36. Nice, Missy, Real Classy
Nice, Missy, Real Classy
Missy
I couldn’t go back to work. I calmed myself down out on the street enough to apologize to the folks in the salon, then headed upstairs. I left Emma to cancel my last appointment of the day and asked Cara if she could pick up Jonah with Bowie.
Now I’m standing in my kitchen with a glass of water and a tension headache.
I want to call Bax’s mom and ask her what the fuck she was thinking, giving him my address. The address I only gave her so she could send Jonah his Christmas presents, but I know what she’d say, ‘Oh, Marissa, honey, he’s trying. He loves his boy, and he’s sorry, give him a chance.’
Every time, every bruise, every break, every tear I shed because of her golden boy, entitled asshole son was explained away as a mistake: he’s tired, he’s busy, he’s stressed. I adore my son and worship the ground he walks on, but if I ever found out he treated anybody how Bax treated me, you bet your ass I’d be kicking his.
A knock at the door startles me, and I notice the tremble in my hand as I put down my glass.
‘Miss, you there?’
The sweet Scottish voice of Cara floats through the wood, followed by Jonah’s, ‘Mama, open up.’
I take a steadying breath, then head over to open the door and immediately scoop up my boy.
My eyes meet Cara’s, and her gaze is questioning, but I shake my head. I’m not ready to tell her this story.
‘I missed you today, Jonah.’ I kiss his head and put him down.
‘Missed you too, Mama,’ he says sweetly before running to his bedroom.
‘You okay?’ Cara asks as we head inside, and I nod.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a headache.’
‘And the man everyone is talking about?’
I hang my head and blow out a breath — of course, they’re talking. This is Forest Falls — everybody knows everything about everybody.
‘Jonah’s dad,’ I whisper, and her eyes widen. ‘He wants to see him.’
Cara doesn’t know he was abusive — nobody does. She just knows he’s an absent deadbeat asshole, and that’s enough for the look in her eyes to turn thunderous.
‘You’re not going to let him?’ she asks, and I shrug.
‘I don’t know if I have a lot of choice.’
Jonah runs back in wearing his little scrubs, and my heart aches.
‘Can I go see Nick, Mama?’ He misses him so much it hurts.
‘He’s busy right now, honey. I’m sorry.’
I catch Cara’s attention as her lips purse, and I know she wants to say something, tell me to go to Nick and take Jonah, but she doesn’t.
‘I should be getting back. I left Bowie and Doug in the kitchen, so they’re probably both on a sugar high by now.’
I smile and stand to hug my friend, then thank her for picking Jonah up before saying goodbye and sending Jonah to queue up Encanto . Tonight calls for take-out and Disney.
As Mirabel sings her little heart out on screen, my attention is yanked to the sound of a knock at my door. His knock.
I heard him come home a little earlier, but Jonah and I were eating, and I didn’t know what I would say, so I tried to ignore it, but I’ve been unable to focus on anything but seeing him or talking to him since then.
I take a deep breath and sit forward. ‘I’ll be right back, baby.’ I kiss Jonah’s head and make my way to the door. ‘Nick.’ My voice comes out way more panicked and desperate than I intended.
‘What the fuck, Marissa?’ I inhale sharply. I hate him calling me that. I want him to call me Missy, Miss, honey — any one of the sweet and sexy names he’s called me, but not that. Not what Bax calls me. ‘You are a real piece of work. You know that?’
I swallow hard and step forward, pulling the door mostly closed behind me.
‘Nick, please.’
‘No.’ I notice that he lowered his voice, and that he thought of Jonah makes this all so much harder. ‘I’m not going to be a pawn in your little game.’
‘I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t fair…’
‘Wasn’t fair?’ He releases a laugh. ‘You used me.’
‘Nick, I’m sorry.’
‘I didn’t understand. I thought we were good together and now it all makes so much fuckin’ sense. You stay away from me, okay? We’re not friends.’
‘ Nick , I’m sorry. I just…’
‘All this time, you were telling me you didn’t want a relationship, but you just didn’t want one with me . You were just biding your time until he showed up, huh? Using me to make him jealous, calling me your fucking boyfriend, then inviting him to stay for the weekend. Nice, Missy, real classy.’
‘ What? ’ He’s got it so wrong. ‘No, Nick, that’s not it.’
‘Save it, we’re done.’
‘Please let me explain.’
‘I don’t want to hear it, Missy. You aren’t who I thought you were. I just hope you’re happy now you’ve got what you want.’
‘Nick, listen, please .’ I reach for his arm, and he yanks it away as the door opens behind me.
‘ Nick .’ Jonah runs out, still in his scrubs, and wraps his arms around Nick’s legs. Emotion closes my throat as my friendly neighborhood vet lowers to a crouch.
‘Hey, bud.’ He takes in my son’s attire with a soft smile. ‘Look at you.’
‘I missed you.’
I see the emotion and the affection in Nick’s eyes.
‘I missed you too, bud. I’ve just been so busy lately.’
‘Can I come to work with you?’
Nick releases a breath and shakes his head. ‘Not right now, little man. Maybe soon.’ Jonah nods, and Nick stands, ruffling my boy’s hair the way he always does. ‘ I have to go, kiddo. I have some errands to run, okay?’
‘Okay.’
‘Nick,’ his name is a whisper on my lips, but he shakes his head.
‘See you later, little bud.’
And then he’s gone, disappearing down the stairs and out of sight and, by the venom in his words, out of my life.
Putting Jonah to bed was hell. Not for any reason that was his fault, but because I was battling against crying and throwing up the entire time, and he seemed to take forever to go.
Laying in his little bed while he sang himself drowsy lullabies, I admitted to myself that my heart was broken. I should have said yes. If I’d just said yes, Nick, I want to do this with you , he’d be here holding me right now. Yeah, I’d have to tell him everything about Bax, and that would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but he would have me. And I would have him. God, I wish I’d said yes.
As I sit on my sofa in the dim light and quiet of the evening, my mind races. If Bax comes back, I won’t have Nick. Do I call Doug? Bree? I should call Bree. I should have reported him years ago for his abuse, but he convinced me he would get away with it and things would be worse for me then.
I think about Nick and the look in his eyes earlier tonight. He looked so hurt, so angry. He thinks I betrayed him in an awful way. I need him to know the truth, even if it means spilling my guts about it all. I can’t let him think I would do that to him.
I know he’s home. I can hear Incubus playing just loud enough to make it through the walls to my silent apartment.
Raising my water glass to my lips once more, I take a swig and stand, preparing to do something I have never done and feeling like I might pass out.
After knocking on his door, I wait barefoot in the hallway, in the shorts and oversized shirt I put on after my shower. I feel tiny, weak, terrified he’ll hear everything and reject me anyway — terrified he won’t even let me explain.
He opens the door and turns his attention to the ceiling, frustrated, pissed — all of the above, and I take a breath. I don’t know how to do this, but I have to try.