No One Else: The Ladies Who Brunch Book 2, page 6
“I’m…speechless. I didn’t know you felt that way.” Nerves run through me, and some feel a little like excitement. Brayden is a great guy—attractive, successful, hardworking, and honest. And he just bared his true feelings for me, and I can’t remember the last time I experienced that with a man.
But he’s not Ethan.
Images of Ethan flash through my mind—his cockiness the other night when we were talking and my body’s desire for him every time he gets close—and even though I know I shouldn’t want him, the way he makes my body come alive is very different from the way I feel about Brayden at the moment.
But here is this guy, who is available and being vulnerable right in front of me, asking me out on a date. Maybe this is a sign that it’s time to date again, to try to find my person. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a date, and Brayden is the perfect guy to try to move forward with. Besides, it’s not like Ethan is asking me out or that I would even entertain that idea.
Then why are you still thinking about it?
“So, what do you say? Would you let me take you to dinner next Friday?”
“Next weekend?”
“Yes, unless you already have plans. I’m free Saturday as well. Or the following week. Hell, give me a date, and I’ll make it happen even if I do have plans.”
My gut is telling me I’d be a fool to waste this opportunity, even though my heart is hesitant. But in a matter of a few moments, I know what the right decision is. “Yes, I’d love to. Next Friday night would be perfect.”
His smile almost blinds me. “Really?”
I nod. “Yes. I would like to have dinner with you.”
“Hell, that’s great. Seriously, I can’t wait, Amelia.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and presses a kiss to the top. A flurry releases in my stomach, but I instantly catalog that it’s not nearly as strong as the reaction I have to Ethan.
Stop it, Amelia. This man is interested and available. Focus on him.
“You have my number, so just call or text with the details.” I smile up at him, pleasantly optimistic about this.
“Would you mind if I picked you up for our date?”
“That would be okay with me.”
“Perfect. Talk to you soon, Amelia.” He begins to walk backward with his eyes still on me.
“You too, Brayden.”
On my drive home, I think about how I obviously never anticipated Brayden asking me out, but the idea of having a date this coming weekend has developed a little bubble of anticipation in me that I haven’t felt in a while.
And even though the idea of adding dating again on top of everything else in my life makes me feel anxious, I know this will help me push forward in all of the changes going on in my life.
Brayden is smart, kind, and supports my work. He’s the antithesis of Ethan.
And that is why I need to pretend like Ethan Fuller doesn’t even exist.
Easier said than done…
Chapter 4
Ethan
“Where are you going?” I chase down my wife as she walks down the hallway, locating her purse and slinging it over her shoulders.
“Out.”
“What do you mean out? You’ve barely been home all day.”
“Well, I’m meeting up with some friends, and we’re going to grab some drinks.”
“Monica, this has to stop.”
She spins to face me. “No. Your nagging needs to stop. I’m allowed to go out. I’m allowed to have fun, Ethan.”
“But what about our son? He needs his mom.”
She shakes her head. “He’s little. He’ll never remember me being gone.”
“Yeah, but I will. We’re supposed to be a family.”
“That’s what you wanted, Ethan, when you begged me to have this baby. But now…” She bites her lip. “I’m not sure I want to be a part of this family anymore. I’m too young, and there’s too much life for me to live still.”
“You mean you want to party.” As I stare at the woman I’ve done nothing but try to do right by, I realize it may be time to admit defeat. This pattern has only progressed since Oliver was born, and she keeps pushing my limits. I barely feel like we’re married anymore, like she doesn’t care about being in my life or our son’s.
“I want to live. All we do is stay home, take care of the baby, and fight. You don’t even touch me anymore.”
“It’s hard to touch you when you’re always gone!” I shout a little too loudly, glancing back down the hallway, hoping that I didn’t just wake up our son. But honestly, I can’t remember the last time Monica and I were intimate. It’s been months, and Oliver is already two.
“Because this life isn’t enough for me! I want more. I…I want a divorce.” She heads for the door as her confession strikes me square in the chest, but I chase after her one more time.
Her admission only fuels my rage. “If you leave, Monica, I will fight you for custody. I’m not going to let you just walk in and out of our lives when you want or wait for you to change your mind. Make sure this is your decision, and you can stick to it…that this is really what you want.”
She backs up in her steps as she steps out of our door. “I’m done, Ethan. You can have everything. I just want out.” And then she hops in her car and drives away, leaving me alone to pick up the pieces of the life I thought she wanted.
“Ethan?” My secretary pulls me from my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry. Just lost in thought.” I scramble to find my phone on my desk and see there are no notifications that need my attention right this minute.
“Okay.” She smiles. “Well, the Nelsons are in the first conference room, ready when you are. Her lawyer is a pistol, just an FYI.”
I stand, buttoning up my jacket as a wave of collectiveness comes over me again. “Well, so am I, so let the games begin.”
As I walk into the conference room, ready to represent my client, I realize it’s been almost three years since I was in this situation myself, and I can still remember how exhausting these proceedings can be. Luckily for me, my ex-wife didn’t care to fight me in any aspect. But for those that do, I try hard to remind them to do what’s best for all involved. The worst cases though are when one party was unfaithful. Those discussions always include elements of revenge, and usually, it’s the kids that get used as pawns.
Well, not today. Today, we’re going to act like civilized adults and get this divorce moving forward as quickly as possible so everyone can move on with their lives.
Sometimes that’s the only part of my job that reminds me that what I do is worth it. I give people a fresh start, a chance to find happiness without someone that makes their lives a living hell.
I was given that opportunity, and I feel other people deserve the same.
Suddenly, a blur of blond curls catches my eye in the window, bouncing as she walks by casually on her way to her office, stopping me in my tracks and reminding me that thoughts of my ex aren’t the only distraction plaguing me right now.
Amelia St. Clair has been an unwelcome wrench in my plan at this new location, a move that was not only necessary for my living situation but also to give me the chance to expand the practice I’m a part of. The partners at my firm were more than understanding when I explained my need to relocate to Los Angeles, and one of my associates decided to make the move with me as well.
But having a marriage counselor across the complex from us was not a detail I was considering as a possible obstacle we would face. Additionally, it doesn’t help that the woman is beautiful, intelligent, well-spoken, fiery as fuck, and my old college friend’s sister.
Making metaphorical flames shoot out of her ears has been one of the highlights of my day any time we cross paths. I feel like I’m back in high school, and the uptight girl that needs to be knocked down a peg or two is lurking around every corner, and I am more than eager to see how fast I can get under her skin. Even back then, I was impeccable at getting a reaction from girls, and now I feel the same challenge with Amelia.
And even as I explained to her, having her nearby might actually help my business in the long run.
But it certainly isn’t helping my dick remember how long it’s been since he’s been taken care of by something other than my hand.
Being a single father hasn’t afforded me much time to tend to my personal needs, if you catch my drift. But hopefully, having my mother nearby now will help alleviate some of those challenges and allow me to find someone to scratch my itch.
But why does my mind instantly conjure up the image of Amelia dragging her nails down my back when I think about that?
Shaking off the irritating attraction I feel for her, I watch her unlock her office door and go inside, making sure I take a few moments to appreciate the curves of her ass and hips before they disappear. She may have her heart in the right place when it comes to helping people, but I’ve seen too many instances in my line of work to know that most marriages are better off dissolving before someone ends up on Snapped. Some people just aren’t meant to be together. Some people just aren’t meant to be married.
And I sure as hell know after my experience, that’s the last thing I fucking want again.
However, wondering what Amelia tastes like in other places than just her lips has me forgetting why I’m here. I’m moving on, progressing in my profession, and picking up the pieces of my life and putting them in place where I need them to be—and none of those pieces involve a curly-headed blonde with temptation written all over her.
Amelia needs to remain in the box of untouchable thoughts I like to keep somewhere far in the recesses of my mind, and even though I know I should leave her alone, the teenage boy in me is thoroughly enjoying watching her react to every little thing I say or do. Little does she know, the plan to get her next reaction has already been set in motion.
“Daddy!” My little boy runs out of the front door as soon as I vacate my car once I pull into my mother’s driveway.
“Hey, bud.” He slams into my legs, squeezing his tiny arms around me. I ruffle his dark hair, the hue he inherited from his mother, and hope that’s the only thing he gets from her. “How was your day with Grandma?”
“It was fun! We went to the park, and I practiced kicking the soccer ball like you told me to.”
“Nice. Did you score any goals?” I ask him as I lead him back up the path to my mother’s front door. Her little house in the old neighborhood in L.A. holds many memories for me—a time when my mom was a single mother just trying to make ends meet and provide for us, and a time when I thought the reason my father abandoned us was because he didn’t love me or want me anymore.
I swear I will do everything in my power to make sure my son never feels that way about Monica.
“I did. Grandma tried to block it, but I was too fast for her.”
Chuckling, I walk through the worn front door as it squeaks, making a note to come by and tighten the hinges on it this weekend. “You are the fastest boy I know.”
“The kid never stops moving,” my mother says, coming around the corner from the kitchen to greet us, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Her dirty-blond hair, which was once the same hue as mine, has more gray in it now than blond, and her face shows laugh lines and years of hard work. But she’s also the most beautiful and important woman in my life, and I don’t take her help or presence for granted for one second.
I plant a kiss on her cheek as I move to meet her. “How was work?” she asks.
“Busy. The couple I met with today is actually compromising, so that makes my job a hell of a lot easier.”
“Good to hear.” She looks down at my son. “Go get your bag so your daddy can take you home, young man.” Oliver rushes off, giving us a chance to talk alone. “You ready for next week?”
“No, but I know me not being ready won’t change the fact that it’s happening. I don’t know what I would do without you, Mom.” Pulling her into my arms, I hold on to the only woman I know I can count on.
“Ethan, you’ve done more for me by just moving back here. I get to be in Oliver’s life more, and I get to see you every day.” She peers up at me. “You boys are my world. And Oliver starting kindergarten is going to be a wonderful new chapter for you both.”
“The past few years have been rocky, Mom, but I finally feel like we’re on solid ground. Oliver starts school next week, soccer a few weeks after that, and I’m finally settling into my job. We’re getting a routine down and I feel like I made the right decision leaving San Diego.”
“This was a good move for you, son.”
“I know. I’m seeing that now.”
“So, the office is running smoothly?”
I nod, moving around her to get a glass of water from the fridge. “My assistant is competent, which definitely helps. Gary, the lawyer that came with me, knows his stuff, so I don’t feel like I have to babysit him. And the location can’t be beat.”
“The little ice cream shop in the complex sure is tasty too.”
I glance over at her after I shut the door. “Please tell me Oliver didn’t have ice cream before dinner.”
“Not today,” she answers with a grin on her face.
I roll my eyes at her. “You know he gets crazy when he has too much sugar.”
“I know. But he’s my grandson and I will spoil him as I see fit.” She pats my shoulder as she passes me.
“Just make sure he’s eating a fruit or vegetable in there too, okay?”
“You act like this is my first rodeo raising a kid, young man. You turned out okay, if I do say so myself, and I know for a fact that you went through a period of time where all you survived on were Bagel Bites and Totino’s Pizza Rolls.”
Before I can reply, Oliver shouts as he runs up to us with his backpack on his shoulders. “I’m ready, Daddy!”
“Saved by the kid,” I mutter out of the corner of my mouth to my mother, which causes her to laugh. “All right, bud, let’s go. Are you ready to make pizza at home?”
“Yes!”
“Then let’s do it.” I lean over and plant another kiss on my mother’s cheek. “We’ll see you in the morning, Mom.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I lead Oliver back out to the car and head for our house, a newer build in a housing tract I was able to buy at an incredible price since the previous owners were foreclosed on.
When I was talking to my mother about how I was going to manage everything when Oliver started school this year, she convinced me to move closer to her so she could help me, although the last thing I wanted to do was have to depend on her. Like I said before, she busted her ass to raise me on her own. She paid her dues. But she also missed out on a lot of Oliver’s first years since we lived a considerable distance away, and I was too busy trying to keep my marriage alive to think about visiting more often.
So after she insisted she wanted us around, I sold our house, convinced my firm to let me start my own office, and packed the two of us up and started our new adventure, just my son and me. My mom knew someone on the board of a charter school near my house and was able to get Oliver into their program for kindergarten, which starts next week, earlier than most of the public schools in the area. Nick, my buddy from college who is now a realtor, was able to find me an office and a house in just a few short months. And once everything was closed on, Oliver and I made the move from San Diego to Los Angeles a few weeks ago.
But I don’t care. I just want him to have the best, to have better than I did, even though I wouldn’t trade my childhood for a second and I don’t dare knock how hard my mother worked to give me all she could. But I don’t want him to feel like he’s missing out on anything just because his mom isn’t around, and I know there will come a point in time where he will question that.
Pulling up to our house, I feel satisfied with where I am now. I’m no longer concerned about making Monica happy. Every once in a while, Oliver will ask where his mom is, but he was only two when she took off, so he doesn’t really remember her. After the night she asked me for a divorce, she only came back to the house once to collect her things. I tried to reason with her, offered to go to counseling or compromise on what she wanted, but she made her choice, so I vowed to protect my son from feeling like less than for the rest of his life.
It’s Monica’s loss not being here, watching him grow up and become the incredible boy he is. And I will never stop reminding him of that until I take my very last breath.
“Go take off your shoes, put your bag where it goes, then meet me in the kitchen.” I direct Oliver to his room, hoping he’ll follow my directions as I shuck my jacket and follow him down the hallway to change my clothes in my room.
Once I’m in a white shirt and black basketball shorts, I head toward the kitchen to find him sitting on his stool at the kitchen counter. “I’m hungry, Daddy.” He bounces in his seat, and then in his next breath, he asks, “Is it time to make pizza yet?”
“Yes, it is. Do you need your chef’s hat?” I spin around to locate the matching chef’s hats I purchased for the two of us. Oliver is going through a phase of being picky with food, so my mom and I discussed allowing him to be involved in making the food so he could have some ownership over what he’s eating. She read some article that suggested it, and it sounded like an easy way to help with the problem, so I obliged. Little did I know that trying to cook with a five-year-old would be one of the most chaotic things I’ve ever done. But Ollie loves it, and it’s something that we get to do at night, just the two of us, so I try to enjoy every moment of it.
