TESSA

There are a million things wrong with how my weekend turned out. I was ridiculed by a she-devil—Missy—hit on by a married man—Mr. Sexton—and questioned for over an hour by a woman in a hockey T-shirt, who had a bad hangover—Christine.

“What did he say?”

“What did you do?”

“Did he tell you I gave him a blow job?”

I shake a wave of nausea at the thought. Despite everything that transpired in one crazy hour, despite my better judgment, all I can think about is Bryce Sexton.

His dark complexion mixed with those coal-like eyes and square jaw make him seem dangerous. Yet, when he spoke, his voice was smooth and his touch was as soft as silk.

He has a strong body—wide and lean with a perfectly narrowed waist. While he overpowered me physically, I felt safe and protected in his presence. He knew things about me just by paying attention. And, when he pried, I let him in. That was new for me.

“You haven’t heard a word I’ve said, have you?” Mom’s question snaps me out of my daydream.

“Sorry. Thinking of something that happened this weekend.” I take a bite of my French toast.

She lifts her coffee and speaks before taking a sip, “It must have been an exciting Thursday night to have you daydreaming for three days.”

My fork drops onto my plate. “How did you—” I blanch. “Are you spying on me?” My mouth is full, so my words come out muffled.

“I called, and you didn’t pick up.”

With a swallow, I wipe my mouth with a napkin and ask in a pressing manner, “Am I that pathetic that you always expect me to be home?”

She answers matter-of-factly, “You must have been somewhere important to not return my call all weekend. I’m surprised you showed up today.”

I drop my chin. “For our weekly breakfast. You do understand, this is more scheduled quality time than most adult women give their mothers.”

She lets out a dramatic sigh. “Perhaps I should be one of those women who only sees her child on holidays. I’ll wait by the phone for the occasional call when you feel like talking.”

I lift my fork and point it at her light eyes framed in thick black glasses. “You’d never be able to handle it.”

“Neither could you. Face it, kid; we’re a team. You need me as much as I need you.”

I roll my eyes at her with a smile, knowing she’s right. My mom has been my sole guardian and confidant my entire life. As the daughter of a single woman, you learn to be strong and confident together—especially when you make some rather poor choices and find you need your mom more than ever.

“What time are you picking up Charlie?” she asks.

I take a swig of my coffee. “The Masons are bringing him home at five.”

She leans her elbows on the table and rests her head in her palm. “I hate that you let Charlie sleep over at Rob and Eleanor’s house. And why the four-day weekend? It’s bad enough you give him to them once a month. Do they really need to stretch it?”

“They’re good people, Mom. It was Rob’s mother’s ninety-fifth birthday. It seemed like the right thing to do. Just because their son is a grade-A asshole who neglects his child doesn’t mean the Masons aren’t good grandparents. You and I both know it’s good for Charlie to know his family and that he’s not completely unwanted.”

My mom lets out a harrumph. “And what is the sperm donor up to these days?”

“Running a Jet Ski stand somewhere in Australia,” I say with disdain.

Ashton Mason was the love of my life for a solid three months. Yes, I understand how ridiculous that statement is now, but at the time, he was my everything.

At eighteen years old, I fell head over heels for this guy with dusty-blond hair and a crooked grin. He was the life of the party, and I worshipped the ground he walked on.

That was, until the day I told him I was pregnant, and he handed me money for an abortion. I threw the cash in his face and never saw his sorry ass again.

The Masons didn’t know they had a grandson until two years ago. Once they found out, they immediately started with the calls and emails, asking to see him. I welcomed it, but I kept them at arm’s length until recently.

My mom must see the forlorn look on my face because she stretches her arm across the table and grabs my hand. “I miss you. I don’t like the house being so quiet. I like seeing Charlie’s toys all over the living room and your makeup strewed across the dining room table, and I like hearing your music blaring at all hours of the day. The salon even misses you.”

Before I moved from Berkeley, I did bridal makeup at Fabuloso Salon. It was a great job to have as a single mother. I worked weekends and had three days off during the week to be with my baby. The pay was good so long as I lived with my mother, but I can’t be a child forever, especially when I have one of my own.

I applied for a job at a prestigious salon and spa here, in San Francisco, thinking they’d never hire me. Not only did I get the job, but also the pay is triple what I was making back home, and the tips are astronomical. I can afford to support my son and myself for the first time in five years. On a frugal budget, that is.

“Next time you go to Fabuloso, tell everyone I said hello and that I’m living it up in San Francisco.”

She squints one eye. “And by living it up, you mean—”

“Having unprotected sex with every man I meet on the sidewalk,” I say just as I pop a strawberry in my mouth and chew with a devilish grin. She doesn’t seem amused, so I add, “Or tell them I took a job as a burlesque dancer.”

“Tessa.” She doesn’t like my humor.

I act surprised by her reaction. “What? It’s a form of artistic expression.”

She sits back and folds her arms across her beige pantsuit. Yes, my mom wears her empowerment clothes, even to casual meals with her daughter. “You’re being crude. Now, what’s this talk of sex with men?”

I give her a deadpan expression. “I was kidding.”

Her mouth purses, and she takes me in. Her chin rises with the intake of knowledge she’s acquiring from a single expression. “You’ve met someone.”

I glance down at my food. “I’m not talking to you about this.”

“Who is he?”

With a forceful stab, I pierce the red fruit and take a bite. “He’s no one. It was nothing. Just someone I found mildly attractive. That’s all.”

She looks at me deeply and sways a finger. “Be careful, Tessa Lynn. Be very careful. Men are after only one thing.”

“As I can attest from the Lego-obsessed kindergartner who inhabited my womb.”

The waiter comes over with the coffee carafe and refills our cups.

He asks if we need anything else, and I answer, “No,” as my mother looks back at me as she silently thinks.

When the waiter leaves, I add milk and sugar to my cup and lean back in my seat.

Mom’s arms are crossed as she taps her fingers on her arm. She lets out a breath. “Tessa, you know I love Charlie with my heart and soul, and I can’t imagine life without him. But please, take my advice now. You have so much going for you—this new life in the city and a career on the rise—and a man will only wash it away.”

“I know, Mom,” I agree.

“Think of Charlie. You have a chance to raise a boy who respects women, not sees a string of men coming in the household to use a woman and take off when they’ve had their fill. I know you have wants, but there are toys for that sort of thing.”

The woman sitting in the booth next to ours gasps at my mother’s brazen mention of sex toys.

“Thank you for painting me as a gullible twit when it comes to the world of dating,” I say with sarcasm.

She uncrosses her arms and lets out a sigh. “There are so many good men in the world. Lord knows my own father was a saint, bless his soul. You’re a single mother in a big city. Take it from me when I say you are prey for the wrong kind of man. I have a ton of clients who sing the same song.”

“You’re right.” I play with my empty sugar packet. “You don’t even need a man to procreate. You can just walk down to the bank and pick yourself up some sperm.” I regret the comment as soon as I say it.

It’s the story of my life.

My legacy.

When my mother was in her twenties, she was swindled into a relationship with a man who said she was the “personification of beauty and integrity, rolled into one.”

Cheesy, I know.

He pushed that a life without children was the best for them, and they embarked on a love affair filled with late-night parties and travel. Well, he traveled for work a lot, bringing her back lavish gifts.

That was, until she discovered he had a secret family in Burbank, including three children—one of whom was conceived during their relationship.

Instead of getting mad, she swore off men, marched her size-six, power-suit-wearing ass down to the fertility clinic, and got pregnant on her own. Add that with my less than romantic knocked-up story, and you have my mother, Kathleen Clarke—a fortress of feminist solitude.

At fifty-eight years old, she is a women’s rights attorney. She has appeared on a number of news programs, standing beside her clients, reading a statement on the lawsuit they’re dropping on a firm. She’s dedicated her life to sticking up for women who don’t have a voice.

She’s brilliant and beautiful, and I’m beyond proud to be her daughter.

That’s why my heart sinks at the look on her face. My words hurt her. I can see that.

“Mom, you raised me to have a strong mind. I know firsthand what’s out there, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”

“I only want the best for you and Charlie. He doesn’t need a man in his life to be a good human being.”

“I can attest to that,” I say proudly. “Listen, I know this move is hard on you, but it’s important to me that Charlie sees I’m doing this on my own. That’s what you always taught me—that I was strong enough to make anything possible.

“Growing up, I had everything I ever needed because I was your everything. That’s what I want for Charlie. To give him the world because he is my world. I’m making great money, he’s in the best public school in the county, and he now has a personal relationship with all of his grandparents. Trust me when I tell you a man is not in the cards for me right now.” Grabbing the dessert menu off the table, I hand it over to her. “Now, enough emotional talk for one day. I want to top off this meal with a ridiculously high-calorie brownie volcano. What do you say?”

A wide smile graces her face. “I’d say I raised you right. Let’s get whipped cream, too.”

“Deal.”

My apartment is way too quiet without the constant sound of a television. For once, my floor is spotless since I had a chance to put everything away while Charlie was at his grandparents’.

It’s not that he’s a messy kid. I just feel like a kid should be able to be a kid, so I allow him to keep his toys out, especially when he’s in the middle of building a pirate ship, rocket, or whatever other Lego toy he comes back with from the Masons.

It took a long time for me to allow Rob and Eleanor this special weekend with Charlie. I never begrudged them a chance to see him. I hoped their desire to know their grandson would spark Ashton’s affection for him. Instead, it did the opposite, sending him halfway across the globe.

The farther Ashton travels, the more the Masons want to see Charlie.

Knock, knock.

It’s still early for them to be here, so I look through the peephole and see Abby’s curly brown hair.

I open the door. “Hey, stranger. Charlie’s gonna be home soon.”

She walks in and heads into the small kitchen that’s to the right of the entry. “I’ll only stay a few minutes then. I know how much you like your alone time with him after he’s been away for the weekend.”

“I should like the freedom, but I miss him.” There’s a fresh batch of cookies on my stove, so I grab a few and hand them to Abby. “Pretty pathetic, huh?”

She grins as she takes a bite of warm, chewy goodness. “God, you’re the best mom.”

I lift my eyes to the sky as I walk to the fridge and take out the milk. “Hardly.”

She swallows. “Dude, you sleep on a pullout couch, so your kid can have his own room.”

As I pour two glasses, I look behind her at my sweet little living room and pullout sofa that converts to my bed. Our television is sitting on my dresser, and the end tables double as nightstands. Luckily, the apartment has a large closet in the hallway that works well for my clothes.

When I decided to move to San Francisco, I chose the neighborhood with the best elementary school. Turns out, the best school is in an expensive neighborhood. I might be making good money, but I need to save, and a one-bedroom apartment is helping me do that.

The kitchen is tiny and lacking a dishwasher, but it has everything I need to make home-cooked meals. The bathroom has a tub that’s too small for soaking, but it’s the perfect size for Charlie to climb in and out of on his own.

Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I place the glass of milk down in front of Abby. “This apartment is all I can afford right now. Besides, it came with the best neighbor, and that, my friend, is a priceless commodity.”

“Damn right.” She lifts her glass to mine. We clink and take a drink. With her cookie tapping against her lips, she says, “So … Bryce Sexton.”

The cold milk almost gets lodged in my throat. I let out a cough. “Nothing happened. I already told Christine when she cornered me in the lobby yesterday.”

“Heard about that. She can be a bit …”

“Dramatic?”

Abby smiles. “Yeah, that. So, seriously, Christine said you two looked pretty intimate.”

I lean an elbow on the table and run my fingers along my lips. We shared the faintest of kisses, and my lips are still buzzing with the memory. “She’s exaggerating.”

She lowers her forehead and looks up at me, unconvinced. “You were in his arms.”

“Why would I break my no-man policy for a stranger on a roof?”

“Because he’s gorgeous.”

“He’s okay-looking, sure,” I state. She quirks her mouth, calling my bullshit, so I add, “Fine. He’s hot. Supermodel gorgeous, but”—I dramatically raise a finger—“he’s a total douche bag. I mean, who gets down with his assistant and then blows her off like that?”

With a nod, she replies, “That’s a Sexton for you. All money and power but no class.”

She speaks of them like she has firsthand information. “You’re familiar with the family?”

“Only from Christine. Apparently, the Sextons are San Francisco royalty. They own, like, a bazillion newspapers and websites and apps and stuff like that. The father, Edward, is one of the wealthiest people in the state and was in the paper all the time when his first wife died and again when he remarried. His new wife is, like, some twenty-something beauty queen, Missy Catrera.”

Missy. Oh shit.

“Bryce and Austin wouldn’t happen to be brothers, would they?”

“They are,” she sings. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

I have every reason. Austin is Bryce’s brother—the one who I told Missy I was at the party with. Then, that means I spilled my drink all over Bryce’s stepmom and then thwarted an unwanted advance from his dad. Glad I didn’t know that nugget of information to dwell on all weekend long.

I officially detest every member of the Sexton family. Even Austin, although he hasn’t done anything wrong … yet.

“Anyway, I wanted to make sure you were okay. I know how Christine can be. She’s really a good girl. She just gets caught up in her own drama.”

I wave her off. “No need to worry. I’m used to being ridiculed. Being single and pregnant before you’re legal to drink will do that to you.” I pull a strand of hair from my ponytail and roll it through my fingers. “Has Christine … did she and Bryce make up?”

She twists her mouth and slowly shakes her head. “No. I think that’s part of why she hates you right now. For the past couple of months, she’s idolized that man, and she took a big chance on Thursday night. Seeing him with you was a real blow to her ego, ya know? I don’t think he likes her in that way. At least, that’s how I’m reading the situation. I’m not sure if Christine is even telling the entire truth.”

Being in Bryce’s arms was tender and welcoming. I haven’t been on a date with a man in six years, let alone in the arms of one. For a moment, I let my guard down, and of course, he swooped in with his charm and wit. He even had me smoking a cigarette, which definitely went straight to my head, making my judgment extra clouded.

His body was heated, and I melted right into him as he bore down on me with smoldering black eyes and a mouth that was too succulent to look at. I would have let him kiss me. Hell, I would have let him devour me, and it would have been a mistake.

When I heard Christine’s voice and saw the look on her face, my entire heart shattered. My mind suddenly went clear, and I was able to see what was in front of me. An elusive cad who preyed on women.

But why do I feel like I lost something?

The knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I pop up from the chair and open the door, only to see the most handsome little man in the world.

“Mommy!” Charlie hugs my legs, tucking his head into my side.

I lift him up from the ground and cradle him like a baby even though he’s thirty-five pounds and growing like a weed.

“I missed you so much,” I say as I bury my face in his neck, giving him a million kisses. In return, I get the best present ever—his giggle.

I whirl him in the air and place him on a chair in the kitchen.

“I’ll see you later in the week,” Abby says from behind as she walks out the apartment and waves to Rob and Eleanor Mason, who are standing just inside the doorway.

I kneel in front of Charlie and ask him how his visit was.

“Grandpa took me to a baseball game, and they have a giant slide there. I was able to go on it as much as I wanted. And Grandma Mason let me bake with her. We made magic bars. She said they were my dad’s favorite, so when he comes home, we can make them for him!”

Charlie is beaming as I turn to Eleanor and squint at her. Eleanor starts brushing imaginary dust off her shirt so as not to look me in the eye.

I brush his mop of red hair off his forehead and give my son a kiss on the head. “Charlie, Grandma and Grandpa have a long drive home. Say good-bye and then go put on pajamas.”

Like the good kid he is, he slides off the chair and runs to give the Masons good-bye hugs and kisses before scurrying into his room to change.

Rob has his hands palms up, ready to defend himself. “I know what you’re going to say.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.” It’s a lie. I have an entire monologue in my head that I’d love to unleash.

They know the rules about bringing up Ashton.

Eleanor looks at me like I’m being unreasonable. “Ashton is his father and mentioning him in conversation is hardly inappropriate. Charlie asks to look at pictures of him all the time.”

I rub a hand over my face and try to think of how best to explain this to them. “It’s not that I want to pretend he doesn’t exist, but to get Charlie’s hopes up that his father will not only come home, but also want to spend time with him is cruel.”

“Ashton loves that boy—” Eleanor starts, but I hold a hand up to stop her.

“He’s never met him. Asking how he is when he calls once a month is hardly loving his child.”

“He never had a chance,” she defends her only son. “You sprang this pregnancy on him and then declared you were raising him alone. Ashton didn’t even have a chance to be a father.”

I take a deep breath and calm my nerves. This is why Ashton is halfway around the world, living his life one whim at a time. His mother has always made excuses for him. When he lost his scholarship, it was because his professors had a bias against him since he was from a wealthy family. When he was arrested during a fraternity prank, she blamed the school for not chaperoning her son. When he was a father at twenty, it was because his girlfriend wasn’t on birth control. Nothing is Ashton’s fault. Not even the fact that he’s a deadbeat dad.

“I’m not sure Charlie should stay at your house anymore,” I say and watch their faces fall with shock and sadness. “You can still see him, but I’m thinking the sleepovers are too much.”

“No.” Rob leans forward with raw emotion I’ve never seen on him before. “Tessa, please. This …” He pauses as if trying to compose himself. “These weekends have been the only things we look forward to. Please don’t take him away from us.”

My heart breaks in a million pieces at the sight of this man in his khaki trousers and navy sports jacket, pleading to see his grandson. Rob Mason should be on his sailboat or playing golf with his retired buddies. Instead, he wants to drive three hours every month, so he can spend a few days bonding with his five-year-old grandson.

That was the point of all this, wasn’t it? So Charlie could get to know his grandparents, to know where he came from. Ashton might be shit, but the Masons are good people. Enablers to Ashton’s bad behavior, yes, but they’re also decent people who truly love my little boy.

I let out a long sigh. “We’ll have to see, but please, no more talk of Ashton. You two are enough for him. He looks forward to these weekends as much as you do.”

Eleanor grabs the pearls around her neck as she nods her head in little jerks. Her eyes are misty with sentimentality even though she doesn’t want to admit that I’m right.

Rob grabs on to Eleanor’s shoulders as he says, “We were hoping to take him down to Legoland in a few weeks. He has a break, and it would make us so happy to spend the time with him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He lowers his brows. “Please think about it before you make any decisions. That’s all we ask.”

I nod as they say their good-byes and head back down the hall.

With them gone, I bang my head against the door and wonder how I’m going to get through the next thirteen years of this kid’s life without royally messing him up.

I mean, I’m definitely going to mess him up a little. I’m a mom; it’s my job to give him some sort of complex that he’ll blame me for later. I’m just praying the damage is minimal.

Charlie comes out of his room, wearing his Lego Movie pajamas and takes a seat on the couch. I sit next to him and curl my arm around his little body, pulling him into me.

“I love you,” I sigh into his auburn hair.

He looks up at me with his blue eyes and freckled cheeks. “Mommy, can we go to the fisherman’s house?”

The fisherman’s house?

“You mean, the fish store?”

“No. Where they have seals that sit on rocks. I want to go there.”

“Oh”—I raise my head with the realization and then settle it back onto his—“Fisherman’s Wharf. Sure. We can go. I haven’t been there since I was a little kid.”

“Grandma Mason said Daddy loved to watch the sea lions.”

“He did? That’s nice,” I say with a groan.

“Did you know he lives in Austria?”

“Australia,” I correct him, disheartened.

“Mommy”—his voice sounds wary, and I lean back to see his face—“can we go to Australia? To see Daddy?”

My entire world shatters. “No, honey. It’s really far away.”

“Oh.” His cherub-like face falls with a frown.

This is why I don’t want Ashton talk around Charlie. Not yet at least. I know there will be a day when I have to endure him meeting his dad, and he’ll probably think he hung the moon. I vowed I’d never tell him about how much the man didn’t want him. That will always be my story. Until then, I have to protect this little boy.

And that is why a man is not in the cards for me.