6. Rae
6
RAE
Now
“ M ommy, you forgot to turn your windshield wipers on,” Riley reminds me from the backseat, her voice calm even though I’m going sixty in a thirty-five to put some distance between us and the cemetery.
I push the lever down to activate the wipers and press the brake to force myself to slow down some because Hunter isn’t after me. He didn’t move an inch when I scurried around the car and into the driver’s seat, nearly running him over as I pulled out of the parking spot. He just stood there, looking as stunned as I felt, as stunned as I still feel.
When I woke up this morning, I already knew it was going to be a hard day. We’ve been in New Haven for a week now, and it was on my heart to take Riley to the cemetery to meet her Nana and Uncle Will. Since she was a baby, I’ve shown her pictures and told her stories about them, letting her know how much they would have loved her. With Aaron starting his first day of work and Marcy distracting herself with cooking an extremely involved dinner to celebrate it, I thought today would be the perfect day to show Riley all of my New Haven, which included the final resting place of my mother and brother.
Despite all the planning and thought put into the day, I wasn’t expecting to run into the one person I’ve spent every day since my return to New Haven looking over my shoulder for. I thought I knew what the moment would look like, what it would feel like to have his eyes on me again, to breathe air infected with his scent and intensity for the first time in ten years, but God, it was nothing like I thought it would be. And to have Riley there to witness it? Well, that just made everything a million times worse.
She spotted him before I did, which has my mind all fucked up, making me think all kinds of crazy thoughts about biological bonds that are activated by proximity. I shake my head, trying to set the ridiculous thought free. That’s not a thing. Men don’t just look at a random child and know that they’re theirs, even if that child is calling their ex-girlfriend Mommy and staring them down with eyes that are the same shade of brown as theirs.
Right?
God, I hope not.
“Who was that man?” Riley asks as I slow to a stop at a light around the corner from the house. She’s been entranced by the rain for the duration of the ride, tracing the path of falling drops on the outside of the window with her finger. Normally, I’d warn her against leaving her little fingerprints on the inside of the window, but today I don’t care.
I throw on my blinker and roll past the white line, looking both ways before turning right on red. The extra precaution is completely unnecessary because the intersection is empty, but it gives me more time to think, more time to come up with a lie I’ll feel comfortable telling my daughter about the father she’ll never know.
“What man, sweetie?”
The question pops out on its own, and I groan internally because Riley is a lot of things—smart, beautiful, headstrong, hard-headed as hell—but she’s not stupid. She shoots me a quizzical look through the rearview mirror, and I hate that I can’t unsee how much she looks like Hunter. The same eyes. The same thick, dark brows that dip inward when she’s confused and go even lower when she’s annoyed.
They’re really low now.
“The man at the cemetery. Who was he?”
“Oh.” I bite my lip as I pull into the driveway and put the car in park. “I’m not sure, sweetie.”
I don’t give her time to call me out on my lie, choosing instead to hop out of the car and rush to her side and open her door. She hops out, and I cringe when I hear the squish of her wet socks inside the sneakers I bought her for her first day at her new school. I’ll have to wash and dry them tonight if they’ve got any chance of making it out the door tomorrow morning.
“Let’s go, Nugget, we don’t want to get rained on again.”
Taking her hand, I rush us inside, and we make it in just as another shower begins. I busy myself with locking the door and shedding my wet jacket and shoes. Beside me, Riley is humming the theme song to Rugrats while she mirrors my movements. Recently, she’s been into what she calls ‘retro cartoons,’ which is just her way of saying she’s into the shows from when I was a kid and calling me old at the same time. Right now, she could call me an old hag, and I wouldn’t care because I want her brilliant mind focused on something besides me dancing around her questions.
I glance at my watch and then at her, raising a conspiratorial brow. “If you hurry, you’ll have time to watch an episode before dinner.”
My offer has her moving twice as fast, and I laugh as she starts to race up the stairs, all thoughts of our previous conversation washed away by the promise of some screen time. Once she’s gone, I make my way into the kitchen to find Marcy tending to multiple pots on the stove and Aaron sitting opposite her at the island with his laptop in front of him. He looks up as soon as I cross the threshold into the kitchen and treats me to a wide grin.
“Hey, babe. Did you get caught in the rain?”
“Yeah, it started to pour as we were leaving the cemetery, and of course, Riley wanted to splash in the puddles.”
“Of course,” he says, smiling indulgently as he opens his arms wide for me. I walk into his embrace, hoping the physical contact will help ground me. Aaron squeezes me tight and places a kiss on my cheek. It’s soft and chaste. Decent. The kind of kiss that makes it impossible for me to forget that his mother is standing a few feet away, watching us.
“I hope you two didn’t track in any mud because I spent the whole morning mopping the floors.” Marcy’s voice is soft with a perfect Southern lilt to it that makes it hard for you to suss out the bitchiness that’s present in almost everything she says.
Pulling back from Aaron, I turn my attention to her, forcing a smile even though I want to tell her that I can cover the entire house in mud if I want because it’s my damn house.
“Did you? I hope that wasn’t too hard on your hip.”
Marcy’s eyes fly to mine, and I have to hold in the laugh her expression has building in my chest. She hates when I bring up her hip, but I’m going to continue to do so until Aaron realizes that her whole reason for having to move in with us was bullshit. A week after he got his promotion and told her we were moving to New Haven, she started complaining about hip pain and talking about how she might need to have a replacement soon because she could barely get up and down the stairs in her house some days. Aaron, being the loving and dedicated son that he is, immediately offered to help her find a place without stairs, but she made excuse after excuse about why that wouldn’t work until, finally, he asked her to move in with us.
I could see the game she was running from a mile away, but I couldn’t convince Aaron that he was being played by his own mom, so here we are, all living under one roof like she wanted. The only problem is I won’t let her or Aaron forget why we’re in this little arrangement from hell in the first place.
“No, my hip is just fine, Rae,” she says, stirring a pot of greens while holding my gaze. “Thank you for asking.”
“Of course, I’m glad to hear you’re doing better. Maybe you won’t need the hip replacement after all?” I cock my head to the side and lift a brow, which makes her serene expression falter. She doesn’t like when I bring up the surgery I’m a hundred percent certain she was never told she needed.
Instead of answering, she places the top on the pot of greens and turns to the sink to wash her hands. “You should go freshen up, Rae, dinner will be ready soon.”
As if anticipating me following his mother’s order, Aaron releases his hold on my waist and turns back to his computer. I stand next to him, momentarily stunned by the dual dismissal, and then place my hand over his to still his fingers. He looks up at me with knit brows.
“You need to freshen up, too,” I say, dropping my voice low as I bat my lashes at him.
Surprise etches itself into his features, and even though I can tell his interest has been piqued, he still chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s not Wednesday, Rae.”
The low reluctance in his voice as he reminds me of our agreed upon day for carnal indulgence makes my chest tight, but I push the frustration down, hiding it under a sultry smile that tells him I don’t care that his mother isn’t at bible study.
“I know what day it is, Aaron.” Lifting my other hand, I rake my fingernails over the back of his neck. “And I want you, no, I need you today.”
He licks his lips, glances at his mom, and then back at me. The short shift in his attention is almost enough to make me want to give up altogether, but then he closes his laptop and rises to his feet.
“We’ll be back, Mom.”
It takes Aaron and I an hour to freshen up.
Forty-five minutes of that is me quietly begging him to go harder, deeper, and longer as if his dick could dislodge the memory of coming face-to-face with Hunter. As if a few orgasms could erase the mark he left on my soul. The other fifteen was spent showering and getting dressed for a dinner I didn’t want but am currently forcing myself to eat.
“You should have gotten some of my noodles,” Riley says to me from across the table where she’s slurping down spaghetti noodles with nothing but grated Parmesan on them. She’s been watching me push my food around my plate while Marcy fawns all over Aaron, who keeps giving her compliments on her dry-ass chicken. Now, they’re both looking at me instead of each other.
“Something wrong with your food, dear?” Marcy asks.
I set my fork down on the side of the plate. “I guess I’m just not hungry. Riley and I had a late lunch.” My fib would be more convincing if Riley wasn’t currently scarfing down her food like she hasn’t had a single meal today, but now that I’ve said it, I have no choice but to go with it. “We went to this cute cafe not far from your job, Aaron. It’s called Twisted Sistas.”
“It’s my new favorite place,” Riley adds.
“You have a new favorite place every other day, Ri,” Aaron replies.
“So what?” She tosses back. “Favorites can change.”
When I found out I was going to have a daughter, I decided that I wouldn’t make her one of those little girls who don’t know how to speak up for themselves. Riley is every bit of the girl I imagined she would be, sometimes a little too much so, and while I love that about her, other people don’t always appreciate it. Marcy is one of those people. I watch her features crumple with disapproval and see her lips part to say something, probably to admonish Riley for being impolite, and feel a volatile reaction brewing inside of me. Thankfully, Aaron sees it too, and he jumps in, interrupting what would be his mom’s reaction before it’s a fully formed thought.
“You’re right, Ri,” he smiles wide, splitting the grin between the three of us, which seems to calm Marcy down a bit. “Tell us what other favorites you discovered today.”
The request makes Riley’s eyes light up, and she takes great pleasure in giving us a play by play of the entire day, undeterred by the fact that the moment she started talking Aaron pulled out his phone and started replying to emails.
I bump his leg with mine and whisper under my breath, “Seriously, Aaron?”
He doesn’t even look at me. “What?”
“You asked her a question, the least you could do is pay attention while she answers it.” His fingers fly over the keyboard at a rapid pace and tremors of annoyance rush down my spine with every letter he types.
“And then Mommy and me saw this man at the cemetery. She said she doesn’t know who he is, but she said his name.” Riley tilts her head to the side and looks at me; the spark in her eye indicates that she just remembered that fact. “How did you know his name was Hunter?”
“Hunter?” Aaron asks because, of course, he chooses now to tune back into the conversation. “Who’s Hunter?”
“The man at the cemetery,” my beautifully unaware daughter supplies, shoving the last of her noodles into her mouth. “Mommy knows him, but she said she doesn’t.”
Marcy arches a brow at me. “Oh, really?”
“Riley, don’t talk with your mouth full.”
After issuing the directive that also serves as a convenient deflection, I pick up my plate and leave the table. I can feel Marcy and Aaron’s questioning gazes following me out of the room, but I don’t stop until I’m in the kitchen, alone and able to breathe. I didn’t realize Riley had heard me say Hunter’s name. I don’t know how she managed to with the door closed and the rain pouring and my heart beating so loudly every person in a ten-mile radius, both living and dead, must have been able to hear it skip a beat when I realized it was Hunter standing in front of me and not some dark figure who meant me harm.
For the first time since I saw him, I allow myself to acknowledge that he looked good. Not just handsome—because with the bald head, dark eyes, and mocha skin covered in tattoos he’s always been handsome— but healthy. Like the man who was my best friend before he was ever my lover. Like the man I pictured a future with before I found out our present was all a lie.
I’m scraping my food into the trash can when Aaron comes in carrying Marcy and Riley’s dishes in addition to his own. He comes up next to me, scraping what little is left on the plates and bowl into the bin on top of my uneaten meal.
“Mom took Riley upstairs to help her with her bedtime routine.”
“She doesn’t need to do that. Riley knows what she has to do.”
“I asked her to.”
“Why?”
“Because something is obviously wrong, and I wanted us to have a chance to talk in private.”
My heart sinks into my stomach as I make my way over to the dishwasher on leaden feet. Aaron follows, watching me closely as I load plates, forks, bowls, and glasses into the machine at a snail’s pace.
“Rae.”
I sigh heavily and stand upright. “Nothing’s wrong, Aaron.”
He crosses his arms, studying my forced calm expression and calling it bullshit with an arched brow. “Who’s Hunter, Rae?”
Swallowing is always impossible when my throat is as dry as it is, but I still try anyway because I need time to prepare myself to answer a question I never thought Aaron would ask. We’ve never talked about Hunter in any context. Our entire relationship is hinged on him loving the version of me that never knew or loved a man who chose his vices over her, and maintaining that illusion meant keeping a lot of things to myself, including Riley’s paternity.
When we decided to move back to New Haven, I knew I was going to be giving up a lot of things. My dance career, the friends I’d made, the coffee shop I frequented too often, and the fifth-floor walk-up Riley and I had lived in since she was a baby, which I made Aaron move into because his place was too far from Riley’s school. I knew this move would mean sacrifice, and I was willing to do it, happy to, even, as long as there were some things I got to keep for myself.
I want so desperately to keep this secret for myself, to guard my lies and carefully crafted illusions so that nothing else has to change, but when I look at Aaron, all I see is his determination to get the answer he feels he is owed. It’s the same way he looked when I told him I wasn’t leaving Manhattan to come back to New Haven. He pressed and pressed and pressed until I said yes, and now we’re here, and everything is falling apart just like I knew it would.
“You can’t ignore me forever, Rachel.”
Bubbles of irritation flare in my chest. “Don’t do that. Don’t call me by my whole name like you’re my dad or something.”
“Then stop stalling and answer the question. Who’s this Hunter guy, and why did you get all freaked out when Riley brought him up?”
“Because he’s her father.”
Aaron’s eyes go wide with disbelief and then, after a few seconds of processing the fact that I’ve lied to him for years, narrow into slits. “I thought you didn’t know who her father was!”
His elevated tone sends my eyes flying to the stairs to my left, searching for any sign of movement from Riley or Marcy because I don’t need either one of them overhearing this conversation. When I’m satisfied that they’re both oblivious to what’s happening down here, I turn my focus back to Aaron. He’s pacing the length of the floor in front of me with his wrists crossed over his head.
“Please keep your voice down, Aaron.”
“Keep my—” he rounds on me, a dark laugh pouring out of him. “You’ve been lying to me for years, and you expect me to keep my voice down?”
“Yes, because Riley is upstairs, and I don’t want her to hear you.”
He shakes his head, but he does lower his voice, dropping it down to a dangerous, vicious pitch that’s laced with disdain. “When you told me about Riley, I asked you. Do you remember? I asked you who her father was and if he was in her life; you looked me right in the eyes, Rae. You didn’t even flinch. You looked me in the eyes, and you told me you didn’t know who he was.”
Somewhere in between Aaron’s harsh tone and the anger dancing behind his eyes, my brain makes space for flashes of Hunter’s face. For his concentrated stare and his calm but alert expression, for his even complexion and his thick, black beard that was neatly trimmed and perfectly tailored to the shape of his strong jaw.
Even when I thought he was clean back in the day, he never looked as good as he did today, and I don’t know what to do with that. I don’t know what to do with him because I don’t know this version of him. I didn’t even know the version I thought I loved, which is why it was so easy to tell the lie Aaron now hates me for and why it’s so easy to accept it now as a new, altered truth.
I don’t know who Hunter Drake is, and for the sake of my daughter and the life I’ve built without him, it’s best that I never find out.