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I feel my face flame. Was that her boyfriend?
Where didthatquestion come from? I bristle, turning away and taking another sip of my beer.
I tried to stop myself from looking into things further after my search the other night went haywire. I really did. But after laying awake half the night thinking about it, I’d finally pulled my phone out and continued.
The comments were bad. Like, really bad. Every platform I could find, every place his obituary was listed, there was commentary about Piper, Mickey and his daughter, Kayla.
The thing that really stuck with me was the baseball tournament they still held in his honor. I stumbled across the Facebook event after finding an old news article about it, and sure enough, at the top of the page, there was a picture of a little girl, flanked by a photoshopped image of who I’d come to learn was Mickey, complete with little angel wings, like he was looking over her.
A little part of me wanted to fucking vomit looking at it. I mean, sentimentality has never really been my thing, but that was just…a lot.
The tournament raised money for local cancer patients each year, and it looked like their donations were more sizable as time went on. Well, at least they were turning the experience into something positive.
I couldn’t believe that the person who had recoiled at the idea of impropriety all those years ago was capable of cutting off a child from her dying father, but nothing I saw told me otherwise - and believe me, I looked. And seeing her here, my insides feel a little molten. With anger? I’m not sure.
“You ok, man?” I look up to see Todd walking slowly, his nearly overflowing beer in his hands as he balances it with a giant soft pretzel. I nod wordlessly as Roscoe runs up again, nuzzling my knee with his tennis ball filled mouth.
“Just saw someone I know, not a big deal.” He sits down, and appraises me. Todd, my neighbor, and I had really only started hanging out in the last few years - since shit hit the fan in my life, and he found me taking a sledgehammer to the custom oak dining table I’d had made for Olivia for our 5th anniversary in our backyard. He, too, was recently divorced, and had stepped in to fill the role that Ryan vacated when he fucked my wife.
“Are you sure you’re good? You look like you saw a ghost.” Todd presses, staring between me and the vague area where Piper and her group are seated.
Not a ghost. Or, maybe, just a ghost of a person I used to know, and not even that well.
But it all goes back to the question Olivia asked me all those years ago - why do I care? Why do I, Fitz Westfall, give a flying fuck what this woman did or did not do to an innocent child?
Maybe because a part of me relates to that child, for not getting to know a parent fully. And another part wants to believe that none of it is true in the first place.
“Oh,fuck,Fitz!”Savannahcalls out in a hoarse whisper, her hips slamming against the edge of the desk as I grind into her, my hand holding her hair securely at the nape of her neck. Her fingers claw at the paperwork in front of her, nearly knocking over a contract I’ve been working on all morning.
“Careful,” I seethe, pulling her hair harder. She lets out a whimper before finding balance on an empty part of the desk, pushing back against my cock. “I’m close.” She makes a guttural noise, one hand reaching between her legs, I’m sure to further herself along, and when I feel my orgasm hit me, she’s not far behind, muffling her cries by biting her lips. I stare silently at the ceiling of the office, mouth open, slightly dazed.
For years, Olivia was the only woman I’d ever slept with. But post-separation, I was bitter - well, still am bitter - out for revenge and the only way I knew how to get it was by fucking my way through the hardest time of my life.
There were other women - a good career, good car, good life from the outside, will do that - but Savannah was the safe option. She came on strong after the divorce, seemingly always around thanks to her former job at The Monarch and her friendship with my sister, Frannie. I knew from the beginning that Fran was well aware of both the fact that it was happening, and that it was probably better for me to vent my sexual frustration with her eager friend than a stranger.
Savannah knew, Imade sureshe knew, what this was from the start.
My phone in front of us starts to ring, and I flip it over to see Georgia, my assistant, calling. Savannah turns back to look at me, and I answer, my finger at my lips.
“Yes, Georgia?” I pull out of her slowly, and watch as her head falls back in a silent moan.
“Tif just let me know your two o’clock is there. She didn’t want to disturb you. What are you doing locked up in-"
“Thank you, Georgia.” I cut her off, hanging up the call and getting dressed hastily, adjusting my tie and throwing my jacket back on. I watch as Savannah pulls up her underwear, smoothing her dress out before leaning up to give me a kiss. I turn my head at the last moment, letting her lips fall on my cheek, and she pulls back, frowning.
“What-"
Before she can get out whatever she was going to say, the door handle jiggles, and I cross the distance, unlocking and opening it. Tif, the office coordinator at The Pine, at least has the audacity to look startled.
“I’m so sorry, Georgia said…” She trails off, and I make a mental note to say something to Georgia later - nothing too harsh, as she’s one of the only reasons I’ve been able to stay afloat the last few years in this position.
“Don’t worry about it, Tif,” I say, turning back to Savannah. “We can talk later about the rest of that proposal.” She catches on quickly, nodding.
“Sounds good, I’ll be in touch, Mr. Westfall.” She scuttles out of the room, and it isn’t until I look back at Tif that I notice Piper behind her.
I realize, for the first time, how tall she is. While she’s wearing heels, she would still have several inches on Tif without them. Her dark, curly hair is pinned off to one side, exposing her collarbone in a wide-necked purple blouse.
She looks surprised.
