[Addison]
The door to the car clicks open.
An expensive Italian loafer is followed by the pinstriped leg of an elegant and sophisticated man. He towers over me, at least 7 inches taller and twice as wide, his strong arms and shoulders barely contained within the jacket of his well-tailored suit. From the Rolex at his wrist to the studs in his ears, and the ring gleaming on his hands, everything is diamond bright, as sharp and fine as the cut of his square chin and the angle of his high cheekbones.
“Excuse me,” his smooth voice, deep and rich, rumbles through my body, as he removes his sunglasses and looks at me with eyes so blue they appear almost black. “I can take her from here.”
Holding out his hands, his cold facade melts as he looks at the little girl with such love and concern that I find myself melting as well. But she doesn’t go to him, she clings to me even tighter.
“Mom,” the little girl murmurs, burrying her head into my chest. “I found my mommy.”
“You little monster!” An out-of-breath young woman pants as she rushes up to us, her bobbed red hair falling in front of her freckled face. “You ran off again! Just wait until I tell…”
She reaches out to grab the girl but pauses when she notices the man standing next to me. “Mr. Grant, I, um, I can explain.”
“You’re fired,” his tone is blunt and cold as he dismisses the young woman with a hard glare.
The young woman’s eyes widen, tears rolling down her cheeks as she backs away, tripping over her own feet. “Mr. Grant, Sir, I can explain I…”
“Leave,” his tone remains flat, his anger almost palatable as he stares the girl down. “Now, Ms Watson. Do not expect a reference.”
Bowing, the young woman scuttles away not once looking over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry you had to see that,” the velvety-voiced gentleman apologizes. “I can take her from here, Ms….”
It takes me a moment to realize that this ruthless, mysterious man is speaking to me. I pull my attention away from the fleeing nanny and find myself face to face, with this powerfully handsome man.
He reaches out for the girl again, placing his hands on her waist. “Come here, Livy, let’s leave the nice lady.”
The little girl. Livy shakes her pigtails and holds on tighter.
“Olivia Grant,” his voice is stern but kind as he insists she lets me go. “I’m sure the busy lady has things to do.”
“No,” the first word she says is murmured into the space where my neck and shoulder meet. It reminds me so much of Jayson when he was this age that I want to hold her forever. I miss this warmth and devotion. She reminds me of how it feels to be a mom.
Which brings my thoughts right back to that hospital room.
“Since Olivia is so fond of you,” the man speaks catching my eyes once more as I manage to pry the sweet girl off of my neck and place her into his waiting arms. “Maybe you could come eat with us. I know a nice place around the corner.”
Looking at the sweet domesticity of the two of them together, the love and kinship of a true family connection, an unsettled pang in my heart makes me warm and sad all at once.
“No,” I say a bit too quietly, lost in my own melancholy mood. “But thank you, Mr…”
“Grant,” he turns his warm smile towards me. “Hunter Grant.” He pulls a business card from his suit pocket, shifting the little girl’s weight as she settles into his arms, sucking her thumb as she leans against his chest. “Are you sure you won’t change your mind, Ms…”
“Mrs.,” I correct him. “Mrs. Stone. Addison Stone. And yes,” I look back at the hospital one last time. “But I wish you the best. I’m just glad I was here for Olivia when she needed me. You don’t owe me anything.”
“Addison,” he repeats, my name resonant and melodic on his tongue. “I hope I will get a chance to see you soon.”
As he tucks the little girl into his car and settles himself next to her, his words feel more like a promise than a hope. Watching them drive away, I head on my path, walking home so that I can clear my mind. So much has happened. I’m at a loss.
Should I leave Michael? Is it time to get a divorce? I don’t believe that nothing is happening between him and Evelyn.
The jingle of my keys as I pull them from the door sounds loud in the quiet, empty house. Closing the door, I pick up the remnants of our scattered rush from the house, scooping up discarded toys and carrying them up to Jayson’s room.
Placing one of his stuffies on his bed, my eyes land on a framed picture on the nightstand next to the cupcake he never ate. The picture is from the day his adoption became official. He is still a small baby, only one year old, held in my arms as his father stands next to me, the two of us smiling
Family. We are a family.
Something vibrates on the hardwood floor beneath his bed. Peering underneath, the glowing screen of his tablet catches my attention as it vibrates again, informing Jayson of an incoming message.
“What’s that doing under here?” I pull it out, “Playing games at night when you should be sleeping, little man,” I smirk, looking for his charging port. That should be…”
In glowing white letters, the message says it's from the same number I recognize from earlier, the one that had sent the birthday pictures.
The note reads, “From MOM: Jayson, I am so sorry. I made a mistake. Next time, I will get you something extra yummy. Please forgive me.” It is signed with several heart emojis and the name “Mama Evelyn.”
It is signed with several heart emojis.
“I love you, Mama Evelyn.”
A flash of images, of moments from the last two days flutter through my mind. The way Evelyn looks not only so much like me, but like Jayson who shares the same white blonde hair and bright blue eyes. The way he calls her mama. The way Lauren treats her, as if she were the daughter-in-law instead of me.
What if she’s more than the one who got away. What if she’s Jayson’s real mother.
“Oh God,” Suddenly sick, I rush to the bathroom and vomit what little bit I’ve eaten as the world spins. Unable to breathe, unable to think, I fall forward, my head hitting the wall as everything goes black.
[Addison]Today, my son Jayson turns 6 years old. It’s not every day that my child turns 6, so I worked extra hard to make it special. It meant squeezing a whole day of work into two hours so I could rush home, prep his favorite meal, and ice his cake. But when I see his smiling face, it will all be worth it. “Mrs. Stone,” the crossing guard., Mrs. Jenkins greets me as I approach my son’s school. “What’s the occasion? This wouldn’t be for a special little gentlemen’s special day?”Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at the balloons in my hands, and looks down to see my knee-length, rhinestone dress that floats from my waist like a cloud of cotton candy. “Well, it isn’t every day Jayson turns 6,” I smile back at her. I never dress like this, preferring the practicality of a smartly tailored suit and the simplicity of a face clean of makeup, but Jayson always wanted me to be like “the other mommies,” who wore fancy jewelry and sparkling dresses. “I thought I’d be a princess for him to
[Addison] It is hard to keep my smile from cracking as Michael approaches, but somehow I manage to keep my expression sunny as I make my way over to my family. “Addy,” Michael looks a bit out of breath as he reaches over and places a hand on my shoulder, looking up at the balloons with a frown. “Why are you here? I thought you had a new case to work on.” “I promised Jayson we’d have a special day,” I grin down at my son, who is clinging to the woman’s hand, not meeting my gaze. “So I shifted things around. I told you about this last week and...” “It’s fine, it’s fine,” my husband interrupts, “I just wasn’t expecting you to be here is all. I was in the neighborhood when I learned that my old friend,” he smiles at Evelyn as if they were indeed old friends instead of bitter ex-lovers, “had just come home from her time overseas and was interviewing at a few places nearby. I thought…” “Mommy, why are you ruining my birthday,” Jayson hisses up at me, his small face red with anger. “
[Addison]What was happening three months ago when I didn’t notice my husband sneaking off with our son to have adventures with his “old friend?”My heart sinks like a stone as I remember. I was in Brooklyn taking care of my sick grandmother, arranging for her nursing care. I was gone for three days. Every night, I called home to say good night, no matter how tired I was. Never once did he mention Evelyn. If I hadn’t shown up today when I did, would he have ever let me know she is back?I send a text with a quick snapshot of the photo strip. I type the word “explain.”Sitting there, staring at the screen, waiting for a response, my head tips back and I lean against Jayson’s bed. My body feels heavy so heavy that I close my eyes.When I open them again, the room is dark, the phone vibrating against my chest waking me. I must have fallen asleep because the clock now reads 6 pm. “Michael!” I open my phone hurriedly only to discover a text from an unknown number. Tapping the screen, I o
[Addison] My little boy looks even smaller in a hospital bed with an IV attached to his arm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone, but your son’s condition is serious. He is suffering from an intense allergic reaction,” the Doctor’s face is grim. “If he had gotten here an hour sooner, we could have prevented the severe dehydration. We were lucky this time that the reaction wasn’t worse.” “Worse?” My voice warbles as Michael looks away, unable to my gaze. “How much worse?” “If he had developed anaphylaxis, he’d be dead,” the doctor’s tone. “You’re lucky his heart didn’t stop on the way here. As it is, he’ll need to remain in the hospital for 24 hours for observation.” Our son could have died, all because my husband couldn’t bear to disappoint his ex-girlfriend. Michael volunteers to pay the bill and grab the new prescription for an emergency epi-pen. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he kisses the top of my head before rushing out of the room as if the sight of our sick son could chase him dow
[Addison] The door to the car clicks open. An expensive Italian loafer is followed by the pinstriped leg of an elegant and sophisticated man. He towers over me, at least 7 inches taller and twice as wide, his strong arms and shoulders barely contained within the jacket of his well-tailored suit. From the Rolex at his wrist to the studs in his ears, and the ring gleaming on his hands, everything is diamond bright, as sharp and fine as the cut of his square chin and the angle of his high cheekbones. “Excuse me,” his smooth voice, deep and rich, rumbles through my body, as he removes his sunglasses and looks at me with eyes so blue they appear almost black. “I can take her from here.” Holding out his hands, his cold facade melts as he looks at the little girl with such love and concern that I find myself melting as well. But she doesn’t go to him, she clings to me even tighter. “Mom,” the little girl murmurs, burrying her head into my chest. “I found my mommy.” “You little monst
[Addison] My little boy looks even smaller in a hospital bed with an IV attached to his arm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Stone, but your son’s condition is serious. He is suffering from an intense allergic reaction,” the Doctor’s face is grim. “If he had gotten here an hour sooner, we could have prevented the severe dehydration. We were lucky this time that the reaction wasn’t worse.” “Worse?” My voice warbles as Michael looks away, unable to my gaze. “How much worse?” “If he had developed anaphylaxis, he’d be dead,” the doctor’s tone. “You’re lucky his heart didn’t stop on the way here. As it is, he’ll need to remain in the hospital for 24 hours for observation.” Our son could have died, all because my husband couldn’t bear to disappoint his ex-girlfriend. Michael volunteers to pay the bill and grab the new prescription for an emergency epi-pen. “I’ll be back soon, I promise,” he kisses the top of my head before rushing out of the room as if the sight of our sick son could chase him dow
[Addison]What was happening three months ago when I didn’t notice my husband sneaking off with our son to have adventures with his “old friend?”My heart sinks like a stone as I remember. I was in Brooklyn taking care of my sick grandmother, arranging for her nursing care. I was gone for three days. Every night, I called home to say good night, no matter how tired I was. Never once did he mention Evelyn. If I hadn’t shown up today when I did, would he have ever let me know she is back?I send a text with a quick snapshot of the photo strip. I type the word “explain.”Sitting there, staring at the screen, waiting for a response, my head tips back and I lean against Jayson’s bed. My body feels heavy so heavy that I close my eyes.When I open them again, the room is dark, the phone vibrating against my chest waking me. I must have fallen asleep because the clock now reads 6 pm. “Michael!” I open my phone hurriedly only to discover a text from an unknown number. Tapping the screen, I o
[Addison] It is hard to keep my smile from cracking as Michael approaches, but somehow I manage to keep my expression sunny as I make my way over to my family. “Addy,” Michael looks a bit out of breath as he reaches over and places a hand on my shoulder, looking up at the balloons with a frown. “Why are you here? I thought you had a new case to work on.” “I promised Jayson we’d have a special day,” I grin down at my son, who is clinging to the woman’s hand, not meeting my gaze. “So I shifted things around. I told you about this last week and...” “It’s fine, it’s fine,” my husband interrupts, “I just wasn’t expecting you to be here is all. I was in the neighborhood when I learned that my old friend,” he smiles at Evelyn as if they were indeed old friends instead of bitter ex-lovers, “had just come home from her time overseas and was interviewing at a few places nearby. I thought…” “Mommy, why are you ruining my birthday,” Jayson hisses up at me, his small face red with anger. “
[Addison]Today, my son Jayson turns 6 years old. It’s not every day that my child turns 6, so I worked extra hard to make it special. It meant squeezing a whole day of work into two hours so I could rush home, prep his favorite meal, and ice his cake. But when I see his smiling face, it will all be worth it. “Mrs. Stone,” the crossing guard., Mrs. Jenkins greets me as I approach my son’s school. “What’s the occasion? This wouldn’t be for a special little gentlemen’s special day?”Her eyes sparkle as she looks up at the balloons in my hands, and looks down to see my knee-length, rhinestone dress that floats from my waist like a cloud of cotton candy. “Well, it isn’t every day Jayson turns 6,” I smile back at her. I never dress like this, preferring the practicality of a smartly tailored suit and the simplicity of a face clean of makeup, but Jayson always wanted me to be like “the other mommies,” who wore fancy jewelry and sparkling dresses. “I thought I’d be a princess for him to