Page 51 of Married to the Frenemy

“What do you mean? I just need your keys. You don’t?—”

“I’m driving you home.” The finality in his voice makes it clear this isn’t up for discussion.

I’m not sure I have it in me to argue with him right now anyway. Instead, I grab my purse as he scoops Maggie up from the playground and hoists her onto his shoulders.

Just as we’re about to turn the corner away from the brewery, I glance over my shoulder to see Oliver watching us with interest, his eyes trained on the little girl who bears an uncanny resemblance to him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

BECKHAM

The car is quiet on the ride home, apart from Maggie’s occasional chatter about whatever pops into her head. Normally, Haley is involved in the conversation. Today, she barely acknowledges what she’s saying, her expression pensive as her eyes remain trained out the window.

I don’t know the story about Maggie’s birth father, other than the fact that Haley has seemingly gone to great lengths to keep her from him. I can only assume if Haley doesn’t want him in their life, there must be a damn good reason.

Which is why giving her my keys so I could stay and have a few drinks with my friends and family wasn’t an option. Haley needed me, even if she’d never admit it.

Or maybe I just need to be here for her right now. Maybe I don’t want her to be alone.

Once we’re back at the house and Maggie’s preoccupied with an episode of Bluey, I head into the kitchen and pour an oversized glass of chardonnay for Haley. When I hand it to her, she takes a large gulp.

“I didn’t think I’d see him again,” she says, breaking the silence. “Especially here, of all places.”

“What happened between you?” I ask guardedly as I pour myself a glass of wine.

I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. Don’t want to listen to her talk about how she fell head over heels in love with some guy who wore expensive suits.

I didn’t get a good look at him, but he appears to be much more Haley’s type. Then again, my knowledge of Haley’s type is relegated to what I knew of her when we were teenagers.

“We met on one of my routes when I was working as a flight attendant. At first, we kept things professional, but one night, he was staying at the same hotel and we connected over a bottle of really good wine.

“Throughout the next year, we saw each other as much as we could. He often flew out at a moment’s notice to be on one of my routes, especially if it was to Hawaii. Or Miami. Or even Europe.

“I thought everything was going great. That all changed when I learned I was pregnant. We were safe,” she adds quickly. “I always insisted on him using a condom. They’re not lying when they say it’s not a hundred percent effective.” She rolls her eyes, taking a long sip from her wine.

“What did he do?”

“Turns out I wasn’t the only woman in his life. He was married.”

“Jesus.”

“When I told him, he threw a pile of cash at me, instructed me to ‘take care of the problem’,” she says, using air quotes. “Then he warned me never to contact him again or he’d have me fired from the airline for fraternizing with a customer.” She scoffs, bringing her wine back to her lips. “He did that anyway, most likely to make sure I had no choice but to terminate. Without a job, how could I take care of a baby?”

“What an asshole,” I grind out, clenching and unclenching my fists. “You should have gone after him for child support, at least.”

I don’t even know this guy, but the more she talks, the more I want to hunt him down and break every bone in his body for the way he treated her.

“I didn’t want to give him that kind of control over me. After everything my parents did…” she trails off, taking a moment to push down her emotions. “Well, it took me years to finally get out from under their thumb. Longer than it should have.” Her mouth twists into a sad smile.

I know better than most just how much her parents tried to control her. It had been a huge bone of contention throughout our relationship. Why she felt the need to keep what we had a secret. Even when I promised to take care of her and give her the life she deserved, she was still reluctant to take that risk.

“So when I finally did, I swore I’d never let anyone have a say in my life again. Never let anyone control me again. Not after everything I lost the last time I did that.” She slowly lifts her eyes to mine, so many unspoken regrets filling the space between us.

This is the first time in months that either one of us has made a passing reference to what happened all those years ago. While a part of me knew it would eventually come up, another part of me secretly hoped it wouldn’t.

Hoped I wouldn’t have to be reminded of everything I stole from her.

“I…” I shake my head, trying to find the right words. But none seem adequate. “I really want to give you a hug right now, but I don’t want to break rule number one.”

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