Chapter 20
AURORA
Monty had me fucked up.
Even days after yet another incident involving my love life, resulting in my name being dragged through the media for days, I was still seething.
It was probably a terrible idea to attempt a conversation—let alone a confrontation—in that mental state, but I was beyond the point of caring about that.
It was time to put an end to the bullshit, once and for all.
I’d mostly played it cool for Tatum because I didn't want him upset that I was upset, but in actuality, I was steaming mad about Monty still having the audacity to call himself challenging anybody about me.
Or even worse, thinking he was gonna win me back.
It was insulting, honestly.
When I left BabyBee for the evening, I didn't even bother heading home since I was already in the city. I headed straight for Monty's building, the luxury apartment downtown that I had no interest in living in.
Monty had insisted, though.
To him, it came with the lifestyle, along with the house in Blackwood Hills.
I didn't like that one either, but it was still preferable over the cold, ultramodern space he always retreated to when his ego was bruised. The house in the hills was too far removed from the conveniences of being downtown, and if I knew Yams like I thought I did, she probably preferred it too.
This house looked more aesthetic on social media.
When I pulled up I was met with the realization that I had not fully thought this through.
The security gate.
I took a chance on punching the last numbers I remembered having into the keypad, and to my surprise… it actually worked.
I guess he hadn't changed it.
The same thing ended up being true for all the other checkpoints—the door to get into the building, the elevator access and then, finally, the actual door to the condo.
Should I have simply knocked?
Probably.
But since there was clearly a need to bring a certain energy, I was here to make a disrespectful ass point, hoping maybe that would get him to leave me alone.
I found Monty in his theater room, beer in hand, game film on the huge projector screen. I was still standing at the door, hadn't even said anything yet when he spoke up.
"You don't look like you're here to say you want to get back together," he said, without turning around. “Saw you on the security camera.”
Of course.
I frowned. "I'm not here for that. I'm here to ask you to leave me the fuck alone. To demand it, actually."
Monty scoffed, then turned to look at me with glossy, red-rimmed eyes. "A phone call would have done the trick, don't you think?"
"It hasn't so far." I shrugged, stepping into the room. "I've said over and over that I was done. And yet, you keep throwing little jabs, making your little comments, and now calling yourself confronting Tatum. What the fuck is that about?"
"It's about me trying to bring some sense into my life. Some sort of… hope."
Realizing his energy was off, my eyes narrowed. "Hope? Monty, what are you talking about?"
He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. "I'm sick, Rori," he said, standing up. "Up here." He pointed to his temple. "Nobody can see it, or if they can, they won't tell me. But... I know. And it's been like that for a while. I don't know when it's gonna be my time, but I know it's coming. And there are things that I cannot leave without doing.”
“Like... having a child?” I guessed, as my brain churned through the implications of what he was telling me.
"Yeah." He nodded. "Like that."
"So, what?" I asked. "Is this about to be you explaining why it's my fault you cheated on me?”
“Why it's your fault? No. But why I did?" He shrugged. "Yeah. I wanted it to be you, but... since it wasn't, it had to be someone."
I blinked. Nodded. "Yeah. I get that. I just wish you'd had the balls to simply break up with me first."
"I didn't want to break up with you, Rori,” he said, moving around the couch. “I wanted to be with you forever. I wanted to have the family that we always talked about having!”
“I wanted that too! And then my sister died, of something that...you can't predict. You won't know what's happening until it's happening, and there's not much you can do to stop it."
"You think I don't know that?" he shot back, pointing at his head again. “Like I don’t fucking get it? And besides that…she was my sister, too," he reminded me. "We've been together forever, Rori. Nova was family. I felt that loss, too, and I understood why you were scared to have a baby. I never stopped wanting that, though.”
“And that's something you were perfectly within your rights to be mad at me about. Maybe even kind of hate me for it, for backing out of what we said we were going to do. For being too scared to just outright say, I'm not having any babies. Being pissed about it, sure. But none of that gives you the right to betray, and embarrass, and hurt me. Especially when you didn't even give me the respect of telling me why,” I said, swallowing a sudden flood of emotion. “We could have talked about it, we could have gone to therapy, we could have figured it out. Surrogacy, adoption, hell, maybe I could have come around to it. But no, you ripped that chance away from us by deciding you'd rather just stick your dick in someone else.”
"You're right," he admitted, putting his bottle down. "I should have done those things, but I didn’t know how. And it was easier to simply seek comfort somewhere else. I can admit that. There's wrong on both sides, but you're right, there's more wrong on mine. And I own that. So where do we go from here?"
"We don't go anywhere from here," I told him. "We are done. We have to accept that and move forward. Move on with our lives. We don't have to be bitter or angry. We can look at it as a season that has passed and take whatever lessons we need from it."
He bit his lip, staring at me for a long moment. "You're really done?"
“Yes, Monty. Too much has happened and I... I..." I sighed.
"You're what, Rori?"
I shook my head. "It doesn't matter."
"It does though. Just say it," he insisted.
"Just say what?”
“That we're done because you're in love with Tatum Wilder."
My eyebrows immediately wrinkled into a scowl. "What? We're done because you and your side bitch have delighted in humiliating me. We're done because you're having a child with someone else. We're done because I deserve someone who gets me, who makes me feel seen and happy. You don't get to blame Tatum for how this between us has gone down."
"Tatum has done petty shit too. The singing on the livestream, remember? And look at my fucking jaw." He turned his head, pointing to where the shadow of a bruise was still there from where Tatum had tagged him a couple of days ago.
I shrugged. "Yes, that happened. And what about your sidepiece livestreaming me finding out that you were with her on my fucking birthday, Monty? I don't think you want to pull out a list of tit for tat with me."
He threw his hands up. "You're right. It doesn't matter anyway. I'm tired and I've got to figure out where I'm headed from here."
"What does that mean?"
He shrugged. "It means I probably only have another year or two of football in me, and then I've got to figure my shit out. Before whatever is happening in my head takes my ability to do so. I want to have time with my son."
I nodded. “That makes sense. I want that for you too. So can that be it for the confrontations, the petty comments, all of that? We can just respectfully move on."
He gave me this wistful look and then nodded. "Yeah. Okay."
"Good. In that case, I wish you the best."
"You too."
I turned to walk away, but then stopped. When I turned back around, Monty was still wearing that same wistful, regret-filled expression.
"Where is she?" I asked.
"Melissa?"
"Yeah." I nodded.
"Last-minute nursery prep stuff with a friend. Why?"
I let out a deep sigh, still wondering if I should even say anything. "You should get a paternity test," I said. "I'm not trying to be ugly, but I know how important a child is to you. And… you should just get a paternity test."
He didn't look at all surprised by this statement. In fact, he shrugged. "As long as I can raise him, it doesn't actually matter."
"Of course, we'd love to build this for you," I answered Tatum's mom, hoping that the utter giddiness I was feeling didn’t come through in my voice.
I didn’t want to sound too eager.
Not because I didn't want her to think I was excited about the prospect of building out a parent app for her Wildflowers program, but because I didn't want her to think I was too excited about it.
Like, weirdly excited about it.
Even though, actually… maybe I kinda was.
"That’s wonderful! What all do you think we could include?" she asked as I jotted down notes from our phone call.
A hairdresser fussed over my curls behind me, and in front of me, a makeup artist put finishing touches on my eyebrows.
"We could do... a progress feature that is tied to expectations for that particular child. Not necessarily like these nebulous milestones that might make the parent feel unnecessary pressure. Everything fully customized and personalized. We could put in lesson plans, things they could do at home with their parents, articles and resources. Honestly, all kinds of things. You make a list of your dream things that you would want included in this app, and I'll talk to some of my consultants about what might be recommended, or possible. And I'll talk to Shannon and Hollis about timelines, user interface, all of that. We can put together a whole pitch package for you."
"Oh, that would be great," Mrs. Wilder gushed. "You are such a doll, you know that?"
"Well, thank you," I replied, giddy over that compliment.
Not only did she think I was a capable business owner and developer, she also liked me for her son.
Like, really liked me.
Not that Monty's mother hadn't, but she had definitely never been this warm about it.
And Tatum’s mom got along extremely well with mine, to the point that they had a regular lunch date.
It was one of those things that almost felt too good to be true.
Except it didn't.
It felt… perfect.
"Rori, we're ready. Haley and Rashad are here," Shannon said, walking up with the photographer and interviewer from Sugar and Spice.
Quickly, I wrapped up my conversation with Tatum's mother so I could properly introduce myself to the pair—well, to Haley, as I'd already met Rashad from a Sugar and Spice feature a few years ago.
This time, I was going to be on the cover.
The next few hours passed in a blur of questions and photographs, and by the end of it, I was wiped out.
Haley wasn't a typical interviewer; she actually asked in-depth questions about BabyBee, about my history, and about my future.
Notably, she did not ask me about my love life, a small little tidbit that I was super grateful for.
When we wrapped up, I was exhausted and hungry, and all I wanted to do was get home. But I just wanted to check on work one last time before I headed that way.
I didn't know there was a surprise waiting for me in my office.
As soon as I opened the door, I was greeted with soft snores that made my nose wrinkle in confusion.
A quick glance found Tatum knocked out asleep on my little couch.
I knew he wanted to be here for the interview, but he was also hella busy with training camp officially starting in just a few weeks. He'd been working hard on strengthening and conditioning for that, so we'd been having missed connections more often than not.
Having him here meant more than he knew.
I let him sleep, though.
And while he was snoozing away, catching up on rest, I took a seat at my computer to check the status of a process I’d started running that morning. I frowned when I realized an error had been flagged.
I considered my options for a moment and then decided to take just a quick little peek at my code.
Just a tiny one.
Just for a second-
"Rori."
I looked up from the computer to find a groggy Tatum still sprawled on my couch, peering at me through half-awake eyes.
"Hey," I said. "I'm sorry, did my click-clacking on the keyboard wake you?"
"I have no idea. I came in here since you were in full cover girl mode when I got here. I didn’t want to distract you from your moment,” he said, glancing at his watch. "Shit, do you see what time it is?" he asked.
"Not too late," I said, pulling it up for myself. "I've only been here a mo—shit.”
I had not been there a moment; I had been there for hours.
I looked up from the time with a smile and shrugged. "Guess I was just in my happy place."
“So I’m part of your happy place now?” Tatum asked, still half-asleep, but pulling up into a seated position to hit me with a smirk that made me laugh.
“Don’t let it go to your head.”
“Too late,” he countered, flexing a thick bicep. “Can’t tell me shit now.”
I scoffed. “Now? You’ve been cocky since we met, Mr. Country Boy Tate for the fans.”
“Who said that?!”
“You said that, oh my God!” I laughed. “You really don’t remember that?”
“Nah, I remember you putting that nigga’s ring in my hand like it meant something though.”
My mouth dropped in a fake gasp. “It did mean something!”
“Yeah, some bullshit,” he countered, standing up as I laughed.
Which was… wild.
Being able to laugh about it - laugh at myself about it… was different.
I was different.
Lighter.
And… yeah.
Happier.
“You and Sierra are gonna stop being mean to me about that,” I said, sitting back in my chair with crossed arms. “I can’t help being a lover girl.”
“You right baby,” Tatum chuckled, ambling across the room to my desk after he’d finished his stretch. He leaned across, planting a kiss on my waiting mouth. “But it’s okay - you’re on a winning team now.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”
“Oh fa sho,” he nodded, straightening his stance. He stood there, with some undeclared sentiment in his eyes that made me feel warm in the chest.
And between the legs.
“What?” I asked, squirming a bit under his scrutiny.
He smiled, then shot me a wink as he turned in the direction of the bathroom. “Nothing,” he called over his shoulder. “Just thinking about the ring we’re gonna win this season.”
Awww, I thought, my mind going first to football.
But… he’d just made the comment about the… hold on… was he…
“Tatum!”