by Amy Sparling
“What about business permits and taxes and shit? Plus we’d have to build a building and parking lot and lights and water and…” I stop myself as the list continues to grow in my head. “This will be expensive.”
“Definitely, but I think we can turn a profit soon.” Park slides out some more papers from the stack he keeps in a tan folder. “I’ve met with a tax lawyer. Here’s the permits and licenses we’d need. I also have a guy who would draft up our waivers for the kid’s parents to sign. But it doesn’t just have to be about kids either… we could do like, motocross bachelor parties or—hell I don’t know. Charity races and stuff.”
“We could do all of that and more if we had our own track,” I say. I take another bite of food, feeling temporarily guilty because I know how much Bay loves Chinese food. Maybe I’ll swing back by after work and bring her some for dinner.
I smile. “I think we should do it, definitely. I am all in for this. Of course I need to run it all past Bayleigh but—” I shrug. “I think she’d be cool with it. Don’t you?”
Park shrugs. “She’s a cool chick. As long as she believes in you putting a shit ton of money on the line, then I don’t see why she’d object.”
Shit. When he puts it that way…does Bayleigh have the faith in me? Would she support me spending a heap of our savings on a crazy business adventure that requires me to leave my job and my steady paycheck?
God, I hope so.
Chapter 15
I can hear the unrelenting sound of Jett screaming his head off before my key gets in the front door. He’s doing that scream-for-no-reason thing he sometimes does, I can tell by the sound of it as I unlock the door and step inside our apartment.
“What’s my little man crying about?” I call out. No one answers me, but it’s not like I expected Jett to suddenly stop crying and say, “Why sorry, father. I am crying because I’m pissed off for no reason.”
I smile at the ridiculous thought and scan the living room for Bay. That’s who I expected to answer me, but she hasn’t said a word. If she has, maybe I just can’t hear it over the screaming.
“Bay?” I call out as I step into the kitchen. It’s empty, too, and there’s still no reply. Maybe she’s in the shower.
I head down the hallway, peeking into our bedroom and the bathroom and she’s not in there and Jett’s screams are louder than ever as I approach his bedroom at the end of the hall. “Bay?” I try again.
And then I see her.
She sits cross legged on the floor right in the middle of Jett’s room, on top of a baby blanket that’s been spread out and covered with baby toys. Her back is to me, but her shoulders are slumped and I can tell she’s looking down into her lap.
Jett stares at me with chubby cheeks and tears all over his face. He’s lying in his crib, his tiny little hands balled up into tiny little angry fists and he’s crying like a maniac.
“Bay, are you okay?” I ask, heading toward the crib. She doesn’t say anything.
I check Jett’s diaper but it’s clean. There’s a full baby bottle on the table next to the crib so I grab the bottle and offer it to Jett. He just shoves it away and keeps crying. Just as I had expected—he’s just crying for no reason. Or, no reason that we can figure out.
I bend over and scoop up my baby, cradling him in my arms while I rock him back and forth, trying to get him to calm down. He sniffles and stares at me for a few seconds and then bursts into tears again. I turn around and carefully hold onto the screaming bundle of baby in my arms as I kneel down to my knees and sit in front of Bayleigh.
“Honey, don’t be upset about Jett. He’s just in a bad mood or something. It’s not your fault.”
Jett’s screams seem to get even more annoyed, as if he’s mad at me for saying he’s in a bad mood. I bounce and rock him, making gooey baby faces at him, but he just closes his eyes and screams. I reach up for the bottle and try again, but he smacks it with his hand and sends drops of breastmilk all over his face.
He definitely does not want to eat. Curiously, I turn him over, lifting up his shirt and then checking his arms and legs. Maybe he’s injured and hurt and that’s why he’s crying. But his skin is soft and pale and I don’t find any bruises or scrapes or, hell I don’t know, like a spider bite or something.
I remember reading in a baby book for dads that the three reasons babies cry are because they’re either hungry, sleepy, or need a new diaper. Jett’s probably sleepy. I lift him up on my shoulder where he loves to fall asleep and gently pat his back. But he’s having none of it. He kicks and screams and shoves, doing everything in his power to get away from me.
With a resigned sigh, I stand up and put him back in his crib. “I guess you’re just going to cry no matter what, little man.” I frown as my heart breaks. I hate when my kid cries like this. I hate not being able to fix it.
Bayleigh’s mom has told us before that sometimes you just have to let a baby cry and get it out of their system. But I hate every second of it.
I walk over to my wife and put my hand on her shoulder. “Honey let’s just close the door and let him cry for a while. He’ll probably wear himself out and go to sleep soon.”
“I’m staying here,” she says, the first thing she’s said since I got home.
“Honey, it’s pointless to stay here. You’re going to go deaf listening to his screams.”
“I don’t care.” She stares at her hands, her hair falling over her shoulders and blocking her face from me.
“What’s wrong?” I try to look at her but she won’t look up at me. “Is this about the baby or something else?”
“The baby doesn’t hurt me, Jace.”
Her words are ice and my skin crawls from the venom in her words. “If the baby didn’t hurt you then why are you acting hurt? What’s wrong? What happened?”
She looks up at me now, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She looks like an adult version of Jett, only her anger isn’t for no reason. It’s directed straight at me.
“I don’t want to see you right now.”
“What? Why?” I step closer and she glares at me, stopping me in my tracks. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t baby me!” She grits her teeth and silent tears flow from her eyes. “I don’t want to talk to you and I don’t want to see you. Just go.”
I cross my arms. Briefly I run through the dates—it’s not her birthday, it’s not our anniversary. I haven’t forgotten anything or overlooked anything. And I never would because I fucking care about this woman and I love her to pieces and I’d never hurt her. I heave a deep breath. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me. I don’t know why you won’t talk to me. I haven’t done anything, babe!”
She rolls her eyes and glares at me. “You are a really good liar.”
“I’m not lying.” I hold my ground because it’s the truth.
Her lips purse together. “Hmm…here’s one. You lied when you said you still thought I was attractive. When you said I was the only woman for you. That was a big fucking lie, wasn’t it?”
Relief floods into me for a moment. She’s mad because she still thinks I don’t find her attractive. I mean, this isn’t good, but at least I haven’t accidentally found a way to royally fuck things up. I can smooth this over, eventually. I can prove to her that she is beautiful in every way, because it’s the truth and as the saying goes—the truth shall set you free.
I relax my shoulders. “Baby, get up please. Let’s go to our bed and I’ll show you how beautiful you are to me.”
Her stony expression turns sarcastic. “Why don’t you go to that bed and see for yourself why you’re a big fucking liar.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. What the hell does she mean by that? I watch her for a minute, too scared to ask anything else. She looks back into her lap, her shoulders falling and I hate the sight of her being so hurt over something she thinks is true, when it is so not.
Curious, I leave the room even though all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and tel
l her how beautiful she is to me and how much I love her. I head down the hall and push open the door to our bedroom. There’s nothing on the bed except my iPad.
I pick it up, and slide the screen open. It opens to my pictures, which are synced with my cell phone. The phone I left at the office today while Park and I had lunch.
The lump in my throat grows to the size of a watermelon and no amount of swallowing will get it down. Pure anger rises through my body, threating to unleash and send me into a hurricane of rage.
I was wrong.
This is a royal fuck up.
She’s never going to believe me.
Chapter 16
My first idea is to scream. To yell out my frustrations just the way my son does in a blind howl of anger. My second idea is to storm down the stairs, drive over to Mr. Fisher’s house and throw my iPad in his face, telling him that the idiot he hired without my permission is ruining my marriage and making my work life hell. But those things don’t solve the immediate problem—that Bayleigh pretty much hates me right now.
I sit on the edge of the bed, keenly aware that she’s still in Jett’s room, still heartbroken. I need to find the best possible way of explaining the situation to her and every line I can think of sounds like a pathetic apology.
With my chest writhing in anger, I stare down at my iPad, seeing firsthand what Bayleigh saw: a dozen pictures of Natalie, taken with my phone, in my office. Shirtless, skirt hiked up, weird positions that only a porn star could come up with. All over my iPad, just waiting for my wife to see. This Natalie bitch has no boundaries.
I select all of the photos and delete them, gritting my teeth as they disappear from the screen.
Then I take my cell phone and delete those photos while cursing myself for not paying attention to my phone earlier. But it’s not like I have a habit of going through my phone to see of anyone added pictures to it while I was away. After getting back from lunch with Park, the only thing on my mind was how to start this new business idea with my best friend—not scoping out my own personal belongings for any signs of slut trespassing.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I stand up and find Bayleigh standing in the doorway, her hands resting on either side of the doorframe.
“I’m getting some clothes and going to Mom’s,” she says somberly as she enters the room, darting right past me toward the dresser.
“What? No.” I couldn’t feel any worse if a thousand daggers were thrown into my flesh. “Bayleigh, you can’t leave.”
She doesn’t look up at me, just digs through the top drawer. “Well I can’t stay here with you.”
“Then I’ll leave,” I say, taking a step toward her. “You can’t uproot Jett. He needs to be in his own bed.”
“Fine.” She slams the drawer closed. “Go.”
“I can explain what you saw,” I begin, hoping to God that my words are the right ones to make her feel better.
She turns on her heel, rage pouring off her. “I don’t need an explanation, Jace. I’m not an infant. I know what slutty pictures are when I see them.”
“It’s not like that.”
“It’s bad enough when girls send you photos but you took those yourself.” Her voice cracks and tears stream down her cheeks. “How could you?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I rush forward trying to take her hand but she jerks away from me. I straighten my shoulders because I have nothing to hide. “I did not take those photos. That bitch at work did when I went to lunch.”
“They weren’t selfies, Jace.” She shakes her head. “Her arm isn’t in those photos. They were in your office, on your phone. That means you took them.”
“No, Bay, it doesn’t. She probably used the self-timer or something.”
Her eyes go wide. “Wow. You’ve put a lot of thought into how you’ll lie your way out of this one, haven’t you?”
My head is spinning now, my thoughts jumbled messes of anger and rage and fear all tangled together. Please, God, don’t let her think this of me. I draw in a deep breath and hold out my arms. “You have got to listen to me, Bayleigh. Give me two minutes to explain. I’m your husband—it’s literally the least you can do.”
She folds her arms across her chest. “I don’t care to be lied to and I really don’t want to know the truth about this whore you’re taking pictures of.”
“I DID NOT TAKE THOSE PICTURES!”
My eyes widen. I hadn’t meant to yell at her. Guilt instantly pours over me, filling every ounce of my subconscious. Dammit. But at least it got her attention. Her jaw goes rigid and she meets my eyes. “Fine. You have two minutes to explain.”
“Promise you won’t interrupt until I’m done,” I say. She cocks her head to the side. I sigh. “Mr. Fisher hired this girl to work around the office because he owed a favor to her dad. You’re right, she is a whore but I want nothing to do with her. She won’t leave me alone and she says shit like she’s flirting with me and I’ve told her to stop it. I’ve told her I have a wife. I’ve begged Mr. Fisher to get rid of her and he won’t.”
Her glare is cold and there are tears in her eyes, but she’s still listening so I continue. “Park came to visit me for lunch today and we took his truck out to eat. I left my phone in my office. I swear to you I had no idea at all that these pictures were there. Had I saw them at work I probably would have killed her.”
“Oh is that right?” Bayleigh says, stone-faced.
I nod. “If someone took the pictures, it wasn’t me. I hate this girl and she knows it.”
She chuckles and shakes her head. “You told me that before, Jace. You said the same shit—about oh blah blah I didn’t realize it was on there. I forgot! Right. Right. Because you’re a man with a dick and you forgot some whore had sent you pictures. That sounds about right. Men are always forgetting about that kind of thing.”
“Don’t compare me to other men,” I snap. “I am your husband and I’ve given you everything. My heart, my life, my son. I don’t want anything to do with this girl. I’ll quit my job right this second if that’s what you want.”
“Only a guilty person would quit,” she says.
I throw my hands in the air. “Then what do you want from me?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know. I guess it’s all my fault that you’re seeking other women. I’m disgusting and fat and worthless.”
“Oh my god, that is so not true!” I kind of want to laugh, this is all so ridiculous. My wife hates me for something I had no control over. She thinks she’s less than perfect, which is a lie. How the hell am I going to fix this?
“Tell me this, Jace. Why am I supposed to believe you? You say these things but I have no proof that they’re true. I’m just the stupid fat housewife who has to sit home all day and hope my husband isn’t cheating on me.”
“I would never cheat on you,” I whisper.
She stares at the floor. A few seconds of silence pass and then she holds up her hand. “Can I see your phone?” she asks.
I take it out of my pocket and drop it in her hand. Just the act of doing that makes her lift an eyebrow. “You don’t mind if I go through it?”
I shrug. “Why would I?”
She bites her lip and watches me as if trying to catch me in another lie. “You don’t mind if I look at your texts…or your calls..?”
I shake my head. “Go for it.”
A wave of excitement hits me as she slides open the screen on my phone. There isn’t a single text or phone call I don’t want her knowing about. And that’s because I’m not a freaking cheater or a liar. Maybe this will prove my innocence.
“What’s her name?” Bayleigh asks, peering at my phone.
“Natalie.” I hold back my grin. There is no Natalie in my phone. And that’s because I don’t talk to her.
Bayleigh frowns and hands my phone back. “I feel bad asking to see that.”
“Honey you can go through my phone any time you want.”
“Because you delete everything yo
u don’t want me to see?”
I shake my head. “No. Because there isn’t anything I don’t want you to see.”
She looks down at her hands, twisting her wedding ring around her finger. “Do you swear you didn’t know about those pictures?” she asks. I nod. “Do you swear there’s nothing going on with you and her?”
“I swear on the life of everyone I know,” I say with a grimace. “I hate her.”
Her shoulders fall. “Then why is she doing this? She knows you’re married.”
I shake my head but I’m feeling lighter than ever now that she’s starting to come around and stop hating me. “I guess she has a crush on me. I don’t know. She flirted with Park, too. It’s annoying as hell and I’m going to make sure she no longer works near me.”
She takes a small step closer, closing the distance between us in our bedroom. Her hand reaches up, playing with a loose string on my shirt. “How are you going to do that if Mr. Fisher won’t fire her?”
I immediately want to tell her about the new business idea with Park, but something stops me the moment I open my mouth. She’s so upset about Natalie and I’m not sure I should be asking if it’s cool to drop a ton of money right now. I draw in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’ll quit if I have to.”
She shakes her head, taking another tiny step toward me. The skin on the back of my neck tingles… I want to grab her and pull her close to me, but I know better than to rush her. She’ll make that decision on her own, hopefully soon. “Jace, you can’t quit. Your job is what supports us.”
“Maybe there’s another job I can do,” I say with a soft smile. Depending on her reaction, maybe I will tell her about the business idea.
“Oh yeah?” she says, taking the final step that’s left between us. “You’re really good at another job, but it doesn’t pay anything.” Her hands slide up my chest and hook around my neck and suddenly it’s like old times again. Like she’s never been pissed at me at all. I gaze into her brown eyes and feel my whole body warm from her smile.
