This is my first trip back to the U.S. since getting my dream job. I have a couple of days to catch up with my friends and relax before I have to head back to Paris and the first thing I did was get a front-row ticket to the Strikers tour to see Toxic Rose Thorns—my favorite band of all time.
It’s not the first time I see them. I went a few times before they blew up when I was in college. This is my first time seeing them this close and I am excited. The tickets had been sold out for weeks but my super, amazingly beautiful, cutthroat boss pulled some strings to help me get a ticket. It was probably the very last one of its kind and here I am. Inches away from kissing the damn stage anxiously excited and waiting for this crappy opening band to get done.
That’s not fair. They’re actually not that bad.
I glance back to see that the arena is most definitely sold out. The sea of people are watching the show, dancing, and moshing to the sweet screeching of the second band playing. I take a couple of pictures and make sure to get the name on the banner so that I can check out their music with a little less chaos later.
This is the first show I come to alone, but I don’t feel alone. The swarm of people in the pit is energetic. None of us are strangers at the moment. We’re all the best of friends as we wait for our favorite band to come out and bless us with their metalcore glory.
“I love your outfit!” one of the girls leaning on the rails catches my attention. “Where did you get it?”
“I made it,” I laugh. “I love your T-shirt. I have one from their first show at the House of Blues,”
“Yes!” she wraps her arms around me. “Did you go?”
“Yeah, it was my twenty-first birthday,” I nod.
“Oh, my god. I was there too. With my Ex,” she rolls her eyes. “He’s the one that introduced me to this,”
“That’s crazy. My Ex introduced me too,” I laugh.
“His name wasn’t Connor was it?”
“No,” I shake my head. “His name was Jose,”
“Ugh,” we both laugh. “This is my friend Naty. I’m Jesse,”
“Phoebe,” I shake their hands.
“I’ve never met a Phoebe before,” her friend screams. “We have to take a picture,”
“Okay,” I laugh.
“TRT on three,” she shouts holding her phone up. “One. Two. Three!”
The three of us shout TRT and she snaps four or five pictures at once.
“What’s your Quick Howl?” Jesse asks.
“CT_OFPhoebs98,” I say and she types it into her phone. She looks up at me confused.
“This is you?” she asks holding her phone up.
“Yeah,”
“You’re verified. You have four million followers,”
“I work for Royal Threads. I’m a designer,” I laugh. They both scream.
“Oh, my god! I love their new pink Academia collection. Holy shit,” Naty screams. “I work for Gossip Daily. I’m a reporter,”
“I’m in the music industry,” Jesse says. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I see that the two of them are now following me and that they’ve tagged me in a picture.
The sound of Knightly Blake’s guitar blasts from the speakers and our conversation is instantly forgotten. The crowd erupts into screams as the curtain is raised to reveal the black lights and purple lasers.
My heart skips when he stops at the edge of the stage with his favorite baby blue guitar right in front of us. My scream is stuck in my throat as he leans forward to speak into the mic. The entire show goes on in a blur of screaming and singing along. It ends way too soon leaving my body buzzing and wanting more.
By the time I got back to my rental, I remembered that I had spoken to those girls and laugh at myself because I didn’t even get their numbers. I sit here for a bit and then wait to get out of the crowded parking lot.
I stop to get some tacos and drinks before heading back to the BnB I’ll be staying in until the end of the month before I get back to work. Coincidentally, it wasn’t too far from the venue. I probably would have walked if I wasn’t a complete chicken and kind of afraid of the dark. It took me a lot longer to get here than I expected. I grab my food and my new TRT merch to head up.
As I’m rounding the lobby to get to the elevators someone smacks right into me. I drop some of my things but not my food.
“Yes, I didn’t drop my tacos,” I laugh and reach down to grab the sweater on the floor.
“I am so sorry,” the guy says and reaches for my things. “I was on my phone,”
“It’s okay. It happens,” I say.
We both look up at the same time and I freeze. My stupid mouth falls open when my gaze clashes with his gorgeous jade-green eyes. He looks down at the sweater and the vinyl.
“No,” he laughs. “Are you just getting back from my show?”
I open my mouth and all that comes out is a squeak. That’s Knightly Blake. I touched his boots on stage earlier tonight. That’s how close I was to him and now he’s kneeling in front of me holding my stuff.
“Are you still breathing?” he waves his hand in my face.
“Holy . Dude! You’re Knightly Blake,” bursts out of my mouth loud enough for it to echo in the lobby’s high ceilings.
“You’re lucky there’s not one here,” he laughs. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I didn’t drop my tacos,” I say and let him help me stand up.
“We wouldn’t want that,” he says putting my things together.
“I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to scream in your face like that,” I apologize.
“It happens,” he grins looking me over. “Where did you get my suit from last year’s tour?”
“I made it. It’s been my favorite costume since the suspenders. Um, I don’t think I would been allowed into the venue if I had showed up in that,” why did I say that? What the is wrong with me?
“That’s too bad. I bet you’d look amazing in it,” he one-shoulder shrugs. I burst into laughter.
“That was kind of cringe,” I admit.
“Why are you so red?” he laughs.
“I just got hit on by Knightly Blake,” I shake my head in disbelief. “Would it be weird if I asked for a picture?”
“Not at all,” he presses his lips together.
Is he blushing? Get the out of here. I quickly set my things down and take my phone out of my back pocket.
“I am red,” I laugh holding up my phone. “It’s cool. I’ll edit it later. Ready?”
“Waiting on you,” he grins. I snap our picture and show him. “That’s a good one. Be sure to tag me in that,”
“Okay,” I agree and look up at him. He towers over me by at least six inches without my usual stilettos. He makes me feel small and I am not a small person.
“You and your friends were standing up front tonight. I almost stepped on your hand,” he looks down at my things.
“You saw that? I would have been honored to have been stepped on by you,” what the ?
“Is that right?” he laughs and I feel my face heat up even more.
“There now we both said something stupid,” I try to hide my embarrassment. We both laugh.
“You’re not stalking us are you?” he asks.
“No, I’m staying here,” I shake my head and bend down to pick my things up again. He helps me and hands everything back. The elevator pings open and an old couple walks out with their little ugly dog. We both get into the elevator. I reach for the buttons at the same time he does and we both click the fourth floor. “You gotta be kidding me,”
“That is exactly what I was thinking,” he laughs and turns his head slightly to look at me. We’re about half an inch away from each other. “You’re not going to hit me if I kiss, are you?”
“My hands are full,” I remind him.
“Right. You don’t want to drop your tacos,” he says. I step back until my back hits the mirrored wall behind me and suddenly his lips are on mine.
My first instinct is to run. It usually is, but when he steps closer burying his hand in my hair. I have no choice but to give in. He feels it the moment I do because his tongue sweeps my lips and I don’t hesitate to let him take control of it. My skin comes alive when he touches me. The elevator pings and he pulls away without letting go of me.
“Oh, my god,” I squeak making him grin.
“I’m sharing a room with two others,”
“There’s no one at my place,” I say without hesitation.
“Lead the way,” he takes a step back.
My ears ring as I step out of the elevator. I glance back at him to make sure this is real. Am I really going to do this? I can think of several reasons why I shouldn’t and almost all of them end up with me dead and or kidnapped. I stop in front of my door.
“My card is in my back pocket,” I say.
The sly grin that crosses his face is enough to say it. If this is the hill I die on, this is where it ends. His fingertips trail up the back of my thigh before he reaches into my pocket and slips out the key card. His eyes meet mine and he holds my stare as he swipes it through the reader.
“There you go,” he says lowly. I lick my lips tasting his minty sweetness.
“Thank you,” I fight the urge to laugh again because why the did I just thank him? We walk inside and I immediately go over to the dining table to set everything down. “There’s a mess. I’m here for work,”
“You’re an artist?” he asks looking over my sketches and open portfolios.
“I’m a clothes designer,” I say reaching for the Redd’s Apple Ale I got earlier. “Would you like a drink?”
“Sure,” he says coming over to me.
I slide the box over to him and he takes one. He doesn’t even look at what it is I provided for him. We both open the bottle and take a drink completely in sync. This is a dream. It has to be. His was more of a sip. He sets it down and reaches for my waist. When he positions himself in front of me he takes the bottle out of my hand.
“I’ve never done this,” I admit.
“You’re a virgin?” he searches my face.
“No, no. I mean the one-night stand thing,” I laugh nervously.
“I’ll guide you through it,”
I gasp when his fingers dig into my thighs and then he lifts me onto the table. His mouth is on me again and this time, I have nothing in my hands to stop me from touching him. Holy shit! This is happening to me right now.
My hands are all over him and if he has a problem with it, he doesn’t complain. His body is firm but not in a crazy buff kind of way. My shirt goes first and then my bra. His teeth graze my neck as he gently pushes me back to get to my bare breasts. The sound that comes out of me makes him grin as he bites down on the outside of my boob. The sting only serves to wake me up more. I pull his shirt over his head and toss it.
There is ink all over the place. I know some of these from when I was younger and had nothing better to do than obsess over him and the other members of the band. I can’t believe I’m seeing them up close and personal. I touch them, trace them up his arm and onto his neck as he continues to palm my breasts and bite on them.
“, you’re beautiful,” he says unbuttoning my jeans. He lifts me a little to pull them down my thighs. He sets me down and takes them off along with my boots. “You wore this to see me perform tonight?” I can’t bring myself to say anything so I just nod. “These are not good girl panties,”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I laugh. “But you can take them off,”
“I much rather leave them where they are,” he grins. “Lay back on the table,”
His hand presses down on my belly and I do as he asks. He smiles and tugs the fabric of my thong to the side. His fingers gently caress me. I squeak again when he rubs me in a circular motion. I lay back on the table when he slips his middle finger inside of me.
“That’s it,” he praises. “Relax for me,”
“My name is Pheobe,” I inform him.
“It is a pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Pheobe,” he grins looking up at me. “You can call me Knight,”
“Okay,” I lay back. “Knight,”
He slips his finger out of me, tucking his hands under me to lift me off the table. He buries his face between my legs and all I can do is hold on for dear life. Just like the show, everything happens in a blur.
It happens here on the table with my legs wrapped around him as our tongues get more than a little acquainted with one another. He starts off slow and I’m grateful for it because just like the rest of him. Knightly Blake is blessed by all the gods in the universe. It’s honestly not fair to any man on this earth.
The next thing I know, I bent over the table with his hand coming down on my ass making loud slaps while he keeps praising me and calling me his good girl. We stumble into the living room where he curls me up on the couch to successfully trap me under him in every position he can think of. I didn’t know I could bend in some of the positions he put me in.
We end up in the shower and finally spend the rest of the night in the room until I fall asleep. I am deliciously sore all over when I wake up the next morning. He’s nowhere in sight and at the moment, I think it’s for the best.
I get up and find the vinyl I bought last night on the kitchen counter. It’s signed by every member of the band and at the bottom where his signature is in silver marker reads. Don’t worry Pheobe. To me, you’re always going to be my good girl. Our little secret. Knight.
Thinking back on that night, despite how everything turned out in the end, I’ll never bring myself to regret the choice I made. Before then, my life had been empty and he gave me the greatest gift I could have ever asked for. Well, gifts. Two of them with the same pretty jade green eyes. Aizen and Ayrie. The two little whoopsies I discovered growing inside of me in Paris, two months later.
Gone was the reckless little girl I was after freeing myself from my father’s clutches. Things became clearer. The goal wasn’t to prove to my dad that I could more than make it out on my own without him. It was all for them. They really put things into perspective for me and it was all because of that night. I didn’t think he’d be who he became as he was when he found out he was a father and that I never had the intention of ever letting him know. Fate somehow favored me and I will forever be grateful for KNIGHTLY.
……………………………………………………………………
Six Years Later
Every time I get called into the school, the French headmistress calls me a filthy American bitch and I laugh at her because even if that is true, I pay her enough for her to overlook what my son has done yet again. God, I miss when that meant something.
Aizen is a biter.
I could ask where the kid got it from but the day after his conception tells me he got it from his father. The mother of the little boy my son tried to take a chunk out of, is livid. With good reason, but while Aizen’s attack preference is biting, I have to ask what the kid did to get him there. Because he doesn’t do it without reason. Ayrie loves to tease him and while she can get carried away, her brother has the patience of a saint, bless his soul. So, I doubt he did it without provocation.
The French mother is shouting all kinds of French vulgarities at me. Usually, people think I don’t understand them, but I’ve been here for eight years of my life and I took French before moving here. I’m not here on a whim but to each their own. And of course, the first thing I learned to do was how to call someone a asshole in French. It’s, putain de trou du cul. It actually sounds really cool.
The headmistress glances over at me every so often to make sure I’m not taking offense to the shit coming out of this woman’s mouth. I am so glad to be going home after all this time. When I first arrived, I was so excited. Because hello, Paris. Except the people here are mean and they smoke. Like a lot. I might miss the late morning work start, but the rest of it can go to shit for all I care. I’ve been to New York and that has nothing on this place. New York is just a bunch of aggressive sweeties. I’m glancing at you, Queens.
“What did he do to him?” I finally cut in.
“He bit my son,” she shouts in her dumb French accent.
“If you don’t back up, French fry. I’ll be biting you next,” I sneer. She places her hand over her chest as if offended. As if she didn’t just curse my son up, down, and sideways.
“There was a small altercation between Milos and Aizen over a lunch bag,” the headmistress places my son’s Bluey lunch bag on the desk.
“That’s my son’s. I packed it for him this morning. He doesn’t like the food here,” I open it to show her where I stitched his name tag.
“We serve only the best here,” she scoffs. That’s not the point, lady.
“Try telling that to my five-year-old,” I roll my eyes because that’s not the point, lady.
“American scum,” the woman makes a spitting sound in my direction.
“Lady, you are lucky that our sons are here because I would love nothing more than to slam your stupid face into that desk,” I say lowly so only she can hear me. “Your son put his filthy hands on my son’s belongings. It better not happen again,” I snatch the bag off the desk. “Do you understand?” I repeat it to her in French and her entire demeanor falls apart. “You seem to have gotten that one,”
“You’re going to let her speak to me like that? I pay good money for my son to come here-“
“So do I. I have two kids here,” I scoff. “And I’m on the committee,”
“You have two children?” she glares at me.
“Are we done?” I ask the headmistress.
“I am sorry, Miss Altaha,” she apologizes. “Is there anything I can do for you while you’re here?”
Her tone makes me wish I wasn’t a strong, independent, and educated woman back on my reservation in California. There’s only a week left. I don’t need this shit and neither do the twins.
“You can bring my daughter out and I’d like their transcripts, please,” I nod. She tenses up and looks between me and the woman next to me.
“Miss Altaha, I will see to it that your son’s belongings will no longer-“
“It doesn’t matter. I’m taking my American ass back to my homeland. I don’t want your people’s ugly manners rubbing off on my kids. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. You keep making these hollow promises, but here we are again. This little boy has been giving Aizen problems for months now and all you do is let his ill-mannered mother talk to us like we don’t understand what she’s saying.
“French is their first language, Bitch,” I turn my attention to the woman. “And you have taught my very well-behaved son a few words I’ve had to punish him for. So, no there is no way in hell my kids are staying here for another year. So, thank you for your service. Let’s hope none of you are ever treated like shit when you come to the States. But by the looks of both of you. I doubt you’ll ever be able to afford it. I’ll wait for my daughter and the paperwork outside,”
Aizen jumps off the chair in his little uniform and walks out the door as I hold it open for him. I sit him in the only chair available and notice his undone shoelaces. I start to tie them and look up at him to see he’s looking back at me with a smirk.
“Sorry, momma,” he whispers. I sigh and pull his sock up properly.
“What did he do to you?” I ask.
“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head.
“It matters to me, son. I can’t make you feel better if you don’t talk to me,” I brush his dark hair out of his face. He looks down at his sleeve and lifts it. There are three scratches from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. “Did you show your teacher?”
“They don’t care, momma,” he shrugs. “I beat him up very well,”
The two of us laugh. I glance over at the kid when his mom walks out of the office. He did beat the kid up. He has a bruise on his cheek and the mark where Aizen bit him on the hand. He’s right. From the start, they made it pretty clear where we stood. Not only am I American, but not the pretty blonde-haired hair blue-eyed kind.
My mom was, but not my father, and while I’m not as red as he is, I look a lot like him and so do my kids. The dark hair and the tanned skin. It’s a stigma we’ll never be able to outrun. Here or back home. But it builds character and my kids have grown used to it.
For the most part, they let their work do all the talking. They’re both insanely smart and talented. They know that. I was going to let it go, but these marks might leave a scar. This scandal might just be the final you this country needs.
“Mommy,” Ayrie runs towards us. Her little body smacks against mine. “We’re going home?”
“Yes,” I nod. “Let’s get out of here,”
……………………………………………………………………
I have no problems with spending our last week in Paris together all day long. When we get home, I clean up Aizen’s scratches and put some bandaids on them. It doesn’t take much to get them in a better mood. All I had to say was that they weren’t ever going back there again.
As I box everything up to send to our new home, I have to admit that I am going to miss this place. This is where they were born. Where I struggled for the first few months as a first-time mom until I met Kendra. Their nanny has been a dream since hiring her. She agreed to move here with me and is more than thrilled to be on the same continent as her family again.
Both Aizen and Ayrie took their first steps here. They both called me Mama for the first time here and I am getting very sentimental now. I go to the bathroom so the kids don’t see me cry. Kendra sees me though.
“This will be good for you and them,” she reminds me. “Us too,”
“I know. It’s just, this was our home for so long,”
“I am very excited for California,” she laughs.
“I am very excited for the kids to see it too,” I feel much better.
I take the kids to a couple of museums and the Eiffel Tower one last time so we can say goodbye and have lots of pictures. During our flight, I can’t help but feel nervous for some reason. Aizen sleeps through most of it but like me, Ayrie doesn’t shut her eyes once.
“Mommy, are we going to see Grandpa again this time?”
“Uh,” I clear my throat remembering how telling my dad I was a mother of two without telling him the name of their father went. “Not this time. We’re moving there. It’s going to be our new home,”
“Is it going to be a regular house this time?” she asks excitedly.
“It’ll be an apartment first. I want to find the perfect house. Would you like to help with that?”
“Will it be by the beach?” she asks excitedly. I may have mentioned we’d be by the beach.
“Would you like it to be?”
“Yes,” she nods eagerly. “We never been to the beach,”
“We can go this weekend while we settle in. It’s not too far from our apartment,”
“Oui, s’il vous plaît,” she giggles and crawls onto my lap. “Do we still have to talk French?”
“Not if you don’t want to. In California mostly everyone speaks English,”
“What do the others speaks?”
“It depends, but where we’re going I’d have to say Spanish,”
“We don’t know Spanish,” she curls into me.
“No, well. You don’t,” I laugh.
“You do?” she gasps.
“I do,” I nod. “And so does Kenny,”
“Awesome sauce. I want Kenny to teach me Spanish,”
“You don’t want me to teach you?”
“I want you to find the perfect beach house, Mommy. Better than Barbie’s,” she laughs.
“Better than Barbie’s, huh?” I tickle her. She giggles and then wraps her arms around me.
“Are you sad, Mommy?” she asks.
“Why would you ask that?”
“Because Mrs. Reedly said you must be a sad with two kids and no husband,”
Kendra was in the midst of drinking water. She almost spits it out and starts coughing. I have to fight laughing harder than I ever have in my entire life. I hear a couple of laughs from the other private areas in the first-class lounge. Her little French accent only serves in her favor.
Mrs. Reedly is probably explaining to her husband that they’re being sued by some crazy American woman at the moment along with the school who transferred their son to a different private academy.
“No, Ayrie. I am not sad. You are not allowed to repeat that ever again in your life,” I finally laugh.
“I promise,” she giggles. “Can I go lay down with Bubbie?”
“Yeah, I’ll take you,” I sigh and stand.
I take her over to him and tuck her in next to him. It’s crazy how alike they look like this. I cover them and signal Kendra to watch them. She’s still bright red. She gives me a thumbs up. It was never a secret. I never told anyone I was married and with how public my profile is, the moms all had their laugh at my expense. So did some of my co-workers.
My boss has been trying to set me up left and right, but I honestly didn’t have the time between runways and the kids. Sure, Kendra took a lot of the weight off, but there was no way I was going to end up with a French man. My father would hunt both of us down.
I wash my hands and open the door to get back to my seat. The door across from me opens at the same time and a man steps out before I can.
“Excuse me,” he says politely.
My heart stops and my ears immediately start to ring. I close my eyes and shake my head. No. There is no way that’s him. I step out just enough to watch him go over to the back area furthest away from the twins and then he turns around. It is him. I all but run to my seat.
“You okay?” Kendra asks when I fall into my seat and grab one of the blankets to cover myself with it as if it would make me disappear.
“This is not happening,” I whisper to myself.
“Oh, do you need a tampon?” she whispers.
“What?” I ask her caught off guard.
“What?” she asks defensively. “Why are you all squirrelly, Phoebs?”
“No reason,” I clear my throat. I reach for a water bottle.
“Phoebe, you’re shaking,” she places her hand over mine. “Did something happen?”
“No,” I shake my head. I take a couple of deep breaths. “I just feel a little light-headed,”
“Here, lie back. You’re pale,”
There is no way he’ll recognize me. He’s on the other side of the plane. It was a long time ago. I don’t even have long hair anymore and I’m dressed differently. Right? Right. Oh, my god. What are the odds of this happening? Then again, what are the odds of what happened before happening? The odds are always aligned. Shit.
“I got you some sparkling water,” Kendra returns with a little green bottle.
“Thank you,” I take it.
“New home jitters?” she asks playfully.
“No, just the ghosts of the past,” I mumble.
“I hear that,” she sits across from me. I forget she has crazy good hearing.
The twins are up and ready to get off the plane when we land.
There’s no way we’re going to see him again. At least, that is what I’m telling myself as we get off the plane and head down to get our luggage. As luck has it, I don’t see him again. I get my things and set them down as Kendra tells the kids that California is the coolest place in the world and that it’s also her first time here.
“Mommy, Chocolate Sprinkles!” Ayrie calls out and runs off. I look up to see her bear stuck on the belt.
“Watch this,” I call out Kendra.
“Got it,” she laughs. The bear’s overalls are stuck on the edge of the belt and I can’t get it out.
“Excuse me,” I call out as I struggle. I’m almost to the end of the belt when a hand reaches out and unhooks it. I stumble back making sure nothing happened to my baby’s favorite bear. “Thank you, so much. This my baby’s-” I stop when I see him standing there. “Favorite bear,”
“You’re welcome,” he smiles. I press my lips together and nod stupidly. “Do I know you?” he asks stopping me. “You seem familiar,”
“Shit,” I clear my throat.
“It’s you,” he adds quietly. “My good girl,”
“,” I laugh and spin around to face him. “I was hoping you didn’t recognize me,”
“I take offense to that, Angel,” he smirks.
“Mommy. You found him,” Ayrie points up at me.
“Huh?” my mind glitches for a second and then I realize what she’s talking about when she snatches the bear out of my hands.
“I’m sorry, Chocolate Sprinkles,” she says dusting his overalls and then hugs him tightly.
“Momma, my strap came apart,” Aizen comes over to me holding out his carry-on.
“I told you to stop tugging on it,” I remind him. He laughs and holds it up so I can fix it.
“You have two,” Knighty looks between them. He looks stunned.
“Yeah, these are my kids. Aizen and Ayrie,” I say mindlessly. Why did I say that to him?
“You’re the guy from the TV,” Ayrie shouts excitedly. I cover her mouth and pull her to me.
“Oh, my god! It’s Knightly Blake,” someone screams.
“Just like her Mom, huh?” he steps back and pulls his hoodie over his head. “I’ll see you around, Phoebe,”
“Kenny,” I call out picking up Ayrie.
She lifts up Aizen and we grab our things trying to dodge the people running past us. God, that was a good save, baby girl. People swarm past us as we try to get the hell out of there. We make it to the exit to find our driver holding up a sign with my last name on it. We hurry over to him. He leads us out to his van. Two car seats are waiting inside for us. I don’t hesitate to hide the twins.
“You know Knightly Blake?” Kendra asks when we’re finally moving. “How?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I shake my head and try to catch my breath.
“That’s nuts,” she laughs. “I hate that guy,”
“You’re not supposed to say that word,” Aizen scolds her.
“Right,” she nods. “I hate him,”
……………………………………………………………………
Knightly
I didn’t think I’d ever see her again. Phoebe. I never really got over our encounter. It’s not every day one meets their soulmate like that. To say it surprises me that she’s married and has kids is an understatement.
We didn’t really talk much that night, but our connection was instant. The way she said my name. How she touched me. She asked for nothing in return after she let me have her every way I could think of. The vinyl was the only thing I could leave behind. Had I stayed and let her wake up, things would have ended badly for both of us. Has she thought of me since then?
She’s as beautiful as the first time I ran into her. This encounter is as bad as the last one. That itch I thought had disappeared is stirring and I don’t want it to.
“You made a scene at the airport,” Pete says and drops into the armchair across from me.
“I ran into someone,” I explain.
“Do tell,” Rip pushes my leg off his coffee table. His wife glares at me.
“Sorry,” I apologize and sit up straight.
“Who was it?” she asks.
“Do you guys remember the girl from six years ago?”
“The girl that inspired the album that followed?” Pete laughs. “Yeah, we remember Phoebe,”
“That’s who I ran into,”
“What?” they all sit up. I laugh at their reaction.
“Did you at least get her number?” Rip smacks my leg.
“No, I didn’t, and even if I had. She’s married now. Has two kids,”
“Aww,” Felicity taps my knee. “That sucks, man,”
“Yeah,” it really does.
“Did she get fat at least?” Pete scoffs. We all laugh.
“Not even a little. She cut her hair. She looked so good,” I admit and sit back. “Her daughter looks just like her,”
“That’s cute. What did you say her name was?” Felicity asks.
“Phoebe,” Pete answers.
“Let’s see who the lucky that married her is,” she laughs. “Do we have a last name?”
“The sign her driver was carrying read Altaha,” I say.
“She’s native?” Pete asks.
“I think so. Mixed maybe. She has dark blue eyes. Like navy blue eyes,” I nod. They all laugh at me. That was sappy, even for me.
“Are you sure? All that comes up with that name is the new CEO of Royal Threads in SoCal,”
“What? Wait, that might be her. She said she was a clothes designer when we met. She had drawings all over her suite,”
“No, way,” she laughs and hands me her phone.
“That’s her,” I nod. They all bunch in around us to get a look at her. Wow, she’s really got her shit together.
“Dude, she is so hot,” Pete nods.
“I’d think about that all day long too, if I were you,” Rip momentarily forgets his wife is in the room and gets a slap to the back of the head. “Sorry, baby,”
“Aww, they’re so cute,” she wiggles next to me. “Oh, look at the little boy. He has a guitar,” she switches the picture to the kid sitting on her lap while she strums the guitar for him when he’s about one or two. The baby loves it. “Oh, my god. He plays,” she moves to the next video. It’s the boy as old as he is now playing a baby blue electric guitar customized for him. “Did she try to make him look like you?”
“Her husband,” I roll my eyes.
“I don’t see one,” she says as she continues to scroll through. “Wait, here,” my stomach clenches when she stops. “This is from like three years ago,”
I still don’t like the picture. Some guy has his arms around her. He’s looking up at the camera but the look she’s giving him implies they’re more than just friends. It shouldn’t bother me. It’s not like she belongs to me. In fact, I don’t really know anything about her except that she’s phenomenal in bed.
“I don’t think she’s married,” Pete says as Felicity scrolls through her Instagram. “Hey, it’s you,”
They hold the phone out for me. The picture we took outside the elevator comes up. We’re both laughing. I hadn’t laughed like that in a long time. Before her, things were a little bleak. I had nothing. I had never had writer’s block like that and I haven’t had it again since.
“That was a good night,” I admit. They all laugh.
“If you see her again, check for a ring,” Rip smacks my chest.
“I am going to get some rest. That was a long flight,” I say and get up. “Sorry about the mess today,”
They all dismiss me. I take a hot shower and get into bed. It gets the better of me and I reach for my laptop. I type her name in and a whole lot of out of my league pops up on the screen. Fashion shows, fashion awards, fashion articles, pictures of her on magazine covers, and a whole lot of success.
One article catches my attention. It’s about her rise to the top. How she overcame the struggles as a single mom. A single mom? How does that happen? Who in their right mind would leave her like that? This girl is a whole ten with no buts.
Then I see how old they are. I laugh for a moment. Her kids are five years old. Five plus nine months is almost six whole years. My heart starts to race and I sit up. I go back to her QuickHowl and scrolled down to the picture of us.
There are over a hundred pictures above it before there’s a picture of an ultrasound. I reach for my wallet to check the napkin with the drawing of a dress I stole from her. She had written the date at the bottom left-hand corner and I start to feel sick to my stomach.
“Knightly,” Peter barges into my room. I immediately slam my laptop shut. Maybe a little too hard. “You’re not jacking off, right?”
“What? Of course, not,”
“Whatever, sick ass. Dude, I was stalking your girlfriend,”
“Not my girlfriend,” I shake my head.
“Her kids are five, my man,” he jumps into the bed with me. “Wouldn’t it be crazy if they were yours?” he laughs. “What were you doing, liar?”
“Nothing,” I shake my head. He snatches my laptop. “You were stalking her,” he opens the laptop and then shows me. “You cracked your screen, dumbass,”
“,” I take it from him. I don’t know how that happened. My wolf has been dormant for years.
“If you weren’t stalking. It was porn,” he declares.
“Get out of my room,” I toss the laptop on the floor. He laughs and heads to the door.
“It was porn,” he nods sure of himself. I take a throw pillow and launch it at him. He closes the door before it can hit him.
“Holy shit,” I sit up and try to take even breaths. “You didn’t do that,”