Just This Night (26 page)

MAC

A
nd . . . a thousand and one stories later . . .”

I looked up from the couch to see Victoria emerging from Ashley's bedroom, a weary smile on her face. She walked over to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine.

“That girl is a master when it comes to bedtime negotiations,” she added after taking a sip. “I'm surprised you don't have major law firms recruiting her.”

“Well, she still has to take the bar.” I snorted. “And, you know, learn to read.”

“Which I'm sure will be any day now.” Victoria laughed. “She's got all her books memorized at this point. Such a smart kid. Not to mention ridiculously adorable. Not that I'm biased or anything.”

She walked over to the couch and sat down beside me, causing my entire body to stiffen. I forced myself to take a deep breath and grab my own drink. I was pretty sure I'd been single-handedly keeping Jack Daniels in business over the last week and this evening was already looking to be the start of another bender.

I could feel Victoria staring at me and I turned to look at
her, hating the fondness I saw on her face. “You've done a great job with her, Mac,” she said. “Really great.”

“Yeah, well, I've done what I could.”

“You've done more than that. I mean, seriously, you're like father of the year.” She sighed. “While I'm Mommie Dearest.”

“Ashley loves you,” I replied automatically. “And I know she's happy you're back.”

It was true—Ashley had been over the moon since the morning her mother had returned. And I had to grudgingly admit Victoria did seem to be making an effort to make up for lost time. She'd taken Ashley on after-school trips to the park, the beach, even the zoo. And when I'd get home from work, Ashley would be full of stories about all the fun she'd had with Mommy.

My girl had her mother back. She was in heaven.

While I remained languishing in a living hell.

Victoria let out a heavy sigh. “I just wish I could make you happy, too,” she said sadly.

“I'm fine.”

“I think we should go to counseling.”

“If you'd like.”

“Come on, Mac!” she cried. “Talk to me! Scream at me! Tell me I'm a horrible person and you hate my guts. Just don't sit there, quietly, looking as if you want me to leave.”

I bit my lower lip. “I don't want you to leave. But, Vic, this is going to take some time. What you did to us . . . How you left us . . .” I shook my head. “Do you understand what it's been like? Being a single dad? Trying to provide for her? Not just materially–but emotionally, too. Do you know how many nights she woke up screaming for you? And I had to make excuses as to why you weren't there?”

She hung her head. “What do you want me to say?”

“Nothing. I don't want you to say anything. Just . . . understand how difficult this is for me. And you coming back does not suddenly make everything instantly okay!”

“This is about that girl, isn't it?” Victoria broke in, narrowing her eyes at me. “That's why you're holding back—you're still thinking about her.”

I closed my eyes, my heart panging at the mention of Beth. “This has nothing to do with her.”

“Don't lie to me. I can see the look in your eyes. You thought you were so high and mighty, judging me for my affair. And then you turn around and have one of your own.”

I stared at her. “How is that even remotely the same? You left us. I thought you were gone forever. What did you want me to do? Stay celibate for the rest of life until you decided to waltz back in?”

“No. I didn't. Which is why I'm not judging you for breaking our vows of marriage. But now I'm back. And I want us to be a family again. For Ashley's sake . . . and our own.”

She laid a hand on my forearm. It felt like ice. “Mac, you loved me, once upon a time. And I know I didn't prove worthy of that love. But now I'm back. And I'm asking for a second chance. We made vows, you and I. To be together in good times and bad. And I know it's been bad. But now it has the chance to be good. If you can just let it. If not for me, do it for Ashley. Doesn't she deserve to have a family?”

“Yes,” I said, abruptly rising to my feet. “She does. Which is why you're still here. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to bed.”

Victoria rose. She reached out, placing a hand on my groin. “Can I join you?” she asked with a small smile. “I bet I could make you forget all about what's-her-name.”

I grabbed her hand and jerked it away. “I don't think that's a good idea.” I started toward the spare bedroom, where I'd been crashing since she'd returned. I could feel her stare, burning into my back.

“Come on, Mac,” she called after me. “Just give me a chance!”

I closed the door behind me, not bothering to respond. Then I collapsed onto the bed, sticking my head in the pillow, which still smelled like Beth's hair. It was, at the end of the day, all I had left of her.

And it didn't seem nearly enough.

BETH

L
ost in my troubled thoughts, I found myself taking the exit to the beach, still not wanting to go home. The ocean had always been soothing to me, calming my nerves, and making my problems seem less important in the grand scheme of things.

Not to mention a big plate of fish and chips wouldn't go amiss right about now. Since seeing Mac on the pier, I hadn't had much appetite. But suddenly I found myself ravenous.

Thankfully my favorite seafood place was nearly empty, save for a sweet old couple sitting by the window. I watched them for a moment while waiting to be brought to my table, my heart aching a little at how comfortable they looked together. How long had they been with one another? And how did they manage to make it work? Could I ever hope for this kind of long-term loving relationship with another person? Or was I doomed to forever be choosing the wrong guy? The guy who always ended up choosing someone else in the end.

“Inside or out?”

I looked up at the hostess addressing me, my eyes widening in surprised recognition.

“Stephanie?” I cried, before I could stop myself. “What are you doing here?”

My former roommate's face flushed. “I work here now,” she informed me, sounding a little defensive. “Got the job about a week ago.”

“Wow . . . I had no idea.” I wasn't sure what to say.

She shrugged. “It's not that bad, really. Tips are good. The bartenders are cute. We all go out after work sometimes. And you can't beat the view,” she added, gesturing to the ocean stretching out into the distance. “Not to mention I'm finally free of the News 9 drama machine. That, in and of itself, is worth everything.”

“That's cool,” I said, not sure what else to say. I tried to remind myself that this girl was not my friend. She'd destroyed my stuff, had tried to get me fired from work, hell, she'd almost accidentally killed me. For all I knew, even now, she was staring at me, contemplating poisoning my dinner. I should have been running from the restaurant as fast as my legs could take me.

Yet something inside me told me to stay. She had been my friend once. And looking at her now, it was hard to see the vindictive monster she'd been. Just a sad, defeated girl who'd let her jealousy cause her to lose every dream.

You girls all think you're such superstars. But you're nothing. You're no one. Just a flavor of the week. Utterly replaceable.

She led me over to my table and started to turn away. Then she paused and I watched as she worried her lower lip, as if she wanted to say something, but wasn't sure I'd be receptive. Finally, she turned back to me, an open, earnest expression written on her face.

“Look, just so you know—for the record, I mean—I didn't do those things they said I did.”

I sighed. “Whatever. It's fine. I really don't even care anymore.”

“Well, I do,” she shot back, scrunching up her face in frustration. “I mean, I know we've had our differences, Beth. But do you really think I would go and do something like that to you? You could have died!”

“You didn't know I was allergic.”

“Yes, I did. You told me, remember? You were joking that you hoped your sister stepped in an ant colony on her wedding day!”

I froze, my mind flashing back to that day. The day before the night with Mac that had ended up so crazily I'd pretty much forgotten everything else that had happened. But now it was all coming back to me. I'd made the joke, then I'd explained how the two of us were allergic to fire ants. So, yes, she would have totally known.

“But they found—”

“An empty jar of honey in my locker,” Stephanie finished for me. “And blue hair dye. Yes, I know all of that. But that doesn't mean I did it.” She paused, then added, “I was set up.”

“By who?”

“Isn't it obvious? The queen mother herself. Joy Justice.”

I stared at her, incredulous. Seriously, if she had told me this three hours before, I would have laughed in her face. Told her she was being ridiculous—that someone at Joy's level would never bother to acknowledge someone at mine—never mind go out of their way to try to ruin my career.

You'll be out of here before you know it, just like your little friend Stephanie.

But now, all I could think of was Joy fighting with Richard. Begging for her job. Crying her eyes out in her office alone. Looking at me with sheer hatred when I tried to step in to comfort her.

And in a few months—no one will even remember your name.

“How do you know?” I found myself asking.

Stephanie met my eyes. “Because she did the same thing to me.”

“What?”

Stephanie sat down at the table across from me, propping
up her elbows and putting her face in her hands. “Why do you think I missed all of those live shots?”

I dropped my gaze, guilt swimming through my stomach. With everything that had happened, I'd never gotten a chance to ask her about that. Instead, I'd just chalked it up to her party girl lifestyle and believed it all.

But Stephanie had been a party girl since I'd first met her. And yet she'd always had the uncanny ability to crawl out of bed and kick her job's ass no matter how much alcohol or how little sleep. Because as much as she loved the nightlife, she'd loved her job as a reporter more.

“It started happening right after Richard gave me a promotion,” Stephanie explained. “Just like with you, suddenly all my interviews were cancelling on me. My tapes were getting lost. My live shots were being switched around without me knowing it and I would miss my airtime.” She scowled—the memory obviously still painful. “Next thing I knew, I'd been demoted and you'd been promoted. And Joy was whispering in my ear that it wasn't an accident. That you were behind it all.”

“She said it was
me
?”

“I know it sounds crazy now,” she admitted. “But at the time, I don't know. Joy kept reminding me how ambitious you were, how badly you wanted to get off the morning show. How, as my roommate, you would have had access to my DayTimer on my computer.” She gave me a rueful look. “It wasn't until later that I found out this kind of thing had happened before. To other young reporters over the years.”

My eyes widened. “She did this before?”

“You can go look at the records if you want. News 9 has had half a dozen young female reporters who started rising through the ranks, only to suddenly quit or get fired.”

“Wow.”

“In any case, I wanted to tell you. But I was afraid after how I'd kicked you out and destroyed all your stuff you weren't going to believe anything I said. And then the ant thing happened. I tried to tell Richard what was going on, but he refused to listen. He just told me I needed to leave
before he decided to call the cops. I couldn't risk having an arrest on my record—I'd probably never work again.” She looked around the restaurant. “And now, here I am.”

I swallowed hard, not sure what to think, what to say. Should I believe her? While it certainly was a crazy story, at the same time it made a sick sort of sense. Joy must have been feeling threatened about her job for some time now, knowing her days were numbered. And so she decided to take out the competition—any way she could.

“Look, Beth,” Stephanie continued, “I'm not saying I'm totally innocent here. And I know I've ruined our chance of ever being friends. I just wanted to . . . set the record straight, I guess. And to tell you to be careful.”

I nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

She rose to her feet. “I'd better get back to work. My manager is giving me the evil eye. And losing two jobs in a month—well, that would be a record, even for me!” She gave a brittle laugh.

“Stephanie . . .” I found myself calling back to her. She turned around, looking at me questioningly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you . . . want me to talk to Richard? Tell him what really happened? Maybe you can get your job back. I mean, if you really didn't do those things, there's no reason you should have been fired.”

She gave me a small smile. “Thank you,” she said. “It means a lot that you would offer. But honestly? I'm kind of enjoying this little break. Maybe I'll want to go back to TV someday. But right now? This feels right. I'm actually, well, happy. For the first time since I can remember.” She laughed. “Who knows? Maybe this was the life I was meant to live. At least for right now.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “But if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will.” She paused, then added, “And I will pay you back, too. For all the stuff I destroyed. It may take me a while to save up. But I can start giving you installments every payday. Until I'm caught up.”

“Thank you. I really appreciate that. And no rush, really.”

“And . . . if you're ever in the neighborhood? Well, you know where I live. And how much wine I keep stocked in my fridge. Anytime News 9 gets you down, feel free to stop by and I'll get you plastered. It's the least I can do.”

I nodded. “I will absolutely do that.” And I absolutely meant it.