Chapter 9


    #Chapter 9 – Ask for Suggestions


    After the boys have been put to bed I stand in my kitchen, staring into the fridge. Milk, cheese…I’m not


    hungry, or thirsty. I just…have no idea what to do.


    After the boys have been put to bed I stand in my kitchen, staring into the fridge. Milk, cheese…I’m not


    hungry, or thirsty. I just…have no idea what to do.


    I sigh and shut the door slowly, careful not to make a sound. Shaking my head, I pull out my phone and


    do the one thing I can think of that will give me some peace.


    Me: Are you up? I send the text.


    D: I wasn’t, until my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Thanks a lot, babe. What’s up?


    Me: Up for a drink? I can meet you at O’Leary’s.


    D: At this hour???


    M: Please.


    A moment passes and the whole room plunges into darkness when my screen blinks off. Then:


    D: Sure, anything for you. See you in 10 mins.


    “Thank you so much, Mrs. Jennings,” I whisper as I slip out the door, pulling on my second boot. “I


    promise they will be no trouble – they won’t even wake up!” I ramble, backing down the path.


    Mrs. Jennings merely purses her lips and shuts the door. She doesn’t like me – doesn’t approve of


    single moms – but she loves my boys. Plus, I shovel her walk in the winter. She owes me.


    The town is silent as I flit through it – it’s 11 o’clock and this is a family neighborhood. As I push the


    door open to O’Leary’s – it’s just a dive, ripped up leather chairs and wooden tables – I heave a sigh of


    relief. The old, familiar smell of cheap whiskey and stale cigarettes calms me.


    “Well well,” I hear someone drawl from the bar to my right. “Look who decided to turn up.”


    My face lights up with a smile. “I had to get a sitter,” I say, shrugging casually and pretending to y it


    coy. “Don’t tell me you’ve been waiting long.”


    “Baby, I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”


    We both pause, and then burst intoughter. I practically run to the bar and throw myself into Delia’s


    arms, burying my face in her wealth of curly red hair. Delia, my best friend, who I hardly get to see


    since we left grad school school.


    “What’s wrong?” Delia asks, holding me at arm’s length and brushing back my hair. “You look pale,


    sick.” She sniffs me and signals the bartender, who nods and begins to mix another drink.


    “It’s been…a day…” I say, pulling myself up onto the stool next to her. She waits patiently for me to


    exin as the bartender puts my drink in front of me. Chilled southernfort, with lime.


    I smile at him and he nods, walking away. Cliff and I have known each other for years too. Our


    friendship is like a good man, strong and silent.


    I turn my attention back to Delia. “Do you remember…what I told you about the twin’s dad?” I speak


    slowly, carefully.


    “Ohhh no,” she says,ughing a little. “So this skeleton has finallye out of the closet to haunt you?”


    “Haunt me,” I huff, taking a sip of my drink. “More like chase me around with a baseball bat.”


    Delia grins, eager for more. “Come on, babes. Spill. Do I finally get to hear his mysterious identity?” I


    can tell she’s excited to hear some good gossip.


    “Well, the boyspeted in a quizpetition today. They won, of course,” I say. Delia nods briefly,


    proud but unsurprised.


    After the boys hove been put to bed I stond in my kitchen, storing into the fridge. Milk, cheese…I’m not


    hungry, or thirsty. I just…hove no ideo whot to do.


    I sigh ond shut the door slowly, coreful not to moke o sound. Shoking my heod, I pull out my phone ond


    do the one thing I con think of thot will give me some peoce.


    Me: Are you up? I send the text.


    D: I wosn’t, until my phone buzzed on the nightstond. Thonks o lot, bobe. Whot’s up?


    Me: Up for o drink? I con meet you ot O’Leory’s.


    D: At this hour???


    M: Pleose.


    A moment posses ond the whole room plunges into dorkness when my screen blinks off. Then:


    D: Sure, onything for you. See you in 10 mins.


    “Thonk you so much, Mrs. Jennings,” I whisper os I slip out the door, pulling on my second boot. “I


    promise they will be no trouble – they won’t even woke up!” I romble, bocking down the poth.


    Mrs. Jennings merely purses her lips ond shuts the door. She doesn’t like me – doesn’t opprove of


    single moms – but she loves my boys. Plus, I shovel her wolk in the winter. She owes me.


    The town is silent os I flit through it – it’s 11 o’clock ond this is o fomily neighborhood. As I push the


    door open to O’Leory’s – it’s just o dive, ripped up leother choirs ond wooden tobles – I heove o sigh of


    relief. The old, fomilior smell of cheop whiskey ond stole cigorettes colms me.


    “Well well,” I heor someone drowl from the bor to my right. “Look who decided to turn up.”


    My foce lights up with o smile. “I hod to get o sitter,” I soy, shrugging cosuolly ond pretending to ploy it


    coy. “Don’t tell me you’ve been woiting long.”


    “Boby, I’ve been woiting for you my whole life.”


    We both pouse, ond then burst into loughter. I procticolly run to the bor ond throw myself into Delio’s


    orms, burying my foce in her weolth of curly red hoir. Delio, my best friend, who I hordly get to see


    since we left grod school school.


    “Whot’s wrong?” Delio osks, holding me ot orm’s length ond brushing bock my hoir. “You look pole,


    sick.” She sniffs me ond signols the bortender, who nods ond begins to mix onother drink.


    “It’s been…o doy…” I soy, pulling myself up onto the stool next to her. She woits potiently for me to


    exploin os the bortender puts my drink in front of me. Chilled southernfort, with lime.


    I smile ot him ond he nods, wolking owoy. Cliff ond I hove known eoch other for yeors too. Our


    friendship is like o good mon, strong ond silent.


    I turn my ottention bock to Delio. “Do you remember…whot I told you obout the twin’s dod?” I speok


    slowly, corefully.


    “Ohhh no,” she soys, loughing o little. “So this skeleton hos finollye out of the closet to hount you?”


    “Hount me,” I huff, toking o sip of my drink. “More like chose me oround with o boseboll bot.”


    Delio grins, eoger for more. “Come on, bobes. Spill. Do I finolly get to heor his mysterious identity?” I


    con tell she’s excited to heor some good gossip.


    “Well, the boyspeted in o quizpetition todoy. They won, of course,” I soy. Delio nods briefly,


    proud but unsurprised.


    “And their dad was the sponsor of thepetition” I roll my eyes. “What crap luck is that? I came back


    from the bathroom at the end of the show to see him standing on stage with them, dropping their trophy


    to the ground in shock when he smelled them.”


    I cover my face with my hand, reliving that horrible moment when my life fell apart.


    “Oh my god,” Delia says, eyes wide. “What did he do?”


    “Well, he found them back stage, and then pulled me into a conference room” I wave my drink,


    indicating a world’s worth of drama not worth recounting. “And he basically told me he’s taking them,


    that he wants custody, and that I’m never going to see them again.”


    Delia gasps, smacking a hand over her mouth. “Oh my god, Evelyn. Is this for real?”


    I nod angrily and throw back the rest of my drink, signaling Cliff for another. “He’s one of the most


    powerful Alphas in the world, D,” I say. “He’s got paternity rights on his side, and he’s gotwyers, he’s


    got money.” I put my head in my hands. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”


    “Can you run?” she asks, and by the seriousness of her voice I know she’ll help me if that’s what I


    choose, but I shake my head.


    “He’ll find me, Delia. It was different when he didn’t know but now…I can’t escape him.”


    We sit in silence for a few minutes, me struggling not to cry, Delia clearly puzzling through it.


    “How was he…with the boys,” she eventually asks, her voice careful.


    I look up at her, confused. “Huh? Why?”


    She shrugs. “Was he nice to them? Did he act like they were…bastards?” She whispers thest word,


    treading carefully on the subject.


    “No,” I say. “He was…well, I guess he was good with them. He was shitty to me” I emphasize, thanking


    Cliff for my refill with a nod. “But with them, he was…fair. And they, of course, are obsessed with him,” I


    roll my eyes.


    Delia nods slowly, turning her wine ss in her fingers. Her pause extends, and I squint at her,


    suspicious.


    “Come on, D. Out with it,” I say.


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    “Wellll,” she says, extending the word. “What if you…let him?”


    “What?! Let him take my boys?!”


    “No, no,” she puts a hand out to me. “What I mean is, instead of making it a hard no, why don’t you…let


    him have some space in their lives? If he’s willing to acknowledge them as his sons, then opening that


    door could give you a little room to negotiate. Keep things on your terms.”


    I stare at her, thinking it through. When my silence extends too long, Delia continues.


    “Listen, Evie, you’re tired. You’re a great mom, but it is so much work taking care of those two little


    guys all by yourself. Plus, you’re broke,” she says,ying it out as a fact.


    “I – !”


    “You’re broke,” she levels a stare at me, forcing me to face facts.


    I blush, and don’t correct her. She’s right.


    “Look if Victor is willing to acknowledge them, and if your boys like him, and if he’s good to them…” she


    pauses again, “maybe it’s not such a bad thing to let him take some of the burden off you. Maybe, for


    the boys…maybe it could be good…”


    I heave a sigh and turn back to my drink. “Geeze,” I say. “Maybe I should have gone with your first n


    and let you help me run away to Argentina.”


    Sheughs. “Come on, Evie, if we’re running and hiding anywhere, you know it’s Paris.” We bothugh


    together and then sit in silence for a few minutes.


    “So…what’re you gonna do,” she probes, sipping her ss of chardonnay.


    “I don’t know,” I murmur.


    “Victor can offer them things you can’t. ess to the best schools, for a start. You have special kids,


    Evie. They deserve the world.”


    I nod, and then snap my head towards her, realizing something. “That’s the second time you’ve called


    him Victor…” I say, narrowing my eyes.


    Delia twists her mouth to the side wryly, apologetic. “Yeah…” she says, “about that…I’ve known since


    they were babies. Come on” she says,ughing. “I have eyes, I have CelebGoss, I know where you’re


    from. I put it together.”


    “Oh my god,” I say, throwing my head back and howling withughter. “And all this time, I thought I was


    so clever with my secret.”


    “I get it,” she says, shrugging andughing with me. “It’s…a big deal.”


    “Okay,” I say, pulling myself back together. “You have a point. Actually, you and Victor both have the


    same point. What is best for the boys…” I say thoughtfully. It’s a big question.


    “And what about Amelia,” Delia says, looking at me with pursed lips and wide eyes.


    “Oh my god,” I say, turning to her, “Yes. Amelia! I said that to Victor too, but forgot about until now.


    Amelia Jones, my sons’ stepmother.”


    “The number-one super model of the world, suddenly a stepmother of two,” sheughs and we both


    crack up together, picturing it. “I mean, she’s not exactly…maternal. Do you think she’d try to keep you


    out of the picture?” Delia asks.


    “I don’t know,” I say, and I genuinely don’t.


    “She’s notoriously territorial with Victor,” Delia says. “Which I think he likes. She’s not going to be happy


    about Victor’s ex hanging around, or your kids.”


    I nod and chew on my bottom lip, considering these furtherplications.


    “Unless…” Delia says, her voice slow and pondering.


    “Unless what?” I ask.


    “Unless…this problem, is actually your solution…” She smiles wickedly at me, a n forming.


    “Oh my god,” I say, suddenly realizing what she means. “Delia, you’re brilliant!”


    “I know!” She says,ughing with me and toasting my ss with hers.


    I beam at her and pull my phone from my pocket, doing a quick google search. Then I dial a number


    and wait. “Yes, Kensington Industries?” I ask. “My name is Evelyn Walsh, I’m trying to get a message to


    Victor Kensington. Yeah…he’ll want to hear this. Tell him I want to meet tomorrow. Tell him toe by


    at 3. His sons will be waiting.”


    I hang up the phone and Delia lets out a shout of victory. “That’s right, baby!” she says. “Take the


    problem into your hands. You’re in charge now.”


    I wrap her up in a hug. “Delia,” I say. “What would I ever do without you.”