The Muse's Undoing

“No,” she says, sounding slightly contrite. “He hasn’t. He waits for you.”

I put a hand over my mouth, my head sagging with relief. But could he have said something about the other day? What the fuck does my ex know?

“Look, I don’t know who all knows what,” she continues, “and I know what Matty told me the other day about when this all started, but…you get what it could look like, right? Or why we might have every reason in the world not to believe you guys are telling the whole story.”

“And that means that my son isn’t safe with me?”

“No one said that.”

“The court document does,” I snap.

“Oh. My god. Well, I didn’t say anything like that.”

“What else did you say?”

“Nothing. Just that you and Matty are—hooking up—or whatever.”

“Great. Thanks a lot, Maggie. Anyone ever tell you it’s not your place to out someone?”

The sound of her shocked breath comes over the line. “I?—”

I don’t want to hear it, unable to keep the seething resentment from my voice, I ask, “You think with your super close friendship you might be able to talk Nicole off this ledge?”

She only digs her heels in. “I’m not getting involved.”

“You are involved,” I tell her, near raging. “She wants to remove all visitation. That means you. That means Dick and Donna. That means I have no right to time with my child. And my time is your time as you fucking know.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

I rub my eyes, unwilling to apologize because I’m still trying to find my balance in this dystopian alternate reality.

“I get that you’re upset, but you don’t get to talk to me like I did something wrong. I’m not the one fucking my brother and trying to hide it—badly. But if you were calling for my advice, I do have some—stay the fuck away from him. If you can manage that, then you might have a snowball’s chance in hell of talking Nicole into backing off. Otherwise—thanks for breaking my parents’ hearts. Again.”

The line goes dead and the phone slips from my hand, bouncing in its case on the desk to land face down.

Her hatred is stunning.

Her words—worse. I’m reeling. Blindsided. Devastated.

I’m itching to do something, to fix this, but I can’t think of a soul in the world who could help me sort through this mess.

A knock on the door startles me, and my producer pokes her head in. “Ten minutes. You want to walk up together?”

“Um…”

“Are you okay?” She steps into the office, concern etched on her forehead.

“I just got some upsetting news. Personal.”

“Oh. Um…are you okay to go on?”

I nod, fighting for that mask of stoicism I’ve always worn so well. Struggling to don it. There’s nothing to be done this late in the day. Maybe tomorrow, I can reach out to Hillary—explain the situation. She can speak with Lacy who can convince Nicole… Fuck.

How the hell did this happen, and why the fuck didn’t I see this coming? Have I been that stupid? Careless? Raven saw me and Matthew in the mailroom? A few times, if that, in my apartment? Did she insinuate something disgusting to Nicole? Or is this just Nicole working with very little information extrapolating something that freaked her out? And if so—what? She doesn’t want our son around a gay couple?

Is she some closet homophobe, and I somehow missed that? Her sister is a lesbian. Surely, it would have come up.

“Let me just call home first,” I say to Kim and then, once again, my hand freezes before I grab the phone. Stay the fuck away from him.