“Sometimes, I still feel like I’m falling.”
Dr. Hayes puts her pen down, her keen green eyes perusing my face. It takes way too much effort to keep still and not fidget under her inspection.
“How often?”
Giving in, I start picking at a thread on the hem of my skirt. “Not as much as I used to, just every now and then.”
“Can you describe it this time?” she asks.
How do you describe the feeling of your heart plummeting to the ground as though it’s trying to drag you with it?
Yet I try. “It’s kind of like being on a roller coaster. That violent dipping sensation. Then it straightens out, I feel fine, and carry on like it didn’t happen.”
She doesn’t respond, just stares at me before quickly scratching something down onto her notepad.
My gaze travels from her fast-moving hand over to the books that line the shelves in her stark office. Staring out the window, I watch as the white fluffy clouds float among the vast blue sky.
It’s sunny today, warm. A beautiful day. So I have no idea why this weird feeling of trepidation insists on making its way into my body, trying to disrupt all the progress I’ve made.
“Well.” Dr. Hayes puts her pen down again as I look back at her, clasping her hands together over her crossed legs. “Today is your last session, but if you feel as though you’re not—”
She stops talking when I smile and shake my head. “I think I’m going to be okay. It’s time … time to move on.” I draw in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Some of the tension in my chest eases. “And it’s exciting, you know? I don’t want to feel like I’m going backward in any way. I want to keep going forward. I need to.”
She nods as if she understands. And maybe she does. She’s seen many a patient like me before, probably many much worse than me, too. “You have my number. Call me if you need to.” She stands, righting her pantsuit jacket and walking over to me.
Rising from the leather armchair, I grab my purse. Dr. Hayes takes my hand at the door, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I mean that, too. If you feel like you’re slipping too much, make sure you do.” She eyes me pointedly, raising a blond brow.
I give her my word, visit the front desk, and make my way back home.
“Mommy!” Warren mock squeals when I walk in the door of the two-story home by the bay. “She’s back!” He starts jiggling Archie up and down in his arms with a big goofy smile, making Archie let out my favorite sound. His deep belly laugh.
“Come here, little guy.” I drop my purse onto the hall table and walk to the doorway of the kitchen to snatch my boy from Warren.
“So does it feel awesome? Knowing you’re not crazy enough to warrant seeing the good doctor anymore?” Warren waggles his brows while I plant smooches over Archie’s chubby cheeks.
“Shut up.” I laugh. “It does, though,” I concede.
He nods, and I follow him into the kitchen. Pulling out some mugs, he prepares some coffee. “Thanks for watching him. Was he good?”
Warren gives me the eyeball over his shoulder, turning back to put the milk in. “Duh.”
“Bub-bub-bub-bubba,” Archie mumbles. One of the seven words he says at the moment. Which is apparently okay for an almost thirteen-month-old. I should know; I’ve obsessed over everything to do with him and his development.
“That’s right. You’re the bubba.” I poke him in the chest, and I’m rewarded with hearing that musical sound again.
“Mik.” His bottom lip wobbles when he catches sight of the milk carton.
Warren’s eyes bug out, and he freezes by the fridge. “Busted, little dude.”
Smiling, I put Archie down and move into the kitchen to grab his sippy cup, filling it up with some milk as Warren says, “Jake’s going to be home for dinner tonight. I’m making his favorite, vegetarian lasagna.”
He puts my mug down on the counter while I give Archie his milk, who takes it and plonks himself on the wood floor. “Ta, ta.”
“You’re welcome.” I sit on the floor with him, drinking my coffee while he drinks his milk and moves one of his many toy cars around with his free hand. Glancing up at Warren, I smirk. “So, in other words, don’t come a-knocking if the big house starts rocking?”
He almost chokes on his coffee, pointing a finger at me. “You’re so not funny. But yeah, I wouldn’t come knocking.” He pauses. “Yeah, no. I totally would. You, on the other hand …” He raises a thick blond brow, and I shake my head, flushing a little.
Warren and Jake are more than good looking, but I got used to their antics quickly. They’re married. Jake’s a doctor at Rayleigh hospital, and Warren runs his own sports gear website from home.
“Anyway, honey bunches, I’m going to finalize some orders. I’ll be in the office if you need me.”
I take the sippy cup once Archie’s done, rinsing it and my mug out and putting them in the dishwasher. “I’m going to put him down for his nap, then I might run the feather duster through here.”
Warren marches back into the kitchen, groaning. “Maggie, you don’t need to do that shit. We have a cleaner who comes in every two weeks.”
Shrugging, I pick Archie up, bending to pick up his car when he drops it and starts kicking his legs. “I know, but it needs it.”
He scoffs. “What are you going to do once you start using that degree you just got? Be our maid, clean up your own mess, look after Archie, and work too?” He points a finger at me. “I don’t fucking think so, sweetheart. Relax. God, watch a movie or read one of those smut-tastic books you like and masturbate or something.” With that, he’s gone, and I try not to cough in embarrassment.
I don’t do that. Okay, so I totally read smutty books sometimes. But masturbating?
Yeah, I do that, too. But not very often. Sheesh.
“Come on, little guy.” I hoist him higher on my hip. He’s starting to get pretty heavy. We make our way out the back door and into the backyard until we reach the little two-bedroom guesthouse where Warren and Jake put us. It’s cute and is the same pale blue color as their house, covered in vines and surrounded by flower pots. It sits right on the water, but thankfully, a fence stops Archie from wandering off down to the sand if we’re playing in the yard.
Although picturesque, it’s never really felt like home.
Still, it’s the best one I’ve got, and for that, I love it all the more.
After changing Archie and putting him down for his nap, I stare at him for a moment, smoothing my hand over his head full of dark brown hair as I lean over his crib. He sleeps soundly, always does, this little ball of energy of mine. But some nights as I lay awake in bed thinking about all the ways things should’ve been different for him, for me, for us, I selfishly wish he wouldn’t. Yes, I realize that makes me sound as though I need to march myself back to Dr. Hayes. But despite all the generosity, and the two men living practically next door, I feel most alone when it’s quiet. When I have nothing to listen to except for the turning and twining of my own thoughts.
Sighing, I straighten from the crib. With one last glance at Archie, I soak in the way his long lashes rest on top of his chubby cheeks before quietly closing the door halfway when I leave the room.
Walking into our little open plan living area, I follow Warren’s advice by perusing my mini bookshelf, when I realize I left my purse inside the house.
Snatching the baby monitor, I hop over the stepping-stones to the back door, heading inside to grab it when there’s a knock on the front door of their house.
My spine tingles strangely. That feeling that tries to choke the air from my lungs returns with a vengeance as I place the monitor down on the hall table.
My hands shake, but Warren doesn’t leave his office, so I move to answer it just as they knock again, louder this time.
I should use the peephole. I always do. But there’s no need.
My heart could feel him through any obstacle.
He’s here.
I struggle to hold the tears back as all the words and all the feelings I’d planned on spilling to him seem to run away. My body reacts on impulse, though, opening the door to get what it wants.
“Mags,” Felix breathes. One word. The same word I’ve been dying to hear for almost nineteen months now.
He looks so different. So much bigger, yet still the same.
I don’t even think. I throw myself at him, tears escaping my squeezed shut eyes when I wrap my arms around his neck.
His scent, the feel of him, even with all the physical changes, have remained the same.
I’m so caught up in my relief that I don’t register how long it takes for him to hug me back, for him to touch me with the same desperation emanating from me.
Then finally, he does. Thick arms hold me to him so tightly that I wonder if I’ll be able to breathe soon enough.
He can take my oxygen, though. He can take it all.
He’s back.
“Fucking hell, Mags,” he says throatily into my hair. My rejoicing heart stops its celebrating when he says, “Where’ve you been?”
My body locks up, and he must feel it because he steps back, steadying me with his hand when that feeling of falling resurfaces.
“I’ve been here. We’ve been here.” I smile shakily at him then reach up to touch his cheeks. He lets me, his brows furrowing while his eyes flick over my face.
My hands move to his hair, well, what’s left of it. It’s now gone, shaved into a crew cut. “Your hair,” I whisper before I can think better of it.
He grabs my hands then, lowering them before slowly releasing them. “Jail, Mags. You know where I’ve been. Now answer the question.”
No, I need more time. But I know, no matter how much time I give myself to prepare, the only reason I can give him isn’t going to be good enough.
Felix stiffens, then moves me aside before marching inside the house. “Who the fuck are you?” His voice is low and unforgiving in its harshness. “Why the hell are you here with this guy?” He turns to me, eyes full of shock and incredulity.
Warren raises his hands. “Hey, whoa.” He glances at me, and I try to give him an apologetic look. Felix looks back at him, steps forward, and with his hands clenching at his sides, stops right in front of Warren.
Warren’s a fit guy who loves all things sports, and it suddenly occurs to me that unless you know him, you probably wouldn’t even know he was gay.
Oh, hell. “Felix, stop. Back up.”
Warren smirks at Felix. “Felix, hey? I’m Warren. Nice to finally meet you, man. And she’s right.” He nods at me without taking his gaze from Felix’s hard face. “You should back up. I’m spoken for, and despite what you may think, she’s not my other half.”
Felix’s confused eyes snap back to me, and my heart races faster.
“Although my husband and I wouldn’t say no to a little playtime with our girl over there, she’s not interested. And I’m way more interested in you than in her, if you get what I mean.” He raises a brow, and Felix stumbles back so fast that he almost barrels me over.
Warren just laughs.
“You’re …”
“Gay?” Warren supplies. “Why, yes. I guess you could say that I am.” He looks at the picture of him and Jake on the wall above the hall table. One from their wedding on the beach. “Married three years a month ago.” He sighs, turning his attention back to us. “Handsome pair, aren’t we?”
A snort escapes me at that, and Felix turns around, relief stamped all over his face. “You scared the ever-loving shit out of me.” He frowns then. “But how the hell did you end up here with these guys?”
The smile on my face slowly wilts, but Warren notices and thankfully steps in, diverting Felix’s attention back to him. “She needed a place to stay, and we’ve got a guesthouse out back that we advertise for lease sometimes. So her and your boy have been living there.”
That seems to make Felix’s shoulders drop even more. I don’t know why; maybe even with their sexual preferences, he’s glad I’m still not sleeping under the same roof as them.
I used to, though. It took me a few months to work up the courage to move into the guesthouse. Not that I’m about to say that.
“Look, I’ll just give you guys some privacy. Congrats on the jail break, dude.” He slaps Felix on the back, who stiffens again, before grabbing the baby monitor and giving me a wink to say he’s got it covered.
“Where is he?” Felix stares at the baby monitor in Warren’s hand until Warren disappears at the end of the hall.
“He’s taking a nap.”
He turns back to me, his brown eyes closing for a brief second.
“I could maybe go and—”
“No.” He cuts me off. “Don’t do that. I’ll come back tomorrow and see him. When’s he awake?”
There’s so much to discuss. What’s been happening, how he’s doing, what’s going to happen now. Yet no way to know for sure if or when we’ll get to cover it all. The thought makes my head spin a little, and my chest tighten. “Um, he’s only sleeping before and maybe after lunch at the moment. He sleeps all night. So whenever you want, I guess.”
He nods, stepping closer to me and grabbing my hand. “Christ, I’ve missed you. You’re okay? He’s okay?” He shakes his head as questions start to roll through his eyes. I can tell he has so many, but I already know I can’t answer them all. “What’s his name?”
“Archie,” I supply quietly, absorbing the heat from his large, rough hand while I can. “Archer Darren Williams.”
His eyes move from my hand to my face, glinting as a slow smile spreads across his face. “Archie.”
I nod, and he lifts my hand to his lips. My eyes close to stop the barrage of tears gathering when he kisses each of my fingertips and then my hand.
“I need to know, Mags.” He drops my hand. “Why you didn’t come? I know there’s gotta be a reason. I know I fucked up, but he’s my …” He swallows, not finishing. He doesn’t need to.
Cold replaces any warmth that had enveloped me. I’m suddenly freezing, and it’s barely even the start of fall.
I’m completely stuck, unable to answer him.
He repeats the question, harsher this time. His voice like gravel that drags over the bruised tissue of my heart. “Maggie, why?”
I’ve been over this moment a million times in my head. Probably more. But every time, every single time, I could never form a coherent response. Not even for the Felix I silently pleaded and begged forgiveness from in my head.
Because if he knows why I didn’t come—what happened—it could ruin everything for him all over again.
I can’t do that; I can’t risk that. He’s made mistakes, ones we’re all still paying for, but so have I. I can’t risk making anymore, and neither can he.
So I take a steady breath and set my lies free. “I’m sorry, but you know why, and I regret it. I really do. I was just so … mad.”
He steps back, shock moving over the now even harsher planes of his face. His arms, so thick now, bulge under his white shirt as he digs his palms roughly into his eyes. Dropping them, he snarls faintly, “Am I seriously hearing this right? I can understand you’d be mad, but not bringing my own kid to meet me, Maggie …” He shakes his head. “That’s bullshit.”
He stares at me for a heartbeat, and my blood freezes along with the rest of my body. “You didn’t listen to me. What was I supposed to do? Just forgive you?” I clench my teeth and use some pent-up anger of my own to force my next words out. “And I didn’t keep him from you. You ended up in jail, Felix. Jail. Did you really want me to bring our son to prison to visit you?”
The look he gives me is full of incredulous outrage. “What the fuck? Yes!” He studies me again, laughing humorlessly under his breath. “This is so messed up. You thought you were too fucking precious to bring our kid to see his dad in jail, is that it?”
“That’s not it at all, but he’s only a baby, Felix.”
He spreads his arms out wide. “So what? Other inmates got to see their babies, toddlers, kids. But no, not me, apparently.”
My hands start to shake, and I bunch them together in front of me to try to hide it. “I think you should go,” I whisper, though everything I am screams at me for suggesting such a thing. “You can come and meet Archie tomorrow if you want.”
Averting my gaze to the ground, I keep it there even though I feel the sear from his own burning into my profile. “So that’s it, then? That’s all you’ve got to say?”
I shrug, mumbling, “I don’t know what else I can tell you, Felix, besides the truth. I’m sorry; it was wrong of me. But I just couldn’t …” I slam my mouth closed to stop from saying anything more.
I watch his black boots as he moves toward the door, pausing on the threshold. “I’ll come over tomorrow after work, but you and me?” I glance over at him then, hope slowly melting away some of the ice until I see the look in his eyes. “We’re fucking through, Mags.”