When I arrived home after being in Las Vegas with Millie, the silence in my apartment felt oppressive.
I was tired, but I didn’t feel like sleeping. I was hungry, but I didn’t feel like eating. I was lonely, but the only company I wanted was Millie’s, and I couldn’t have it.
If she lived here, maybe she’d be in the kitchen making something for us to eat, or maybe I’d have brought dinner home for the two of us. Maybe I’d have called her and said, I’m on my way, what would you like? Or maybe when I got home, she’d be waiting for me in bed. Instead of giving me the cold shoulder because I’d been gone for work again, she’d reach for me, tell me how much she missed me, make me feel happy to be home again.
I dropped onto the couch and rubbed my face, at a loss to understand what the hell was the matter with me. Once my divorce was final, I’d sworn that was it—I wouldn’t get tangled up with anyone again. The occasional good time here or there was fine, but no relationships. No commitments. No feelings.
But it was hard to deny I felt something for Millie beyond sexual attraction. I didn’t just want sex from her. I wanted to be with her. All the time.
Too fucking bad.
Scowling, I got up from the couch and stalked into the kitchen. You can’t be with her, so quit pining like a jackass teenager.
I yanked open the fridge and stared at the pathetic contents—some leftover takeout, ketchup and mustard, eggs I didn’t remember buying, and a few apples. After checking the sell by date on the egg carton (long past), I chucked them down the disposal and ran it, wishing I could toss in my feelings too.
What was I even doing with her? How long could I expect her to keep running around the country to meet me for a night or two, lying to her family about where or why, knowing that there was absolutely no future for us? She’d told me what she wanted—a husband. Children. A family. She wanted kids so badly she was considering donor sperm so she could have them on her own, sooner rather than later.
The thought of some guy’s stuff anywhere near her made me want to throw a kitchen chair through the window. I had to lean on the edge of the sink and take several deep breaths to calm down.
But it wasn’t fair, what I was asking of her. The lying and the secrecy. Spending time with me she should be dedicating to her business. Giving me her attention instead of looking for the one who could give her what she wanted. I knew in my bones how unfair this was.
And yet, I wasn’t ready to give her up.
In a cupboard I found a random can of chili that hadn’t expired, dumped it into a bowl, and stuck it in the microwave. One more weekend, I vowed as I waited for it to heat up. One more secret meet-up and then we would break it off.
She texted me as I was rinsing my dishes.
Are you home yet? Want to call me?
I hit her name in my recents.
“Hello?”
I smiled at the sound of her voice. “Hey, gorgeous. How was your day?”
“Good! My dad took the day off and we started painting.”
“Oh yeah?” I took my phone into the bedroom and sat on the mattress.
“Yes, and remember that woman I told you about? The seamstress with all the wedding dress experience and the amazing references? She accepted my offer!”
“That’s great.”
“I’m so relieved. I still have a few people to interview for the sales positions, but that’s the job I worried about the most.”
“So everything is coming together.”
She laughed. “It might be a little too soon to say that, but things are off to a good start.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Thanks. How was your trip home?”
“It was fine.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m just tired.”
“Same,” she said with a sigh. Then she added softly, “And I miss you.”
“I miss you too.”
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d said those words, or even experienced the feeling. I wasn’t in the habit of missing people—and that was on purpose. But later, after I’d showered and climbed into bed alone, her absence gnawed at me like a physical ache.
I scowled into the dark. This was not supposed to happen.
On Thanksgiving, I went to Jackson and Catherine’s house, even though I feared feeling like a fifth wheel at their dinner table. But their house was warm and welcoming, and it smelled delicious when I walked in. I handed Catherine a bottle of wine and kissed her cheek. “Thanks for having me.”
“Of course.” She smiled. “Go tell Jackson to make you a drink. I kicked him out of the kitchen because he kept getting in my way.”
“You don’t need any help with dinner?”
She shook her head. “I’ve got the girls. You men can be on dish duty after we’re done.”
“Sounds good.”
I found Jackson in the family room watching football. “Hey,” he said from his leather recliner. “How about a beer?”
“Sure.”
“They’re in the fridge over there.” He gestured to a wet bar along the wall. “Help yourself. I’d get up, but I don’t feel like it.”
I grinned and grabbed a bottle from the small beverage fridge beneath the counter. Popping off the cap, I sank onto one end of the couch.
“So what’s new?” he asked, lowering the volume on the flatscreen.
“Not much.”
“You’ve been quiet lately.”
“Have I?” I tipped up my beer.
“Yeah. Are you going to tell me what it is that has you so preoccupied or should I guess?”
I set my jaw and shrugged.
Jackson laughed. “Okay, we’ll play this game. I think it’s the girl back in Michigan. The one who sent you the care package. I think you’re still hung up on her.”
“I’m not hung up on her,” I said defensively, although that’s exactly what I was.
“But you’re still thinking about her.”
I took a long pull from the bottle and decided to be up front with Jackson. “If I was just thinking, there wouldn’t be a problem. Or at least, it wouldn’t be so big.”
“You mean you’ve seen her again?”
“Twice,” I confessed. “She met me in New York in October and in Vegas this month. We’re meeting up next weekend in Chicago.”
“Jesus, Zach.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Why are you doing this?”
“I don’t even know.” I shook my head. “It makes no sense. She’s too young for me. She’s my son’s ex. Every time we meet up, she has to lie to her family about what she’s doing. And when I go visit Mason and Lori at Christmas, we won’t even be able to see each other. If we do, we’ll have to pretend there’s nothing between us—and I’m not sure we’ll be convincing.”
“Barrett, this is fucked up.” Jackson pinned me with a stare.
“I know,” I said irritably. “That’s why we’re going to end it.”
“When?”
“In Chicago.”
He cocked his head. “So what is that, like your final hurrah?”
Another shrug.
“And she’s on board with that plan?”
“She will be when we discuss it,” I said carefully.
“And what happens if she isn’t?”
Unable to sit still anymore, I jumped up and started to pace. “She agrees this is wrong, Jackson. She hates the lying as much as I do.”
“So come clean about it.”
“We can’t. Not only will Mason despise us both for lying, but she really doesn’t want to be known in her small town as the woman dating her ex’s dad—who’s also about to be a grandpa. Fuck.” I stopped pacing and chugged some beer. “I thought this was just a temporary thing, you know? I thought maybe I was just panicking about getting old. About never feeling young again.”
“It does have a whiff of midlife crisis about it,” Jackson agreed.
I’d have laughed if I wasn’t so distraught. “She deserves better, Jackson.”
He studied me silently. “You really care about this girl.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I insisted. “If things were different, if I were ten years younger . . . who knows? But things are what they are, and I’m forty-fucking-seven and sterile.” I shuddered at the sound of the word.
“How old is she?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Oh. So she’s not that young.”
“No. She’s looking for a guy who wants to get married and have kids. That’s not me. I never wanted to get married in the first place, I was crap at it, and having kids is impossible anyway.”
Jackson nodded. “She knows that, right?”
“She knows about the vasectomy, yes. I’m not leading her on. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I believe you.”
I sank onto the couch again, defeated. “But I’m not an idiot. I know this can’t continue. I’m wasting her time. I’m being selfish.”
Jackson was quiet for a moment. “Even beyond that, I don’t think you should be lying to your son. If you’re truly going to build a relationship with him based on mutual trust and respect, this is not the way to start.”
“I know.” It was nothing I hadn’t said to myself a thousand times.
“You know secrets like that don’t stay secret, Zach. Not in a small town. If you continue to see her, Mason will find out. You’ll be the long-lost father who slept with his ex and then tried to cover it up. Not really going to win you many points in the dad department.”
“I never wanted to be a dad,” I said angrily, as if it mattered.
“And I never wanted to babysit a bunch of ex-Navy SEALs, but here we are. I’ve been where you are, man. I’ve kept things hidden because I thought it was the right choice. I thought I was protecting people I cared about, so I know better than anyone—it’s a road that leads to a very steep cliff. Either come clean, or break it off.”
I let his words sink in. “I’ll talk to her.”
