I drop her hand.
With my head bowed, the words she whispers shatter every part of my existence. Is this another chapter in the nightmare replaying in my head? No, this is real, and I’m fucking living it.
Barely able to stand, I walk out of the room with no sense of direction. I don’t know where I’m going. I have no idea how to get out of this hospital, how to get out of this nightmare, and how to pretend she never existed.
I have nothing.
The realization that the control of my life is taken away is the biggest burden I now carry. Outside in the cool night, the rain starts to pour as I stand there unable to move, unable to decide the simplest thing—where do I go now? Maybe it’s hours later, maybe it is minutes, but somehow, I find the strength to lift my arm enough to hail a cab. The yellow cab with its bright lights pulls up, and I climb in.
“Where to, buddy?”
The question is simple, but I stare blankly at him. He asks again, this time with a lot less patience.
“JFK.”
The driver remains quiet, listening to his music as the city passes by in a clouded haze. My mind has turned numb, not even processing our approach nor his first warning to pay the fare, then get the hell out of the cab.
Inside the terminal, the huge black television screen with all the flight information listed is spread out before me. I stand there reading every line, memorizing the destinations, flight numbers, and times. I don’t know how long it’s been after I arrived that a large gentleman in a security uniform walks toward me.
“Sir, is there a reason why you’ve been standing here for over an hour?”
An hour, time was lost on me.
The baby isn’t mine.
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave now.” I walk toward the counter to be greeted by an over-friendly woman.
“Can I help you, sir?”
The baby isn’t mine.
“Where is your next plane going?” I ask.
“Excuse me?”
“I want a ticket on your next flight to wherever it’s going,” I answer, defeated.
“Um, sir… that’s an unusual request.”
I see her make eyes at the security guard. “Maybe, but the woman I have loved for nine years told me tonight she’s pregnant with someone else’s baby, so perhaps you can understand my need to get the hell out of this city?”
Pursing her lips, her expression turns into one of compassion. I don’t need a pity party, I simply need to get out of here.
“We have a flight leaving in an hour to Alaska, sir.”
“That’s fine, I’ll take that.”
“The last-minute fare on this ticket is twenty-one hundred dollars.” She searches my face, waiting for me to tell her it’s a ridiculous price like I give a shit about money. I pull my Amex out of my wallet and pass it to her. She takes it, surprised by my lack of consideration for money wasted.
The baby isn’t mine.
How can it be his?
“Here’s your boarding pass, sir. Flight 793 boards from Gate 11 in approximately thirty minutes.”
She hands me my boarding pass, and I walk away in search of the gate. Finding it, I sit in an isolated section of the lounge.
The baby isn’t mine.
How can it be his?
Was she fucking him the whole time?
My Charlotte, my wife, is carrying another man’s baby.
There’s nothing but white noise in my head, but I sit here silently, still numb, staring into space waiting desperately to board the plane to take me anywhere but here.
The flight is bumpy, but what did I expect from a last-minute flight sitting in economy. It didn’t even occur to me to ask for business class, but I assume on a run-down plane like this, business class will be no different. I close my eyes trying to drift off to sleep. The constant wail of an infant a few rows back leaves me no choice but to place the free headphones over my ears. With a little more peace, I try again, but of course, it’s impossible to clear my mind.
The baby isn’t mine.
I spend the following week remote fishing somewhere in the middle of Alaska. The town is small yet very accommodating. It’s amazing how sitting for hours on end with professional fishermen waiting for a bite can ease your troubles, that is until I know I have to finally leave.
The convention in Paris is four days away plus back-to-back meetings.
My phone has been turned off the entire time I have been here. I only messaged Kate before I boarded the plane to Alaska to tell her I would not be contactable for the week.
She replied at the time with a simple, “Okay.”
I don’t allow myself to think about her, it’s like pouring salt on a wound. The questions go around and around in circles.
On my last night before heading to Paris, I do the inevitable and turn on my phone knowing I have to face the world again. The beeping doesn’t stop for two hours straight, even though the signal I’m receiving is weak.
969 work emails.
Seventeen texts from Adriana.
Ten texts from my mother.
Seven texts from Rocky.
One text from Elijah.
One text from my father.
Zero from Charlotte.
The baby isn’t mine.
I quickly scan through the texts first. Adriana is in panic mode. My mother is worried. Rocky’s worried at first, but then starts sending me videos of girls getting fingered by other girls. I have to admit I’m slightly amused, but unfortunately, they do nothing for me. Elijah sends me some Paulo Coelho quote about survival. My father’s words are simple—he tells me to do whatever it is I need to do. That’s odd, I expected a lecture about how much of a disappointment I am to him and our family.
***
Back on European soil, something changes. The old Lex roars back to life like venom seeping through my veins, and my confidence comes back ten-fold. I learned to rebuild myself, control my life, and demand this world revolves around me, and today, for the first time in what feels like weeks, Lex Edwards is back and on his usual warpath.
Dressed in business attire, a far cry from the awful-looking fishermen gear I sported only a few days ago, I make my way into the conference room and deliver my speech. Every single pair of eyes are on me, some laced with curiosity and many with fear. A part of me desperately needs this old me back, not realizing how my work is engrained in me despite allowing my personal life to dictate my emotions.
I conclude my speech with a round of applause, my concentration shifting to Victoria seated a few rows back. Of course, she’d be here, but I still managed not to speak to her since that infamous night in my suite. I walk down the steps and make my way to where she’s seated, ignoring the eyes watching my every move.
“Come with me,” I whisper in her ear.
She follows my lead toward the exit and a vacated boardroom next door, away from prying eyes. I want to apologize for what happened, but I also need to forget. I place my hands on her blouse toying with her buttons.
She pushes my hand away, gently. “Lex…” her voice lingers. “You don’t want to do this.”
I gaze into her eyes.
She’s wrong.
I have to do this.
I need to do this.
Make me forget, Victoria. Make me forget that Charlotte is carrying another man’s baby, that I mean nothing to her, and she fucked him then she fucked me. Make me forget she’s tainted, that another man’s touch is ingrained and growing inside her. Make me forget we can never be together, that I’ll forever have to look at their baby and realize I was second best.
Make me forget Charlotte ever existed.
“Honey, while I’d like nothing more than to have your cock in my mouth, this isn’t what you want. I’ve never been what you want.”
I’m surprised by her words. Is this reverse psychology? This isn’t the Victoria I know. With an incredulous stare, I shuffle back.
“We play this cat and mouse game, but the reality is you love Charlotte. Lex Edwards actually loves another human being.” She laughs, holding onto my chest. “Lex, go and make this right. This isn’t you. This isn’t the strong, confident ballsy Lex who pushes my buttons beyond all recognition, who is also is a genius in the business world.”
“She doesn’t want me,” I mumble with my head bowed, my confidence dissolving in a heartbeat.
“That’s impossible. No one can resist Lex Edwards. Look at me.” I gaze into her eyes, not knowing what I’m supposed to be looking for. “You built this empire from nothing. You’ve fought in boardrooms with some of the most powerful men in the business world. My father is threatened by your power and no one, I mean no one, has ever challenged him like you do. You can’t lose this battle because this battle will be your toughest, but it will come with the greatest reward at the end. You understand me?”
I nod, half-listening to her because the reality feels completely different.
“Now, let’s go back in there and try to convince the Hanson Group to sell us their shares in the Wilson Division,” she states with confidence. “Word is that John Hanson is desperate to offload because he has a failed merger in Hong Kong, and it has cost the group a lot of money.
“Victoria… I’m sorry for what happened back in New York.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Consider it forgotten. Besides, I have my eye on someone else if I can get his gold-digging wife to detach from his arm for two seconds.”
Victoria, the shrew, will find a way.
“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”
“Yes, and imagine me with the Prince of Luxembourg. What a powerful couple we would make.”
“Going for royalty now?” I shake my head with a knowing grin. “You never cease to amaze me.”
We walk back into the room, ignoring the curious stares from associates who have nothing better to do than speculate. I don’t really care what they think, or even the false news which will spread, I have nothing else to lose, and with that in mind, I do whatever the hell I want to.
Paris actually turns out to be a great accomplishment. We managed to sign on new business, and I’m in my element for the week I spend there. It turns out that back-to-back meetings with new investors as well as business expos provided me with the solitude that I was desperate for.
But all good things must come to an end, and once again, I find myself alone at a loss with what to do.
I’m still not ready to go home, so I flip through my phone and look for places I want to visit. For some reason, Brazil catches my eye. I was there years ago for a business trip, but something draws me back. I don’t know what it is, but it feels like a pull almost.
I book my flights, and the next day, I touch down in Rio de Janeiro, still wondering why I chose to come here.
Wandering the streets of Brazil, I feel like a nomad, alone and with no purpose. A bottle of tequila becomes a permanent fixture in my hand. This city comes alive at night, the crowds freely dancing in the streets, the samba beats echoing through the night. It’s easy to get lost in this diversity as I make my way through the streets not really knowing where I’m heading.
Women reach out for me, beautiful women, offering me their bodies for a night like that’s what I need. It’s hard to resist, but as I stare into their blank faces, it feels wrong. It’s only her face I want to see, so I walk away until the noise lessens, finding myself in a quieter part of the city.
The buildings look more worn down, dilapidated even. The crowd appears different now—rougher. They are no longer friendly and are eyeing me with caution, almost on guard like I’m some sort of threat.
I see a neon light flashing and enter the bar—the tequila is running low in my bottle.
Inside, the music is more somber, the bar not too full, just a bunch of drunks drinking away their worries. I pull up a seat and ask for a shot. The man beside me pats me on the back like he’s my long-lost friend. I motion to the bartender that all drinks are on me, throwing a wad of cash onto the bar surface. Fear is no longer apparent as the crowd cheers, saluting me, then going about their own business. The drinks keep coming, and my vision becomes more blurred. The man, my new best friend, speaks to me in Portuguese telling me about all the pussy he has fucked this week. His story is somewhat entertaining, and provides me with the welcome distraction I desperately need.
But then he goes quiet.
And my mind allows itself to think.
I want to beat the living shit out of him for touching her, for implanting his baby inside her.
I don’t want him near her.
I wanted him dead.
I fumble for my phone, the screen jumbled. I think there’s a text, I’m not sure. Where is Bryce’s number? I need him to finish Julian off. Get rid of him once and for all.
My friend slides over another bottle of tequila. That worm, shit, I never thought I could drink a worm, but I fucking do.
What was I doing again?
The bottle is empty.
I realize I’ve run out of cash, or the cash no longer sits in my pocket. I fumble for more, only to notice it’s all gone. I was robbed. Panicking, I place my hand over the secret pocket in my jacket, and relief washes over me as the plastic card still remains. Thank God for my Amex.
It’s time to leave, so I stumble out of the bar with my friend in tow. As the door opens, I squint, the light is so bright. I check my watch, but it’s missing from my wrist. Fuck!
It has to be the early hours of the morning or past midnight, I don’t know. As my eyes adjust to the light, I immediately recognize the ‘Christ the Redeemer’ statue overlooking Rio de Janeiro, but the light that comes off it is so bright it hurts, almost stinging my eyes. I ask my friend why it’s so bright, but he laughs and tells me it always lights up at night and rambles on about Jesus being his savior, but this isn’t a little light—it’s shining directly at me. I ask him again, he laughs once more telling me the tequila is making me see things, that the worm inside the bottle has a way of poisoning the mind. Yeah, so I am beyond intoxicated and has to be why my imagination is playing tricks on me.
The warm air greets us as I try to ignore the light until this little girl catches my attention. Her father is holding her hand. Odd, I think, to be on the streets at three in the morning. She looks small, her clothes are tattered, and her hair a wild mess of brown curls. She complains like a little brat to her father until I realize what she’s saying. She’s complaining about the light, the way it shines so brightly it hurts her eyes.
I turn around and run to her side. Kneeling to her level, I ask her if she sees it too, and she nods. Almost instantly, her father pulls her away, cursing at me and scolding her for talking to a stranger. She cries as he pulls her away, his voice speaking fast in their native language until I hear the name Carla. Isn’t that Charlotte in Spanish?
She runs back to me, her father yelling her name. The little girl asks me one more time if I see that light too. I nod, giving her a small smile before she runs back to her father.
I stand there—this light, this girl named Carla, this sign.
Fuck, my head hurts.
That’s the last thing I remember before I pass out, slumped in the alleyway against some old crates.
God knows how much later as I take in my surroundings, I know that someone is watching over me.
I’m alive.
The memories of last night flash before me—the light, the girl named Carla.
With my back resting against the dirty brick wall and the stale stench of trash surrounding me, I rub my face vigorously trying to come to terms with what happened.
I try to think about this more rationally.
Yes, she said the baby isn’t mine, but I remember what Bryce said about the psych ward. Is she reliving a memory, lying in a hospital bed, déjà vu and shit? I know Charlotte, and she wouldn’t actually fuck Julian, not willingly anyway. Maybe it was a one-time thing like after the Victoria shit that went down. No, that would’ve been too soon. If she already knew she was pregnant, then it would have happened at least over a month ago.
Okay, so maybe I wasn’t in the picture, that’s possible, but she wouldn’t do that me, not after everything we’ve been through. So realistically, say she fucked up once, and it is his, do I let go of her for a lifetime?
There’s only one question remaining.
Is she worth it?
I know the answer and fuck the fucking universe with all its fate and destiny bullshit. If I want something to happen, I’ll make it happen—no matter what it takes.
She was mine all along, and once again, I, Alexander Edwards, vow not to stop, not until she’s mine again.
