16. Marcus
Marcus
I n the blink of an eye, what was meant to be the perfect Christmas has unraveled into an utter catastrophe, almost as if the universe has decided to mock me. It’s like I’ve been set up for the cruelest of jokes, lifted to dizzying heights, only to be hurled back down with violent indifference. The absurdity of it all, the sheer unfairness, leaves a sour taste in my mouth.
I had thought this would be a regular, peaceful Christmas, filled with the warmth and familiarity of family. It was meant to be simple, just me and my daughter wrapped in the comfort of another holiday together. But that simplicity has been ripped apart, shredded bit by bit, leaving nothing but a festering anger inside me, burning hotter with every minute.
Coco’s decision to bring Ethan here was the spark that set it all off. The fact that she’s with him despite everything that’s passed between us was bad enough. But now, to learn she’s pregnant with his child? It feels like my very soul has been wrenched from me. Fear gnaws at me, an overwhelming terror for her well being that I can’t shake. I can’t stop questioning his motives, every word and gesture from him rings alarm bells in my head. What if he’s using her, manipulating her, just like he’s done in multiple business situations? What if this is just another one of his schemes, designed to blindside me, to keep my eyes off the ball?
And then there’s Nyree. The mere thought of her sends waves of conflicting emotions through me. I feel drawn to her in a way I can’t control, no matter how much I wish I could. It’s maddening. She has a power over me that I can’t understand, a pull that strips me of my defenses. I trusted her, too much, too easily. I let myself believe she was different, that I could be vulnerable with her, and yet, she hid this from me. She knew Coco was pregnant, knew what it would mean for me, and she said nothing. The knowledge crushes me, not just because of the secret, but because I thought we were closer than that. I had let her in, let her see more of me than I show anyone else, and she kept me in the dark.
But perhaps I’m angrier at myself than I am at her. I should have known better. I should have been more guarded, more cautious. I always am. I don’t let people get too close, and now, when I finally do, it backfires in the worst way.
My thoughts churn in an endless loop as I lift the axe and bring it down again and again on the logs before me. Each swing is an outlet for the rage and frustration surging through me. I can hear the sharp crack of the wood splitting, a brutal echo of the chaos inside my mind. This holiday, which could have been so full of peace and joy, is now poisoned. I stand here, unsure of how to piece it all back together.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glint of movement. My attention turns to it, and there he is, Ethan. Just the sight of him stokes the fire burning inside me. My grip tightens on the axe as a fresh wave of frustration surges through me. I bring it down with brutal force, the blade biting deep into the wood. The crack of the split echoes through the cold air, but it isn’t enough to silence the roar of anger inside me.
He’s coming closer. Slow, measured steps crunching through the thick snow. The nearer he gets, the harder I swing, splintering the logs with every strike. His boots grind against the frost, louder with each step, until he’s standing just meters away.
I refuse to acknowledge him. A part of me doesn’t want to. I’m afraid of what I might do if I give him even a sliver of attention. So, I keep my focus on the task in front of me, letting the axe do the talking. For what feels like an eternity, he just stands there, watching me. I half expect some cutting remark, some smug comment designed to get under my skin, but nothing comes. Maybe even Ethan knows that this isn’t the time for his usual antics.
At last, he speaks. “Hey… can we talk?”
The words make me freeze mid swing. My eyes snap up to meet his, and I know he sees the anger in them. It’s reflected back at me in the look of hesitation in his gaze. His voice sounds different this time. Not the confident tone I’ve grown accustomed to, but something quieter. More subdued. “I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I already have. I just want to talk.”
His words linger in the air, and I study him, scanning his face for any sign of deceit. There’s a look I’ve never seen on him before, something closer to sincerity, as if, for once, he’s speaking from a place that isn’t wrapped in manipulation. And then there’s the cold, hard truth that hits me again: this man is going to be the father of my grandchild. A momentary change happens inside me. Not a complete one, but enough to make me pause, enough to make me listen.
I swing the axe one last time, a hard, final blow, and let it stick into the block of wood before me. Ethan flinches slightly at the sound, and I can’t help but feel a satisfaction in his unease. I wipe the back of my hand across my brow and turn, walking over to a small log behind me. I sit down slowly, feeling the weight of the moment settle around us like the thick snow beneath our feet.
I fix my eyes on him, steady and unflinching, and nod once. “Alright then… talk.”
He pauses for a moment, like he's weighing every word before it leaves his mouth. Then, in a breath so heavy it almost doesn’t seem like it came from him, Ethan lets out a long, deep sigh. I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at the sight of it. This is not the Ethan I know. But before I can fully process my surprise, he begins speaking.
"Marcus..." he starts, and there's something unguarded in his tone. "You and I... we’ve never exactly seen eye to eye. And honestly, you have every right to question me. I deserve that. I've earned it."
I say nothing, just watch him.
“I know some of the things I’ve done… during this whole business rivalry, this mess we’ve gotten tangled up in… I understand why you hate me.”
I give a slow nod. This is a different Ethan standing before me, but I’m not stupid. I’ve seen him play games before, twist words like a knife in the back. My guard stays firmly in place..
“I’ve been an asshole to you,” he continues, and the bluntness catches me off guard. “I know that. There’s a lot I have to apologize for. A lot of things I’ve done just to get ahead. I’ve played dirty. I’ve played games.”
He pauses, and I can see him struggling with something, the words lodged in his throat. His eyes, which had been drifting somewhere distant, finally lock onto mine with an intensity I wasn’t expecting.
“But Coco…” His voice falters for a split second, and he swallows hard. “Coco is not a game to me.”
My eyes narrow.
“I’m in love with your daughter,” he says, and this time there’s no hesitation, no crack in his voice. Just raw, naked truth.
His breath fogs in the cold air, his eyes not straying from mine now, locked in the gravity of the moment.
“I know what you think of me,” he continues, his voice quieter but no less intense. “I know you think I’m some manipulative bastard, and you’re right. I’ve been ruthless…hell, I’ve wanted to be. It’s how I’ve always operated. I wanted to win, to beat you, no matter what it took. I’ve lied, I’ve cheated, I’ve undercut deals just to throw you off balance. I know that.”
He takes a step forward, cautiously, as though testing the limits of how close he can come without me reacting. I stay seated, watching and listening, the tight grip of mistrust not loosening in the slightest. But there’s something in his voice now, a chink in the polished demeanor I’m used to seeing.
“But Coco…” he says her name again, softer this time. “She’s changed everything for me, Marcus. I’m not the same person when I’m with her. I don’t want to be that guy anymore…the one who’s always scheming, always looking for an angle. I love her. Truly. And I know, coming from me, that probably sounds impossible, but I swear to you, it’s real.”
He stops, waiting for my reaction, but I give him nothing. My face is a stone wall. I want to hear it all, every single word he has to say. Let him lay it out for me. If there’s any truth in him, I’ll find it.
He glances down at the snow, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of his confession. “I don’t expect you to believe me. I wouldn’t, if I were you. But she’s pregnant, Marcus. She’s carrying our child. And I’m going to be there for her. I’m going to be there for both of them, no matter what it takes.”
The words hang between us, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint crunch of snow under his shifting boots. I feel something tighten in my chest, a blend of anger and protectiveness.
“You’re right,” I say, my voice low and deliberate. “I don’t believe you. Not yet.”
He blinks, but I can tell he expected this.
“You’ve spent so long proving you can’t be trusted, Ethan. Every move, every choice…always about you, about getting what you want. And now, you expect me to believe you’re a changed man? After everything you’ve cost me? Things you had no reason to take away?”
“I had my reasons,” he mutters. Quiet and barely audible, but I catch it. My anger stirs, but it doesn’t erupt. It simmers. Curious. He sees the shift in my gaze and continues.
“You don’t remember, do you?”
“What don’t I remember?” I demand, impatience slipping into my voice.
He glances up, as if drawing something long buried from the past. Then, with a sigh, he begins.
“I was a young upstart… new, fresh and eager. A friend pulled some strings, got me into this industry event with all the insiders. All the greats. Including one I’d admired for years. The one I was dying to meet… Marcus Davenport.”
The wheels in my mind spin, piecing together hazy memories, trying to trace back to that day. But I say nothing. I let him continue.
“They say never meet your heroes, and maybe that’s true. Because I met you that day, Marcus. It took all the courage I had to come up to you as you separated from your group to go grab yourself something from the buffet. God, I was excited. I was full of questions, ideas, just… passion. And you…” He laughs, but it’s hollow and bitter. “You couldn’t have cared less. You waved me off like I was an annoying fly. The only thing you said to me was, ‘Play your cards right, kid, and you’ll be fine.’”
My eyes widen slightly. The words… They stir something. I remember.
“And then,” he presses on, his voice taking on a sharper edge, “as I stood there looking at your retreating figure like a lost puppy, you rejoined your group and one of the men at your table asked who I was. Do you remember what you said?”
I do. But I stay silent, the shame coiling around my throat, choking off my words. Ethan waits, watching me closely, and when I don’t answer, he fills the silence himself.
“You said, ‘Nobody important, just some fan. You know how these young upstarts get, all starry-eyed and looking for handouts. Figure it out on your own kid, amaright?’ And then the whole table burst into laughter at my expense.”
I can’t say a word. He’s right… I was drinking that day andwas pretty jaded with life. I just hadn’t been in the mood to care about anyone else. But I guess that’s no excuse.
“That moment shaped everything. From then on, I became ruthless. I told myself I’d never let anyone treat me like that again. And it worked. I shot straight to the top. And boy! Was I always gunning for you. Always waiting for any chance to get one over on you.”
He pauses, his voice softening as he adds, “But like I said, I don’t want to be that person anymore. I love your daughter, Marcus. I want to be better… for her.”
His words hit me like a blow to the chest. All this time, all these years, and I was the one who scarred him first. A heavy silence hangs between us as regret surges in me. But my protectiveness for Coco holds firm. Can I trust what he says?
“I’m sorry.” The words come out quietly, but they’re genuine. “I’m sorry for what I said. For how I treated you. I truly am, Ethan.” I let the apology settle, watching as his expression softens, even if only slightly. Then I continue, voice low and steady. “And maybe I deserve every deal I’ve lost to you over the years. But in your quest to get even… leave Coco out of it.”
My voice cracks slightly, the words almost a plea. But Ethan’s eyes remain steady, his resolve unshaken.
“I’ll be honest with you, Marcus,” he says, his voice taking on a weight that’s different from before, heavier, more raw. “I’ll put everything out there. You asked if I’m using Coco to get to you. And I’m telling you now, no. That’s not what this is.”
He pauses, taking a deep breath, his eyes lifting as though he's recalling the path that led us here. “When we first started, I had no idea she was your daughter. And we didn’t even plan for it to get this far. Hell, when I found out she was your daughter, I thought it was going to be… amusing. A chance to mess with you, to play into the rivalry we’ve had going for so long.”
I stiffen, the familiar tension rising in me, but before I can interrupt, he keeps going, his voice growing more intense, more real. “But the more time I spent with her, the more I realized this wasn’t a game. Every second I’ve been with Coco, I’ve fallen for her, deeper than I thought possible. I’ve loved her more than I ever imagined I could love anyone.”
He stops and looks me dead in the eye, unflinching. “I want to be there for her. And for our child. You can look at me and know that I mean every word of this.”
And he’s right. As I stand there, watching him, I see it. The look in his face, the raw, unguarded truth, is impossible to miss. He means it. Every. Single. Word.
I’m caught off guard. The shock of looking at the young man I had scorned years ago still heavy in my chest, but the way he speaks about my daughter is something different, something I didn’t see coming. But as much as I hate to admit it, I believe him. And that scares me more than I’m willing to show.
I step closer, closing the gap between us until we’re nearly face to face, our noses almost touching. My breath mingles with his in the cold air, and I make sure he feels the enormity of every word that’s about to leave my mouth. I need him to understand that this isn’t a threat, it’s a promise.
“Coco… is the most precious thing in my life,” I say, my voice low and controlled, every syllable laced with a fierce protectiveness. “If she loves you, and you love her like you say you do, then I won’t stand in your way. I won’t stop you two from being happy. But understand this… this isn’t a business deal. This isn’t some contract you can negotiate your way out of. This is Coco. My daughter. And if you fuck this up… if you hurt her in any way, I swear to God, I will make you regret it.”
I watch his face, waiting for the gravity of my warning to settle in. For a few seconds, the silence stretches, and I let it. I want my words to burn into him.
Ethan nods, his expression unwavering, the look in his features meeting mine without flinching. “You have my word. I will never do anything to hurt her,” he replies, his voice steady, as if he’s already made peace with the weight of that promise.
I take a step back, easing the tension between us just enough to let the air flow again, the space between us becoming more bearable. There’s a shift now, subtle but undeniable, as if something between us has been settled.
I nod and then extend my hand. The gesture feels almost ceremonial, more than just a handshake. He takes my hand, gripping it firmly, and we shake. The pressure between our hands isn’t just about the grip; it’s about understanding, about respect. An unspoken agreement forged in the cold and silence.
And in that handshake, I feel something different about him. It’s not trust, not yet. But it’s a beginning.
He starts to walk back toward the house, his boots crunching softly in the snow. But then, as if some thought pulls him back, he stops. He turns to face me, and the slight arch of my eyebrow betrays my curiosity before I can hide it.
“So… you and Nyree…”
His words hit me like a gust of cold wind, unexpected and disarming. Surprise surges through me, mingled with a bit of embarrassment. My reaction is almost instinctive. I turn away, trying to shut the conversation down before it even begins. The last thing I want is to have this discussion with Ethan, of all people.
But he doesn't let it drop. “Don’t be too hard on her,” he says, his tone unusually gentle, almost coaxing. “At the end of the day, she was helping her friend. Coco didn’t want you to know yet.”
“She should have told me!” The words leap out of my mouth before I can rein them in, sharp and unguarded. My control snaps, something about Nyree always makes me raw, vulnerable in a way I can’t seem to manage. I hate it, the way she gets to me, how even thinking about her frays the edges of my composure.
But Ethan keeps going, his calm voice a stark contrast to my frustration. “Don’t you think it’s at least commendable that she’s loyal to a friend she’s known for years? That she didn’t betray Coco’s trust, even for you? Even for a man she has feelings for?”
The last part of his sentence hits me harder than I expect. I turn to face him fully now, my focus sharp on his face. He must see the change in my expression because he doesn't hesitate.
“I’ve seen the way she looks at you,” he says, his voice steady, almost matter-of-fact. “The way her face lights up when your name comes up. It’s not that hard to tell.”
The words swirl in my mind, an take root. Hearing it out loud, even from someone like Ethan, warms me in a way I’m not prepared for.
“And it’s not hard to tell how you feel about her, either,” Ethan continues, his voice quieter now, but no less piercing. There’s no judgment in his tone, just simple observation, as if he’s stating a fact we both know but haven’t said aloud.
I don’t respond. I can’t. His words hang in the cold air between us, and I know they’re true. Every one of them. It’s unfiltered, and in this moment, I know it’s what I needed to hear, even if I won’t admit it.
“I get it, man,” Ethan says, stepping closer. “You think it’s complicated. You’ve been on edge, and yeah, I’ve gotta take some of the blame for that. But you’ve spent so long being protective, you’ve let it turn into distrust. Sometimes, you don’t know how to let your guard down. I’ve spent enough time messing with you to figure that much out.”
There’s a pause, his words sinking deeper than I want them to. He looks me dead in the eye, his voice dropping even lower. “But Nyree’s a good woman. Don’t hold it against her for keeping Coco’s secret. She didn’t betray you, she was protecting her friend. You can’t fault her for that.”
His words swirl in my head, heavy with meaning, laden with truths I’ve avoided confronting. I hate to admit it, but he’s right.
Ethan steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. The gesture is unexpected, and yet, it feels genuine. The look in his eyes is softer now, and I see no trace of the smugness I’ve come to associate with him.
“And Coco…” he says, his voice almost warm, “she’ll come around. She’s stubborn, sure, but if you and Nyree are happy together, she’ll understand. Even if she’s upset that you didn’t tell her right away, she’ll get it.”
For a fleeting second, I feel the corners of my own lips tugging upwards.
He turns once again and heads back toward the house, his footsteps fading into the snow. I stand there, the cold air biting at my skin, my mind full of thoughts I didn’t expect to be wrestling with.
***