by Fields, MJ
The first thing I attack is the far left corner. It’s full of memorabilia—tee-shirts from each city we traveled, each stadium he played minor league ball at, each vacation we took during the off season when I racked up credit card debt, took out more money than I should have from student loans for my online college courses that lasted ten fucking years because I constantly changed majors based on what he thought I should do. I take out albums full of pictures that I already plucked free of the ones with the groups of women I found out he had fucked one or more, as if saving the ones of just us validated the years wasted on a man who used me for what I could give him.
He broke my heart, and I stayed because I thought he was the one person who truly wanted me.
You see, at sixteen, my parents were given a miracle. They named her Mary. She became their everything, and I was the stray cat they had brought in to satisfy a maternal desire until they got the one that she … they … really wanted.
I had him to vent to, and him to comfort me, and him to tell me that I was right and had every reason to feel abandoned … again.
They didn’t like him, because they knew he would love me and take care of me. He had told them that on the day I packed my bags and left the house, leaving with him to follow his destiny, instead of going to a four-year university close to home where they wanted me to attend and become a teacher. To use the full scholarship I was given, due to my grades.
Shoving blankets and photo albums and old letters and every shitty, little memory we had amassed into a bag, I cry and I drink. And fuck if it doesn’t feel good.
After taking down the trash, I grab another bottle of wine then head back up.
The next box I open in that far left corner is our wedding items.
As the years passed and I wanted to get married, he convinced me to ask my parents to pay for a wedding. They handed me a check for twenty grand to do with as I chose, and I chose a shitty, little wedding because we needed the money for travel.
It hurt them, but he reminded me how much they hurt me.
I know now that all he was doing was splitting old wounds open and grinding salt into them.
The first time I caught him cheating, he blamed it on alcohol and his “fans.”
He stopped drinking, and I told him I wanted a baby. He told he wasn’t sure he wanted one, and I stayed anyway.
When I finally wore him down, we tried. We tried and failed three times. Each time, I was a bit farther along than the last. And each time, he became more and more distant.
When I caught him cheating again, he told me it was because of me and the fact that my body was rejecting him, right along with each baby he gave me. Then he told me all he ever wanted was to have a baby with me.
The third time I caught him cheating, I lost it. I told him what a piece of shit he was and how he ruined my relationship with my parents. He told me they didn’t want me any more than the woman who abandon me, and neither did he. He told me I made his life just as miserable because he stayed with me because no one else would want a pathetic bitch like me.
That’s when I met Knox. He gained that nickname because one hit and he knocked him out. Then he threatened to do the same to me if I ever let that loser inside a “pretty little thing like me again.” He told me that he “didn’t give a shit if I were a girl.” And he did it in a bar full of onlookers and a bartender named Milly.
Milly dove over the bar at him and beat the hell out of him. Once he got her off him, he told her that, if she ever came at him like a man again, to be prepared to be treated like one. Then he let go of her, and she wacked him. As a matter of fact, she wacked him three times, and then he kissed her. They’ve been together ever since.
That was also the day it finally clicked that I was no longer going to be his verbal and mental whipping post and fell in love with Reese’s.
Sadly, it wasn’t the day I left him. I had just begun working at de la Porte and already felt like I belonged, and he’d been drafted. One of his drunken rantings was that, since he was no longer fucking tainted pussy, he had been blessed.
We cohabited, and when he drank and went on tangents, I ate chocolate and got lost in audiobooks.
Some said, “she should have left him sooner,” making me feel weaker and weaker by the day. But others, like Angela, told me that, when I was meant to leave, I would, and gave me the option to come stay with the little girl who I immediately felt a bond with.
It was in the de la Porte closet that I was able to shut it all off and just watch her little mind work as she drew. If a girl born with a bilateral cleft could face each day with sunshine, smiles, and dreams still alive, I certainly could.
Natasha and Angela have become my everything, and they know nothing about my past, except my ex is a dick.
My folks and I are mending fences. I carry a lot of guilt for what I put them through, so much that I haven’t seen them since my surgery two years ago.
A hysterectomy was medically necessary. Precancerous cells were found, and the option was get pregnant now or remove everything required to make a baby.
I did what I had to do to survive.
Sometimes, like this weekend, it wears me down, but I get through them.
Twenty-Four
Eric
Three Years Later…
Sometimes, when I look at her, I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. I didn’t see the way she looked at me, the way she cared for me. I mean, for fuck’s sake, she practically made me who I am today and got me through a year of hell by simply keeping me busy. And the best part is just how uncomplicated everything is with her.
“Go, go, go, go!” She jumps up, fist pumping in the air. “Do you see that, EJ? Did you freaking see that!”
I can’t help laughing when I look around and see the entire de la Porte board looking at her then whispering. If they knew Kylie’s family was raking in more cash than they were, they’d be kissing her ass.
It wasn’t until after we started dating that she told me that her parents had remortgaged their home on her whim and put everything they had into the company, and maxed out their credit cards to pay my signing bonus, negotiated by a fifteen-year-old girl.
I stand up and start clapping. “Go, Daisy! Go, Daniel! Go, go, go!”
Daisy and Daniel are kicking potato sack ass, together, and both my father and Suzy are watching them together.
I haven’t been to a de la Porte function since I last saw her. The board meetings I did attend in Dad’s place were enough to test the patience of a saint. And I was no saint.
After the day Shelby and I ran into Autumn at the thrift store and Shelby found that box of Teddy bears, I heeded her warning and backed off, giving her the space she had asked for, but still let her know I gave a shit.
Just two days, later I found out in a meeting that Natasha was de la Porte’s new designer, news that she hadn’t trusted me with, and that pissed me off. But the love she had for that girl was obvious, and the loyalty to her and Angela was unquestionable and admirable. But what followed next sent me into a tailspin of dubious behaviors.
When I found out she was being relocated to Paris and there was talk about expansion in England, it put me in fight or flight mode. I fought with everything I had to make sure she would never forget me. And by fight, I mean waiting until Oliver, Bass’s right-hand, left for the day. Then I locked the office door behind me and fucked the living hell out of her on her desk. And like the coatroom, I left immediately after.
I ended up bringing flowers by her place … again and saw bags upon bags of trash waiting for pick up. She had cleaned out the “far left corner.”
When I offered to help move some things, she told me that she had hired a company. She still wasn’t letting me in the door. When I pressed the issue, she was hesitant. And when I walked in, I saw five suitcases in the foyer.
She was leaving the next day.
Initially, I was pissed, but then I saw she wasn’t exactly throwing a party, so I fucked her agai
n and told her I would be more than willing to make a transatlantic booty call.
She wrapped her arms tighter around me and cried.
I didn’t know how to take it, so I just held her. I stayed all night in her sparsely decorated home that she was leaving.
In the morning, I asked when she’d be back, and she said, “Sporadically.”
I had to drag it out of her that she would be home for the de la Porte employee office party for Christmas.
I made sure I played Santa, and she didn’t even know it until I pulled her on my lap. She couldn’t hide the smile, and I couldn’t hide the excitement, so when the next woman sat on Santa’s lap and gasped, Autumn, who was playing elf, slid me a candy cane, and I handed it to the woman with a wink.
I took a break after that, and then she was the one to drag me into her office.
Shit went bad shortly after that.
Really bad.
Things are better now, but it took this long to know that I can trust myself around her. Now, I’m one hundred percent sure that I want to be where I’m wanted, and that isn’t with her. She made that abundantly clear when she threatened to call the cops the night I banged on her door and told her I loved her. Not the reaction a man who’s never said the words before hopes to receive, but it happened, and it was yet another lesson I learned that fall.
I’m sure it’s not the reaction I’ll get when I tell Kylie I’m falling in love with her. And I am.
Today is a test of sorts. I need to know that, when I tell Kylie, who not only deserves but wants my love, that I love her, it will be with one hundred percent of my heart.
After congratulating the twins, I kiss the side of her head. “I’m going to use the bathroom. You need anything?”
“Whiskey sour sounds good.”
“Yeah?”
She smiles. “Make it a double.”
When I walk into the mansion, I hear a familiar laugh.
“Hey, Ivy League, where the hell are you and why didn’t I know you were coming?”
I round the bar and head toward her laughter.
Shelby graduated high school this past spring, and I couldn’t be prouder of her. Because of her little online venture and a kick-ass essay where she held nothing back, she was accepted into the Dental Medicine program at the University of Pennsylvania, the other Ivy League school.
I was shocked as hell when she decided that’s what she wanted. I was sure business would be her focus, but as she told the admissions board, she wanted to be challenged.
I graduated two years ago from Duke and continued playing lacrosse. I love the sport, and I may never win a gold medal or play for the MLL, but I owe a lot to the sport itself. My end goal was never to play for the MLL anyway. It was to understand people and to someday do something significant with my mother’s work, which is still my focus.
The modeling gig is still paying my bills. It’s also still paying for Shelby’s mom to go to rehab for at least three months a year. I told her that I would take care of her, and I do.
Shelby steps away from a hug and grins. “ ’Cause it wouldn’t have been a surprise.”
When the woman she was hugging turns around and waves, anger begins to brew inside of me.
Shelby hugs me. “Did you miss me?”
I hug her back while glaring at Autumn. “You weren’t gone long enough for me to miss.”
Autumn rocks back and forth on her heels and looks away.
“Hey”—Shelby laughs and steps back—“that’s not nice.”
“Joking, Shells.”
“I gotta pee. Wait for me!” Then she runs to the bathroom, leaving me with … her.
I look over at her and feel the tension in my jaw. I fight not to clench my fists, whereas she just smiles and asks, “How’ve you been?”
“How have I been?” I feel my chest rumble in anger.
She nods.
“How have you been?” I bite back sarcastically.
“Good. Been traveling a lot between Paris and London and—”
“Actually, it wasn’t a question, and I really don’t give a damn.”
“Well, I assumed by the balled fists, twitchy jaw muscles, and the steam rolling out of your ears that you were being fastidious, but I was hoping to make it less awkward.”
I nod. “Good. That’s great. So, how’s your weekend been? You ruined any lives with your voodoo pussy?”
She tries not to laugh, and that pisses me off. But what pisses me off even more is the fact that she makes a damn joke about it.
“Just flew in, but I have a couple days. I guess it could happen.”
“You may want to check an ID this time. Wouldn’t want the VP of de la Porte International going to jail for fucking underage—”
“Wow, that’s low.” She shakes her head and walks away.
I start to follow her when someone grabs my arm. I look back to see it’s my father.
“Not the time nor the place, nor the woman to mess with. Rumor has it she’s graduated from ankle biter to grade A bitch,” he warns.
“Watch the way you talk about her.” Regardless of what happened, I don’t like him disrespecting her.
“She fucked my son up for a good year; I’ll say whatever I want to about her, but only to you.” He shakes his head. I didn’t even know he was aware. “You got a girl out there. Go enjoy your time with her.”
“She didn’t fuck me up any more than you did. She was a lesson.”
“We’re all learning them.” He nods.
He and Suzy have been seeing a couples counselor. It was Suzy’s idea. I have a suspicion that Shelby had something to do with it.
“I’m waiting to use the bathroom after Shelby’s done.”
“She made it?” He laughs. He’s proud as hell of her, visibly beaming. “I’ll go grab the twins. They’ll be glad to see her.”
“I’m sure they will.”
When he walks away, I look past him and at Autumn, who is now speaking to the waitstaff. Smiling, fucking smiling, at him. I wonder if he’s this weekend’s fling.
She’s thinner, has a couple more smile lines, and her hair is a little shorter and darker. She’s wearing a long maxi dress with flowers on it and has a large-brimmed sun hat tucked under her arm and sunglasses on her head. I wish she had put those things on to hide those fucking eyes.
“There you are,” Kylie says from behind me as she pokes her fingers into my sides. “What do you think I am, a damn camel? What does it take for a girl to get a drink around?” She stops.
I see Autumn’s eyes flit to us, and then she smiles softly before turning away and walking out onto the back patio.
I turn around. “Just—”
“If she’s going to be an issue, I need to know now, EJ,” she interrupts me, nearly yelling.
“Sorry, big brother, it was a long drive.” Shelby stands beside me now. “The bathroom is all yours.”
“No problem.” I hug her then look at Kylie. “Have a little more faith in me than that.”
“Not worried about you, but her—”
“Kylie.” I shake my head. “Not here.”
Dad and the twins come in. Both hurry to Shelby, while I make my way to the bathroom.
* * *
“She drunk?” Shelby asks before taking a sip of her lemonade.
I shrug. “Pretty sure she’s well on her way.”
“She drink a lot?”
Shelby has issues with any kind of substance. It’s understandable with what she’s been through and research does show addiction is genetic.
“Socially.”
“You all are pretty social.”
“Shells, she’s fine.”
I watch as Kylie jumps toward the finish line and bumps into Elenore from HR.
“She competitive?”
“That she is.” I can’t help chuckling.
“You love her?”
I look at Shelby and raise an eyebrow.
“It’s an easy question, EJ. Cut and dry. No
multiple-choice answers to sort through and make an educated guess. No right or wrong answer either. Do you love her?”
I nod. “I think I do.”
Twenty-Five
Autumn
“This was a bad idea,” I say on a sigh as I look in the mirror, phone held to my ear with my shoulder.
“It’s all a part of the healing,” Angela whispers. I assume she’s trying not to wake up her toddler.
I finally opened up to Angela about my past, and she begged me to seek counseling. But the thing is, every damn thing they’ve told me … yes, they’ve—I go through counselors like the board goes through wives—is to make peace with my past and live in the present.
“It’s all well and good, Ang, until you dangle all your hopes and dreams off the ass of a running horse and you have no legs.” I laugh.
“But you have a Lincoln,” she reminds me.
I sigh. “I have a Sammy, and he’s the best part of every Thursday.”
“I think it’s time you get one of your own and keep him.”
“I think I’m far too busy to give one the love and attention they deserve.”
“You could scale back on your schedule. Things are running better than expected. And thanks to you, la Placard London is running smoothly.”
“And Natasha.”
“And Oliver,” she adds.
“Oliver’s a dick.”
Angela doesn’t know why I have a love/hate relationship with Oliver, and even though that feels all sorts of wrong, telling her would betray Natasha and possibly ruin Oliver the dick’s friendship with Bass. Plus, a promise is a promise.
She laughs. “He isn’t that bad.”
I’m glad you think so, because Natasha is in love with that ape-sized, inked jackass … who is in love with her, too, yet he won’t touch her, I think but don’t say. And honestly, I’m glad he won’t touch her. Touch leads to bad places when the heart is already involved.
