Kept a second chance fai.., p.1
KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale, page 1
Michael
She’s a pain in my ass.
She’s everything I know I don’t want or need.
She’s the reason I’ve fought the darkness for so long.
And yet, she has no idea who I am.
I had no right to Lucy. She was never mine to have. My interest in her should’ve remained no more than an undisclosed business arrangement.
The day she forced her way into my life, everything I worked so hard to secure began to unravel. From that moment forward, my life has been a mixture of chaos and excitement.
Lucy awoke the beast I’ve struggled to live with. Now it’s up to her to ensure the threat of its ghost no longer holds the power to ruin me.
Lucy
He hates me.
He’s guarded and locked down tight.
He’s a brute.
Yet, he opened my eyes to a future I was certain didn’t exist.
My life was ordinary. As a single mother living only to make ends meet, I stopped wishing for more. My hopes and dreams in finding Prince Charming ceased to exist. Life forced my priorities to change.
Then I walked into Michael Holden’s office and saw pain not so unlike mine reflecting through his icy gaze. He incited feelings I believed to have long since died.
Michael awoke the spring of hope I thought I’d finally set free. Now it’s up to him to show me fairy tales really can come true, if you believe.
Due to content, this book should not be read by those under the age of 18.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © A.C. Bextor 2016
Kept: A Second Chance Fairy Tale
Title ID: #5930730
All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher or author constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from this book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at acbextor@gmail.com.
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Book Description
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Fifty
Chapter Fifty-One
Chapter Fifty-Two
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Other titles by A.C. Bextor
More about A.C. Bextor
Michael
“WHY CAN’T YOU JUST BE honest with me for once, if not with yourself? It’s finally over now, Mike. You can tell me. Did you sleep with her?”
My wife asked the million-dollar question in reference to Hillary, a pretty, twenty-something paralegal who’d been working in my office at the time. She accused me of this as we stood outside our son’s bedroom door, arguing after I had gotten home late from the office yet again.
“Fuck no, Victoria. I’m not going over this shit with you again,” I hissed in a whisper to avoid a scene playing out within earshot of my son.
I was so angry and so tired, not only from fighting with her, but from pulling down another eighty-hour work week to ensure my family wanted for nothing.
Emitting a tight, feminine growl, she sneered, “Look at you. You’re so good at lying, it’s become second nature.”
That night was merely one of many when Victoria had accused me of cheating.
The truth was her accusations never held any merit.
Yes, I’d thought about other women, and I knew Hillary would’ve made herself available. But I wasn’t having an affair, emotional or otherwise, with Hillary or anyone else.
Victoria and I both loved our family, but the degree of neglect we’d subjected each other to during the last few years of our marriage had been weighing heavily on both of us. And our differences were straining the relationship.
“We’re leaving in the morning, Mike. I can’t do this anymore. Not to myself or to him,” she stated pointedly, as she had so many times before. She was so sure our life together was over and, in all honesty, I envied her conviction. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”
“You’ve given up,” I quietly stated the obvious. I hadn’t, though. I never would’ve stopped trying.
“Yes,” she whispered with slight relief. “I have. We don’t know each other anymore.”
Her statement wasn’t a lie. We didn’t know each other, but I didn’t think we did even before we brought our son into this world. A part of me still loved her because she was his mother, but that was where my feelings ended. There was no understanding, no passion or desire between us. I found no comfort or care in her company.
The responsibilities and demands of life had changed us both.
“You’re not taking him with you,” I advised her calmly.
My son was the greatest accomplishment of my life. He was the one good thing to come from our marriage, and we both cared about him deeply and above all else.
Caleb was smart, witty, and mature for his age. The family life he’d been exposed to because of us forced him to grow up quickly. Oftentimes, it was only because of him that we didn’t emotionally torture each other further.
Raising her hands in the air, motioning to the large house we had made a life in, she answered, “He’s not staying here.”
We’d been living in the same house we brought our son into after he was born. It was the same home where, three years prior, we promised each other we’d try harder, swearing we’d really attempt to make it work.
None of our promises ever held true.
“He’s not just your son, Victoria. He’s mine, too,” I shot back.
Her eyes rolled and her lips pursed. She didn’t believe I was serious about keeping him with me, but I was. Miserable or not, I would’ve found a way to keep our family together.
I met Victoria during the grand opening of an art museum downtown. She was an interior designer trapped inside a model’s body. As are most models, Victoria was beautiful – exquisite even. She lacked self-confidence, though. And because her part-time modeling gigs fed her the constant reassurance she desperately needed, she never took advantage of or professionally applied her degree in design.
A few seconds passed and her annoyance slid into an expression of pain. “Like I was yours? Like I used to be?” she asked quietly. “Mike, you’ve been so worried about growing your firm, you haven’t taken the time to look around. We haven’t been together as a real family in over a year,” she pleaded with frustration, just as she had so many times before. “You don’t look at me anymore. You see through me. He doesn’t. He said he loves me, and I believe him.”
There it was, the moment of truth.
Her words hit like ice, causing the blood in my veins to run cold. I knew she’d been seeing someone else. I felt the final change in our relationship a year before. But love? I didn’t think their affair had gone that far.
“You’re so sure about this that you’d tear apart the only family Caleb’s ever known?”
She didn’t hesitate to answer. And it was then I knew, without hesitation, that I’d already lost her. “Yes, Michael. Caleb can’t be like you. I won’t let that happen.”
“Like me?” I asked, not wanting to know, but for whatever reason needing to hear how she truly felt.
“Don’t you see?” she pleaded. “I don’t want him growing up ha ving to always be in control. To be living alone one day as a cold, unforgiving shell of a man.”
Over our last year, I’d been all those things to her, always trying to stave off the realization that I wasn’t or wouldn’t ever be enough. Victoria demanded my time, my energy. But more than anything, she demanded my love. I was too busy. I pushed her away, intent on making something of myself for no other reason than I just always wanted to be better, to do more, to succeed.
It was twisted but, looking back, it was what I believed. Hearing Victoria vocalize her worry that my son would turn out the same sickened me. I never wanted that.
“We’ll talk in the morning,” I suggested once I turned away and opened the door to Caleb’s room. I found him nestled in his bed, sleeping in what I hoped were peaceful dreams.
Her hand reached out and pulled on my arm to stop me. I brought my attention back to her. “He’s resting. Please, don’t wake him.”
I did as she asked. Rather than walk in to kiss my son goodnight, I made my way past her and down the hall to the spare room I’d taken residence in for the last three months of our marriage.
At the time, I didn’t know that moment would be my only chance. I missed the last opportunity to see my son alive. To feel his warm skin under the palm of my hand, to listen with appreciation and thanks to his calm, steady breaths as he slept in the only house he’d ever called a home. I wasted the chance because of who I was so determined to push myself to be.
The next day, as I sat behind my desk in a corner office located in a downtown high-rise building, wishing to be someone more than I already was, my four-year-old son died tragically without ever hearing me tell him I loved him again.
Michael
“OH, WELL, GOOD. YOU’RE STILL here,” I hear Lillie comment as she enters my office. “I figured you’d already left for the evening.”
It’s no shock I’m here at this hour and Lillie, the one woman in my life who knows me better than my own mother, shouldn’t be surprised. I’m usually the first to arrive and the last to leave, unlike my partner Corbin.
I met Corbin Mercer during our first year at law school. We were both civil law majors. Once we graduated, we stayed in touch, as some people do. After a few years of trying to adapt to a life working for others who didn’t appreciate all we had to offer, we looked for another opportunity and decided to open our own firm, which we named Mercer Law.
There’s a reason I’m not listed as an equally named partner. There are vast personality differences between Corbin and myself. He doesn’t mind wining and dining our clients, remembering their names and faces, and celebrating their personal successes. He’s also not a private person.
However, I am.
I don’t like conversing with those I don’t personally know, rubbing elbows over drinks, or attempting to understand their ‘feelings’. I want no part of it. I’m steadfast and mechanical and, thus far, I see no reason to change.
“I’m still here, Lillie.” I sigh, stating the obvious while ignoring what I already know are her pursed lips at my reticent reaction. I don’t have to look up to note her disappointment, so I continue to focus on what I was doing before she stopped in.
Lillie Miles is a fifty-nine-year-old grandmother of three. She’s been my secretary—or personal assistant, as she prefers to be called—for the last eight years. Lillie is the one person in my life I allow to speak to me as she does – blunt, direct, and blatantly bossy. She’s grossly overpaid, but I’ve learned to consent to her overstated salary since she keeps every facet of my life seamlessly in order.
Unfortunately, Lillie’s also planning an early retirement. Her going-away party, which of course she’s planning herself, is scheduled two weeks from today.
“I’ve got a few things that need your immediate attention, if you have a minute.”
“I have exactly three for you, so make them count,” I reply, breaking my concentration on the contact and scheduling calendar program on my laptop. It’s one she made and it’s complicated, so I have no fucking idea how to use it.
“What do you need?” I prod while she stares at me with her well-practiced look of disapproval.
Coming at me with the soft grace she always carries, Lillie drops a familiar-looking rental agreement on my desk while sighing through her words. “Her lease is up again. The rent is increasing, and the amenities are decreasing.”
Grabbing the file from my desk, I look it over, noting her observations.
She’s right.
Unfortunately, the sorry son of a bitch who owns the building is, once again, raising the rent, yet he’s done nothing to improve the living conditions of the tenants.
Namely Lucy Monroe and her young son, Dillon.
Lillie makes her way to the side of my desk and sits on the edge. She braces her hands on either side of her small body. Her long, greying hair is pulled into its usual high bun, and her worried smile looks down on me with resignation. Even her typically mischievous grey eyes are alight with unmasked concern.
“Are you going to take care of them forever?” she questions quietly in a serious tone, referring to the names listed on the paper in front of us.
“We’ve discussed this and the answer is still, and will always be, yes.”
Sighing, she stands and walks around the other side of my desk to take a seat in the black leather chair across from it.
“What’s the issue this time, Lillie?” I clip before she’s able to begin her lecture.
“What’s the issue?” she repeats with narrowed eyes. “Pick one!”
I already sense, by the vexed look on her face, that I’m going to let her have her say just as I always do. It’s easier than mincing words, and it’s safer not to risk losing her any sooner than I already am by lashing out at her unsolicited advice.
And so it goes…
“This needs to stop, Michael. You know more about a woman you’ve never met than any person should. And look.” She points to the file. “Her rent is increasing again and, judging by the information listed from her landlord, you’re still planning to be billed the difference.” She sighs softly, then says again, “This needs to stop.”
Hearing Lillie list all the things I’ve done, and put in a manner that’s meant to be insulting, my face grows tight.
Beyond the rent, I pay a fair share to Lucy’s landlord to buy his silence. The lazy, vile man gets an extra ten percent to keep my secret. After nearly five years of this, I’ve been able to convince myself it’s nothing more than a business arrangement. However, it stems from matters of the heart.
After pushing the folder away, I remove my glasses and lay them on top. “Do you have a point, Miss Miles?”
She sneers briefly at my formal address before voicing her thoughts directly. “Why won’t you at least meet her? Tell her what you’re doing and why. Give her a chance and maybe…”
My focus moves to my hand. The scar along my finger itches in memory of the night a police officer came to my door to tell me my world, along with a woman named Lucy Monroe’s, had crumbled. The events of that night produced a sharp twist of fate, which I felt deeply. It was cruel, deep, and exacting.
Raising the same hand to stop her from talking while giving her a stern look of disapproval, I cut her off. “This isn’t a debate. It hasn’t been for the last five years. Leave it alone.”
“I hate this for you both,” Lillie counters in a soft voice. “She deserves to know she’s being taken care of, and by whom.”
“Are we done here?”
Standing up and smoothing her long, floral skirt, she pins me with yet another annoyed glare. “I don’t know, Michael. Are we?”
I slide the laptop’s screen in her direction, letting her see the mess I’ve created in the calendar only she can keep diligently.
Her abrupt laugh comes bursting out into the room, and I narrow my eyes as she mocks me. “For a man of your age, with such an excellent education, you really don’t have a clue what you’re doing, do you?” she smarts, then grabs my mouse and starts clicking again and again.
“Isn’t this what I pay you for?”
As she continues flipping the virtual pages and organizing everything once again, she tsks. “You and Mr. Mercer are going to fall apart when I’m gone. Let me remind you that you’ve yet to hire my replacement.”
“I haven’t found anyone with all your charm, Lil,” I tease, but it’s in my typical sullen tone.
The applicants we’ve interviewed so far have been shit. Either they’ve recently graduated from college and insist on being overpaid before proving their worth, or they’ve bounced from job to job without establishing any type of loyalty or commitment to any company that’s hired them before.
