20. Mik

CHAPTER 20

MIK

I'm angry.

More than angry. I'm fuming.

Not just because he took one of the most important choices of my life away from me and then blamed me for making a choice I never had a chance to make. But because we missed out on a lifetime together, because we were both so fucking ignorant. I want to go back in time and knock our nineteen-year-old heads together and scream at us to just fucking talk to each other.

A simple conversation could have solved all of this. But I was too busy internally panicking, and he was too busy running away, assuming the worst. Or was he assuming the best of me? Whichever it was, he was wrong. Because it was never even a question. I panicked more about what it meant for our relationship than the fact that I was going to have a fucking baby. Then again, at that point, Janel's pregnancy didn't feel like a tangible thing. It wasn't until I was holding my newborn son in my arms that it really sank in.

I was afraid that he would leave me, but I still had hope that we could be together. Never in a million years would I have chosen to give him up. It wasn't something I had to think about. The only thing that needed thought was the logistics of raising a baby with Janel while being with her brother.

My anger, self-doubt, and overthinking allowed Jason to slip away. Again. I assumed he'd have to pack, that after the bombshell we both just processed, that he would have learned to hold his goddamned horses.

When I come to my senses and run after him, not minutes after he walked up the stairs, he's gone. The bed in the guest room is made neatly, like no one was ever there. The only lingering proof of his presence is the scent of his cologne in the air.

I sprint from the guest room towards the stairs, passing Janel lingering in the hallway in her bathrobe. There's a pitying look on her face as she rasps, "He's already gone."

"W-Where did he go?" I stutter, panic clawing its way up my throat.

Not again. I can't do this again.

He can't fucking leave me again.

She shakes her head sadly. "I don't know. He texted me to say he was leaving earlier than planned. It's what woke me up, but the SUV was pulling away before I could do or say anything."

"Call him. Tell him–"

"I tried. He didn't answer."

"Fuck. FUCK !"

Jase chooses this moment to come out of his room, headphones resting around his neck. "Is everything okay?"

"Your uncle left," Janel says in a small voice.

Jase curses under his breath and turns his gaze to me. They're both looking at me with a combination of pity and understanding that is worse than the anger I expect. Because if it wasn't obvious before, then it is now.

"I'm sorry," I tell them, not bothering to specify what I'm sorry for. There aren't enough words.

I'm sorry for it all. I'm sorry for lying to them all this time. For not being truly present because so much of me was lost the day Jason left, and I wasn't strong enough to pull myself back together. For betraying them. For betraying the wedding vows I never wanted, but took seriously. I'm sorry I wasn't stronger. A better husband. A better father. A better man.

And most of all, I'm sorry that I'm about to tear us apart at the seams.

"I love him," I say to myself, but loud enough for them to hear.

"I know," Janel says.

My head snaps up in surprise.

"I've always known."

Her voice is barely more than a whisper.

She's given me inklings over the past couple days that she knew something was going on, but what does she mean by always?

"When I came to tell you about the pregnancy, you were in his bed. And you've been mourning him like a dead lover all these years. I'm not that na?ve."

My eyes cut to Jase, who is watching this entire interaction with blatant interest. "I didn't know about that part, but I knew you were in love with Uncle J." I don't bother asking how he knows anything at all. I shouldn't be too surprised, he's always been an observant kid.

I turn back to Janel, wanting to wipe away the tears streaming down her face and pull her in for a hug. However much I didn't want to be married to her, she's still been the closest thing to a friend I've had for a very long time. She's been my partner and the main catalyst in every step forward from the day he left. Without her to guide me, I would have crumbled. And this whole time, she knew I loved him and not her. That had to be painful for her, too.

"I never wanted to hurt you."

She holds a hand up to stop me from approaching. "Please don't. Just… go." When she steps to the side, I notice a small duffle bag next to her. She picks it up and hands it to me wordlessly.

"Janel, I'm so–"

"Just leave, Mik." Her words are firm, her voice cracking with the emotions she's trying to hold back. But her expression leaves zero doubt of her meaning. This is over.

Jase walks past me towards his mother. "Go, dad. I've got her," he mutters, patting me on the shoulder. Janel disappears into the bedroom, and Jase turns around before following her.

"He's probably staying somewhere close to the airport," he tells me, then looks up and gives me a soft smile. "For what it's worth, I tried to get him to stay and talk to you."

"We did talk. That's why he left."

Jase's brow furrows, but he doesn't ask any more questions. Instead, he shoos me off and tells me to ‘go get him' like this is some kind of romantic comedy.

But this isn't a comedy, it's a tragedy. And it's not romantic unless I can find him and talk him into staying with me.

It's nearly two in the morning by the time I track him down. I called every hotel in the area, some of which confirmed that Jason was not a guest, but most wouldn't divulge any information. Eventually I got clever and called, pretending to be a late-night pizza delivery service. I asked them to connect me to his room to confirm the details of his order. Three times the various hotels let me know they didn't have a guest by that name, but then, on the fourth try, they patched me through. The phone rang and rang with no answer, but at least I knew where he was.

I parked beside his rental car and then went to check in to the hotel. I know they aren't going to let me into the hotel, much less tell me his room number, so I had to devise yet another plan. Truthfully, it's a stupid plan that I saw on an episode of a cop show I used to watch, but it's worth trying. Worst-case scenario, I spend too much money to spend the night at this ridiculously swanky hotel.

I check in before the delivery arrives. It took me longer to find a late-night pizza delivery that I could bribe into driving this far than it did to track Jason down. After a good ten minutes of awkwardly milling about, pretending to look through a menu of spa services, I'm about to give up when a young guy wearing a t-shirt that says Randy's Pizza walks in. I keep my eyes focused on the spa menu, listening to the delivery guy state who the pizza is for. When they ask him what room number, he says he doesn't know, but they agree to take care of it. I strain my ears to overhear the woman at the front desk ask an attendant to carry the order up to Room 362.

Bingo.

"Can I take this with me?" I ask, holding up a pamphlet for the spa services.

The woman standing behind the desk, Erica, gives me a wide, blank smile and confirms that I can indeed take it. Never mind that she told me three times when I was awkwardly standing around the front desk, trying to purposefully delay going upstairs until the pizza was delivered. Now that the ruse is over, I hike my bag over my shoulder and make my way to the elevators. My room is on the second floor, but I head up to the third. I slip into the vending machine area down the hall from where the hotel attendant is holding the most expensive pizza to ever be delivered, peeking around the wall to see him knocking.

Just as it looks like he might give up, the door is torn open. A rough voice admonishes the late interruption and then slams the door in the attendant's face after insisting that he didn't order the pizza. The attendant stands there for a moment, looking flummoxed. Then the door whips open again, and Jason swipes the pizza from the unsuspecting hotel employee before slamming the door shut again. Despite my nerves, or maybe because of them, I hold a hand over my mouth to keep in a laugh.

The poor guy that made the delivery straightens his maroon vest and grumbles to himself as he walks back to the elevator. I turn towards the vending machines, hiding my face and pretending to peruse my options until the elevator doors shut again.

Not giving myself time to overthink, I march over to the door and knock loudly.

"For fuck's sake!" Jason exclaims as he forcefully tears the door open again, most likely expecting to see the hotel attendant again. His mouth falls open in surprise when he sees me standing in the hallway instead. The pizza box falls to the ground, forgotten.

After a brief, heavy pause where we both stare at each other like idiots, I shove my way into his room. Tossing my bag on the floor, I spin on my heel and push Jason against the door before it can latch itself. He grunts in surprise when his back hits the door, but his shock wears off quickly when my mouth crashes roughly against his. His hands tighten on either side of my waist, and if his fingers weren't digging in so tightly, I'd worry that he's going to push me away. Instead, he squeezes so tightly I know there will be bruises. He pulls me in tighter, our tongues and teeth clashing as I lose myself in reclaiming what's mine.