Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Jessa
He brought me flowers.
I stare at the beautifully arranged basket, and my heart throbs, an old scar aching painfully. I was never in love with Marcus back then. Like every other fan, I just loved watching him play.
My fingers pluck one of the petals off the roses in the center. Not once did I think I would ever run into him outside a bar, being supported by a woman. I had watched them for a minute, awed to see a celebrity in person, but it had started to rain, and I left.
I didn’t expect him to fall against me a few minutes later as if he was running from someone. He was drunk but not that drunk, it seemed. I shouldn’t have played the good Samaritan. I should never have agreed to let him crash at my apartment. And I should never have let him seduce me into bed.
The humiliation I endured after that night is something only I know.
His people made me feel cheap, like some floozy looking for a handout.
My lower lip quivers as I stare blankly at the flowers, my hand clenched around the wayward petal.
It’s been years, but I never forgot how I was tossed on to the hotel’s floor, one dollar bills scattering around me, like I was some common whore that the famous soccer player just used for his pleasure.
I don’t want to remember that night. Or how foolish I felt, how small and worthless. But right now, seeing these flowers, it reminds me of what I was made to feel. I turn around.
I don’t want to go with them. Why should I let Marcus emotionally blackmail me into going to the festival? I have no reason to do anything he wants. I’m just going to kick him out and throw these flowers at him. I don’t want his handouts.
I open the door to my room and am about to storm down the hallway to the living room when I hear Mia and Bella’s hushed voices.
“...think she’ll like them? Uncle Marcus and I picked them out ourselves.”
Mia giggles. “It would be so cool if your uncle and my mom got married. Then we could be sisters. And you’d have a mom.”
“And Uncle Marcus will be your dad too.”
I freeze at the innocent excitement in the voices of the children.
Is that what Mia wants? A father?
“If your uncle becomes my dad, then he has to come to all my games, right?” my daughter asks eagerly. “Like all the other dads?”
“Yep. He always comes to my games. I’m not very good, though. I like cooking more than soccer. I can help your mom with cooking. Uncle Marcus only knows how to make steak. It’s so boring.”
“Then it’s settled.” My daughter sounds gleeful. “We have to make this a date for them. And they have to kiss because I saw on TV that if two people kiss, they fall in love and get married.”
I quietly step back into my room, wanting to be amused but unable to muster up the emotion. Closing the door, I lean against it.
Mia has never expressed any desire for a father figure. After Derek left, she never asked about him. I thought she was happy with just me. But that’s not fair. Here her own father, who doesn’t know she’s his, is doting on her. And I want to take that away from her?
I run my fingers through my hair, digging my nails in my scalp.
What do I do?
If I just draw boundaries, I can let Mia be around her father, and I can have a pleasant, civil relationship with him.
I haven’t been with another man since that night.
I don’t need a man. And I won’t let myself be charmed by the one who humiliated me.
But I also don’t want Mia to be without her father, especially when I see how good he is to her, and that’s without him knowing who she is.
“Mom?” I hear Mia’s voice before the knock comes, impatient. “Mom, we have to go! Come on!”
“I’m coming.” I hope she doesn’t hear the weariness in my voice.
I quickly pull on some clothes and head out to the living room where the others are waiting for me.
Mia is showing Marcus her sketchbook, and Bella is asking eager questions.
And Marcus—His expression makes me still.
He’s listening so attentively as if she’s not telling him who the people in her sketch are but sharing state secrets with him.
He looks up as I enter, and my traitorous heart skips a beat when I see Mia wind her arm around his neck in a familiar manner, the two of them wearing identical grins.
My breath catches. If someone else was watching, they would see the similarities between the two right now.
It’s their smile, that mischievous sparkle in the eye, the crooked tilt to the lips.
Fear fills me, so heavy and dark that my knees nearly buckle.
He can take her from me.
He can take my baby from me.
“Mama?” Mia’s smile wavers, and she hurries towards me. “Are you okay?”
The closer she gets, the easier it is to breathe. Marcus doesn’t move, studying me, that same look in his eyes from his office that puts me on edge.
“Fine,” I whisper hoarsely. “Just a little lightheaded.”
Marcus approaches us, and his hand wraps around my arm, steadying me. “Some fresh air will do you good.”
I don’t argue.
His car is downstairs, and we pile inside. The ride isn’t quiet. The girls can’t contain their excitement, and I’m lost in my thoughts.
The place is enormous, way past what I pictured, swings and games on one end, food stalls smoking down the middle, a merry-go-round throwing colored light, carnival rides spinning above the whole churning crowd.
Ahead of us, the girls have gone feral, Bella pointing at everything that lights up, Mia reading the ride names off the banners under her breath and memorizing the names of the ones she wants to go on.
Bella wants the spinning swings. Mia wants the one that drops you from a height I refuse to look at directly.
They settle nothing because a wristband’s coming that solves every argument at once.
Mia’s hand slips out of mine, towed loose by Bella toward the first bank of lights. Marc keeps pace at my shoulder, one hand in his pocket, one arm looped around mine. “Don’t,” I mutter, trying to pull free. He gives me an innocent look.
“I just don’t want to get lost.”
“Wishes can come true.” I try to tug my arm away again, and he just pulls me closer, his voice whisper-soft against my ear. “Just enjoy, Jessa. Not everything has to be a battle.”
My breath hisses out at his words, but before I can retort, Marcus murmurs, “Look at them.”
My eyes follow his gaze, and I watch Bella and Mia, hand in hand, laughing as they walk. Then they turn their heads to look at us, and Mia calls out, “Hurry up, slowpokes!”
Bella giggles, and the girls run to the closest ride.
“That makes it worth it, doesn’t it?” Marcus asks quietly.
My heart quivers, and I murmur, “Yeah.”
I don’t pull away now.
We push deeper into the noise, and I drift along half-present. The girls get on an octopus-shaped ride, and I watch them. I can feel Marcus watching me.
“It’s not bad here, is it?” he asks suddenly.
I’m silent.
It’s not bad, but I will always be on edge here, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He gives me a long, considering look, but he leaves it be and keeps walking. The girls get off the ride and then spot the merry-go-round and begin begging. Marc waves them on. We hang back by the rail.
“You hungry?” he asks.
“No.” My stomach’s been a fist since we left the house.
“Wait here.” He’s gone before I can argue.
He comes back balancing a paper tray of sausage rounds drowned in something red and glistening, two little wooden forks stabbed into the pile.
“I said I’m not hungry.”
“Try one.” He spears a piece and lifts it to my mouth.
My lips part on reflex, which is its own small humiliation, and his eyes go dark as they linger on them. I quickly look away, chewing on the well-seasoned sausage.
“Well?” he murmurs. “How is it?”
“It’s fine.” It’s better than fine, but I’d sooner eat the fork than admit it. He loads the second one and brings it up.
“I can feed myself.”
“I know.” His voice is teasing, and I narrow my eyes, reaching for the other fork. He flicks it a half-inch out of my fingers, and it falls to the ground. “Oops.”
“You are such a pushy jerk sometimes.” I scowl at him.
His grin makes something hot and delicious unfurl in my stomach. “Really? Me?” He presses a hand to his chest, wounded, and the performance is so deliberately pitiful that my hand itches to push him into the nearest trash can.
“Yes. You.”
“That’s a real shame,” he drawls, offering the fork again.
I’m actually hungry, so I accept the bite and refuse to look at him. Before I realize it, he’s fed me the whole plate and not taken a single piece himself.
The girls pile off the merry-go-round, pointing at the teacups, and the two of us get towed along in their wake. I lean on the rail and watch the cups whirl, Mia’s laugh slicing clean over the music. “She’s happy.” My voice drops. “Look at her face.”
“They could pass for sisters.” Marc’s voice goes warm.
My throat closes, and I drop my eyes to my own hands on the rail. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face. He holds the quiet a beat too long.
“I keep wondering about Mia’s father,” he admits.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Why not?” He spreads his hands. “What’s the harm in telling me?”
“Why do you care this much about a man you’ve never met?”
“Call it curiosity.”
“He was sc—” I stop myself before I finish the sentence. “He had his chance. I already told you. I don’t know why you keep picking at my wound. And…” My eyes go to Bella, the sweet shy little girl. “He must have his own family now. His own responsibilities.”
“You don’t know that for sure. Why not reach out to him again?”
“And why would I do that?” I look at him, my eyes flashing. “Why do you care? You want me to reach out so that he can take my Mia from me? He’s never met her. He doesn’t know her. He isn’t missing anything.”
“What if he doesn’t take her?” He turns to face me. “What if all he wants is to know her? To stand somewhere in her life?”