ticket is twenty-one hundred dollars.” She searches my face, waiting for me to tell her it’s a ridiculous price like I give a shit about money. I pull my Amex out of my wallet and pass it to her. She takes it, surprised by my lack of consideration for money wasted.
The baby isn’t mine.
How can it be his?
“Here’s your boarding pass, sir. Flight 793 boards from Gate 11 in approximately thirty minutes.”
She hands me my boarding pass, and I walk away in search of the gate. Finding it, I sit in an isolated section of the lounge.
The baby isn’t mine.
How can it be his?
Was she fucking him the whole time?
My Charlotte, my wife, is carrying another man’s baby.
There’s nothing but white noise in my head, but I sit here silently, still numb, staring into space waiting desperately to board the plane to take me anywhere but here.
The flight is bumpy, but what did I expect from a last-minute flight sitting in economy. It didn’t even occur to me to ask for business class, but I assume on a run-down plane like this, business class will be no different. I close my eyes trying to drift off to sleep. The constant wail of an infant a few rows back leaves me no choice but to place the free headphones over my ears. With a little more peace, I try again, but of course, it’s impossible to clear my mind.
The baby isn’t mine.
I spend the following week remote fishing somewhere in the middle of Alaska. The town is small yet very accommodating. It’s amazing how sitting for hours on end with professional fishermen waiting for a bite can ease your troubles, that is until I know I have to finally leave.
The convention in Paris is four days away plus back-to-back meetings.
My phone has been turned off the entire time I have been here. I only messaged Kate before I boarded the plane to Alaska to tell her I would not be contactable for the week.
She replied at the time with a simple, “Okay.”
I don’t allow myself to think about her, it’s like pouring salt on a wound. The questions go around and around in circles.
On my last night before heading to Paris, I do the inevitable and turn on my phone knowing I have to face the world again. The beeping doesn’t stop for two hours straight, even though the signal I’m receiving is weak.
969 work emails.
Seventeen texts from Adriana.
Ten texts from my mother.
Seven texts from Rocky.
One text from Elijah.
One text from my father.
Zero from Charlotte.
The baby isn’t mine.
I quickly scan through the texts first. Adriana is in panic mode. My mother is worried. Rocky’s worried at first, but then starts sending me videos of girls getting fingered by other girls. I have to admit I’m slightly amused, but unfortunately, they do nothing for me. Elijah sends me some Paulo Coelho quote about survival. My father’s words are simple—he tells me to do whatever it is I need to do. That’s odd, I expected a lecture about how much of a disappointment I am to him and our family.
***
Back on European soil, something changes. The old Lex roars back to life like venom seeping through my veins, and my confidence comes back ten-fold. I learned to rebuild myself, control my life, and demand this world revolves around me, and today, for the first time in what feels like weeks, Lex Edwards is back and on his usual warpath.
Dressed in business attire, a far cry from the awful-looking fishermen gear I sported only a few days ago, I make my way into the conference room and deliver my speech. Every single pair of eyes are on me, some laced with curiosity and many with fear. A part of me desperately needs this old me back, not realizing how my work is engrained in me despite allowing my personal life to dictate my emotions.
I conclude my speech with a round of applause, my concentration shifting to Victoria seated a few rows back. Of course, she’d be here, but I still managed not to speak to her since that infamous night in my suite. I walk down the steps and make my way to where she’s seated, ignoring the eyes watching my every move.
“Come with me,” I whisper in her ear.
She follows my lead toward the exit and a vacated boardroom next door, away from prying eyes. I want to apologize for what happened, but I also need to forget. I place my hands on