“Me and my stupid fucking face, huh?”
Her cheeks turn red as she stammers, “I shouldn’t have... ugh, I should’ve been home hours ago.”
“I understand,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean against the doorframe, watching her scrambling. “You didn’t plan on staying here last night.”
“Or even coming,” she mutters.
Coming. “Pun intended?”
She doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t find that funny. She just starts down the steps to leave, done with being here. I watch in silence as she hesitates halfway down.
“You, uh... you can take her,” she says, her expression guarded. “I mean, if you were serious about it, if you wanted to take her, you can.”
Those words stun me. “Yeah?”
She nods. “We’re gonna have to talk about, you know, things, but if you meant it…”
“I did.”
“Well, then, okay.”
She’s gone then. I hear the front door as she rushes out, probably running to get away from here.
Sighing, I pull out my phone, using the last bit of battery left to send Cliff another message. I’m going to need those tickets.
As usual, his response is instant. Are you drunk? Because I swear, Johnny, you and these tickets…
An audience is gathered in the auditorium of Fulton Edge Academy. Nearly every seat is filled. Students, families, administrators, donors. The girl sits in a seat along the aisle in the back, her parents beside her. Her father hadn't wanted to come, blaming the thirty-dollar cost of the tickets, but the girl knew he wanted to steer clear tonight for other reasons. You.
Saturday evening. Drama Club’s production of Julius Caesar. There’s a rumbling in the audience. People are growing restless. The play was supposed to start ten minutes ago. Hastings frantically runs around, dressed in his elaborate costume. They’re scrambling as an announcement is made.
There has been a last-minute recast.
The role of Brutus will now be played by—
Not you.
The blue Porsche is parked in the parking lot. There’s a reserved spot up front for your father. Although his seat is empty, the limo arrived earlier—which means you’re both around, just not here.
The girl gets up from her seat as the play starts. Her father tries to stop her, but her mother doesn’t let him, saying, “Let her go, Michael.”
She runs out, heading toward the parking lot.
You’re out there. So is he. The two of you are standing in front of your car, your father’s security detail lurking as you argue.
The deadline to accept admission to Princeton was last night, so he accepted it on your behalf.
You tell him you’re not going. Becoming him isn’t your dream. He tells you to get your head out of the clouds—it’s time to be the man he raised you to be.
You tell him he didn’t raise you to be a man. He didn’t raise you at all. He’d have to be a father to take credit for that, but he’s not. He’s nothing but an egotistical asshole that only cares about his job. You tell him you’ll never be like him. Becoming him is your worst fucking nightmare.
The moment you say that, he loses his composure. He swings. He hits you. You’re braced for it. You knew it was coming, but you don’t expect the second hit... or the one after it.
He swings, again and again. You try to block the blows, but he’s not stopping, so you shove him off. That gives you a moment of reprieve, but it doesn’t last. He comes back at you, so you react.
You swing. You punch him right in the mouth.
It’s the first time you’ve ever struck back. Your father is stunned, staggering. You hit him hard. Security rushes over, restraining you.
Your father’s lip is busted. He runs his tongue along it. You’re bleeding—blood runs from your mouth. He stands in front of you, staring you in the eyes as he says, “You’d never amount to anything without me. A waste of a life, just like your mother.”
You spit in his face when he says that.
He blinks, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off. The girl, she’s in front of the school, causing a scene as she screams for him to stop. Your father looks away, like he’s about to leave, but then he turns back.
BAM.
He punches you again, one last time, a blow right to the chest. Security lets go of you to escort your father away as he calls back at you, “Princeton’s nice, son. You’ll like it.”
You don’t stick around. People are coming out of the school. Julius Caesar is a mess without its Brutus. So you get in your car and speed away, not wanting to be there. You can’t face them right now.
You drive around.
You drive around for a long time.
Eventually, you end up in Bennett Landing.
It’s three o’clock in the morning. You’re standing on the sidewalk in front of the girl’s house.
You’re drunk. Not that drunk. Not drunk enough to forget. Not sure that’s even possible when you’re drinking champagne straight from the bottle. You swiped it from home before heading to the play. You thought you’d be celebrating with her tonight, but instead, it came to this.
She’s still awake. She sees you from her bedroom window. She sneaks downstairs and slips outside.
“You’re drinking,” she says, looking around. It’s the first time she’s seen you this way. “Please tell me you’re not driving like this.”
“My car’s at the park,” you say. “Drank there.”
“Without me?”
You hold the bottle of champagne out to her. “You can have some.”
She takes it, dumping it out, before tossing the bottle behind her on the grass. “I meant you went to the park without me.”
“Needed to think,” you say, staring at the discarded bottle as you run your hands through your hair. “Been a rough day.”
“I know.” Her hands press gently to your cheeks as she examines your face. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” you say, kissing her, whispering against her lips, “I just needed to see you again… needed to tell you… that I, uh…”
I love you. You almost say it.
“Tell me,” she says.
“I’m leaving.”
Your voice is quiet.
She pulls away, blinking at you. “What?”
“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye,” you say, caressing her cheek as you smile softly. “Didn’t want to disappear on you. You’d never forgive me for pulling a Breezeo.”
You’re making light of it. You’re trying to make her smile. You’re trying to make this moment okay, but she’s panicking inside. Her hands are shaking. She inhales sharply. Tears are filling her eyes. “What do you mean you’re leaving?”
She asks that, but she knows what you mean.
“You can’t leave,” she says. “Where would you go? What would you even do?”
You’re heading to California, you tell her. Or maybe you’ll end up somewhere else. All you know is you have to follow your dreams and you have to do it now. It’s time. You’re going to go wherever life takes you, and as much as your chest aches at the thought of leaving her, at the thought of going through tomorrow without seeing her smile, at the idea of never again getting to hold her in your arms, you can’t stay, not even one more day. Because every day you stay just makes it harder for you to go, and come tomorrow you may lose your courage. You’ll end up at Princeton. You’ll become your father.
She stares at you as you say all that.
She’s starting to cry. “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”
You wipe the tears from her cheeks. “Do you think you’ll ever be ready?”
No, she won’t.
She grabs ahold of you, hugging you tightly. “I know you have to go… I know… and you have to follow your heart, but how can I follow mine if you’re gone? I love you, Jonathan. I love you so much.”
You wrap your arms around her, holding her as she cries. Always making the first move. I love you. A long mome
nt passes before you say, “Come with me, K.”
She inhales sharply. “What?”
“You have a life here. You have a family. Fuck, you have finals on Monday. You’re about to graduate and go to college. And I’m probably about to fuck up my entire life, but I love you.”
She pulls back to look at you. “You love me?”
“More than anything,” you say. “More than drama club and dress rehearsals and Julius Caesar. More than annoying the shit out of Hastings. More than the goddamn park down the road. Hell, even more than I loved punching my father. I didn’t stick around here so long for any of that. I stayed for you. And if me loving you is enough—”
“It is,” she says.
“So come along,” you say. “Run away with me, baby.”
You don’t know this, but that girl? As she stands there, staring at you, seeing the light in your eyes and feeling so much love in her heart, she would’ve done anything you asked. Anything. She would’ve climbed any mountain and dug any hole. She would’ve lied, cheated, and stolen. That girl would’ve promised you forever. As long as you love her, for as long as you care, she’s yours. So walking to the park with you and climbing in that Porsche? Easiest decision she’s ever made.
Chapter 15
KENNEDY
“Come on, we’ve got to go!” I yell, shoving stuff around in a junk drawer in the kitchen, looking for my car keys but finding them nowhere. Ugh. I check the counter, and the table, before moving on to the living room. Not on the coffee table, either. Certainly not on the hook by the front door, where they’re supposed to be. I pull the cushions up on the couch, checking under them. Nothing. “Maddie, have you seen my keys?”
No answer.
I look all around, my eyes skimming along the floor as I make my way down the hallway toward the bedrooms, in case I dropped them. Nope. I'm trying to remember the last time I saw them. The door was already unlocked when I got home this morning, so yesterday sometime?
“Maddie?” I call out, her silence concerning. “Are you listening?”
No, it turns out, she isn’t. She’s sprawled out on her bed, dressed and ready to go, her hair already messed up, even though I fixed it a few minutes ago. She’s fast asleep, not hearing a word I say.
“Maddie, we need to get going,” I say, shaking her awake, waiting until she sits up before asking, “Have you seen my keys, sweetheart?”
Rubbing her eyes, she shakes her head.
Even if she has seen them, I don’t think she’s awake enough to remember it.
“Get your bag ready for school,” I tell her, walking away, heading to my bedroom. I search around for a moment, now looking for my cell phone, going so far as to rip the blankets off my bed and dump out the hamper. Nothing.
Annoyed, I give up. I don’t have time for this.
I’m already going to have to walk to work.
I go back to Maddie’s room.
She’s lying down again.
“Up, up, up,” I say, picking her up and setting her on her feet before grabbing her backpack, shoving some stray papers into it, not sure what she needs. I put it on her back before taking her hand and pulling her to the door.
“I don’t wanna go,” she whines, dragging her feet.
“Sorry, school is a necessity.”
“But why can’t I stay home with you?”
“What makes you think I’m staying home?”
“Because you don’t got no uniform.”
“That’s crazy, I—” Glancing down, I realize I’m not wearing my work shirt. Crap. “Wait here. Let me change my shirt.”
She just stares at me.
“Seriously, don’t move,” I say, pointing at her. “I’ll just be one second.”
Any longer and she’ll be right back in her bed.
Of course all my uniforms are dirty, so I shove through the pile of clothes I threw out of the hamper, finding the one that looks the cleanest. I’m pulling it on as a knock echoes through the apartment.
I tense, knowing Maddie’s going to open the door even before she announces, “I gots it!”
“Wait!”
“Jonathan!”
My stomach drops as I walk back out, finding the door wide open—of course—with him standing there, grinning at her.
It’s been a crazy morning. Waking up at dawn, naked in your ex’s bed, body aching, covered in the scent of him, has a way of putting someone through the emotional ringer. Horror. Fear. Dread. Excitement. I’m not sure how to feel about it, not sure about anything except the awkwardness, the guilt, the shame… and maybe I shouldn’t feel that way, but it’s unavoidable.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, more bite to those words than I mean. I can tell by the way he looks at me, the flicker of hurt in his eyes, that the question bothers him.
“He can come today, remember?” Maddie chimes in, looking at me like I’m being ridiculous. “He said since he couldn’t stay and play with me and Aunt Meghan.”
“Oh, I know that,” I say, walking over, pressing a hand to the top of her head as I force a smile, hoping she doesn’t sense the weirdness. “I just mean, why right now? Playtime is later.”
“I thought you might need this stuff,” he says, pulling something from his pocket and holding it out—keys and a cell phone. My cell phone, more specifically. My keys, too. “You must’ve forgotten it… somewhere.”
“Ugh, thanks,” I grumble, taking the phone from him as it starts ringing. Work. “It’s been one of those mornings. I’m running late, and ugh… let me take this call. Hello?”
“Is everything okay?” Marcus asks when I answer. “It’s ten after and you’re not here.”
“Yeah, sorry, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Just checking, since this isn’t like you.”
I hang up, rolling my eyes, and turn back to Jonathan, about to apologize for having to cut this short when he says, “I can take Maddie to school, if you need to get to work.”
Her eyes light up at that suggestion.
“I, uh… I don’t know…”
“It’s only, what—a couple blocks from here? I can get her there, no problem.”
“Please, Mommy?” Maddie says, grabbing his hand like she’s standing in solidarity. “He can get me there!”
Overprotective, paranoid me wants to say no, but how am I going to trust him to take her to a convention if I can’t even let him walk her to school? I want to pick her up and shove her in my pocket, shield her from everything for as long as I’m alive, but I can’t do that, because the truth is, she’s not just mine.
“Yeah, okay, fine,” I say, those words earning a squeal of excitement from Maddie. I smile down at her. “Love you more than lunch breaks and paychecks.”
“Love you more than recess.”
“That’s a lot of love, little girl.”
“All of it in the whole world.”
Leaning down, I kiss her forehead. “Go on, you don’t want to be late for school.”
She pauses, eyes widening. “Wait! I forgot!”
“Forgot what?” I call out as she sprints for her bedroom.
“Show & Tell!” she yells.
Sighing, I shake my head. “Can’t forget about bringing something for Show & Tell.”
“That would be a travesty,” Jonathan says.
I look at him, frowning as I slip past, out of the apartment. “Can you lock the door for me? Please? I have to get going.”
“Of course,” he says. “Whatever you need.”
I leave, not wanting to dwell, because if I do I’m liable to go back on all of it, and that wouldn’t be fair. I get to work a quarter after eight, fifteen minutes late, and rush to clock in, flustered.
“You sure you’re okay?” Marcus asks, eyeing me.
“Fine,” I mumble. “Couldn’t find my keys.”
It’s not a lie—not completely. It’s more than that, of course, but I don’t want to get into it. I spend the next few minutes in the back stockroom, w
atching the time.
At eight-thirty, I start to get nervous. Nearing nine o’clock, my anxiety skyrockets. Pulling out my phone, I text Jonathan. Did you get her there okay?
No response.
When nine-thirty comes, I can’t take it anymore. I dial the number for the school, checking with the receptionist to make sure she made it, feeling like a fool when she confirms Maddie is in class and arrived on time this morning. I hang up, grumbling to myself when a message pops up on the screen. Jonathan. Forgot to charge my phone. She made it safe and sound. No limbs lost.
I stare at it, considering how to respond, but everything I truly want to say feels ridiculously sappy this morning. So she still has all her fingers and toes?
Ten of each, I’m assuming, but I didn’t have a chance to count. Would’ve made us late.
I laugh at that as I type out a response. Learn to multi-task, man.
“What’s so funny?”
Hitting send, I glance up and see Bethany in the doorway. “Nothing, just… you know.”
I shake my phone at her as if that’ll explain it.
“Boyfriend?” she guesses, raising her eyebrows. “Is it the guy that was here?”
My expression falls. “What guy?”
“You know, the one that came to see you.”
Oh god. “How do you know about that?”
“Because I was here,” she says. “Don’t think I didn’t see him lurking around.”
“You saw him?”
“Of course.” She laughs. “You seriously think I wouldn’t spot that hottie? Hello, do you even know me?”
“Well, I mean, it’s not what you think,” I say. “He’s not… we’re not… you know… so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry. Your secret is safe with me.”
“Really?”
“Of course!” She laughs. “I know you’re, like, old or whatever, but I like to think we’re friends. I’m not going to tell everyone your business.”
Ignoring the fact that she just called me old, because screw that, I feel an intense sense of relief. She’s taking this so much cooler than I expected. “Thank you. And I know you’ve met him, I guess, but if you want to meet him again, I can probably make that happen.”