Page 35 of Recklessly, Wildly Yours

Leigh: What do you want to do? Should I draft a statement for you to check over?

Me: I don’t know. I need to think.

Leigh: Okay. Let me know.

Leigh: And Maddie? I’m so fucking sorry this has happened.

My attention is drawn from my phone when my bed dips under Ethan’s weight as he sits next to me. I glance up to find him studying me with concern.

“What is it?” he asks and despite the turmoil raging inside me, I’m acutely aware of everything about him—the nearness of his body, the way his gaze feels like a touch on my skin, the solid wall of his chest that feels like a comfort. His genuine desire to know what’s upset me.

I take a deep breath, willing my voice to steady when it wants to shake, and hand him a piece of my soul. “I had an abortion two years ago,” I whisper, the words sounding like ash. “No one knew. But it’s on social media now. Tucker has commented...he made it sound like it was my choice.”

His eyes search mine. “But it wasn’t your choice.”

I like that he didn’t phrase that as a question. “He made it clear I had to get rid of the baby. And not just if I wanted a career. And he left me to do that on my own.” I squeeze my eyes closed as all the memories of that time in my life flood my mind. Ethan remains silent, giving me the space I need to think. When I finally open my eyes again there are tears in them. “I made the choice ultimately. I own that choice. It was what I thought I wanted, but damn, the choices women have to make at times...We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t.” I gulp down some oxygen. “My choice haunts me.”

“Why?”

“Call me romantic, idealistic, but I want what my parents had. I want a deep love that would say ‘fuck it all’ to outside forces when stuff like this happens.” I wipe my tears from my cheeks. “And yes, I know that’s unrealistic, because hard stuff happens in life all the time that we can’t say that to, but it’s what I wish everyone could have. And if that’s what I’d had with Tucker, maybe we would have chosen differently.”

Ethan’s gaze is unwavering. “I don’t think it’s unreasonable to want a man to stand by your side and choose you over everything else even when hard stuff’s happening all around you.” His jaw clenches. “And it’s sure as shit not unreasonable to expect the man who says he loves you to accept joint responsibility for making a baby with you.”

If I could stay in this moment for the rest of this night, I would. There’s something about Ethan that makes me feel protected, and right now I just want to feel sheltered from the world. But that’s not possible, and I have to figure out how to handle this.

Ethan’s phone rings while I’m thinking about this, and he grimaces when he sees the caller ID. He doesn’t answer the call though.

“You should call them back,” I say after the phone goes quiet.

“I don’t want to leave you like this.”

“I’m okay. And besides, I have to call Leigh and put together a plan to mitigate this.” When he doesn’t appear convinced, I add, “Honestly, I’ll be okay while you make your call.” I smile. “I promise to let you worry over me for the rest of the night.”

He looks torn over this, but when his phone rings again, he curses softly, stands, and answers the call while exiting the room.

I exhale a shaky breath once I’m alone. The silence and four walls are suffocating. Or maybe that’s my anger that feels like it’s crushing my insides.

How fucking dare Tucker do this to me?

And now I have to be the one to explain myself to the world?

I push up off the bed, my movements jerky, my fury increasing. I could scream and throw things. I want to scream and throw things. But all the years of pushing myself down, of containing myself, of swallowing my thoughts, feelings, desires, my everything, make it so I’m unable to do either of those things. Instead, I switch into business mode and send Leigh a text.

Me: Can you please draft me that statement?

Leigh: I’ve already drafted it.

She sends through a statement. It confirms the abortion and asks for privacy in the same manner that Tucker’s post did. The only truth it reveals is the fact I ended a pregnancy. It shows none of my heart or real truth, and after I read it a few times, I contemplate whether I want to share it. Whether I want to continue the façade I’ve been a part of for years.

This is a crossroads I never expected to reach, and I’m again presented with a choice that feels like damned if I do, damned if I don’t. That thought drives me in search of the minibar and what it may offer. I don’t tend to resort to alcohol to cope with life, but tonight it feels like a great option.

I down the vodka first. Then, the gin. They burn all the way down. I’m in the middle of the gin burn when Leigh texts again.

Leigh: Holy fuck, Madeline, if I end up in prison tonight for hurting someone because they hurt you, you must bail me out. Social media has lost its mind.

Me: I promise to bail you out, but don’t tell me why. There’s only so much booze in this hotel room and I suspect it won’t be enough if you do.

She calls and I put her on speakerphone. “You’re drinking?”

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