The Hero and the Fat Girl (New Hampshire Bears #3)

by Mary Smith

  The problem is I don’t know where to start.

  I make myself get up early and hit my gym. I push myself harder and harder until my legs, arms, chest, and back are on fire. The sweat is burning my eyes, but I keep going. I’m trying to not think about Maxima, because I want to focus on my workout. But my mind won’t let me. She’s right there in the forefront of every thought.

  And now she’s in front of me.

  I sit the weights down and stand. I’m not completely sure if I’m breathing hard because of her close proximity or the workout. She hands me a bottle of water and a towel.

  “Thanks.” I swig the cold water down and wipe my face.

  “You’ve been in here for three hours.”

  Shit. “Okay, I’ll get ready. Thank you for the water and towel.” I start to leave, but she blocks my path.

  “Wait.”

  I stop.

  “You…you didn’t do all this to mess with me, right? Like some sort of sick game or joke.”

  “Maxima.” I stand close to her, almost touching her. “I’m in love with you, and I did it all to keep you in my life. I swear.”

  She searches my face, and I’m not sure what else to say.

  But then I blurt out…

  “Let me date you properly. Let me show you how much I love you.”

  Brilliant, dumbass.

  She takes a deep breath, turns, and walks up the stairs out of the basement.

  “Fuck,” I growl softly.

  I make myself leave the gym and go upstairs. Arabella comes running over but stops before she hugs me.

  “Dad, I’m not going to hug you because you smell, but I love you.” She seems to be a hundred times better than last night.

  “I love you too. I’m going to take a shower.” I smile at her bright face.

  After cleaning up, I go back down to my family, who are all resting in the living room. Maxima is braiding Arabella’s hair and chatting with my parents.

  “Remy, we want to go to the farmer’s market and take in some shopping,” Mom tells me.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  Maxima finishes Arabella’s hair, and we gather up our stuff and head out to my car. The girls all ride in the back and Dad sits next to me. There’s small chit-chat between us all as I head away from Manchester to Concord.

  I park the car, and we all shuffle out. Maxima tells Arabella not to run off since the crowd is large today. She promises and takes my mom’s hand. They all walk in front of us. I hang back because I feel almost like a third wheel.

  Until…

  As I reach the first booth, looking at the bright vegetables, Maxima takes my hand. I stiffen for a second and she rubs her thumb over my knuckles.

  “We should get some apples.” Her eyes shine.

  “Er…right…yes.” I turn to the older man manning the booth. “We’d like some apples.”

  I don’t want to let go of her hand, but I have to pay the man. Once I do, she takes my hand again, and together, we stroll booth to booth. It’s perfect. Even though our conversations only involve food, she talks to me and touches me. I couldn’t care less what she talks about.

  This is how we continue our day. Even in all the shops Mom and Dad want to go through and during lunch. This day can’t get any better. The smile on my face doesn’t leave, and I don’t want it to.

  By the time we get back home, Arabella has fallen asleep, and I gently carry her to her bedroom. When I finish, Maxima is leaning against the doorframe.

  “Let’s talk,” she whispers and goes across the hall to our…my…bedroom.

  I close the door and stand by it; she is across the room, standing in place, hugging herself.

  “I don’t go back on my word. Ever. If I say it, I mean it. I like you, Remington. It’s not easy for me to say considering the past twenty-four hours. You say you love me, but you can’t love me. You have no clue about me. There are a lot of layers here, and it’s not just my fat I’m referring to.”

  I start to tell her to stop talking about herself that way, but her expression warns me to be quiet.

  “I have a past, and it’s one I don’t talk about, but one that effects this relationship. I trust very little, and you lying to me makes this harder.”

  I hang my head.

  “However, you and I have…something. I have no way to describe it or even express it. No one has ever made me feel this way. When you’re around me, I’m…normal. I’ve never been normal. I didn’t even know what it felt like, until you.

  “I took a long time to agree to this proposal. Yes, Arabella was the true reason I said yes, but you were a large part of it. I know what Arabella went through with Rickie, and no I won’t go into details, but I know. No child should feel worthless or demeaned.”

  I watch as she swipes the tears away from her cheeks.

  “I don’t express my feelings well, but, again with you, I do better. I’m staying until you have Arabella. I don’t know about after that. But you have to stop saying you love me. Please.”

  “Okay,” I answer her. “You have my word.

  “You asked to date me. I’m going off the deep end and saying yes.”

  My eyes widen and jaw drops. I didn’t expect her to say those words.

  “But, I set the pace. Once you know me well enough, you can make an official decision on your true feelings. You have to know this, too: I’ve never given anyone a second chance. Please don’t make me regret it.”

  My heart is pounding out of my chest. I just won the lottery.

  The Maxima lottery.

  Chapter Seven

  Maxima

  When I wake up the next morning, Remington isn’t in bed. I’m guessing he’s working out. Yesterday, after we talked, he seemed to walk on a cloud.

  I thought long and hard about what I would do with this situation I’m in, and the main factor was the feeling I have toward Remington. When he says he loves me, I can’t describe the elation, fear, and confusion I feel. There’s something about him. The normalcy I feel is uncanny, and I enjoy it. Of course, I’d enjoy it more if I didn’t flip out every two seconds.

  My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I see Meadow’s name. While Harlow is the realist, Meadow is not. Now, she’s not irrational; just look at her and Kyson. But, sometimes, her fairy tale daydreams make perfect sense.

  How’d it go?

  I talked to Meadow when Remington spent the morning in the gym. Meadow understands why I’ve been so upset and where Remington is coming from too. I listed all my reasons why I should leave him and the situation, but she brought up a point that, at the time, I’d not thought of.

  Normalcy.

  Since moving in here, I have a true routine in my life. He keeps the memories away. Sure, there have been slip-ups and such, but the majority of the time, I’m happy to come home. When I lived alone, I spent most of my time at the office.

  Let’s not forget he makes me feel special. The clothes, the dates, the small touches. How many men would hold a woman through a panic attack? Nothing in our agreement said he had to do that.

  If he knew the truth behind the panic attacks, he’d never love me. But, after talking to Meadow, I figured we could try. No, I’m not happy about him lying, but I get it.

  Good.

  If you need me, I’m here.

  Thank you.

  As I sit the phone down, Remington comes into the bedroom. He’s sweating and hot as hell. In more ways than one. He gives me a small smile and comes to my side of the bed.

  “Sleep well?”

  I nod. “Yes. Where you shredding it in the gym?” I half joke.

  “Something like that,” he chuckles with a smile. “Hey, I was about to arrange for all of us to head down to Boston for the day. Mom and Dad want to see some sights, and I thought we’d enjoy it too. They’re going to be leaving early in the morning, and this’ll be a fun day for us.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “I’ll jump in the shower.” He heads off, and I snuggle deepe
r in the blankets and rest until he comes out.

  Arabella is singing at the top of her little lungs as Remington drives us all down the interstate. I have a horrible voice and don’t even attempt to join in. Claire does, and she sings lovely.

  “Mom, where did you learn the words to One Direction?” Remington asks.

  “I’m hip, Remy,” she states, making me giggle. “I’m curious as to where Arabella leaned it.”

  “Dacey,” she announces proudly.

  “Who’s Dacey?” Claire questions.

  “She watches me when Mom and Dad go out.”

  I gasp quietly, and my eyes connect through the mirror with Remington. She’s never called me Mom. It’s always been Max. I catch Claire’s small smile as Arabella continues on, telling her about Dacey. I try not to overthink it because she’s eight years old. She probably doesn’t even realize what she actually said.

  Remington pays the parking fee for the New England Aquarium. Arabella claps with excitement. Once we park, we all get out of the car. Arabella grabs my hand and Claire’s, and together we stroll toward the front of the building.

  As I watch her race up to each exhibit and tank, my heart fills with more love. I should be more concerned that she called me Mom, but I’m still excited about it. I shouldn’t be. If this doesn’t work out between Remington and me, I’ll lose her.

  The four of us are sitting on a bench, watching Arabella gazing at the turtles. Her energy makes all of us tired, but it’s worth it. Everything is new through her eyes. Who usually gets excited about turtles? She does, so here I am, mesmerized by them as well.

  “Think we can drag her away to get something to eat?” Remington jokes.

  “I can try.” Claire stands and walks over to her granddaughter. Leaning down, she whispers in her ear. Arabella doesn’t make a move at first, but a moment later, she’s bobbing her head up and down with a gleeful face and bright smile.

  “I’m hungry.” She skips over to us.

  Remington grins. “Okay, then let’s go eat.” He holds out his hand and she takes it, almost dragging him to the front.

  Daniel suggests a place he knows that is family friendly. Remington drives while Arabella gives us a recap of the aquarium. As she talks, my eyes stay glued on Remington. I study his dark eyes through the mirror. He is concentrating deeply on the road and driving, and I don’t think he realizes I am watching him.

  I told him I’d set the pace of this relationship, and I will.

  A very slow pace.

  Our lunch is delicious and the drive back is just as fun as the day had been, until we pull into the cul-de-sac.

  Rickie.

  Rickie is standing on our porch.

  Arabella scrambles out of her seatbelt and gets into my lap. She’s shaking like a leaf in the wind.

  “She’s going to take me.” I can feel her tears against my neck.

  “No, she won’t,” Remington slams the car into park and jumps out. I can’t hear what he’s saying. Daniel and Claire go after Remington, while I hold Arabella tighter to me.

  “Don’t let her take me,” she sobs.

  “I promise.” I vow to her.

  I can see how upset Remington is from the redness in his face, and Rickie’s finger is right in his face. I have a deep urge to get out of the car and beat her ass. Not that I’ve ever been in a real fistfight, but with the way I feel this instant, I can totally take her out right now.

  Several moments go by, and Rickie heads to her car. She eyes me through the glass, but I don’t give her any expression. I only hold onto Arabella. I will protect her.

  Once Rickie’s car drives off, I pull Arabella’s body back. “She’s gone.”

  “She’ll come back.”

  I wipe the wetness away from her cheeks. “I’ll protect you, I promise.”

  Her big dark brown eyes are still very sad, and she only nods, burrowing herself back in my neck. I maneuver around, making sure I’m able to balance myself, and I carry her toward Remington and his parents.

  “Honey,” he starts to reach for his daughter, but she pulls away.

  “I want my mom.”

  We all gasp.

  “You want Rickie back here?” Claire ask.

  “No,” Arabella snaps at her grandmother. “My mom: Max.” Her grip around my neck practically chokes me.

  I can’t speak, and Remington hangs his head.

  “I’m not leaving my mom.” She sobs in my neck.

  I’m not sure what to do. Finally, I say, “Let’s go upstairs and clean you up.” I continue to hold her, even though she’s clinging to me so tightly I don’t have to hold her at all.

  I take her to her bathroom and place her on the vanity counter. She finally releases my neck, and I can breathe easier. I grab a washcloth and run it under warm water. I clean her face free of her tears.

  I know it’s not her bed time, but I take off her shoes and take her to the bedroom. I change her out of her clothes and into her pajamas. I lay her in the bed and grab Percy Jackson.

  Should I discuss with her why she’s begun calling me Mom? Sure, but not right then. Now, I wanted her to calm down. I know what it was like when they fought, and I didn’t even like them. Arabella is much more tenderhearted than I was at her age.

  I start reading the newest chapter, and Arabella holds tight to the blanket she’s laying under. Soon, she falls asleep. I stay with her for a while, smoothing her hair and listening to her breathe.

  I ease off the bed and head downstairs. Remington and his parents are sitting at the kitchen table. I rub Remington’s back before taking a seat next to him.

  “She’s asleep.” I inform them. “What did Rickie say?”

  “Mainly, she wants Arabella back, but it’s because I’m not paying child support right now. Then she informed me she has a great lawyer who’s going to win this case. Oh, and she has also hired a private investigator. How the hell she can afford all of it, I’m not sure.” Remington rubs his temples.

  My heart falls. An investigator means he or she will find out about them or at least my time at Boston. That could push Remington over the edge— if I’m the reason he loses his daughter. He definitely won’t love me or even want to look at me if that happens.

  “I’ll fight her until I don’t have any more breath in my body.”

  I rub his back. There is something beholding to witness a father’s declaration. It doesn’t make him any sexier than he already is, but it makes him more honorable. But I knew this already.

  Claire, Daniel, and I sit in silence, trying to let Remington calm down and collect his thoughts. What does one say in this situation? Nothing I think of sounds reassuring or helpful. I want to hug him and tell him it’ll be okay.

  I want to be his hero.

  The night drags on, and Arabella remains asleep the entire time. Claire and Daniel leave early in the morning and Remington makes us all breakfast first. He wakes Arabella up, but she goes right back to bed, claiming she doesn’t feel well.

  I call Jackson’s voicemail, leaving word I wouldn’t be in. Yes, he’ll be upset, but I’m not leaving Remington and Arabella today. I usually have a therapy appointment on Monday, but I’m not sure if I’ll make it today.

  “Your boss is going to be mad.” Remington takes the clean, wet dish from me, dries it, and places it in the cupboard.

  “I’m going to be here. This is where I need to be.” I hand him another plate. “She was shaking in my arms so hard yesterday. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “Maxima, you did exactly the right thing. I’m the one who looked like an ass.”

  “Why would you say that?” I turn off the water as I hand him the last plate.

  “I should have acted like an adult and just not shouted so much.”

  “You were upset. She showed up, completely unannounced, to tell at you she plans to get Arabella back.” I dry my hands by pulling the towel from his. “You’re an amazing father and even better man.”

  “A man who lied to
you.” He presses his body lightly against mine. It’s not forced, and I’m not panicking.

  I want him.

  “Yes.” My voice betrays me. “You did, but I told you I understood, and I’m still here.” I try to breathe normally, but I fail at it.

  He’s truly the only man to ever make me feel this way. I’m desperate for him to kiss me. Right here. Right now. I lick my lips in preparation for his; instead, my cell phone rings.

  I groan as I look at the display: Jackson.

  “You better answer it.” Remington steps back from me.

  “Hi Jackson,” I answer, still gazing into Remington’s dark eyes.

  “Maxima, I just heard your message, and it’s unacceptable.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get in this office. Now,” he orders with a deep growl. “This is a serious situation you’ve put me in. You think you can just call off whenever you feel it necessary. Well, you’re wrong. Get here. Now.”

  I can’t form a single word at the moment. He’s ordering me like some dog. Heck, I treat dogs better than he’s treating me.

  There are many times I just roll over and let people walk over me. I know I do it, but then there are times, especially when I’m backed in a corner, I let my survival instincts take over.

  This is one of those times.

  “Jackson, let me explain how personal time works. It’s personal, and I can use it as I see fit. If you don’t like it, then might I suggest you get with HR and have it changed in the handbook? I’ll see you tomorrow at my usual arrival time. Have a nice Monday.”

  I end the call, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. I hate yelling at people, but at times, it’s needed.

  “Are you okay?” Remington takes my hand.

  “Yes,” I answer, opening my eyes. “I’m not going to the office today. However, I do need to go to Caryn’s.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “My therapist.”

  He nods.

  “I don’t miss appointments with her. I won’t be long.”