Only One Night (Only One 3)

I look down now, blinking away the tears threatening to come out. I walk out of the room, going to the bathroom and closing the door. The phone is ringing in my hand. I shake my head and look down at it.

Manning calling. I press the red decline button and just sit on the toilet. I refuse to look at myself in the mirror, not sure I can even stomach myself right now. I wash my hands, and with my hands wet, I pat my cheeks and then dab them dry.

I’m walking out of the bathroom when my phone pings.

Manning: Hey, just tried to call you a couple of times. Wanted to hear your voice.

I delete the text and walk back into the kitchen, slapping my hands together. “Okay, what can I do to help?” I ask my mother, and she looks at me, not sure what to say. She sees my eyes red and just smiles at me when I shake my head.

“Well, how about we make the meatballs?” She walks over to the fridge, and I take off my sweater and ignore the ping of my phone again from my back pocket. I take it out and put it on vibrate, but the last thing I see is the text that is across the screen.

Manning: I miss you.

Chapter 23

Manning

Me: I miss you.

I delete the text and put the phone in the pocket of my shorts while I flip the pancake for Jaxon. Last night was a clusterfuck of clusterfucks, and I am still pissed about it. “Get the syrup.” I look over at Jaxon while Murielle walks into the kitchen.

Her hair is piled on her head, and her “glam makeup” is still on. She is still wearing last night’s clothes on top of that. Her eyes look like raccoons. “I need coffee.” She walks and stops beside me, reeking of alcohol.

“You need a shower, too,” I say, shaking my head.

“I can’t believe you left me in your car,” she hisses. “I had to crawl up the stairs.”

“You’re lucky I even drove you home,” I say. I should have known that something was up when she took the picture with me and then stumbled on her heels. Little did I know, she was doing shots with two other wives all night long.

When her voice started getting louder and she starting getting touchy-feely, I knew it was too late. “Why are you being such a prude? So what if I drank a bit.”

“You drank a bit.” I scoff, laughing, placing the plate in front of Jaxon, who is watching us. “Eat up, and then you can go play your Xbox,” I tell him, not willing to talk more in front of him.

Murielle lays her head on the island, closing her eyes. “Why is the room still spinning?” Jaxon finishes as fast as he can to get away from her.

He walks over and puts his plate in the dishwasher. “I’m going to go play the game, and we can watch a movie after.”

“Sounds good, big man,” I tell him and wait for him to leave before I talk to her.

“That is the last time that is going to happen,” I say, cutting a piece of egg and then looking at her.

“Oh, please,” she says, not moving her head. “It’s not that big of a deal. Angela was drunk, too.”

“Angela is always drunk,” I say. “I’m talking about you hanging all over me.”

Her eyes open now. “Is your memory foggy?” I say. “You were hanging onto my neck.”

“It’s not that big of a deal. You’re my husband, after all,” she says. “Yet you left me passed out in the BMW.”

“I told you we were home,” I say. “You groaned, so I figured you were okay.”

“I woke up and didn’t even know where I was!” she yells.

“That sounds like a you problem and not a me problem,” I say, and I get up now, going over to the dishwasher. Pissed that she was drunk, I knew I couldn’t just leave Jaxon alone. I fell asleep on the couch, waiting for her to come in, and when I finally woke up, it was after five in the morning.

“Goddammit, Manning. It was freezing outside.” She slaps the counter.

“It’s November in Texas.” I laugh at her. “There is no freezing.”

“Why the fuck are you such an asshole?” she asks, folding her arms over her chest.

“Why are you still a bitch?” I ask, but I don’t wait for her to answer me. “Why the fuck won’t you just give me a divorce, and we can be amicable?”

She glares at me. “I will never fucking give you a divorce.”

“Never say never.” I push away from the counter. “I have to go and spend time with my son,” I say.

“Fuck you,” she mumbles.

“Right back at you,” I say. Walking up the steps, I take my phone out and see that Evelyn still hasn’t texted me back. I pick up the phone to call her again as I walk into my room and sit on my bed.