After discussing Monroe and Oliver’s plans to stay at the hospital for the majority of the day, I reiterated to both of them if they needed anything at all, not to hesitate to call me, making sure Oliver had my number. He gave me his word he’d take care of Monroe, and I then shook his hand before hugging and kissing Monroe’s forehead.
Effie stepped up to Monroe, wrapping her up in a warm hug. It was a very un-Effie-like thing to do, and I groaned internally as I feared what she was about to ask. I honestly had no idea what it could be, but my sister was never that nice unless she wanted something from someone.
“Me too, Monroe. Whatever you or Oliver needs,” Effie echoed my offer to help them before breaking the contact and stepping toward me.
For only a split-second, hope that maybe my sister wasn’t the egotistical villain I made her out to be flickered in my mind, but before she reached me, she stopped and spun around, smiling sweetly at Monroe. “Oh, hey, I saw your ticket for the game today sitting on your bar when I grabbed your purse earlier. Do I need to do anything with it? Contact the Pat’s front office or anything?”
Monroe shook her head. “No, I don’t think there’s anything they can do, unless you know someone who’s going to be in Denver tonight.”
Effie’s eyes lit up and her smile widened. “Actually, I was toying with the idea of catching a last-minute flight out there. I just checked online and there are seats available on the flight you were scheduled for. That is, if you don’t need me for anything around here today or tomorrow.”
“Yes, of course, you can use it. I’m sure Colin would appreciate having at least one of us there to support him,” Monroe responded, naturally thinking of Colin’s feelings before her own. “Just get Seth’s house key and let yourself in to get it, and then return it to him later. I’ve got several extra jerseys hanging in my closet if you want to borrow one of those too.”
“Thank you so much!” my sister exclaimed, obviously pleased her little plan had worked out. “You have no idea what this means.”
Sadly, none of us ever could have imagined how horribly true her words would be.
“What should I say and how should I begin
to say it, when all I feel requires no
words at all? Is this when silence was
born? When you feel so much inside of
you but you have not the tiniest notion
if it really means anything at all?
It is, a rather terrible thing, to feel
like a map that leads to nowhere or a
compass with hands that forget which way
to sway.
Sometimes I sit alone under the stars
and think of the galaxies inside of my
heart, and truly wonder if anyone will
ever want to make sense of all that
I am.”
-Christopher Poindexter
Seth
I WOKE UP early the following morning, my sleep restless as my brain alternated from worrying about Monroe and JoJo and replaying the sound of Colin’s voice over and over. Much in need of the morning runs I’d implemented at the turn of the new year, I threw on my sweats and running shoes after a quick wash of the face and brush of the teeth, stepping out of my apartment less than ten minutes after rolling out of bed.
Thankful to see the snow had already been cleared from the sidewalks, I slipped my earbuds in and took off on the five-mile route I’d established over the previous weeks. With each footfall that landed on the cement, I slowly began to unwind, leaving behind some of the stress and tension that had built up inside me over the past twenty-four hours.
Until I passed the first corner newsstand a few blocks from my place.
My quick pace came to a sudden halt the moment my eyes landed on the blown-up photo plastered across every single daily tabloid on display. With the Patriots big win over the Broncos the night before sending them to the Super Bowl, I’d already prepared myself to see Colin’s handsome face gracing the cover page of pretty much every form of print media in the city. But apparently there was a bigger story to be told.
“Sundance Wife Celebrates Pat’s Win Without Clutch”
“Cassidy Wins on Field, Loses at Life”
Those were just the first two headlines I read, sprawled out in dark bold letters atop a perfectly in-focus photo capturing a half-dressed Monroe and Oliver in a sensual, intimate moment inside her and Colin’s living room. Uncontrollable rage claimed me, coloring my vision red as I trembled inside my sneakers. I was going to kill whoever was responsible for this.
After buying a few of them, I sprinted straight back to my apartment, not even bothering with a shower before hopping in my car and hauling ass straight to Beacon Hill. I first called in sick to work, which wasn’t a complete lie based on the way my stomach had lodged up near my throat, and then tried calling both Monroe and Oliver’s phone repeatedly during the ten-minute drive, but neither one answered, probably still sleeping after their apparent busy night.
I stopped at a red-light and picked up one of the newspapers, skimming through the story to determine how much they knew or if some random paparazzi had gone rogue and ended up stumbling upon the jackpot of all photo opportunities. Unfortunately, whoever had leaked the picture had also included a very-detailed, very-accurate account of what the situation was, including Oliver’s name and his working relationship with Monroe.
As soon as I reached their street, I noticed the parked cars and news vans lining the curb and slammed on the brakes, pounding my fists against the steering wheel. “Fucking shit!” I roared as I glared at the circus of reporters.
Busting a very illegal U-turn in the middle of the road, I drove over a few blocks and parked in front of a random house, then traveled on foot to their backyard, newspapers rolled up inside my jacket, hopping the fence and staying undetected by the growing swarm of blood-thirsty vultures out front.
I silently cursed Evie for having my key to the house and pounded on the glass French doors. Several minutes passed and I didn’t detect any motion indoors, so I banged harder and louder until I finally saw Monroe emerge from the staircase, squinting her sleepy eyes in my direction.
Once she realized it was me, she shuffled her bare feet over to let me in, holding her flimsy silk robe tight up against her. “What in the world are you doing here so early? And why are you at the backdoor?” she murmured as she moved opened the door.
“Effie still has my key or I would’ve let myself in, and it’s time to wake up. We have a problem,” I responded gruffly. My eyes cut over toward the staircase, then shifted back to her. Stewing inside, I had to remind myself not to blow up at her. Even though she was technically to blame, I didn’t want to make her feel like she had done something wrong. After all, I’m the one who encouraged her to pursue the man she was enamored with. “Where is Oliver? Is he still here?”
Tilting her chin to the side, she pinched her brows together in a concerned V. “W-what?” I demanded. “What are you talking about, Seth? What’s going on? What problem?”
I grimaced as I unzipped my coat, hating myself for being the one who had to show her what all of the world was seeing. Pulling out the stack of papers, I tossed them on the middle of the coffee table and pointed at the incriminating color photograph staring back at us.
“That’s what I’m talking about, Monroe. That’s the fucking problem!” I shouted.
For several long seconds she stood there, her eyes pointed toward the papers, but unable to comprehend what she was looking at. Then, she broke. Full-out shakes and collapsing to her knees, mouth and eyes wide open.
“Baby girl, I know you’re upset, but I need you to gather yourself right now,” I soothed, dropping down next to her and wrapping her up in a supportive hug. “We’ve got a shitload of damage control to do right now. I take it you haven’t heard from Colin?”
She pushed her palms against my chest, shaking her head vehemently as her glossy eyes remained locked on mine. I couldn’t imagine what was
going on in her mind right then, but I knew I had to do everything in power to keep her coherent and responsive. A shut-down, closed-off Monroe wasn’t going to be any help.
“Monroe, stay with me.” I wiggled my fingers in front of my face, hoping for some kind of response, either verbal or physical. “Colin hasn’t tried to call that you know of?”
Finally, she found her voice. “No, I was going to get a new phone this morning,” she whispered, crossing her arms over her chest while gently rocking back and forth. “We were at the hospital all day yesterday, so I didn’t get a chance to replace the one I broke.”
“Where’s Oliver? Still here?” I asked, keeping her talking.
“I’m right here.” Oliver announced, his tone thick with both concern and annoyance. As soon as he saw Monroe, he flew across the floor to her side. “What in the hell’s going on? Why is she hysteric-” His voice fell to a whisper. “Holy shit.”
I moved to allow Oliver my spot next to Monroe, in which he swiftly lifted her into his lap and cradled her against him. I hurt for both of them, wishing more than anything this would all go away.
But it wouldn’t.
“Holy shit is right,” I agreed with a sigh. “I went for a run first thing this morning and saw those outside the first newsstand I passed. When you check your phone, you’ll see I tried calling you, but I figured you guys were passed out cold after yesterday, so I sprinted straight back home and headed over here.”
Neither of them said anything, and though I figured the shock would take a while to wear off, we didn’t have a while. Acting fast was key. And someone needed to take the lead. By process of elimination, I became it.
“Okay, guys, we’ve got three separate issues we need to deal with,” I explained. “I’m assuming you haven’t told Colin?”
Oliver held up a hand and shook his head. “Hold on, man. I know we’ve got a lot to talk about, but give us a minute or two to catch our breath.”
Again, my instinct told me to not waste time, to make prompt decisions and to move swiftly, but when I got a glimpse of Monroe’s detached, heartbroken eyes, I couldn’t bring it in me to interrupt Oliver from his attempts to calm and comfort her. I would’ve done the same thing for Colin had the roles been reversed.
“I was waiting until the end of the season so I didn’t add to the stress of everything else he had going on with you guys and then the injury,” Monroe suddenly peered up at me through her watery eyes and answered my previous question. “After he came back from Miami, he practically moved into the team facility, and now they just keep winning, prolonging it.”
I lifted my hands in surrender and offered an understanding smile. “You don’t need to explain anything to me, Roe. I get why you haven’t, and you also know how I feel about the whole situation. I just needed to know what level of pissed-offness we’re gonna be dealing with when he gets home… which is at what time exactly?”
“I think the team plane is scheduled to land early this afternoon, around one or two.”
Pacing the floor, I rubbed my hands rapidly up and down my face. “Right, okay then. So back to the three issues. First is dealing with an enraged, completely irrational, ready-to-turn-into-the-Incredible-Hulk Colin when he gets home. Second, we need to figure out how someone was able to get that picture from your backyard. We can call the security monitoring service and get the video feed from last night. If you know about what time this was taken, that’ll help. It can’t undo the damage that’s been done, but if you can identify who took it and have evidence he was trespassing, you can press charges.”
“What’s the third?” Monroe asked.
“Figuring out how to get him out of here with the media already camped out in the front,” I replied, tipping my head toward Oliver.
“In the front?!” Monroe yelled at the same time Oliver declared emphatically, “I’m not going anywhere!”
I stopped pacing mid-stride and scowled at both of them. “Yes, out front,” I snapped. “What did you expect? Your face is plastered on the front page of every daily in print and on every news channel you turn to, locally and nationally.”
“But—” she attempted to argue, but I quickly cut her off.
“No but anything!” I whisper-shouted. “This is a huge fucking story, Monroe. Your husband is the starting quarterback for one of the teams in the upcoming Super Bowl, and last night, while he was off busy winning the city an AFC Championship, you were banging your coworker in your house, using a sick kid as an excuse to stay here with your lover. The whole story is right here.” I snatched one of the papers from the table and lifted it in the air, pointing at the printed words beneath their picture. “Somehow, they knew all of it… about JoJo and everything. They’re going to massacre both of you, your families. Mending Hearts is going to be called into question. I know you’re in shock right now, but I need you to realize how serious this is.”
I shifted my attention to Oliver and shook my head, doing my best to control my growing frustration. “I know you want to stay with her. I can see that you love her and you don’t want her to face this shit alone, but you can’t help her here. She’s gotta do this with Colin, however they decide to approach it. You need to alert your family of what’s about to happen, because now that they have your name, it won’t take them long to start staking out your place too. Take them on a vacation or something, the farther away the better, and do it fast.”
“I appreciate the advice, and I’m sure you know a lot more about this stuff than I do, but I’m not leaving her,” Oliver asserted like a good man should have, holding Monroe close to him. “I’ll tell my family to leave, fine, but I’m not going anywhere. I knew the risks before I fell in love with her.”
I trudged over to the couch and plopped down, pinning them both with a solemn stare. “Listen to me, Oliver, man. Please,” I beseeched. “I’m not sure what all you know about her and Colin’s relationship, but obviously you know it’s not a marriage in the normal sense, ‘cause you’d be a real fucking asshole if you thought it was and you were sleeping with some guy’s wife. And I’m pretty sure you’re not a real fucking asshole, because Monroe wouldn’t like you if you were, and I have a pretty good inkling she loves you as much as you love her. So with all that being said, I’m interested in keeping you alive for my girl Monroe’s sake here, but I can promise you, if you are in this house when Colin gets home, he will kill you. He may not mean to. He probably just wants to hurt you really, really bad, but he’s a strong motherfucker, and if he gets his hands on you, you’re a dead man. And then, I’m gonna have four issues to worry about instead of just three, and I really don’t feel like adding murder to the list today. So for the sake of everyone involved, please allow me to somehow sneak you out of this house and then get your ass on a plane to Mexico, or Puerto Rico, or where-the-fuck-ever as quickly as possible. It’s the only way any of this has any chance of working out. Please trust me.”
Turning to face Monroe, Oliver cradled her face in his hands and rested his forehead against his. “Monroe, what do you want me to do? I don’t want to leave your side, but I’ll do whatever you want.”
A sharp pain shot through my chest as I watched them — vulnerable, scared, completely in love. I longed to be loved in return like that, with someone who would take on the world for me.
“I’m so sorry, Ollie, but Seth’s right,” Monroe whispered through her snivels. “I need to talk to Colin one-on-one. He deserves that from me.”
“That’s fine. Talk to him without me, but don’t ask me to leave the city. I need to be here for you,” he pleaded.
Monroe smiled a sad smile, then leaned forward to kiss him softly. “I want you here. You know I do. But me asking you to stay is selfish, and I can’t do that. I won’t.”
“Don’t do this!” he hissed. “We knew this wasn’t gonna be easy, and the first roadblock we hit, you just want to send me packing? I thought we were in this together?”
Wanting to give them a few moments of privacy, I st
ood and moved off to the side, not that it kept me from hearing their entire heartbreaking exchange.
“We are! And I’m not sending you packing! At least not permanently!” Monroe insisted as the tears fell freely from her big green eyes. “Please, Oliver, I’m begging you not to make this harder than it already is. Setting aside the incomprehensible level of mortification I feel, and focus on the fact that the entire world currently thinks I used a little girl — who is still lying in a hospital bed fighting for her life — as a pretext to stay home and be a cheating slut behind my husband’s back. That doesn’t even take into account the fallout Allison and Mending Hearts is going to have because of this, and don’t forget about your staff and kids at the Chicago house. I’m sure it won’t be long before they hear you referred to as a home-wrecker, among a slew of other nasty things, on TV or see it on social media. And when they start talking bad about you, I’m gonna lose it…” She feathered her thumb over his cheek. “This isn’t just a roadblock, baby. There’s a mountain range sitting in front of us, and right now, we need to focus on meeting on the other side.”
Oliver reluctantly pushed up to his feet, defeat and devastation washed over his face. “All right, if that’s what you want, I’ll go.” He looked over his shoulder at me and nodded. “Let me get my shoes and stuff from upstairs. Just tell me what to do.”
Less than a half hour later, I’d derived a less-than-fail-proof plan to sneak Oliver out undetected, and after they said their goodbyes with a single kiss and “I love you,” he and I slipped out the back door and over the back fence. Little did I know that would be the easiest part of my day.
“My heart constantly
weighs upon me with the
draining notion that I