I awoke early the next morning, trying my best to keep my mind off Micah. He still hadn’t called or texted me. I kept telling myself that it didn’t matter, that I should have expected this, but there was no hiding or rationalizing the fact that I was hurt. Micah wasn’t just a fling, he wasn’t someone that I could just forget about, no matter how many times I told myself not to think about him … my mind always circled back to him. We were nearing our final days at the construction site, they were going to start installing countertops today and then we would start bringing in furniture on Wednesday. This was a pivotal stage in construction, so I got up and got dressed.

I knocked on Ross’s door and opened it, turning on the light. Ross groaned, he was the only toddler I knew who loved sleeping in.

“Come on Ross, rise and shine,” I said. I picked him up and smiled—he looked me in the eye and promptly vomited all over my clean flannel shirt. Puke dripped down onto my jeans and it was warm. Ross hiccupped and puked again. I quickly sat him down and grabbed the trash can from the bathroom.

“If you need to puke, do it in here,” I instructed. He started to cry.

“What’s up bud, do you not feel well?” I asked. I pressed the back of my hand to his forehead, he felt a little warm, but I wasn’t sure.

“Stay here,” I said. I threw my shirt into the hamper and grabbed a thermometer. When I took Ross’s temp it said 102, he had a fever. But there was no way that I could take off work, I quickly ran through the list of people in my head who were qualified to take care of a sick toddler, and dialed Courtney’s number.

“Ben! How are you? The house looks great, it looks like you’re almost done over there!” Courtney said cheerily.

“Hey, Courtney. Thanks. Uh, this isn’t about the house though. I was actually calling to see if you could watch Ross for me today? He’s sick, he has a fever and he threw up a couple of times but there’s no way that I can take off work today, we’re at a pivotal point at the site and I need to supervise the installation of the kitchen counters,” I explained. I looked over at Ross, who sat on the floor looking lethargic.

“Oh Ben, that’s too bad, but if you emailed the crew and explained I’m sure they would understand. We’ve all had sick kids before! Speaking of, I’d love to watch Ross, but I can’t. Lila has the stomach flu and I don’t want to expose her to anything else,” Courtney said sympathetically. I groaned, there was my answer, Ross must have caught a bug while he was staying at Courtney’s.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Court,” I said.

“Oh it’s nothing to worry about, she should be all good within a couple days toddlers bounce back quick. Say Ben, didn’t you say that Ross’s dad was still in town? Why don’t you call him? I’m sure he’d come over and help,” Courtney suggested.

I sighed, I didn’t want to explain to Courtney why Micah and I weren’t talking so I settled on, “He’s in L.A. on business,” which was partially true. Last time I checked Micah was in the final stages of his negotiations for his Hot law contract.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Good luck, Ben,” Courtney said.

“Thanks, I’ll need it.” Ross started to wail again. “I have to go Courtney. What’s up buddy?” I asked Ross.

“It’s too hot,” he yelled, ripping off his T-shirt.

“I hear ya, why don’t we get some medicine in you and go watch a movie,” I suggested.

I texted my crew and told them there was no way that I could come into work today, not with Defcon Toddler Flu. They sent sympathetic texts back, wishing me luck. Since I wasn’t able to supervise the counter instillations we had to push the rest of this week’s instillations back a day, leaving us a full day behind schedule just when we had finally caught up. I was irritated and also overwhelmed. Like Courtney, most of them suggested that I call Micah.

I gave Ross some children’s Motrin and called Micah. It went straight to voicemail.

“Hey, I know you’re still mad at me and you’re busy negotiating or whatever, but Ross is really sick, and he puked on my flannel and I could really use the help, so call me when you get this.”

Later that day I made Ross a simple lunch of toast, applesauce, and Gatorade. He refused to eat the toast but gulped down the Gatorade, I figured he was dehydrated. We sat on the couch together and binge-watched a children’s series about talking trucks which was surprisingly accurate in its depictions of construction sites.

“More!” Ross said, holding his empty cup towards me. I got up to refill it and noticed that I was starting to feel a little achy, but I chalked it up to my long work days. Now was not the time to get sick. I texted Micah again, “Fuck, now I’m feeling sick too, call me as soon as you can? Please? Half an hour later, I puked in the sink and left Micah a desperate voicemail, but no luck. Finally, in a moment of sheer desperation and a burning desire for at least one healthy person to be in this house, I loaded Ross up into my truck and we drove by Micah’s mom’s house.

Micah’s sister, Julie, was gardening out in the front yard. I idled the car at the curb not wanting Mrs. Carson to see me in puke stained sweatpants.

“Hey, Julie! Have you seen Micah?” I asked as I rolled down the window.

Julie peeled her gardening gloves off of her hands and walked up to me. “Not recently. What’s up?” She took one look at me and cringed. “Wow Ben, what the fuck? You look terrible, and what’s that smell? Did someone throw up?” She looked visibly grossed out.

“Ross got some stomach bug from his friend and he gave it to me and now we’re both sick. Is Micah around? I could really use the help, I tried calling him and I texted him but he hasn’t responded. I know he’s mad at me but I already feel like shit, nothing could make it worse at this point.”

“He’s in L.A. until Thursday, didn’t he tell you? Antoni flew him out there to sign the final contract in person,” Julie explained. I wanted to scream, this was the one time that I truly needed him, not on an emotional or romantic level, just out of sheer necessity, and he was gone.

Micah

Antoni told me that I had to get on a plane in the next twelve hours, or else the contract wasn’t going through, so I did what any actor would do and I shoved three good shirts and a protein bar into a tote bag and ran to the airport because fuck if I wasn’t going to get this part. I left Julie a note on our mom’s kitchen counter and I told her to keep it because she might want my autograph someday, but deep down inside I was still hurting from my fight with Micah, and I was torn up over the suspicion that I might have traumatized Ross for good. Nothing says deadbeat dad like actually walking out on someone.

Whatever, if Ben wanted to lash out any sign of genuine intimacy that was his problem and I wasn’t about to let him ruin this in-flight showing of She’s the Man. I sank down lower into my seat and loosened the seatbelt, mumbling to myself about why Antoni was too much of a cheapskate for first class. No matter, I popped a Xanax and signaled the flight attendant, ordering a glass of white wine. If I was going to be stuck on a plane, I’d rather pass out for a few hours than be left alone with my thoughts.

Antoni was waiting for me when I landed at LAX. “There’s no time to spring for a Lyft, I have my Buick and I brought you that bomber jacket to change into,” he said hurriedly.

I grimaced, his Buick was straight out of 1985 and a complete deathtrap. “Hello to you too, Antoni.” He always freaked out before anything that has to do with a contract, and he drove like a maniac. He zipped down the 405, weaving in between lanes and laying on the horn.

“Antoni, pick a lane before we get killed,” I said.

My phone started buzzing. I finally took it off airplane mode and there was a barrage of texts from Ben, and three voicemails. Shit. He must be furious that I left without telling him. I listened to the first voicemails. Apparently Ross was sick, stomach flu, and now Ben was feeling sick, too. I didn’t know why, but I felt the sudden overpowering urge to turn the car around and hop on a plane to go back to Ross and make Ben eat some soup or whatever, I wanted to be there for them, even if it was cliché and sick people were gross.

“Micah, what’s going on? You look distracted,” Antoni said. We pulled into the parking lot of the executive offices where we were meeting Lawrence Owens.

“I’m fine, I just need to make a phone call,” I said quickly. I called Ben back and got his voicemail. Shit, I was officially worried.

I walked into Lawrence Owen’s office and flashed him a confident smile, standing with my shoulders back. Inside, I was still freaking out about Ben, but they call it acting for a reason and I needed to keep my cool.

“Ah, the mysterious Micah, lovely to meet you,” Lawrence said. He was a classic Hollywood exec trying to subvert the insane amounts of money he possessed by wearing a literal flannel and forgetting to shave. Ben would like him.

“The infamous Lawrence Owens,” I shot back, taking a seat across the table from him and next to Antoni, who was sweating bullets.

“I have to admit, Micah, I’ve been quite impressed with the work that you’ve done with the first two episodes. You’ve helped shape Aiden Wright into a likable, nuanced character rather than the string of buzzwords that is ‘sexy bisexual human rights lawyer.’”

I couldn’t help but beam, Lawrence Owens was one of the most influential directors of the past twenty years. It was an unspoken rule that if Lawrence Owens liked you, the rest of Hollywood’s prestige generators would follow suit offering riveting roles in Indie dramas or art-house flicks that made the Academy salivate.

“Now, for the business side of things, your agent suggested that you make 30% off of the first run and re-run of any Hot Law episodes for up to five years after their original air date, in addition to any revenue that we make from print and online advertising. However, I’d like to suggest that print is a dying medium and offer you 30% for the first run and rerun, but all revenue from streaming services, provided our deal with Netflix goes through.”

Antoni shot me a stunned look, if you could get a show on Netflix you could pay for your kid’s college tuition, but the operative word was if and Netflix had hundreds of legal dramas to compete with, would we even make a dent? Antoni’s original proposed contract was steady and dependable, he could get my face plastered on every bus stop in California with ease, but it wouldn’t amount to a fraction of the Netflix money. Antoni looked quizzical, but he was also trying to appear tough and no-nonsense. I clasped my hands and stared at Lawrence with a level gaze, refusing to crack.

“This is certainly an enticing offer and something that my agent and I will have to discuss further. As it stands, I am set to do the first 13 episodes, up until the winter finale, yes?” I asked nonchalantly.

Lawrence Owens nodded. “Yes and if your performance isn’t satisfactory I’ll have you know that we already wrote a B-plot where your evil twin, played by Justus Garrett, kills you and assumes your identity, thus causing an inter-departmental murder mystery that might win us an Emmy.” He was trying to regain control of the situation, I refused to back down. But then my phone buzzed. I checked it discreetly under the table. It was Ben.

“Excuse me for a moment, I have to take this,” I said. Antoni balked. He looked like he was about to pee his pants or strangle me.

“Is it that important?” Lawrence asked.

“It’s a family emergency.” I rushed out of the room before he had the time to respond. “Ben,” I said breathlessly, pacing outside Lawrence Owens’ pristine conference room.

“Where the hell have you been? How could you just jet off to L.A. without a word? I had to find out from your fucking sister that you were out of town!!” Ben yelled, fuming.

I understood why he was mad, I had no idea that Ross was sick. “Ben, I’m sorry. I had no idea that Ross was sick. Is he feeling better now? Are you okay?”

“No, we’re not okay. I mean, Ross is okay but I’m not. He gave me the flu and I spent all night last night at your mom’s house puking, Micah.”

I grimaced, part of me knew that he had a right to yell at me. “If I had known that Ross was sick, I wouldn’t have gone in the first place.” I meant it. I reached to take Ben’s hand but he drew back away from my touch.

“Sorry isn’t good enough. Your work has always been your top priority, but when you have kids, your priorities have to shift. Ross was inconsolable when you left the other night, he screamed for hours, he wrecked his room, he wouldn’t let me touch him, all because he thought you left. He’s only three but knows what it’s like to be abandoned, and he thought you abandoned him.”

This was also new to me. I knew that Ross liked me. I loved him, obviously, but I never put two and two together that he might actually need my presence in his life. That was just something Lindsey had told me to sell the idea of being a sperm donor, but Lindsey wasn’t here. And Ross needed someone, he trusted me, and I let him down, twice within 48 hours. Ben was silent on the other line.

“He asked for me?” I asked, still apprehensive.

“Yeah. He asked for his dad.”