Although Marvin loves beautiful blonde bombshells, his father is a proud African American man, and he wanted his son to follow in his footsteps. During my vulnerable state, Marvin convinced me that aligning could be beneficial for us both. He said if I agreed to pretend to be his girlfriend, he would assure my position at his family practice was waiting for me after giving birth. He benefited from our situation by getting his dad off his back about settling down and getting married. He was convinced it was a win-win situation forusboth.
It was… until twelve months ago. Marvin didn’t want to pretend anymore. He wanted us to become a real life couple. I was hesitant. Joel knew of Marvin, but their contact was severely lacking. Neither was interested in getting to know the other. When I hesitated, Marvin was quick to remind me how he guided me through the storm and that without him, I would have had nothing. After swearing his indiscretions would end and promising to put more of an effort into our relationship and Joel, Marvin and I became an official couple ninemonthsago.
Nothingchanged.
Our relationship followed the exact same path as the previous four years. Marvin’s indiscretions never ended. Not that I mind as it keeps his focus off me. He continued to live in his apartment on Pinter; I remained in my house, and he has never spent any time at all establishing a relationship with Joel. That is why I was so shocked when he proposed. Neither of us are ready for marriage. We are barely a couple, let alone ready to walk down theaisle.
Although Marvin is an asshole and he irks the living hell out of me, I would have been lost without him. He did save me. So like all things in life, I accept the good with the bad. People believe Marvin is using me, but I’ve used him just as much. We are as bad as eachother.
My head lifts from my knees when Joel rushes out of his bedroom and charges down the hall. His little face is lit up, and his eyes are wide and clearlyexcited.
“I knew it!” he squeals loudly, his eyes bouncing in alldirections.
“It’s him, isn’t it? The daddy in the pictures, my daddy,” he says, his words coming out in an excitedflurry.
When he fails to locate Hugo, he runs into the kitchen, clutching a photo frame in his hand. My heart squeezes painfully in my chest when he emerges from the kitchen not even two seconds later. The excitement on his face has dampened, and his shoulders are slumped and hanging low. He looks utterlydevastated.
“Where did he go?” he asks, his lower lipquivering.
I gesture for him to come sit with me by outstretching my arms. Tears pool in his eyes as his slowly trudges to me. All the excitement on his face has vanished, and his lips have turned downwards. When he sits into my lap, I run my fingers through his thick hair before pressing a kiss on his sweat-beaded forehead. After peering down at the photo frame in his hand, Joel locks his tear-drenched eyes with mine. My heart breaks when I glance into his beautiful eyes. His eyes are identical to his dad’s in everysingleway.
“Was it him?” Joel queries, handing me the pictureframe.
Fresh tears spring in my eyes when I look at the photo he is offering me. It is a picture Mrs. Marshall snapped of Hugo and me dancing at Jorgie’s wedding. It was taken mere seconds before Marvin interrupted us, requesting to dance with his date. I’m not ashamed to admit that nothing but love is projecting out of me in this picture. I loved Hugo for years, and Mrs. Marshall’s photocapturedthat.
“Yes, sweetheart, it was him,” I answer, my voice shuddering from the pounding of my heart. Although I could lie to him and say Hugo isn’t his dad, I’ve never been one for deceit. If you tell a lie once, all of your truths becomequestionable.
Joel inhales a quick, sharp breath. “Is hecomingback?”
His eyes stare into mine, begging for me to say yes. I run my hand across his forehead. His heart is beating so fast, I can feel his pulse raging through histemples.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I reply, my voice dejected and fullofpain.
I run my index finger under his eyes, removing a few stray tearsseepingfree.
Hating the disappointment in his eyes, I mutter, “Maybe he’llbeback?”
The tears in Joel’s eyes dry as they drift between mine. His eyes are like his father’s in another way: they can see straight through to my soul. He also knows I'd do anything in my power to ease his pain. Even breaking my ownheart.
* * *
Idon’t needto see Hugo to know he is here. I can intuit his presence without needing to physically see him. We round the corner of the Marshall family residence, moving towards the back patio where the monthly Marshall brunch is held. To celebrate Hugo’s return, Mrs. Marshall organized an special invited attendees-only brunch. I’ve never missed a Marshall brunch the past six years, and today isn’t going to be an exception. I have many treasured memories from the Marshall family brunch. I even went into laboratone.
Joel spots Hugo before me. His grip on my hand firms and a dimpled grin stretches across his face. I’ve never hidden Joel’s dad’s identity from him. I shared photos and stories of Hugo with him many times the past four years. Joel even has the Marshall last name. No matter how often Marvin begged for me to pretend Joel was his biological child, it was never going to happen. The Marshall family suffered enough loss to last a lifetime. I wasn’t going to add another name to their already extensive list. Hugo is Joel’s father, and no amount of hurt or anger will ever changethatfact.
Exhaling a deep breath, I drift my eyes to Marvin. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I advise, mywordslow.
Marvin slits his eyes as his jaw gainsatick.
“Please don’t create a scene,” I say, stopping his callous words before they can escape his lips. “He needs this.” I gesture my head to Joel, who hasn’t taken his eyesofHugo.
Marvin aggressively crosses his arms in front of his chest, but thankfully he continues giving me the silent treatment. The thrum of Joel’s pulse runs the length of my arm as we pace to Hugo, hand in hand. His excited smile enlarges with every step we take. Hugo is flanked by two gorgeous blondes, and for the first time in my life, my claws are sheathed. His nieces, Katie and Angie, Chase’s two-year-old twin daughters, are climbing over him like he is their personal play fort. They appear as smitten as every female does when they are awarded with Hugo’sattention.
When Hugo notices me approaching with Joel, he wrangles them off his jean-covered thighs and hands them to Chase. His eyes are still crammed with the despair he wore two days ago when I begged him to leave, but with every step we take towards him, it lessens, and a new glimmer of hope brightensinthem.
I stop in front of Hugo and muster a small smile, pretending my heart isn’t hammering againstmyribs.
“Hugo, this is your son, Joel Marshall,” I introduce him. The mad beat of my heart causes my voice to come out in ajudder.
