way, and I could already see those piercing blue eyes looking at me like he wanted me. Of course, that had to be wishful thinking.
But why not?
My thoughts were all over the place, but I knew that it only took seconds for me to process all this. Peter stood up, his hands already getting busy arranging the food he brought. He was talking again, this time telling me that I needed to eat and get my energy up. There was mention about him needing to call his ex-wife to check on Isla, though he assured me again that everything was going to be alright and he was just going to say hi to Isla before letting her be, since the weekend was Evelyn’s schedule with her, anyway.
As he talked, I found myself standing up, too.
“Why not?”
I didn’t mean to blurt it out—but it just came out of me, and there was no stopping it. I watched Peter stilling, his hand holding a plastic spoon with his back towards me. Slowly, he turned around, his face filled with shock.
“Why not?” he echoed.
I shrugged. “Why not get married? If it’s for Isla, if it means you could keep full custody of her…I’ll do it.”
He kept staring at me so intensely, the shock still there but slowly ebbing away. Suddenly, I was nervous as that gaze of his sent shivers down my spine again and had me torn between running way and running in his arms. Realization hit me slowly that I cared about Peter’s opinion, too—and that I cared about him, too fast for me to comprehend.
Feeling like he was going to laugh any second now, possibly dismiss what I said, I looked down and bit my lip. I tried to find something to say—an excuse, a way to lighten things up, but my mind came up blank. With an inward curse, I decided to just laugh about it first and tell him we should dismiss it.
A hand came to touch my chin. His hand was hard and calloused, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. He tilted my head up until I was looking at him again, and we stayed like that for a while, just gazing at each other.
Finally, he asked, “You’re really okay with marrying me?”
The safe answer was no. But I found that I couldn’t lie to him.
“Yes,” I whispered. “For Isla.”
For you.
Disbelief crossed his handsom
e features. Then they softened, and his thumb brushed my chin. Electricity rushed through my body and made me tingle, and I took a deep breath and didn’t let it go, afraid of making a sound.
“I want you to think about it first,” he said. “This is a big decision, and I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
I was about to argue, but Peter had that firm look that said he was going to argue back. So I nodded my head and bit my lip again, watching as his gaze strayed there. Something flashed in his blue gaze, but he banked it down immediately, and I was only left to wonder. Finally, he let go of my chin and stepped back, and I instantly lamented the loss.
Awkwardness settled over us, but I tried to ride through it by stepping towards the table and telling him with a smile that we’d better eat before the food went cold.
And so we did, with Peter being his usual self. I noticed that he had a dry sense of humor, the kind that could often be mistaken for coldness or sarcasm but was actually his way of showing amusement. I also noticed that he had a cocky, arrogant side in him, one that should have turned me off. But somehow, it charmed me completely, and I found myself falling deeper into his spell as he told me of all his stumbles and falls when being a single father to Isla. I suspected he was doing so to turn me off any notion of this being a fairy tale type of marriage, and as a way to show me that he made mistakes, too. Maybe he expected it would make me back off as I realized what I was getting into, and he just wanted to be brutally honest.
But as I listened to the stories, I realized that I didn’t want to back off at all. In fact, it only solidified my want to go through with this agreement. I wanted to ease him off the burden, wanted to share the responsibility of taking care of Isla with him.
