“It’ll be okay, Hux,” I whispered.
He didn’t believe me. I didn’t believe me, not really. It’s hard to believe things will be okay when you watch everything you’ve worked for, all the things you believed in for so long, go up in flames because the man you pinned all your hopes on ripped them away and doused them with gasoline.
Huxley pulled away, his face stained with wetness. “Why doesn’t Daddy love me?”
Whatever happens in my life, I won’t let that happen to him again.
Huxley’s long lashes flutter and he peers up at me with a sleepy grin. “Hey, Mom. You’re home.”
“Hi, buddy,” I say, brushing a few stray locks of hair off his forehead, pushing away the memories that have my chest aching. “How was your night?”
“Good,” he yawns, struggling to keep his eyes open. “How was work?”
“It was fine. Go back to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” Kissing him gently, I tuck his blankets around him and blow him a kiss before leaving. As soon as the door is pulled shut, my phone begins to ring. I scurry to retrieve it before Hux hears.
Swiping it from my purse, I see Lola’s name and my spirits lift, a smile gracing my face.
"Hello?"
"I want the scoop."
I laugh and make my way into the kitchen, the room farthest from Huxley, and settle into a chair at the wooden table. "The scoop? Whatever do you mean, Lola?"
"Cut the crap, Ali. I want to know what you did with the mayor tonight. I want to know every position, every flick of the tongue."
"You will be sad to know that no tongues were flicking."
"That's not just sad. That's depressing."
"Even I have to agree with you there,” I sigh.
I fiddle with the salt shaker on the table, thinking back to the last few hours. It's a little disconcerting that he was able to make me feel so relaxed around him. I knew he had charm, but not like that. How he makes you forget you’re with him, until you look up at his face or he touches your arm.
"The entire staff was buzzing about how Jim got put in his place by Landry," Lola recalls. "Isaac overheard most of it, but I want firsthand information. Every word, every look—give it to me."
There’s no way I’m going to be able to avoid discussing this with her, although I want to. I want to keep it my little memory of Barrett, something that feels like my own. Something that makes me feel special in a completely stupid way.
Still, it’s Lola and she’ll pester me until I relent, so I have to throw her some kind of bone to shut her up.
"Isaac must’ve heard Jim telling me not to socialize with the guests after seeing me serving Barrett champagne. But Barrett told him that he had initiated the conversation and it was his party to do what he wanted."
"Barrett? First name basis?”
"He asked me to call him by his first name. Not a big deal."
"Let’s just say I served the sexy bastard champagne tonight too and I didn’t get the first name treatment. What else happened? And don’t leave out the good stuff."
"There is no good stuff, Lo. Not like you’re thinking,” I laugh. “We just took a walk. We talked about random things and that was it."
"Were any of those random things requests for sexual favors?"
"Nope."
She sighs dramatically and I laugh.
"I'd ask why you didn't offer to deliver sexual favors, but I know the answer," she says.
"And what's that?"
"You're lame,” she says matter-of-factly.
"I am not!"
"Yes, you are. L-A-M-E, lame. You continue to let some dick and his dick antics ruin your life. That, my dear friend, is lame."
"No, it’s not," I fight back. “I can’t do what you do and just go have fun. It’s not that easy for me, even if I wanted it to be.”
I can’t see her do it, but I know Lola rolls her eyes. She just doesn’t get it. To her, life is one big party until she hits it big. To me, life is lying in a bedroom down the hall all snuggled up in his twin bed with baseball sheets. Whatever decisions I make directly affect him, and Huxley is more important to me than anything.
“Why wouldn’t you want it to be?” Lola asks. “You getting off tonight has nothing to do with Huxley. Hell, it might make you relax a little bit. Did you ever think about that?”
“Yes, I’ve thought about that,” I gruff into the phone. “But think about it with your head for a second, will you? You’re the one that goes on and on about Landry. You know how easy it could be to get wound up in him.”
“Did you mean the innuendo you just tossed out there? Because if so, yes. Yes. I do.”
“Damn it, Lo!” I laugh. “Listen to me. Barrett isn’t like Isaac or whatever guy you were with tonight. He’s . . .”