Alana’s still here.

She should’ve quit that day, should’ve ignored me and stuck to her job. Instead, she blocks the door to keep me from leaving, doesn’t judge me, and shares her entire body with me. That’s trust. She accepts me as I am. What I ever did to deserve this fearless, persistent, gorgeous woman, I’ll never know.

But here I am, pounding her in her virgin ass.

So beautiful. And fucking hot. And she’s mine—all mine. I could be a dick and take her for my own. She said it herself—she’d do anything for me, though I don’t know why. I don’t deserve her, and she deserves another man.

But the thought of another man doing what I’m doing now burns my balls. No fucking way can I let someone else get this view, have this woman.

My hands grip her cheeks, hold her still as I fuck her, and it’s a minute before I realize she’s touching herself throughout all this.

“You like this, Alana?”

“I love it. Come for me, Kase. Come inside my pink little asshole.”

Holy fuck, this girl knows what to say every time. The moment I hear it is the moment that electric wave rises up through my balls and shoots out and up, radiating all throughout me. “You’re getting it,” I tell her through a tight groan. “You’re getting your wish.”

“Yes, Kase. Come inside me. Make me yours.”

“You are, Alana. You’ll always be.”

Even if I can’t be with her. I can’t tell her this, because she’ll never understand what I’m about to do. Once my body is spent and I literally cannot move another muscle, I throw myself in bed, lie back, and pull her on top of me so she’s sitting on my face. Everything blends together, scents are musky, but I don’t care. It’s the most intimate way I’ll ever see her.

As she holds onto the headboard, her clit pressed up against my tongue, I lick her, fingering her in the pussy until I begin to feel those muscles squeezing together. She’s perfect, beautiful to me, and incredibly sexy, the way she grinds herself on my face, using it to reach her angles and sensitive spots. Finally, she finds one that she likes and begins rocking back and forth, as I keep fucking her over and over with my finger.

“Keep doing that…”

My hand reaches up to cup her breast, giving it a little slap and pinching her nipple for good measure. Suddenly, her knees form a vice around my head and squeeze, as she cries out loud and climaxes hard and long, more of her essence coating my tongue and face. I love this woman. Will always.

But I can’t tell her. Can’t bring her hopes up. I’m out of words to describe how love just isn’t meant for me. Hopefully, she’ll forgive me in time. And once we’ve kissed our long, deep post-coital kisses and rubbed each other’s backs, once we’ve gazed into each other’s eyes, and once she’s fallen asleep, I pick up my bag, rifle through my night stand drawer for Evie’s phone, and go anyway.

Because life is Murphy’s Law. I know, the moment I give into Alana, accept her love, and start the path of partnership, that’ll be the moment something tragic will happen. An accident or disease will claim her, and I’ll have to go through that vicious cycle of excruciating emotional pain all over again. There’s only so much one man can take.

And I’ve met my quota for one lifetime.

* * *

Late at night, I walk into a random hotel on the Upper West Side. No clue the name, no clue the time. All I know is the price is right, and I need a place to be alone. At some point, Alana will wake up and find me gone. She’ll curse my name and call me a coward, and maybe I am, though I prefer to think of it as loving her. By cutting myself off from her, by helping her think of me as an asshole.

This way, she’ll never have to deal with the crap that is my life.

Sitting at the hotel desk, I send off a series of emails to all my secretaries and assistants. I won’t be in for a few days. I need to regroup, figure out what to do with my life. There are plenty of messages awaiting me from people at Roper’s happy hour who witnessed the spectacle that was his drunken proclamation of paternity.

What made that asshole think he could just show up there and make an announcement like that? Was that supposed to put Roper on his side just to make him hand over the business? Raymond was never there for Evie’s company, never put in the work, never kept his life straight enough to warrant high praise from the big boss. In the end, he must’ve known he wasn’t good enough for Evie or Liam because he left. Not so different from you, huh, boss? My conscience tells me. Shut up. I face my responsibilities. Just because I need to withdraw for a few days doesn’t mean I don’t.

Once I’m settled in, I whoosh out a heavy breath then take Evie’s phone and stare at it, as it charges. Once the phone logo comes up, I enter her password, which she easily gave me in case of an emergency during her pregnancy, and start looking through her messages. I have to find out if Ray was telling the truth and Evie left him. If it’s true, it’s a game-changer. It’d mean that I was stupid enough to fall for it. It’d mean I married her under the impression that I was helping her out of a jam when really, I participated in deception. But worst of all, it’d mean that I’m not the rightful father to the baby.

I find the text messages between Evie and Ray from early on in the pregnancy, and it’s clear they engaged in many a text war. Nervously, I read each and every one, from the early ones where they were a happy couple. There’s even one where Evie says I don’t trust Ray. Damn straight I don’t trust him. That was my first impression of him, and I told her so.

In another text, she tells him the exciting news that she’s pregnant and sends him a photo of the pregnancy stick test. It took him a while to respond to it but eventually, he replied with a heart emoji.

That’s it? That’s all you say when your woman tells you she’s pregnant? What a fucking loser.

After that, the texts get progressively more depressing, and eventually, it’s clear that Ray has left the building. By the end of the first trimester, he wasn’t responding to any more of her messages, and then began all of Evie’s texts to me and her friends telling us what a disappointment Ray was turning out to be. In her inbox, I find an email thread with one of Ray’s friends, trying to talk some sense into him and coax him out of hiding.

She wasn’t lying.

I look up and close my eyes with a small, satisfied smile. I knew she wouldn’t lie. I never should’ve doubted her to begin with. Ray’s the opportunist, the liar who’ll stop at nothing until he gets what he wants. He’ll step on as many toes as he needs to. Ray left Evie, didn’t participate in the pregnancy, and it’s all right here on her phone. Putting the phone back in my bag, I sigh knowing I have what I need, if it ever comes down to a courtroom.

Three days. I spend three days holed up in this suite, ordering food and ignoring calls. Alana texts me the first morning, a question about Liam and what she should do about a rash he’s developing. Her tone is stern, includes nothing about us, and my heart aches knowing she probably hates me for leaving. I left her plenty of money in the account, and she should have no problem getting Liam to a doctor for the rash, but I just can’t be there for her today.

I have to figure out a plan first.

* * *

The plan arrives two days later in the form of an idea that wakes me up so fast, I nearly hit my head on the night stand. No fucking way Ray is going to take Liam away from me. Even if he does prove paternity, the judge will know who was there throughout the pregnancy—me. Throughout the birth—me. Throughout his upbringing thus far—me. Plus, there’s all the text messages and emails on Evie’s phone.

Liam is my son, by heart and virtue, and awarding custody to Raymond would be the worst thing any judge could ever do. Still, I can’t ignore the panic in my heart knowing I could lose him at any moment, and because of this, I get the grand master plan to go home and take my son on a vacation—just me and him alone, away from the city. Where will we go? I have no idea, but wherever it is, Ray will have to find me.

* * *

I can hear him giggling as soon as I unlock the front door. Liam, having a grand old time in the bathtub, splashing and screeching like a dolphin. That kid sure loves the water so much, he’ll probably become a swimmer in the future. I head up the stairs toward the happy sounds, knowing today will probably be the day Alana leaves for good. I can’t imagine she would take much more of this after all I’ve done to her.

All part of my plan to help her move on and find a life without me.

Pausing at the bathroom door, I knock softly to announce my presence. Alana’s kneeled at the bathtub, that perfect shape from behind a sight for sore eyes. “Hey,” I say.

She doesn’t reply, but Liam’s face lights up like a sunbeam and he proceeds to splash the fuck out of Alana. I bite back a laugh, but what I really wish I could do is cry my eyeballs out. I left these two alone, I put Alana through hell, and now I’m about to tell her it’s time to go.

“When you’re done there, could you pack a bag for Liam, please? I’m taking him for a few days.”

At this, she has words for me. “Where are you taking him? He’s just getting over a cold.”

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. Make sure to pack his jacket.”

“And what am I supposed to do while you’re gone?” Vicious eyes glare at me over her shoulder. I wish I could unsee them, but now they’re there, burned into my consciousness forever.

“You can go home a while. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“You’re going to hide him,” she says.

“No. I’m going to spend time with him. I have a feeling this will all go south, hon, and I want to spend as much time with Liam as I can. I know you think I’m a coward, but I’m trying, Alana. I tried to be a good father, got fucked. Tried to be a good husband, got screwed. Tried to be a good friend, shafted. Tried to honor my mother’s memory…”

Ugh, I can’t fucking finish that one.

All this happened because I couldn’t let what happened to my mother happen to anyone else ever again. Welcome to my life.

Alana finishes the bath, wraps Liam in a fluffy towel, then moves past me. Circles ring her eyes. I’m sure she’s been up every night because of Liam but also because of all the uncertainty I’ve caused. After she sets Liam on his bedroom floor with a bottle, she comes out of the room and stands in the hall.

“Listen, we’re not so different, you and me,” she says. “I lived around rich families all my life then the minute I got out of that world, I got sucked back into it. Nothing else to do but hold your head up, grin and bear it. You, you stayed away from relationships and falling in love, only to find yourself a wonderful best friend, then you got snagged into being a father.”

“What’s your point?” I ask, itching to get away from this lecture.

She crosses her arms, and for a split second, she looks like my mother whenever she was mad and ready to give me a talking-to. “My point is that you don’t get to choose the people you love in this life. The universe chooses them for you.”

“I don’t believe in the universe making decisions for me,” I say.

“What else would explain how we got here when neither of us wanted it?”

“I call it misfortune.” Spinning and heading toward my room to pack a bigger bag, I try to get away from Alana and her fortune cookie wisdom.

“Well, I call it fate,” she says, following me. “And loving you was never my misfortune, Kase. Believing I might earn your love in return was.” Her words sting but I can’t look at her, or I’ll want her again. She has power over me, the power to make me stay, and I can’t let anyone control me that way again—ever.

“You earned it alright. But this is how my love is, Alana. Incomplete and aggravating. You don’t need this kind of love. Nobody does.”

“I guess you don’t love me enough to change then.” I hear her voice catch at the end, and when I glance her way, I see her crying. I fucking hate when she cries, especially since I know she doesn’t do it to manipulate me. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone hold her tears in better than Alana, so seeing them run so freely now makes me feel like the biggest douchebag alive.

“I love you enough to let you go, Alana. And one day, you’ll thank me for it.”

* * *

Our vacation is at a cabin by the lake somewhere north of Bear Mountain. It’s a long haul, but I’ve needed this distance from the city. I’ve needed the solitude, the fog on the surface of the lake every morning, and my daily hikes with Liam strapped to my back. Together, we look at trees, at frogs, at cool rocks, and we even share meals by a handmade fire.

We think of Alana a lot. I know Liam misses her, because he gets this big question mark on his face when I hand him his milk bottle. He slaps it a lot and says, “Nananana?”

“Yeah, buddy. Alana’s not here. I know. I’m sorry about that, but she’s just your nanny, kid. Nothing else.”

Nothing else. Just your nanny. Even my own words don’t sit right with me. If anything, she’s his everything. His morning, his naptime, his evenings, his bedtime lullabies, his nights, his everything. And I sent her home packing just like that. How amazing would it have been to bring her along with us? To spend time here together as a pseudo-family, having the times of our lives? But I couldn’t set up those expectations, not for her, not for Liam.

“Buddy, don’t look at me like that. The sooner you get used to women falling out of your life, the better off you’ll be.” I’m firm and happy with that assessment except that Alana never dropped out of my life. I dropped out of hers. Minor detail that we don’t need to talk about now, because we have two more miles to hike back to the cabin.

Extinguishing the fire, I make my way back home, if we can call it that. I haven’t seen my own house in months, since the night Evie died. I’ve pretended that her house is my house ever since, and even Liam looks like he could live out here with me indefinitely. It’s beautiful and so peaceful. We could start a new life out here. Just me and the big boy.

But as we arrive back to our area and I trudge toward the cabin that’s been our home for a week now, I almost see the car parked out front with my eyes closed. I’ve imagined it arriving for days now, I just didn’t expect a cop car to accompany it. It came to me as I was driving here through the melting snow—the boy at the park, the one who took off with Liam’s beanie hat that day.

Someone sent that boy to do that job.

Someone needed the hair and skin cells inside that hat for a paternity test, and deep inside, I knew the results for that test would come to haunt me any day now. Hence these much-needed last days with Liam.

A woman steps out of the car, along with an elderly gentlemen. Badges are flashed, and I know that life as I know it is over. “Mr. Hardwin? I’m Ilsa Hernández from Department of Children and Families. We have a court order to remove Liam Hardwin from the premises. Say your goodbyes and we’ll meet you inside.”