Your prison is walkin' through this world all alone.
I'm trying not to be selfish…
The words floated through the vodka-induced fog in her mind, barely within reach, like something written underwater. They seemed to shimmer and fade, almost unreadable, and tempting. She had no idea where those words came from. Last night felt like a blur, a whirlwind of feelings and moments she could almost see but not quite grasp.
The light though dim was blinding. The throbbing pain in her head served as a reminder of delightful decadence, both worth it and regrettable. She tried to remember what happened last night but it was all a haze. She remembered flashes—a swirl of bodies, Stacie's laughter, the pressure of another woman's body against her own, and that moment in the bathroom with the woman who gave her the red lipstick. She remembered drinking multiple delicious martinis made by that handsome bartender. She remembered how the night spiraled out of control, and yet was strangely perfect.
She remembered something else. Stacie was in her bed, warm and close, her presence was both clear and fuzzy. Aubrey reached out instinctively, seeking the comfort of that familiar warmth. But all she found was cool, empty sheets. And her heart sank, the old, familiar ache of waking up alone.
Just as she did a week ago she crept towards the window to take in the inspiring and humbling sight of the Mojave Desert to ground her. And just as she did a week ago she gasped in awe at the sight of a ballerina dancing against the desert sky. This time the sight, while beautiful, wasn't as awe-inspiring as it had once been, now it was confusingly heart-wrenching.
Stacie stood alone in her backyard as dawn crept up on the horizon. She wore a full tight black leotard with white tights and black leg warmers, her dark hair once again held in a high and tight bun. She'd opted for pink ballerina slippers instead of the pointe shoes she typically used.
Her face was solemn and serious, she was breathing hard as beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. She took a few steps forward, assumed a deep plié, and pushed off the ground.
Jump!
She had heard the coyote scream in her dreams and so once again she attempted a difficult grand jeté. As she soared through the air, she initiated a spin, her graceful body spun once and a half, and her legs extended into a split.
I am in constant awe of you…
The words were a persistent apparition in her subconscious. Breaking her concentration. And when she landed, she felt a sharp pain in her ankle and tumbled to the ground. She broke her fall with her hands.
Stacie closed her eyes and cursed silently. She slammed her open palm against the cement. This was the third time she'd tried to make this jump. And the third time Aubrey's lovely words made her tumble.
But this time she was sure she damn near sprained her ankle. She could feel her eyes begin to well up again.
"Stacie!" Aubrey called from inside the house and quickly ran towards her.
"Fuck," Stacie cursed under her breath, she didn't want Aubrey to see her like this.
Aubrey quickly made her way out of the house knelt next to her and examined the ballerina's ankle. "Are you alright? Did you hurt yourself? Here let me help you up!"
"I'm fine!" Stacie grumbled as she tried to stand up by herself but the pain in her ankle made her grimace.
"Are you sure? Let me help you inside so we can get a look!" Aubrey started to lift her arm to help carry her but Stacie pulled her hand away.
"I said I'm fine!" Stacie's voice was sharp, cutting through the morning air.
Aubrey recoiled slightly, hurt flashing across her face. "I— was just trying to help," she said quietly.
Stacie got to her feet, putting most of her weight on the uninjured foot, and limped towards her house. She paused. "I'm sorry, I just… I'm OK alright?" She continued limping towards the double doors.
"Stacie…"
Stacie opened the sliding doors and paused. Then she turned to Aubrey. "Hey, are you busy tonight?"
Aubrey's heart skipped a beat, a glint of hope lighting her eyes. "Um no, why?"
"Could you look after B.B. tonight? I have a date."
Aubrey blinked, her chest tightening. "Oh, y-you have a date?"
Stacie not looking at her nodded. "Yeah, it's cool if you can't, I can ask Alma, I was just—"
Aubrey shook her head quickly and with a small smile said, "No it's fine, I'd love to take care of B.B."
Stacie's blue eyes, usually warm and loving, turned cold and pierced through Aubrey and she gave her a forced smile and said, "Thanks." Then she turned and disappeared into the house.
Aubrey stood in the center of Stacie's backyard alone, her hands clasped together in front of her chest. That small smile on her face faltered as the words "date" echoed in her mind, and her stomach turned.
What the hell just happened?
Aubrey went back to her room and decided to take a shower and get dressed. She hesitated but decided to make her way to the kitchen where she saw Stacie carrying B.B. as they made breakfast together. She was teaching the girl how to whisk eggs properly. Stacie noticed Aubrey come into the kitchen and said. "Hey, you hungry?"
"Um yes," Aubrey said shyly. She was feeling a little out of sorts, she'd been making breakfast for them for the last couple of days, and not having anything to do made her feel uneasy.
"Good, just sit down on the table and me and B.B. will whip you up something. Right B.B.?"
"Yes! We're making eggs!"
Aubrey gave the little girl a smile. "Oh that sounds lovely, thank you."
Aubrey watched wistfully as the pair made breakfast. She was sitting in the kitchen, and they were just a few feet from her and yet it felt like they were so far. Her hands were getting restless. She noticed the beautiful espresso maker and realized what she needed to do.
"Want some coffee, Stacie?" Aubrey asked as she made her way towards the machine.
"No thanks, I'm having tea," Stacie said quickly and pointed towards her mug with a tea bag.
"Oh, do you mind if I—?" Aubrey gestured towards the espresso machine.
"Knock yourself out," Stacie said, not paying attention.
Aubrey got to work making herself a cup of coffee, but she felt unsettled and clumsy and she kept making little mistakes. Whatever gracefulness she once possessed while using the machine was gone. The end result was a subpar, slightly burned, and watery cappuccino.
They sat down to eat their breakfast, the lack of conversation hanging awkwardly over them. Aubrey drank her coffee, annoyed at herself for messing it all up.
Stacie still doting over her daughter, casually said, "Hey, I'm sorry about what happened out there."
Aubrey caught off guard raised her eyes from her coffee. "Oh, no it—"
"It's not OK," Stacie interrupted sharply, then her voice softened. "I was… embarrassed. That move is difficult, and I've always had a hard time with it. But that's no excuse, I shouldn't have raised my voice, that wasn't cool of me."
"Ah, well, thank you and apology accepted." Aubrey visibly relaxed, and giving her a sincere smile, asked, "How's your ankle?"
"It's fine, I have an old ballet injury that flares up when I miss a landing. It hurts in the moment but then it dies down. Nothing I can't handle."
Aubrey nodded sympathethically, but the image of Stacie as an actual ballerina made her smile, and feeling bold she asked, "Um, that was a grand jeté, right?"
Stacie scoffed sadly and she corrected her with perfect French pronunciation, "It's actually, 'grand jeté en tournant.'"
"Oh, well it was amazing, I—" Aubrey went silent when she noticed Stacie frowning, so she decided to change the subject. "Anyway, what's the plan for today? It's Saturday so you're not working right?"
Stacie looked up from her breakfast and glanced over to B.B. "Well, I was thinking of spending the day doing some quality mommy and daughter bonding. What do you think B.B.? I was thinking we could go to the mall and then Disney Movie Marathon?"
"Yes! That sounds fun!" B.B. responded.
"What about you? What are your plans for the day?" Stacie asked, looking straight at Aubrey.
Aubrey paused, sensing something in Stacie's question that felt slightly off. "I—I guess I'll go get started cleaning out the motel."
"That also sounds fun, remember to bring extra water cuz it's going to get hot today."
"Yeah, good idea, thanks for reminding me."
B.B. excused herself to go to the bathroom and Aubrey and Stacie were left alone at the kitchen dining table. Stacie drank her tea, not making any eye contact. Aubrey decided to break through the tense silence and dared to ask, as playfully as she could muster, "So you have a hot date? Who's the lucky fella?"
Stacie didn't look up, but her eyes casually drifted toward the espresso maker on the kitchen counter.
Aubrey gasped as she understood what she was saying. "Matteo Rossi?"
Stacie nodded, and then B.B. came into the living room and joined them. And that was the end of the conversation. Stacie didn't speak to her for the rest of their meal.
Aubrey looked at the fancy espresso maker on the kitchen counter and then her subpar cup of coffee and with a frown she pushed it away. She no longer felt like coffee. She could once again feel that all too familiar pit of darkness welling up inside her.
Aubrey got into her new-to-her truck and made her way back to the motel, still a bit rattled because of what happened with Stacie. She took a deep breath and inhaled the comforting scent of leather conditioner on the seats and the fresh shampoo on the carpets. She had the dealer throw in a thorough detail of the vehicle before she got it for two grand below the asking price. And since she traded in her G-Wagon, she walked out with 120k that she fully intended to invest into the motel.
As she drove down the desert highway, she felt so high up, the soft and powerful rumble of the massive engine was so present in the cabin and surprisingly fun. This truck may have been a radical shift from her usual style but it was a way of shedding her old self. She hoped it was a reflection of the woman she was now trying to become, stronger, more confident, and unafraid to embrace the grit behind the glamor. She lowered her windows and let the wind tousle her golden hair and donned a pair of black shades.
I have a date.
Aubrey grip on the steering wheel tightened.
Aubrey drove up to the loading gate near the back of the property, her truck rumbling to a stop. The gate was old and rusted, its paint chipped and peeling. She got out of the truck and walked up to the gate, struggling with the massive, stubborn lock. After a few frustrating moments of fumbling with the keys, she finally managed to unlock it. With a creak, she pushed the heavy gate open and climbed back into the truck.
"Need to take care of that soon!" She said a bit breathless.
She parked inside the motel courtyard, close to the pool. She climbed out of the truck and paused. As she looked around the dilapidated structure she sighed contently. She felt relieved to find that she had her work cut out for her. It gave her a sense of purpose and a welcome distraction. Time to get to work.
She unloaded all the cleaning supplies and climbed up on the bed of the truck, towering over the structure. From there she got a clearer picture of everything that needed to be done. Aubrey closed her eyes and extended her hands slightly taking it all in. This was part of an old ritual she'd performed back when she'd personally overseen the construction of a new project. This way she made a deep and intimate connection with the space, and let her vision flow. She visualized the motel's transformation: the litter disappearing, floors and walls being pressure-washed, paint stripped away, and a fresh base coat applied. The pool became crystal clear in her mind's eye. She opened her eyes with a smile, feeling a surge of determination. She had a plan.
Step one: pick up the litter. Aubrey tied a bandana around her hair and got to work under the relentless Mojave sun. The heat was oppressive, quickly seeping through her clothes. She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, then unbuttoned it, revealing a thin, all-cotton white tank top underneath. The slight relief from the heat was immediate, but still not enough.
Working steadily, Aubrey picked up trash vandals and vagrants over the decades. Her gloved hands moved efficiently, the rhythmic motion almost meditative. To be safe, as she went through the rooms, she checked every closet and bathroom, making sure there were no unwanted intruders. As she cleared each space, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, as if the motel's past guests were observing her every move.
As she made her way down to the ground floor she decided to explore the back of the building and off to the side, almost hidden from view, there was a set of stairs she hadn't noticed before. These stairs led underground. Cautiously she peered in and saw that at the bottom of those stairs there was a door. It was rusted, covered in graffiti but beneath all that Aubrey could tell it had once been black and its knob had once been gold. As she went down the stairs, she felt a shiver going down her spine and an inexplicable pull to inch closer and closer.
Is this a basement?
Or is it a cellar?
Wait… could it be? A dungeon?Aubrey thought as her mind became flooded with visions of chains, dark spaces, and bodies contorting from both pleasure and pain.
Her eyes glazed over, and her body went into autopilot, before she knew it she was twisting the doorknob open.
It was locked.
The refusal to let her enter snapped her out of her trance. She examined the lock. She tried all of the keys she had and none of them opened it. Whatever was in there, wanted to stay locked away. She exhaled both defeated and relieved, it would have to wait. She'd go through this door eventually. She shook it off and back up the stairs, away from the mysterious door.
Aubrey continued working on cleaning for the next several hours, burning the memory of the mysterious door under physical labor. As the sun climbed higher, the heat intensified, making her sweat in rivulets.
She was suddenly aware of being extremely thirsty. She muttered to herself, "Should have listened to Stacie." The thought of her friend caring for her made her smile. But she quickly pushed the thought away, not ready to dive into the emotional whirlwind that had been brewing since this morning.
Her mind instinctively avoided what happened earlier, the conversation with Stacie nagging at the edges of her thoughts. Instead, she let herself focus on the task at hand, the hard work offering a welcome distraction. But the heat was becoming unbearable, and she felt parched. Aubrey decided to take a break and head to Home Depot for some lawn furnishings—temporary comforts for the motel.
At the store, she bought an expensive three-piece set of teak outdoor lounge chairs with a side table. The set, with its plush cushioning and natural teak wood, was a stark contrast to the derelict surroundings of the motel. She also picked up a large tan umbrella for shade and a cooler for drinks. On the way back, she stopped at a fast food restaurant and ordered a burger, then went to a gas station to fuel up and buy more water and ice. At the last minute, she decided to grab a six-pack of beer for later. She deserved it.
Back at the motel, Aubrey set up the furniture with a sense of satisfaction. The lounge chairs and umbrella created a small oasis in the midst of the decaying structure. She wheeled in the cooler filled with cold beer and bottled water. As she finished setting up, her stomach growled.
Aubrey laid down on one of the recliners and ate her burger in silence. The cool drink and food offered a brief respite from the oppressive heat. As she chewed, she decided to pull out her phone and check in on Tracy Smith, her former intern now leading the Munich project.
She opened the report Tracy had sent earlier that week. As she scanned the document, a sense of pride welled up inside her. Tracy was ahead of schedule with the new retreat and under budget—a rare feat in their line of work. Aubrey couldn't help but feel pleased with her decision to entrust Tracy with such a significant project. The girl was proving to be even more capable than Aubrey had anticipated.
"Good job, Ms. Smith," she murmured to herself, feeling a bit of the weight lift off her shoulders. It was a relief to know that not everything in her life was in disarray.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated. It was a message from Jesse: "Hey, how's the renovation coming along?"
Her head felt like such a mess that she was happy for the added distraction. She pulled out her phone, took a picture of the setup, and sent it to Jesse.
"That looks relaxing!" came his reply, followed by, "I can see the place needs a bit of work."
"Yeah, I've been cleaning for a few hours. I can't wait to get the pool up and running," she texted back.
"Oh, I bet! That sounds like an awesome place to kick back and chill."
"Yeah, it is! I'm just taking a quick break then I'm back on it."
"Hey, btw," Jesse added, "I met up with Tracy last night! She's nice, really sharp. It's awesome to have someone from California to talk to. Makes the city feel a little less foreign, you know?"
"That's great to hear!" Aubrey replied, feeling a mix of relief and pride. "I knew she'd do a good job, but it's nice to know she's fitting in."
"Yeah, she's definitely got it together. Your company is lucky to have her."
"Definitely," Aubrey agreed, feeling a warm sense of accomplishment. "Thanks for checking in with her."
"Anytime. And hey, don't overdo it, Bree Bree. That sun is no joke!"
"I won't! Thanks for worrying, though."
Even under the umbrella, the heat was relentless. Aubrey's sweat-soaked tank top clung to her and the tightness of her jeans became unbearable. She unbuttoned them and quickly wriggled out, leaving herself in just her tank top and underwear. For a moment, she hesitated, concerned about safety, but then shrugged it off. She pulled her purse closer to her, feeling the weight of her S inside. The motel had high walls, the gates were locked, and her gun was within reach.
Reassured, Aubrey leaned back on the lounge chair, the tension in her body easing as she closed her eyes. The act of shedding her clothes felt like shedding some of her worries. The warmth of the sun and the gentle breeze lulled her into a brief nap, her mind finally at peace.
Stacie threw a bunch of dresses on the bed and stared at them. But her mind was elsewhere, stuck in that moment last night when Aubrey walked right up to her and dragged her on the stage. How salacious and delicious her lips looked as she smiled, their bodies pressed together while they danced. How her blue eyes seemingly glowed beneath the strobing lights.
Stacie's hand fell on the dress she wore that night, she looked around and picked it up. She was entranced by it, and then she did something she'd never done before. She smelled the dress. As she took in its deep scent, her olfactory sense cataloged each fragrance, sweet, vodka, and yes, there it was, the citrus and jasmine combination, laced with Coco Chanel. Aubrey's distinct smell. She felt so silly smelling the dress but within its scent lay the memories of that night, not just of them dancing, but of what was possibly the sweetest combination of words said to her,I am in constant awe of she remembered them her heart felt both full and in pain.
"Mommy?" B.B.'s voice came from behind her.
Stacie panicked and hid the dress under the others. "Hey baby girl, you scared me."
"Where are you going?"
Stacie gasped, realizing she had forgotten to check in with B.B. about this. She always checked in with her daughter first. She'd been so upset last night that she'd agreed to the Ambassador's proposal without thinking. "Baby, I'm sorry I forgot to check in with you, but is it ok with you if Mommy goes out for a little bit?"
"Sure!" The little girl said without hesitation, because she loved seeing her Mommy happy, and she'd been so happy lately. "Is Auntie Bree going? Does that mean I get to play with Alma tonight again?"
Stacie's heart sank, and she shook her head sadly but didn't let the smile etched on her face falter. "No baby, Auntie Bree is staying and looking after you!"
"Oh," The little girl nodded slightly confused, and said, "Is that why you look sad? Cuz Auntie Bree isn't going?"
Stacie didn't know it was possible for her heart to break even more. She took a deep breath to keep her emotions in check and decided to kneel down to meet her daughter's eyes. "No sweetheart, I'm not sad because Auntie Bree isn't going. Sometimes grown-ups just have a lot going up here." Stacie pointed at her head. "And here," then at her heart. "But that's OK, it's part of life. Tonight Mommy just has something very important to do, and I'll be alright. I need you to be a good girl, and listen to everything Auntie Bree says, okay?"
B.B. nodded, her brow furrowing slightly. "Okay, Mommy. But you'll be back soon, right?"
Stacie smiled and gently brushed a hair away from her daughter's face. "Of course, baby. I'll be back before you know it. How about you pick one of your favorite Peter Pan stories and we'll read half now and the other half when I come back. Sound good?"
"Okay! I know which one I want!" The little girl said excitedly.
Stacie leaned in and kissed her daughter's forehead, "I bet you do, go on then, I'll get ready quickly and be over there in a second."
B.B. nodded and ran out the door towards her bedroom.
Stacie exhaled, her decision weighed heavily on her shoulders, but at least for now, her daughter's world was steady.
Stacie looked at the heap of dresses on the bed, the one she'd been holding moments earlier peaking out from under the pile. She'd find a new dress for tonight's date. Then she remembered one sealed in a garment bag in the back of her wardrobe. The one she'd been ignoring for a long time. She realized that she'd have to use that one.
She looked at the time on her phone and wondered where Aubrey was.
Aubrey was jarred awake by a buzzing noise. She blinked, feeling disoriented. She was at the Motel. Her phone was vibrating on a table next to her. Right. Stretching her arms and yawning, she reached for her phone.
"Hey, hadn't heard from you in a few hours, just checking in. How's the motel coming along?" Stacie's message brought her back to the present.
Aubrey sat up, still drowsy from her nap. "It's coming along. You were right about the heat," she replied.
"Told you, it's hot, right?"
"Extremely," Aubrey typed, appreciating the brief moment of connection. "How are you and B.B.? Enjoying your mommy and daughter day?"
"Yeah. Are you coming back soon?"
Aubrey glanced at the clock, surprised to see it was close to 5 p.m. She must have dozed off longer than she realized. "Yeah, I'll be back in a few."
"I'm just asking in case I have to reach out to Alma. I'm getting picked up in an hour."
That felt like a cold bucket of water, instantly pulling Aubrey out of her relaxed state. "I'll head out now."
Aubrey walked into the house and said, "I'm h–" Aubrey caught herself, she was about to say home and that didn't feel quite right, so she corrected, "I'm here!"
"We're up here Aubrey!" Stacie called out from upstairs.
Aubrey walked up and found them in BB's bedroom. The sight made her pause. Stacie was in a breathtaking lavender gown—one that Aubrey instantly recognized as an Elie Saab dress, the kind that graced runways and red carpets, with a price tag that could make anyone gasp. Aubrey's eyes widened as she took in the elegant drape of the silk-georgette fabric, the way it clung perfectly to Stacie's curves before flowing gracefully to the floor. The gown's asymmetrical design and flawless craftsmanship were unmistakable.
But what made Aubrey pause wasn't Stacie's usual breathtaking beauty; it was the sight of her lying on her daughter's bed, holding B.B. in the crook of her arm as they read a book together.
Aubrey observed the contrast between Stacie's meticulously styled hair, now slightly ruffled, and the carefully pressed dress that was beginning to wrinkle. Despite the effort she'd put into her appearance for her date, Stacie was completely absorbed in her maternal role. This raw display of her priorities—B.B. coming first, no matter what—warmed Aubrey's heart.
Aubrey suddenly recalled something she had said the night before, something important.
"I am in constant awe of you."
"Stacie," Aubrey began, almost breathless. "That dress… it's Elie Saab, isn't it? It's absolutely stunning—" and so expensive. "You look incredible."
Stacie's cheeks flushed with a mix of pride and embarrassment. She glanced down at the gown, smoothing the fabric with her hand. "It was a gift," she admitted softly,
Aubrey raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "A gift?" she echoed, her tone gentle but curious. She felt a pang of something she couldn't quite identify—jealousy, perhaps, or protectiveness.
Stacie, meanwhile, was struck by Aubrey's appearance. Standing in the doorway, Aubrey looked tanned, her tight tank top stained from the day's work, her face flushed but lit up with a genuine smile. Aubrey seemed both free and rugged, her sun-tanned skin and radiant smile only adding to her allure. Stacie had to make a conscious effort to remain focused and not let her feelings overwhelm her. Seeing Aubrey like this—strong and unburdened—only deepened her affection.
"Auntie Bree!" B.B. exclaimed.
Stacie snapped out of it. "See, I told you Auntie Bree would be here on time."
"Of course! I'm here! B.B., you ready to have a fun night with me?"
"Yes!" B.B. bounced out of bed and ran to hug Aubrey.
Aubrey embraced her and said, "Why don't you go get your art supplies and meet me downstairs?"
B.B. nodded enthusiastically and went to fetch her supplies. Stacie got out of bed and approached Aubrey, whispering, "You got a tan."
"I did?" Aubrey responded, surprised. "Oh, I kinda fell asleep under a garden umbrella but I must've caught some sun."
"It suits you," Stacie said, her tone conflicted. Honestly, she was incredibly attracted to the woman with golden hair and sun-kissed skin. As she walked past Aubrey to fix her hair in the bedroom, Stacie wrestled with her emotions.
Aubrey was flattered until she realized she'd been wearing the same sweaty clothes all day. She needed a shower. Badly.
Aubrey adjusted her navy blouse in the hallway mirror, smoothing out her skirt as she took a deep breath. She knew she was too dressed up for a night in but she'd be damned if she was meeting Stacie's date in sweats and a t-shirt. The doorbell rang. She took a final glance at her reflection, squared her shoulders, and walked to the door.
She opened it to see a chauffeur standing beside a sleek black town car, his posture straight and professional. "Ms. Conrad?" he asked, his tone polite but detached.
Aubrey shook her head, then turned back inside. "Stacie! Your ride's here!" she called up the stairs.
As Stacie descended, Aubrey couldn't help but stare. The Elie Saab lavender gown moved gracefully with each step, its fabric shimmering under the light. Stacie's dark hair was styled in an elegant updo, and her makeup highlighted her striking blue eyes. For a moment, a quiet ache settled in Aubrey's chest. She couldn't shake the thought that that beautiful, stunning, dress was meant for someone else.
She wondered, how someone could look so breathtaking every single time. She had seen Stacie just a few minutes ago, and yet, seeing her now, Aubrey felt as though she was seeing her for the first time all over again.
B.B. who had been walking up behind her Mommy ran up to Aubrey, her small arms reaching up to be lifted. Without thinking, Aubrey scooped her up, holding her close as they both watched Stacie prepare to leave.
Stacie paused at the doorway, turning back to Aubrey and B.B. her eyes widened as she realized that this was the first time Aubrey lifted B.B. up, the sight stunned her but she kept her posture, "I shouldn't be too late. Thank you, Bree, for looking after her."
Aubrey glanced over at B.B., giving her a wide, sincere smile. "It's an absolute pleasure."
Stacie's expression faltered this time, a flicker of guilt crossing her face, but she quickly composed herself. Leaning in, she kissed B.B. on the forehead, lingering a moment as if drawing strength from the embrace. "Mommy loves you, sweetheart. Be good for Auntie Bree, okay?"
"Okay, Mommy," B.B. replied.
Aubrey put down BB and followed Stacie onto the porch, hoping to get a glimpse of the guy who was sweeping her off tonight. But the car's dark tinted windows held that secret tightly. She felt at her skirt. Aubrey glanced down at the little girl, who was waving goodbye enthusiastically.
"Bye, Mommy!" B.B. called out, her voice bright and cheerful.
Aubrey waved half-heartedly, her thoughts clouded with uncertainty.
Stacie headed toward the shiny black town car, but before getting in, she turned to look back at Aubrey. Her eyes seemed to convey something unspoken—perhaps a plea, a silent "please stop me." Aubrey felt a pang of guilt and confusion, unsure of what Stacie wanted. But she said nothing, her lips pressed together in a tight line.
The chauffeur, noticing Stacie's hesitation, asked, "Miss, are you ready?"
Stacie, still looking at Aubrey, sighed and nodded. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face as she finally turned away and got into the car. "Yeah. Let's go."
Aubrey watched the town car drive away and muttered under her breath, "Bye, Stacie."
BB took her hand and began pulling her inside the house. Aubrey let herself be led. Once the door closed behind them, Aubrey let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding. She glanced down at B.B., who was looking up at her with wide, curious eyes.
"Is Mommy going to be okay?" B.B. asked, her voice small and unsure.
Aubrey smiled gently, pulling the little girl closer. "Of course! She is, Angel. She's going to be just fine. And we're going to have a great time tonight, okay?"
B.B. nodded, still holding on to Aubrey. "Okay."
As they walked back into the living room, Aubrey couldn't shake the feeling that she fucked up somehow.
You can tell a lot about a person's hands—their age, for example. Some people even believe that you can read fortunes in the lines in your palm. The shapes and roughness of their callousness help differentiate the actor from the musician, the construction worker from the accountant, and the fighter from the pacifist. Jewelry on those hands speaks volumes too—tasteful and refined or tacky? Married or unmarried? And by looking at the the tan line where a wedding band once sat you can judge how long someone has been divorced. And she guessed by his fading tan line, that Matteo Rossi had been truthful when he told her he'd finally gotten divorced months ago.
The soft candlelight cast a warm glow over the table and the air was filled with the delicate scent of Italian cuisine. Despite the romantic setting, Stacie felt a sense of disconnect. She smiled and nodded as the ambassador spoke, his words charming and effortlessly smooth. But her mind kept wandering back to the look in Aubrey's eyes.
The ambassador leaned in, his voice low and intimate. "Che ne dici?"
Stacie took a deep breath and forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm... flattered," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "But this is all a bit sudden, I think I need some time to think about it."
The ambassador's face softened, and he nodded understandingly. "Certo che lo capisco, prenditi tutto il tempo che vuoi."
As they continued their meal, Stacie felt a hollow sensation in her chest. She played along with the ambassador's conversation, laughing at his jokes and responding to his compliments, but she felt like a stranger in her own skin.
Aubrey and B.B. sat at the kitchen table, having just finished a fun dinner of hot dogs shaped like little octopuses with mac and cheese. Aubrey was helping B.B. navigate an art website her teacher recommended, going through the lesson together. B.B. found it more enjoyable than she expected, especially with Aubrey earnestly trying to color alongside her. They agreed to do one lesson a day, and though B.B. was reluctant, she eventually nodded. After an hour, B.B. yawned and rubbed her eyes.
"Uh-oh, someone's getting sleepy," Aubrey teased lightly.
The little girl nodded, then said, "But I have to stay up 'cause Mommy promised we'd finish reading the storybook."
Aubrey frowned and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was 11 p.m., well past B.B.'s bedtime. She reached for her phone and sent Stacie a message, but there was no response—not even a read receipt. Aubrey pressed the bridge of her nose and took a deep breath. She didn't mind looking after B.B. for as long as it took, but seeing the little girl waiting up for her mother with a stubbornness that rivaled her own, gnawed at her.
"How about this: if you want, I can tuck you in and read the story to you," Aubrey offered, knowing full well that it was a bit of a stretch for their relationship.
B.B. thought about it for a second, then shook her head. "No, thank you. When Mommy promises to read me a story, she keeps her promises."
Oh, goddamn it, Stacie! Where the hell are you?Aubrey cursed internally, glancing at her phone again. "I'm sure she does…"
B.B. yawned again and added, "Can we watch TV?"
Aubrey looked at her watch. They had been coloring for an hour and had completed the lesson for the day. "Yeah, let's go watch some TV while we wait for Mommy."
Throughout the night, Aubrey asked B.B. multiple times if she wanted to go to bed, but the little girl insisted on waiting up for her mother. Eventually, B.B. laid her head down on Aubrey's lap, and Aubrey grabbed the nearest throw to cover her. The little girl was asleep in seconds. Aubrey's heart felt full to bursting as she carefully ran her fingers through B.B. 's hair. The little girl buried her face deeper into Aubrey's lap, getting comfortable. Aubrey smiled; B.B. was just like her mother, and Aubrey loved her so much.
Taking a risk, Aubrey picked up B.B. and gently carried her to her bedroom. She carefully placed her under the covers and B.B. didn't protest, letting herself be tucked in. Aubrey brushed the hair away from B.B.'s forehead, feeling a strong urge to kiss her goodnight but decided against it, not wanting to make B.B. uncomfortable.
"Good night, Angel," she whispered.
Half asleep, B.B. whispered back, "Good night."
Aubrey sat on the last steps of the stairs, waiting patiently.
She glanced at the clock on her phone, then back at the front door. Why does time move slower when you're looking? she wondered. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak of the old wooden floorboards.
Aubrey tried to calm her racing thoughts. Stacie had been out late plenty of times during college; it was practically a routine. But that had been a different Stacie—carefree, sometimes reckless, and without a daughter to think about. This version of Stacie was different. Ever since she'd become a single mother and started working at the hospital, she was more responsible and more grounded. Stacie had mentioned going on a couple of dates with the Ambassador in the past, but as far as Aubrey knew, that was it.
Just as Aubrey was lost in her thoughts, the sound of a key turning in the lock made her heart leap. The door creaked open, and Stacie stepped inside, looking both annoyed and rushed.
"You're home!" Aubrey said, not bothering to hide the alarm in her voice. "Are you OK? I was starting to get worried."
"Yeah! I'm so sorry I'm late!"
"What happened?"
"Shit! The stupid limo got a flat tire, and none of those idiots knew how to change it, so we had to wait for AAA. It took forever because we're in the middle of nowhere, and then my fucking phone died! Their chargers didn't work because they all had Androids! It's just been a hell of a mess. I have to check on B.B." Stacie kicked off her heels and, lifting up her dress, started to climb the stairs. "God! Is B.B. asleep? Damn it!"
Aubrey nodded, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Yeah, I tucked her in about an hour ago. She tried to stay up and wait for you."
Aubrey trailed after Stacie as she raced into BB's room. Aubrey hovered by the door.
Stacie sat on her daughter's bed. B.B. mumbled, "You're late."
"I'm so sorry, baby girl, but don't worry—you keep sleeping, and I'll finish the story for you so you can dream about it. Sounds good?"
The half-asleep girl nodded. Stacie looked around for the book but couldn't find it. Aubrey appeared next to her, silently offering the book. Stacie mouthed the words "thank you" and finished reading the story.
Aubrey waited in the hallway, her frustration mounting with each passing minute. When Stacie finally stepped out, having kissed BB goodnight, Aubrey checked her phone. It was 3 a.m.
"Can we talk?" Aubrey's voice was clipped, and controlled, yet there was an unmistakable edge of vulnerability beneath the surface.
Stacie was halfway to her room. She paused and turned. The weariness in her eyes mirrored the exhaustion in her voice. "I'm dead tired. Can we talk tomorrow?"
"This can't wait!" Aubrey snapped, the sharpness of her tone surprising even herself. She caught the slight flinch from Stacie and immediately regretted it, glancing down the hall to make sure B.B. hadn't been disturbed.
Stacie's shoulders tensed as she sighed, a mix of irritation and resignation flashing across her face. "Alright, Bree, damn."
Aubrey led Stacie back to the living room, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension. Stacie slumped onto the couch, her exhaustion palpable, while Aubrey began pacing, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her mind racing.
"Look, I'm not mad," Aubrey began, though the agitation in her voice suggested otherwise. "I'm just... disappointed."
Stacie let out a tired laugh, a smirk tugging at her lips. "Disappointed? I didn't realize you were my mom."
"Yes, disappointed!" Aubrey shot back, a touch of indignation creeping into her tone. "B.B. tried so hard to stay up and wait for you because—and I quote—'Mommy always keeps her promises.' I didn't know what to say to her. Look, I know I just got here, and this is your first date in a while, but—"
"Bree, I told you what happened," Stacie interrupted, her voice taking on a defensive edge. "It wasn't my fault."
Aubrey stopped pacing and sank onto the couch beside her, the tension draining from her posture as she sighed. "It's not just about tonight, Stacie. It's... about this morning too."
Stacie's gaze drifted away, her expression guarded.
"When I asked what your plans were for today, you practically shut me out," Aubrey continued, her voice softer now but laced with hurt. "I felt like you didn't want me around."
"I just wanted to spend the day with my daughter!"
"And the night with an ambassador?" Aubrey shot back, unable to hide the jealousy that crept into her voice.
Stacie's eyes narrowed her own irritation flaring. "Who I spend my night with is none of your business!"
"No, you're right, it's not," Aubrey conceded, though there was a hint of frustration in her voice. "But—" she began to add.
"No buts!" Stacie cut her off, her voice rising. "You don't get to be mad at me for going on a date! Or are you upset over babysitting? You didn't have to do it, Bree! I told you I could've asked Alma to look after her."
"I'm not upset about looking after B.B. I love her, Stacie. I'll take any chance I get to spend time with her, but come on!"
"Come on what?" Stacie challenged, her arms crossing defensively.
"That guy?" Aubrey scoffed, unable to hide her disdain. "He couldn't even bother to pick you up himself!"
Stacie's expression shifted, "He's… being discreet."
"Discreet?" Aubrey frowned, her confusion deepening. "What does that even mean? Why would he need to be discreet? Is he worried about his image or something? Like dating you is something to hide?" Aubrey's voice had an edge to it, tinged with frustration. In her mind, anyone lucky enough to date Stacie should be proud of it, and flaunt it.
Stacie shook her head, and smiled a little sadly, "It was my idea."
Aubrey blinked, caught off guard, "Your idea? Why? Why all the secrecy?"
"It's not about secrecy, I'm being cautious… I don't want B.B. to meet him. Yet."
Something about the way Stacie said that made Aubrey pause. "Yet? As in, you want them to meet? How serious are you about this guy?"
Stacie looked up at her, her eyes filled with turmoil Aubrey couldn't quite understand. "Bree, you don't get it. This is complicated."
"Don't tell me it's the money because I—" Aubrey started, her voice rising in disbelief.
"No, it's not that," Stacie interrupted, shaking her head.
"Then what is it?" Aubrey demanded, her patience wearing thin.
Stacie took a deep breath, the weight of her secret pressing down on her. "Bree... Matteo is Bella's father."
Aubrey felt the air leave her lungs, her world-shattering into a million pieces. She sank back onto the couch, her hands trembling as she tried to process the bombshell that had just been dropped on her.
"What?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Stacie's voice softened, filled with regret. "Like I said, it's complicated."
Aubrey's gaze drifted toward the kitchen, her mind replaying every moment, every gift that had seemed too extravagant, too out of place. Her eyes landed on the espresso maker sitting on the counter, the realization dawning on her. "Is that why...?"
"A few months ago, he started trying to get on my good side," Stacie admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sending me expensive gifts—clothes, shoes, jewelry, the 30 year old, Macallan... this beautiful dress," Stacie said as she stared down at it, "and that stupid coffee maker. I pretty much told him to buzz off, but then he reached out yesterday, and I..."
"Wait! Yesterday? When we went out... and you didn't tell me?" Aubrey's voice was sharp with betrayal, her heart pounding in her chest.
Stacie's eyes widened, panic flashing across her face. "I... I didn't want to mess up our plans."
Aubrey didn't quite believe her but let it slide for now. "And what does he want?"
"He wants to be a part of B.B.'s life."
"Why now? After all these years?" Aubrey's voice cracked, the pain in her chest intensifying.
"He got divorced recently," Stacie replied.
Aubrey started to piece together the puzzle, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of everything. "Don't tell me..."
Stacie sighed, knowing she couldn't keep it hidden any longer. "Look, I was 21… I met him after I had just broken up with this girl I was seeing. And after that whole mess, I just wanted to date someone more mature."
Aubrey connected the final piece of the puzzle and said, "And he was married…"
Stacie looked down, the guilt weighing heavy on her. "Yeah,"
"Oh God, Stacie,"
"I know, I was stupid and… like I told you I can be pretty selfish sometimes."
Selfish, there's that word again, Aubrey can be selfish, but I never thought you'd be the other woman.
"And when I got pregnant…"
"He said he'd leave her." It wasn't a question, Aubrey was placing the final pieces of this puzzle. She couldn't believe what she was hearing, this felt like some crappy soap opera.
"Yeah… but he didn't and when I confronted him about it…" Stacie's voice trailed off. "Anyway you asked me why the Mojave of all places? This is why. I needed to get the hell away from him and that whole mess."
"Stacie…"
"He hasn't been a deadbeat or anything, every month he sends child support, and I put it in a bank account for B.B. when she grows up."
Aubrey suddenly started laughing. But there was no joy in her laughter, it was bitter and reproachful.
In her mind, Aubrey was back to that first night in this very same living room. They were drinking wine, she had asked Stacie for advice about what to do with Jesse and Stacie took a sip of wine and said, "It's the right thing to do…."
Aubrey remembered that night vividly, she had looked at Stacie confused, how she had said something so seemingly simple and yet so daunting. How Stacie had looked so mature, so put together, so self-righteous, someone to look up to. But… it was all a lie?
"What's so funny?" Stacie asked defensively.
"All this time… you were preaching at me to do the right thing and you… you were the other woman?"
Her words were like a dagger plunged into her heart. Stacie's mouth dropped, and it slowly turned into a scowl and she shouted, "You think I don't know how I look? I've been trying so hard all this goddamn time to be a better person! To grow! I basically fucking exiled myself and still, I've been giving B.B. and my job my all! And you Aubrey Posen, you don't get to fucking judge me!"
Aubrey couldn't believe what she was hearing, not only had her world been shattered, but her perception of the woman as well. It was all too much, too overwhelming. "I can't be here right now." Aubrey got on her feet, grabbed her purse, and made her way towards the door.
"Really? You're leaving?"You're leaving me?Stacie's voice was a mix of desperation and hurt.
At that moment Stacie saw Aubrey in that diner that first night, her eyes full of disappointment and hurt. Aubrey had come to her in her weakest moment and she'd been less than kind. Aubrey had thrown her napkin on the table and said"I'm sorry it may sound crazy to you, but you-you have no idea just how hard this has been for me."
"You're goddamn right I am!" Aubrey stormed towards the door, her face flushed with a mixture of anger and betrayal.
"I don't need this," Aubrey had said that night, as she got up, and Stacie almost lost her that night.
Stacie panicked. She was about to lose her. Again. But this time she couldn't stand the thought of letting her walk out the door. Stacie had done something she never thought she'd do, she'd let herself be raw, naked, and vulnerable. She had bared damn near everything to her and now, she was leaving her? It hurt so much and she snapped, "Fine, leave! That's what you do right? Things don't look as perfect as you think they look, or they get hard and you fucking leave right?"
But Aubrey didn't stop, she was walking away, from this conversation, from her home, from her life.
Don't leave!Panic tightened its grip on Stacie's heart. She felt Aubrey slipping away, and in a moment of pure desperation, she yelled, "Like how you left your husband!"
Aubrey froze, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as a brutal chill ran down her spine.
The first night, Stacie didn't know how to hold Aubrey's pain. Aubrey had been spoiled by Chloe's unconditional support. Stacie's words felt much worse than having a bucket of ice unceremoniously dumped on her. Couldn't Stacie see how much pain she was in?
Now Aubrey stood there in the middle of the living room once again asking herself why Stacie couldn't see what she needed. Why was she doing the exact opposite?
The silence between the two women became deafening, filled only with the sound of their pounding heartbeats. Stacie remembered what she told her that night, and how sincere and vulnerable she'd allowed herself to be.
"When I was pushing Bella into this world, it was just me, no baby daddy in sight, barely a peep from my folks, but you know what? I wasn't bitter, because you guys were out there conquering the world! No matter how many times life knocked you on your ass, you guys got back up and asked for seconds. And you, Aubrey. Fucking. Posen taught us that!"
But that didn't matter anymore.
Aubrey turned sharply and marched back toward Stacie, each step firm and purposeful. There was a fierce intensity in her stride, and Stacie froze. As Aubrey approached, Stacie flinched, half-expecting a slap. But what Aubrey did was worse. As she stepped into the light, Stacie saw the tears streaming down her face, the raw pain and betrayal in her blue eyes. It left Stacie speechless. Aubrey's voice shook as she whispered, "How dare you…"
Then Aubrey turned and started to walk away again, her step just as intense, as resolute. She needed to get the hell away from this insurmountable pain.
Stacie's panic overwhelmed her. Her voice dripping with poison she yelled, "I can't believe I used to look up to you!"
Tears continued to run down Aubrey's face, mingling with anger and impossible hurt. She left the once warm and inviting home, slamming the door behind her.
Alone in the dark living room, Stacie's breath suddenly came back to her fast and hollow. The weight of existence fell on her hard, living, breathing, and loving, it was all too much right now. Stacie Conrad fell to her knees, her composure completely shattered. She buried her face in her hands, her sobs were painful and wrecked her. She couldn't believe how she had lashed out, the words she said, she wanted to hurt her, and she knew just what to say to do it. She almost wished Aubrey had slapped her, she would have deserved it.
"Mommy?" B.B.'s small voice called from upstairs, the sound carrying through the silence of the house. Stacie's heart clenched, her maternal instinct kicking in despite the turmoil raging in her heart. She scrambled to her feet, hastily wiping the tears from her face and trying to regain her composure. Her voice was tender but strained as she called out, "I'm coming, baby."
To be Continued...
Notes:
Author's Note: The fabled Author's Curse, for a long time I though it was silly, blown way out of proportion. But now I can't help but wonder if I've been too hasty with my dismissal of it. Yesterday, two cars running the light crashed right in front of me, and one of the cars bounced into mine, totalling my car, destroying my phone and banging up my laptop. I'm medically cleared but my head has basically been hurting nonstop and I'm still pissed about my car. Whatever, I wanted to keep editing this chapter but I needed to do something to cheer myself up so I'm going to share it with you all as unpolished as it is, because I just couldn't wait to show you what happens next.
I can't believe some of y'all guessed the reveal. Seriously some of y'all have a keen eye for detail.
I wonder if anyone got legitimately angry over this one. You should know that there's three versions of that last part in the fight. I'll let you guess how those turned out. Remember this is the story of Sylvia and Aminta, about the woman in the desert and about the dancer in the moon, this a story about desert flowers that blossom in the worst of conditions. We will have lows, because we need to have lows.
Hope you guys like this one! So what did you think about the fight? what did you think about the ballet? What was your favorite part? Please comment it helps. Thank you so much for reading! It means the world to me.
