Ghosted

  His smile only grows.

  “I’m not taking about Breezeo. Oh no, I’m talking Johnny Cunning fanfic. Erotica.”

  The first flicker of concern shows on his eyes, but he still smiles. “So did you.”

  I roll my eyes. “That’s completely different.”

  “Still, she’s just a girl with fantasies,” he says. “Nothing to hide from.”

  “True, but do you really think she’ll keep it to herself? Come on, her idol shows up where she works? The only way it could ever be more fic-come-true is if we were working in a coffee shop here. Before you even made it out the door, it would be all over social media. But I mean, unless that’s what you want…”

  He shakes his head.

  Didn’t think so.

  It grows quiet for a moment before he says, “Kale.”

  “Kale?”

  “That’s why I’m here. I needed to grab kale.”

  “Oh.”

  That’s all I say.

  It grows quiet again.

  Awkward.

  There are no windows in here, making the room feel impossibly small. Just him and I, confined together after all this time, breathing the same air, the room filled to the brim with strained silence. So much to say, but no words strong enough to clear the air between us.

  “I wish shit wasn’t so weird,” he says eventually. “I wish you weren’t so distant.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s what happens when people break up.”

  “I know, I just wish there was a way we could…”

  “Could what?”

  He doesn’t answer right away, looking away from me like he’s struggling to find a way to explain. Forget? Move on? Start over?

  “Be,” he says. “I wish we could just be.”

  For such a talented actor, he wasn’t always good at expressing himself with me, but then again, I wasn't much better. Maybe that was why we worked so well. He spoke through the characters he played, and I… well, I used to create. The two of us always seemed to be on the same page until the day we just weren’t anymore, and there was no way to get back to that place once we struggled so much to communicate.

  But for a time, we just… were.

  It’s the most comforting feeling in the world.

  When you lose it, though, it’s the most confusing. It’s like losing a piece of your soul.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, glancing at me again.

  “How many times are you going to apologize?”

  “As many as it takes until you believe me.”

  “I do,” I say. “I believe you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  He stares at me when I say that. He doesn’t respond, but I can tell he’s holding back some reaction.

  “Anyway, we should get you out of here before you get spotted,” I say, pushing away from the door. “I can grab your kale for you.”

  I turn to leave but he stops me, grabbing my arm as he stands up from the crate. I tense, letting out a shuddering exhale when he pulls me to him. It’s just a brief moment as he holds me there, a breath away, so close that if I stood on my tiptoes, I could taste his lips if I wanted to.

  I do.

  Or at least some part of me, deep down, does, a stirring in my gut that almost spurs me on. The moment he touches me, it’s like I’m drunk. But the moment is over just like that when he says, “I also need milk.”

  His voice, those words—they sober me up. “Milk.”

  “Yes,” he says, letting go of my arm. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Uh, sure, no problem.”

  I walk out, and he follows, diverting halfway through the store to head for the exit while I grab his stuff. I don’t hear any frantic screams, so I assume he made it out.

  Bethany lingers at her register, not paying attention to any of her surroundings, flipping through the latest edition of Hollywood Chronicles.

  “Anything interesting?” I ask, setting the kale and the milk on the conveyer belt.

  Bethany sighs, tossing the tabloid aside. “Not really. I swear it’s like Johnny Cunning vanished into thin air. Nobody has seen him anywhere.”

  My eyes flicker to the exit, catching a faint glimpse of him lurking outside. “I’m sure he’s… around.”

  “I hope so,” she says. “Ugh, I hope he’s not like, dead in a ditch somewhere. That would suck.”

  “Yeah, it would,” I agree as she rings the stuff up.

  After I pay for it, she picks the tabloid back up and continues reading. I make my way outside once she’s distracted, carrying the bag to where Jonathan lingers.

  “Here,” I say, shoving it at him. “Your milk and your kale so you can go feed ducks or whatever you’re doing with it.”

  He lets out a light laugh. “It’s for me. Doctor’s orders.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Ah, could be worse.”

  “If you say so,” I mumble, glancing at my watch. “I should get back to work.”

  I go to head back to the store when he calls out to me. “K?”

  I glance at him, words on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t get a single syllable out. The look on his face stuns me into silence, the vulnerability, like he’s splitting himself open right now.

  “Thank you,” he says quietly.

  I nod, hesitating before saying, “If you change your mind about eating the kale, I’m sure Maddie would be happy to help you get rid of it.”

  He smiles. It’s a genuine smile, unconscious, like happiness is radiating from inside of him at that suggestion. I don’t say anything else, nor do I wait for his response. Being around him is proving dangerous for my feelings. Dangerous to my sanity.

  I head back into the store, strolling past Bethany at her register. She sets the tabloid down to look at me. “Didn’t you just leave?”

  “I stepped outside,” I say. “I still have another hour until my shift is over.”

  “What did you do with your stuff?”

  “Put it in my car.”

  “Even the milk?”

  “Uh… yeah.”

  “But won’t it go bad in this heat?”

  “Probably.”

  She stares at me, mumbling, “I swear, you’re so weird sometimes.”

  “I should cancel.”

  “You should do no such thing.” Meghan’s voice is pointed, matter-of-fact, don’t you freaking argue with me when she says that. “What you should do is take the guy for a ride, if you know what I’m saying.”

  “Meghan…”

  “I’m serious,” she says. “Just a quick spin around the block to see how he runs, make that engine purr for a little while.”

  “Since when are you pro-Drew?”

  “I’m not.” She makes a face of disgust. “I’m pro-orgasm, and I know it’s been a long while since you’ve had one.”

  I laugh… until a little voice chimes in, asking, “What’s that?”

  Maddie sits at the kitchen table across from Meghan, swinging her legs as she draws her heart out on a piece of paper.

  “What’s what?” I ask, leaning back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed over my chest.

  “What Aunt Meghan said,” Maddie says. “What’s the orga, uh…?”

  “Organism,” I blurt out, realizing she’s about to ask us what an orgasm is.

  “Organism,” she says. “What’s that?”

  “It’s from science,” Meghan says. “It’s what they call a living thing, you know, anything that’s alive.”

  “You don’t got one of those?” Maddie asks, looking up from her drawing, eyebrows raised. “Not for a long time?”

  “Well, I have you,” I say, pausing beside her chair as I ruffle her hair. “You’re as alive as it gets. Don’t need anything else... not even those crazy organisms Meghan’s all about.”

  Maddie seems pretty pleased with that answer as she goes back to drawing, while Meghan shoots me a look, half-apologetic, half-pathetic. I roll my eyes, flipping her o
ff out of Maddie’s line of sight. “I guess I ought to get dressed.”

  “Something sexy!” Meghan shouts at me.

  I go with something simple instead—skinny jeans, black flats, black shirt. I brush my hair, leaving the dark locks hanging loose, and put on a dash of makeup. Done. Meghan scrunches up her nose at me, but she keeps her opinion to herself.

  “Mommy, can you do my stars?” Maddie asks, shoving her paper and pencil at me.

  “Sure thing,” I say. I’m not sure what it is she’s making, but I can tell the skyline easily. I’ve showed her the easy way to draw stars a few times—mountain, diagonal, across, connect—but she always asks me to do them for her, since it's pretty much the only thing I can draw.

  A knock echoes from the front door of the apartment. Meghan sighs as she shoves her chair back to stand, whispering as she passes me, “Sounds like your organism is here.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I mumble, finishing up the stars before handing the pencil back to Maddie. “I have to go, sweetheart.”

  “Where?”

  “Out with my friend.”

  “Can I come this time?”

  “Not tonight,” I tell her, frowning when I see the disappointment in her eyes. “Someday, though.”

  “Is it your friend that didn’t see you were pretty last time?”

  “Uh, yeah, same one.”

  She makes a face.

  I almost laugh.

  But then I hear another knock on the door, Meghan’s voice ringing out over the sound of it as she says, “Jesus, hold your damn ho—oh my fucking god. No.”

  I tense at the sudden change in her tone, from flippant to shocked within half a word.

  “No… no… no,” she chants before saying, “Get the fuck out of here.”

  I look out of the kitchen, toward the front door, heart wildly racing. Jonathan stands on the small stoop in front of my apartment, a mere few feet in front of his sister.

  “Meghan,” he says, nodding to her in greeting.

  The moment he says her name, the shock wears away, replaced by anger as her eyes narrow.

  “No,” she says, matter-of-fact, slamming the door right in his face.

  Maddie jumps at the sound of the bang.

  “Meghan,” I groan. “Please.”

  I don’t need a scene, not one I’ll have to try to explain. Meghan yanks the door back open. Jonathan still stands there, having not moved at all.

  Maddie gasps, noticing him, and jumps down from her chair at the table, snatching up her drawing as she runs for the door. “Jonathan!”

  “Hey,” he says, avoiding looking at his sister, instead smiling at Maddie.

  “You’re back!” She shoves her paper at him. “I was making you a picture!”

  “Wow,” he says, looking at it. “It’s amazing.”

  “It’s not done,” she says, snatching it back from him, “but all I gotta do is the people now, because Mommy drawed the stars!”

  “Well, they’re some great stars,” he says, meeting my gaze. “I’m sure it’ll be perfect.”

  “You can have it when it’s done,” she tells him. “Are you gonna stay? You can play with me and Aunt Meghan!”

  Meghan makes a noise.

  “Not tonight,” he says. “I just came by to talk to your mom for a minute.”

  Maddie frowns, mumbling, “okay,” before she shuffles away.

  Jonathan closes his eyes, letting out a deep sigh. I can tell he wants to change his mind.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” I chime in, stepping in Maddie’s path so she’ll stop walking. Grasping her chin, I tilt her head up, making her look at me. “It’s kind of late to be playing tonight, anyway.”

  “Tomorrow,” Jonathan agrees. “I’ll be here.”

  Her eyes light up, disappointment fading.

  “See you tomorrow!” she yells back at him before wrapping her arms around me. “Love you, Mommy.”

  “Love you, too,” I say, “more than banana Popsicles and Hawaiian pizza.”

  “More than the dates with your friend?”

  “Oh, pfft, of course.” I playfully squeeze her cheeks. “More than dates with anybody.”

  Leaning down, I give her a quick kiss before she runs off to her bedroom. The second she’s out of the room, the second she’s out of earshot, Meghan’s voice cuts in, a low growl as she says, “You better bring your ass back here tomorrow, little brother, because if you lied to her right in front of me, I swear to God…”

  “I said I’ll be here,” he says, turning to look at Meghan, his expression hard. “I’m not going to lie to her.”

  “Oh! Is that right?”

  “Yes,” he says.

  “Well, excuse me!” She throws her hands up. “Stupid me, should’ve known… I mean, you’ve only lied to every-fucking-body else. Forgot you were daddy of the year.”

  “Now’s not the time for this,” I grumble, stalking over and coming between them. “Sort this out when there aren’t little ears nearby.”

  I push Jonathan away from the apartment as I step outside, shutting the front door behind me to give us some privacy. Otherwise, Meghan might be inclined to add her commentary, like my life is an episode of Mystery Science Theater 3000.

  “Sorry about this,” he says, motioning toward the apartment. “I forgot, well, that you had plans.”

  “It’s fine,” I say. “What did you need to talk to me about?”

  “I just… I was thinking.”

  He’s hesitating. Stalling. I can tell he’s nervous from the way he averts his gaze. “About?”

  “About something that girl said at your work.”

  My brow furrows, and it takes a moment before I figure out who he means. “Bethany?”

  “Is that her name?” He stares off into space, mumbling, “Bethany.”

  “You met her once,” I tell him. “She came to the set. Said she saw you outside of a bar.”

  He lets out a light laugh. “Ah, right. Bethany. She asked me about that time I got arrested.”

  She did. She told me about it. And all I can think is how incredibly happy she’d be to know he remembered her.

  “Anyway,” he says, that nervousness creeping back in. “Bethany mentioned wanting time off so she could go to that thing.”

  “The convention?”

  “Yeah, you know, for the Breezeo shit, and I was thinking, and just wondering…”

  “Wondering what?”

  “If maybe I could take Madison?”

  It takes a moment for those words to sink in, for what he’s asking me to register. I blink at him, at a loss for words, a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to think. A voice in the back of my mind is screaming out, on defense, terrified by that, but my heart—my stupid, stupid heart—is soaring at him wanting to do that with her.

  “I, uh…” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “Wow.”

  “I know I’m asking for a lot,” he says. “I’m asking for some trust, just a little bit, and I don’t blame you if you won’t give it to me, but I just… I’m asking. Can I take her?”

  I open my mouth, still having no idea what to say, when movement catches my eye seconds before a voice cuts in. “Am I interrupting?”

  Eight-thirty on the dot, I’m guessing. Drew. I don’t turn, don’t look at him right away, but Jonathan does. His back straightens, shoulders squaring, every inch of him rigid. I watch as his face clouds with confusion, hoping there’s no recognition, but it’s instant.

  Confusion gives way to a raw sort of anger, the kind that has simmered for ages. He glares at Drew like he wants to tear his heart out, rip it from his chest and shove it down his throat.

  Jonathan’s voice is as scathing as his gaze when he says, “Hastings.”

  “Cunningham,” Drew says, unfazed.

  “What the hell are you doing? Why are you here?”

  Drew points at me. “Picking her up.”

  I see it, as Jonathan
connects the dots, realizing he’s the plan I have tonight. Andrew Hastings. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard somebody call him by his last name alone.

  Jonathan turns to me, his expression hard as he tries to hold back his anger, but he’s struggling.

  “Him?” Jonathan asks. “This is who you’re dating? This is the guy you’re going out with?”

  I start to answer, but he doesn’t let me.

  “Unbelievable.” Jonathan shakes his head. “How could you?”

  Those words send my defenses up. “Excuse me?”

  “He’s a part of your life? Madison’s life? Jesus Christ, you let him around her? What the hell are you thinking?”

  “Don’t,” I say, holding my hands up to stop him before he says anything else. “Don’t even go there right now.”

  “You should listen to the lady,” Drew chimes in, “and mind your business.”

  “This is my fucking business,” Jonathan says, taking a step toward Drew, everything about him suddenly full of aggression. “We’re talking about my daughter here. Mine. And I don’t know what kind of shit you pulled to force your way into their lives, but you can’t have her mother, either. You can’t have either one of them. You can’t steal my fucking life!”

  “Stop it,” I growl, stepping between them.

  Jonathan shakes his head, furious, left hand clenched into a fist. I don’t think he’s going to swing, since his right hand is in a cast, but I can tell he wants to.

  And it doesn’t help matters a bit when Drew laughs. Amusement coats his voice when he says, “Can’t steal what was up for grabs.”

  That sets Jonathan off. He comes at Drew, but I’m in the way. I shove him, hard, making him back up. “Just… leave, Jonathan. Leave!”

  He looks at me, his expression hard as he says, “I can’t believe you.”

  Turning, he walks away, leaving me standing here, fuming.

  Unbelievable.

  He can’t believe me? Me? After everything he’s done? He wants to act as if I’m the one in the wrong?

  “I see he showed his face again,” Drew says. “How long has he been here?”

  “Uh, two weeks, maybe,” I mumble, watching as Jonathan disappears into the night.

  “You haven’t mentioned it.”

  “Didn’t want to talk about it,” I say. “Still don’t.”

  “Fair enough.” Drew grasps my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “How about we get out of here, forget this happened?”