by Alexis James
“No. Keep your mouth shut.”
She finally murmurs her agreement, clicks on the television, and goes about dealing with my silence as I always do with hers; we share the same airspace but don’t say a word. We’re so much alike, me and my baby sister, two people who prefer to suffer in silence rather than allow anyone to help. Ironically, I think all us Moran kids are like that to varying degrees, some more than others, and I have ask myself why that is. It’s not like our parents never encouraged us to share our heartache, but there was certainly an unspoken expectation that we were to handle crisis like the adults we were becoming. Funny, because whenever there is a real crisis, us kids always seem to naturally gravitate toward one another.
My phone buzzes from its spot on the counter and when I open the text and see that it’s from Sabrina, my stomach vaults into my throat. There’s no greeting, no niceties, nothing to hint that she and I are or were anything more than two people who once meant something to one another. She asks if Emmy is okay and if she should come and pick her up. With a low curse, I quickly tap out my response and slam the phone down. Gripping the counter tightly with both hands I hang my head and take deep breaths, try to get a handle on my anger.
“Roman, are you okay?” Emmy is standing at the edge of the kitchen, sleepy blue eyes wide with concern.
The anger dissipates so quickly I doubt if it was even there in the first place. Walking toward her, I ruffle her hair and reply, “I’m fine, kiddo. Did you sleep okay?”
She nods and moves into the room, her feet coming to a halt when she sees Bella sitting on the couch taking it all in. “Yeah, I did. Um … hi, Isabella.”
My sister gets to her feet and smiles. “Hello, pretty girl. You doing okay?”
Emmy’s eyes fill with tears and she shakes her head, stepping into my outstretched arms and sobbing softly against my chest. “I don’t want to go home, Roman. I don’t want to see him anymore.”
My heart splits wide open, and I glance at Bella over the top of Emmy’s head. Being the bigger the person, the parental figure, sucks big balls. I’d love nothing more than to move her into my guest room and raise her myself, but that’s something I can only ever dream about. As it is, I know I should cherish this time I have with her today because chances are her mom is going to put a halt to it ever happening again as soon as she can.
Maybe I should speak to Sabrina about it. Put all my shit with her on the back burner and relay to her how important Emmy is to me. How the fuck can I be expected to face her and have a conversation when a simple text sends me into a rage?
“I know you don’t, kiddo, but your mom would miss you so much if you stayed here. She loves you, you know that. And you love her too. You’re just a little ticked off right now so it’s easy to forget that.”
She tips back her head and looks at me through tear-filled eyes. “I’m pissed at her! She brought this guy into my life. I didn’t ask to have a relationship with him. I had no interest in even knowing who he was.” She starts to sob again, and all I can do is watch helplessly as she unloads her grief on me. “I hate him, Roman! I hate him so much.”
“I know you do. So do I.” I might be the adult, but I’m sure as hell not gonna lie to the kid. Not now. Not when so very much is at stake.
This time when her tears finally dry, there’s a haunting emptiness in her eyes that wasn’t there before—one that eerily mimics the same expression I see in the mirror. I urge her to take a seat at the bar, Bella too, then throw open the fridge and attempt to find something for us to eat. While I cook eggs and toast, Bella murmurs to her softly, rubs her back and tucks her hair behind her ear, doing her best to soothe the younger girl. God, I love my sister so much right now, and I’m so damn grateful for her support. Without saying so I know, she fully understands how important Emmy is to me. In her silence I see a gentle understanding and acceptance that she’ll do whatever she can to help us both weather this storm.
Bella asks Emmy questions about school while we eat, easing her from her pain until she’s more like the smart, talkative girl I’ve come to know and love. She reminds me that she’s on school break and she’d like to come back to work for me, but when I tell her that she has to check with her mom first, she throws me a dark look and changes the subject.
Navigating these parental waterways is sure as fuck not easy, especially since her mom and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms. As much as I love Sabrina, I sorta hate her for all of this, for upending Emmy’s life and mine too. That’s completely unfair, I know, but I can’t help it. I blame her for letting that asshole worm his way back into her life and allowing him to use her guilt to get there.
“I can run Em home. It’s on my way.”
I glance at Bella, shoot her a look that says “no its not,” but I fully understand what she’s doing. She’s sparing me the heartache of seeing Sabrina, sparing Emmy further upset at having to witness her mother and me treating one another like strangers. I completely appreciate the offer, but I have to continue to be the bigger person. Emmy is my responsibility right now and as such I’ll make sure she gets home safe.
“That’s okay, Sis, I got this.” We share a look that hopefully the teenager in the room won’t be able to decipher: peeved irritation on her part, stubborn insistence on mine.
“All right then, I guess I’ll go.” She gives Emmy a hug, then turns to me and does the same, murmuring, “Keep me updated.”
“Yeah, will do.”
Her doubtful expression tells me she fully intends to make a pest of herself, but thankfully she keeps her trap shut and walks out the door without another word. Emmy helps me clean the kitchen, our silence keeping us company as we work together to put my space back into order. She tosses all the empty beer bottles while I’ll stack the mail and once everything is neatly in place, she blows out a shaky breath of defeat and loops her backpack over her shoulder.
“I should probably get home. Mom’s been texting me every ten minutes.”
Our drive is as silent as our housework was, and I notice that she’s as much like me as Bella is, mutely shouldering her burdens. How crazy is that, that a kid who will never really be mine is so much like me in so many ways? She shares such beautiful traits as her mom, and yet she could really be my own. Is that why my heart feels like its crumbling all over again, why I feel broken in ways I never believed were possible?
Gripping the steering wheel, I pull up to the curb, right behind a four-door beater. Emmy turns to me with wide eyes, face pinched white with fear and apprehension. “That’s his car.”
The rage I’ve been so careful to hide rises quickly to the surface and instead of dropping her off at the curb like I originally planned, I kill the engine and step out into the road. There’s no way in Hell I’m feeding her to the wolves and there’s no fucking way I’m about to drive away like some coward. I sure as hell don’t relish the idea of facing Sabrina, not with that dude by her side, but I have nothing—absolutely nothing to feel guilty about. The truth of the matter is that right now, I’m the only rational adult in Emmy’s life, and I’m sure as fuck the only one with her best interest at heart.
“What are you doing?” she asks, stepping down from the truck and looking up at me wide eyed.
“What I should have done two weeks ago.” With a whole ton of faked confidence, I follow after her, up the walkway and through the front door.
Jack is standing in one corner, arms folded across his chest, glaring at the dude seated on the couch. They both turn to look at us when we enter and while Jack gives me a look of approval, the other dude glares at me and quickly gets to his feet.
We spend a good minute or so looking one another over. I’ll be honest, I have no idea what the hell Sabrina was thinking when she chose to bed this guy. He appears to be ten years or so older than she is—with a beer gut and the stench of cigarettes wafting from him. His hair is thinning and if I had to guess, I’d say he enjoyed a few cocktails before making his appearance today. The blood-shot ey
es are the first clue, his inability to stand without weaving is the second.
“Where the fuck have you been? And who the fuck are you?” he growls, looking from Emmy to me and back again.
I step in front of her and reach back to envelop her wrist in my hand, muttering, “Go to your room, kiddo.” She nods and quickly skirts away. The moment her door is closed, I’m right in his face and growling out, “Who the fuck are you?”
He stammers and tries to take a step back, but I’ve got him sandwiched between the couch and my body. I’m a good six inches taller and while he probably outweighs me with that fifty pound gut he’s hauling around, I could take him out with one punch.
“Roman,” Jack cautions.
Will’s eyes widen and he smirks up at me. “Oh, so you’re the guy she broke up with when I showed up in town?”
Pain centers in my chest and rips a brand-new gaping hole. “That’s right. And I suppose you’d be the asshole who walked away from her when she told you she was pregnant?”
He shrugs, as if what he did was no big deal. “She’s over it, man.”
“Somehow I doubt that,” Jack interjects.
“Please stop,” Sabrina murmurs, coming into the room. All three of us look in her direction, but it’s me who gasps and takes a step back. I haven’t seen her once in two weeks and it’s as if I’m looking at a stranger. She’s rail thin, as if she hasn’t eaten at all since we were last together; her face is ghostly pale, eyes sunken deep into her face and wide with fear. Her hair hangs limply around her face, a face now highlighted by dark circles and pale, dry lips. Not once does she look directly at me, and that’s probably for the best. I could never be responsible for my actions if my eyes met hers. I sure as fuck am not certain I can be responsible for murdering the man who has caused all this heartache.
Jack steps up behind me, saying softly, “You should go, Roman.”
I nod, shoot Will another glare, and snarl, “I’m not letting you hurt Emmy. Understand?”
“Whatever, dude. You have no rights to her.”
My fingers gather into a fist, but it’s Jack’s hand on my arm tugging me backwards and forces me to retreat. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.”
I’m seething by the time we reach my truck and just as I pull my fist back to send it flying into the hood, Jack catches my arms and states, “Beating up your truck will not change what’s happened.”
Tugging my arm out of his grasp, I tear my fingers through my hair and start to pace. “All Em has done since she showed up at my door is cry. She’s a mess, man, and there’s not one fucking thing I can do.” I pace some more, feeling like my head is going to explode, stopping only when I reach him. “Tell me how to fix this. Tell me where Sabrina’s head is at.”
Jack shrugs and shoves his hands in the pocket of his jeans. “I have no fucking idea. She’s all over the place. She feels guilty about keeping Em from that guy. She’s upset because Em is mad at her.”
“And me? What has she said about me?”
He flinches, offering me a sympathetic look. “Nothing, man. Not one damn thing.”
Did I really mean so little to her? Did I totally misjudge our entire relationship? How the hell could I have been so wrong about so much? She said she loved me for crying out loud. Was that a mistake too?
“I gotta go.” Stepping around to the driver’s side, I fling open the door. “Please tell Em to call me if she needs anything. And take care of her, okay?”
Jack nods. “Yeah, I can do that. And, Roman, whether or not it matters, I know that Sabrina really wanted a future with you.”
“Yeah, well, it doesn’t matter now does it?”
Nothing does, I think as I fly down the block and head toward home. It’s bad enough that I lost the love of my life, the woman I’d planned to propose to, the woman I loved more than I could possibly imagine, but to lose Emmy too and to lose them both to that worthless piece of shit Will Leahy hurts in ways I never believed it could. If I thought I was shattered before, I’m completely destroyed now.
I guess it’s a good thing I still have my work. And I still have my family, even though facing them right now feels like a certain form of torture. I can always return to my Romeo ways, bedding numerous woman who actually want to spend time with me and won’t toss me aside for their shady ex when he strolls into town. Childless women who will offer me a good outlet for my anger. Women I don’t have to love or even have to like. Women I only ever have to fuck.
By the time I arrive home, I’ve got myself convinced that’s the perfect plan of action. I’ll make a few phone calls, go out and have a few cocktails, and before you know I’ll be back in the game and Sabrina and all her shit will be nothing more than a fond memory.
When I pick up my phone to search my contacts, there are two incoming texts waiting for me. One is from Em thanking me for everything today. The other is from Sabrina:
I’m so sorry you had to meet him and for what he said to you. You never deserved that and I’m so grateful you love Em as much as I do. Take care of yourself.
“Fuuuck!” I yell, chucking the phone across the room—where it hits the wall and shatters into scattered pieces across the floor. Falling to the couch, I feel the damn tears well up once again and any strength I might have had before is suddenly all gone. They rush to the surface, spill over in waves, and trickle down my face. As I sit there and finally succumb to all the pain that’s been engulfing me for weeks now, I know without a doubt that even though I’ve lost her for good, I still love Sabrina just as much as I did when she sent me away.
Christmas is a few days away, and I wish I could just blink and skip every last bit of the celebration. My heart is not in it this year, for obvious reasons, and apparently neither is my child’s. Emmy still isn’t speaking to me. I have no idea what it is she really wants or if she even still wants to celebrate the holiday, so I end up purchasing a few random things I know she needs.
How is it that our perfect life has suddenly become so incredibly unbearable? We hardly ever share meals anymore as she spends most of her time locked inside her room. The one and only time she’s spoken to me on a voluntary basis was when she asked if I’d take her into the office to work with Roman. When I refused, giving her some lame excuse about not wanting to confuse him, she retreated further into her silence.
She outright refuses to speak one word whenever Will comes over, just sits on the couch with a dark look on her face and pretends like he’s not in the room. He’s quickly running out of patience. He told her in no uncertain terms last night that if she doesn’t “get with the fucking program,” he’s going to show her who’s the boss. I’ve got news for him: the boss in this picture is me, and I’ve about had enough of his high-handed behavior and inappropriate cursing in front of my child. It’s no surprise that Roman almost punched him, and Jack has threatened repeatedly to call the cops. The man is out of control. And me? I’m at my wits end. Short of a restraining order, which I doubt I could obtain, I can’t seem to purge him from our lives. He seems so persistent to hang around and upset each and every aspect of our daily lives. While I once might have believed that he was entitled to time with his child, now I’m starting to doubt that she is the reason for his return. I think I am.
Will has this twisted idea of what we once were, some great love story he created in his screwed-up head that is really the furthest thing from the truth. There was never love between me and Will. I spent a lot of time being taken in by his charm—or what I thought was charm—and too much time making excuses for his rotten behavior. Looking back, I do ask myself if he ever really even liked me. I think it was more about the challenge, working me up, getting me to comply. Accepting the truth is definitely not something I’m proud of, but I am grateful the blinders are pulled off now and I see the real man beneath what I once found so irresistible.
Twice now he’s tried to get handsy with me, and both times I told him in no uncertain terms that I am never, ever going there with him again. He y
elled, tried to shove me, but thankfully Jack saw the whole thing transpire and quickly put his fist through Will’s face. Since then he’s been careful to keep his distance from me, but I know it’s only a matter of time before he tries it again.
Still, he is Emmy’s dad and sleazy or not, I have to give him the opportunity to try to have a relationship with her. I have to believe, or try to at least, that he really does want to get to know her and be a part of her life. I have to believe that there’s a reason he showed up after all these years and that through all his hostility he’s a halfway decent man.
I’ve tried talking to her about it, tried preaching patience with him, and so far all I’ve done is waste a lot of time. Neither one of them will budge, so I’m left to play referee and in the meantime my own personal life has completely disintegrated.
Seeing Roman standing in my home that day has haunted me constantly. He’s changed so much in such a short time, become hardened and hateful and filled with rage that I alone have caused. This man, the same sweet man who once touched me with such care, such reverence, spewed venom to a complete stranger and physically had to be restrained. His devotion to Emmy though, is about the only thing bringing me happiness right at this moment. Knowing how fully and completely he loves her warms my heart, but it also gives me great pause. Would I be fostering false hope by allowing her to work for him or occasionally spend time with him like she did that day at his apartment? Chances are once Roman gets over what happened with me and him, he’ll move on to greener pastures and not have any time to spend with a too wise for her britches teenager whom he no longer is obligated to spend time with.
The thing is … I can’t convince myself that Emmy is any more of a passing fancy for him than I was. I’ve given him no choice when it comes to our relationship, but she’s her own person and if she wants to spend time with him she will. Then I have to ask myself: Why can’t I offer my child the same understanding when it comes to her feelings about her father? Is guilt clouding my judgement?
