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The line goes dead. I stand there, staring at my phone as if it can explain what Felicity might want.
Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
Felicityand I met about a decade ago. She reminded me a lot of my mother. She was a waitress who had big dreams. She wanted to be an actress and she was pretty good, but hadn’t gotten her break yet. She was beautiful and feisty. I liked that just like my mother, she didn’t blame the world for her circumstances and did what she needed to do to get ahead. So I allowed myself to be swept away in the infatuation. Things happened quickly between us. Within three months of knowing each other we were married.
Once we were husband and wife, things quickly changed. She hated how much I worked and my lifestyle in general. She hated the people who I called my friends. If I’m being honest with myself, with time, I became a little neglectful. That added to the strain in our marriage.
She on the other hand was abrasive. That fierce independence I loved from the beginning became a thorn in my side.
It was almost as if she resented me because of my wealth, but at the same time she refused to take my help. I have contacts in Hollywood and could have made one or two calls to get her into the rooms she wantedto be in, but she vehemently refused. She insisted on doing everything on her own. She even refused to take my last name because she didn’t want people to know we were married and try to get to me through her.
We tried, we really did, but in the end, eight years was all we had in us. I was shocked when she asked for a divorce, but I wasn’t surprised. The divorce proceedings didn’t take long because I told my lawyer to give her whatever she wanted, but true to form she rejected everything I offered. She left only with what she came with.
I am pacing back-and-forthin my living room when my doorman calls to let me know I have a visitor. I tell him to let her up and proceed to have a mini panic attack.
My breaths are coming in shorter and shorter until a knock sounds from the door. I take in a sharp but deep lung-full of air and force my feet to start moving. When I pull the door open, my world stops spinning.
Standing before me is Felicity. Stunning, a brunette bombshell, exactly as I remember her. However, on her hip, she’s carrying a toddler. A young boy. Judging from the pictures that my mother hordes, the boy looks exactly like I did at that age.
My eyes cut to Felicity and she asks, “Can we come in?”
I am rooted to the spot. Anger is coursing through my veins, and I stare daggers at my ex-wife.
Probably feeling my hostility, the boy ducks and hides behind his mother’s brown hair.
So as to not scare him any further, I put my rage aside and let Felicity in.
This is where she lived for eight years. So she knows herway around. She walks into the living room and plops herself down on the couch and cradles the boy in her lap.
All I can do is stand at the entrance of the room and stare at them as she coos at him. This goes on for about 10 minutes, at which point I can hear the boy’s soft snores.
“Fel, please tell me that I am seeing things and he isn’t my son.”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that, because he is your son.”
“What the fuck is wrong—?” I start to yell, but Felicity cuts me off.
“Shhhh! He’s sleeping!”
I close my eyes and take a couple of deep breaths. “How could you do this? Did you hate me that much?”
“I didn’t hate you, I just didn’t trust you to parent.”
“Well, that wasn’t your choice to make. If you were pregnant I had a right to know.”
“That may be true, but back then I made the decision I did with the information I had.”
“And what information was that?”
“The fact that I barely got to see you. You were always at work or out with friends. You were a terrible husband. I didn’t think you were going to be a good father, and I didn’t want to use my child as an experiment to see whether you would be.”
“Our child! He is our child… I can’t believe you did this.”
“Travis, I know you’re angry, but was I wrong? Or would you really have turned your life upside down to be a father?”
“Of course I would have! Do you have that low of an opinion of me?”
“Well, you’ll have to forgive me, because I do not believe that. Anyway, when I found out I waspregnant, I knew I couldn’t stay in our marriage. I asked for a divorce the very next day.”
