Heartache & Playdates by Shawna Renae

1

MADDOX

“Canyou please do the playdate on Tuesday?” Lizzy, my ex, gave me her best puppy dog eyes and completed the request by folding her hands in a prayer position as we stood next to one another and watched our daughter battle to the top of the rock-climbing wall like the gladiator she was.

It almost worked.

I was a sucker for puppy dog eyes. I had to give her an A for effort. When she wanted something from me, she knew where my weakness was.

“Adriana’s mom is only asking because she wants to hang out with you.” Lizzy gathered her long red curls up and secured them in a messy bun on top of her head as she sighed. “All the moms have crushes on you, and they use these playdates as excuses.”

“I put in my time this month. I took Hannah to the aquarium last week with Handsy Miller and her daughter Jessica.”

Lizzy grinned. “You mean Sandy Miller.”

“No. I mean Handsy. She was like an octopus. She had her tentacles all over me.” I was only half-joking. The woman really had taken every opportunity to touch me. “And the week before that it was ice cream with Gavin and his mom Knee Slapper Nicole.”

“Knee Slapper Nicole?”

“She threw her head back and slapped my knee at everything I said that was even remotely amusing. I mean, I know I’m funny but—”

“You’re not that funny,” Lizzy stated flatly.

“Are you watching?” Hannah looked over her shoulder causing her long blonde braids to swing from side to side across her back.

“Yes, Banana!” Lizzy called out.

“We’re watching, Peanut!” I gave her a thumb’s up.

Banana was the nickname most people used for Hannah, but I’d been calling her Peanut since the first ultrasound. I’ll never forget looking at the screen and seeing a tiny peanut-shaped blob. From that second on, she was my Peanut.

Once Hannah was sure that she had our attention, she continued Spider-Manning her way up the wall.

“She doesn’t need to go on playdates with other kids,” I argued. “She has Bella and Lexi.”

Alex and Nick, the two men I considered brothers, both had daughters Hannah’s age. The three girls were all born the same year and had grown up together. They went to the same school, had sleepovers once or twice a month and were inseparable.

“Lexi and Bella are like her sisters. She needs to have friends.”

Lizzy and I always tried to be on the same page with Hannah, and when we weren’t we talked it out until we came to a compromise. So, I came up with one.

“If you think she needs playdates, you go on them. I’m done. Every time I go on one, I have to take a shower because I feel violated.”

“Look, I’m just being devil’s advocate here, it’s not all the moms’ fault. You definitely share some of the blame for how they act.”

I’d never led a woman on in my life. If I was seeing someone, it was casual. No strings. No commitment. No future. Everyone who I had any interest in, knew the score up front. But I wasn’t even interested in anything casual from the moms at Hannah’s school.

“Me? What do I do?” I asked.

“You’re…you.” She waved her hand up and down.

“Thanks for clearing that up.”

She nodded as if I wasn’t being sarcastic. “I mean there’s the obvious. The whole tall, dark, and handsome thing, being a dead ringer to Ryan Guzman, a genius, a millionaire, tech nerd, having a body that Zeus himself would envy, and your whole sexy bad boy with a heart of gold vibe.” She sucked in her breath through her teeth as she shook her head back and forth slowly. “But it’s not any of that. It’s your eyes. Those suckers were what kept me coming back for more even though I knew this wasn’t a serious relationship and it wasn’t going anywhere.”

“My eyes?” From the time I could remember women had commented on my eyes. They said they loved them, that they could stare into them forever, that they felt like they were the only person in the world when I looked at them, but I’d never understood the appeal. They were brown. You couldn’t get more plain than brown eyes.

“Yes,” Lizzy confirmed. “For most people they are the windows to the soul, but your eyes are liars. They make you believe that you are more interested and invested than you really are.”

“How do they do that?”

“You actually listen and care.”

“So, I shouldn’t listen and care?”

“I’m just saying, that’s where the problem is. Maybe wear sunglasses to your next playdate.”

“There’s not going to be a next playdate.”

“We’ll see.” Lizzy shrugged as if my declaration meant nothing. “It also doesn’t help that you are such a great dad and that we have such a good relationship. Every time I mention a story about you and Hannah, or you and me, and the moms at school get wetter than a Slip ’N Slide.”

“Well then tell them I’m a bad dad and that I’m a dick to you. And how can I be a tech nerd and a bad boy?” I asked for clarification.

“Exactly!” she said, her arms flailing in the air. Lizzy talked with her hands a lot. “Those two things should be mutually exclusive and yet, you pull it off better than Will Hunting.”

Lizzy had always compared me to Matt Damon’s character in Good Will Hunting. I understood the comparison, we both had hard lives and intellectual gifts that were overlooked in our adolescence because no one paid attention to street kids.

“And you know, you could do worse than Adriana, or Sandy, or Nicole.”

I turned toward my ex, shooting her a look to communicate that she was out of her fucking mind. When I did, Lizzy’s sapphire eyes twinkled like stars in the sky as she leaned into me.

“All three women are smart. Divorced. Attractive and age-appropriate.”

“One time.” I lifted my pointer finger in the air. “I only went on one date with her.”

Clearly amused that she could push my buttons, Lizzy smiled and widened her eyes in faux innocence. “Was it to her prom?”

Even though I knew exactly what she was doing I still took the bait and explained the circumstances I’d explained at least a dozen times to her. “She was twenty. It was a blind date. I had no clue that Mrs. Johnson would set me up with her granddaughter who was a sophomore in college.”

My neighbor was well-meaning, but I seriously think she overestimated how much I, a thirty-four-year-old man at the time, would have in common with someone barely out of their teens.

“Oh right, I forgot,” Lizzy teased, feigning ignorance.

“Ha ha ha,” I stated flatly. “Not everyone has what you and Ryan do.”

Lizzy and her husband Ryan, who also resembled Lizzy’s sole hall pass Ryan Guzman—Lizzy had a type—had been college sweethearts. He’d gone into the military after graduating and they’d broken up because the long distance had been too hard on them. But he’d resigned his commission five years ago and returned to San Francisco and the first thing he did was reach out to Lizzy.

The two met for coffee and have been together ever since. I could not be happier for my baby mama. In fact, I walked Lizzy down the aisle when she and Ryan said “I do” since her father was not in the picture.

I loved Lizzy, but I’d never been in love with her. She was the mother of my child. My baby mama. Together we’d made the best thing in my life. Hannah.

Our almost six-year-old daughter was my entire world. We’d been casually seeing each other for a few years when she found out she was pregnant. Lizzy had been upfront from the beginning and told me there was a fifty-fifty chance that Hannah was mine, and I took the odds. I’d gone to every doctor’s appointment and was at the birth. The other guy opted to wait to be involved until the paternity results came in.

Luckily for me, the results came back in my favor.

I’d always wanted to be a father. I’d never imagined it would happen with Lizzy; but it worked out for the best.

“I’m serious Mad Max, when are you going to think about settling down? You’re not getting any younger.”

“I’m thirty-five.”

“You’re going to be thirty-six very soon,” Lizzy pointed out. “And Hannah keeps asking for a baby sister or brother.” I glanced over at Lizzy and saw the hint of defeat in her dropped shoulders. She and Ryan had been trying to conceive for a while; but it wasn’t happening as easily as they’d hoped. She put her hands over her stomach and sighed. “You might be the only way she’ll get one.”

I wrapped my arm around Lizzy’s shoulder and pulled her against me and kissed her on the top of the head. “It’ll happen for you guys.”

“Yeah. I know. Thanks.” She looked up at me, sniffing back emotion as she nodded and patted my chest. “And I’m not trying to give you a hard time. I just worry about you. I really want you to have what Ryan and I do. It’s the best and you deserve the best Maddox Anthony Cruz. You really do.”

“I don’t think that’s in the cards for me.”

There was only one woman in my life that I’d ever pictured marrying and having a family with. But we were teenagers when we knew each other, so I doubt it was real.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw Peyton Russo.

It was a windy fall day, and I was sitting in calculus class, which I took in what would have technically been my sophomore year, but since I completed my freshman and sophomore credits my first year of high school, I was taking my junior and senior credits my second year to graduate early at age sixteen. I was staring out the window at the leaves rustling in the trees when I heard the door open. A gorgeous girl with long chestnut hair and huge green eyes walked into the classroom. She had the sort of presence that commanded attention.

It was like something out of a movie. Time stood still and my entire world narrowed to a pinpoint where only she and I existed. A glow surrounded her as the mid-morning sun shone through the window illuminating her in nature’s spotlight. Her long brunette hair hung down to her waist and shimmered with strands of golden highlights weaved through. Her large green eyes surrounded by dark, thick lashes mesmerized me from across the room, pulling me under their spell.

She looked like a real-life angel.

“Class this is Peyton Russo, she just transferred from Washington D.C.” Mrs. Zolinski introduced her.

Then, in slow motion, her gaze dipped down to the ground, she brushed a hair that had fallen in her face behind her ear and when she looked back up her full cherry lips parted in a wide smile revealing the smile that haunted me to this day.

Peyton’s smile was the sort of smile that could cure the world’s pain. It wasn’t just a facial expression; it was a religious experience. Seeing Peyton smile was like seeing a window into the heavens.

That was it. The moment she smiled at me I was hers. All these years later, she still owned a part of me. Sadly, it was my heart—the part that I would need to be in a committed relationship with someone. Hence me being single for the past two decades.

Beside me, Lizzy cleared her throat. I glanced over and saw that her brow was lifted in passive accusation. “Wherever you just went, tells me it is absolutely in the cards for you. You were thinking about Totga, weren’t you?”

Damn. Lizzy was too perceptive. Totga was the clever name that Lizzy had given Peyton. It was an acronym for “The One That Got Away.”

Only a handful of people in my life knew about Peyton, Lizzy was one of them. She and my brothers, or the two men that I considered brothers Nick and Alex. The three of us met when we ended up in the same group home together in our adolescence.

I’d been nine at the time, Alex was eleven, and Nick was thirteen. We weren’t a likely trio, but we’d bonded over a love of video games, girls, sports, and ambition.

None of us had had an easy time growing up, we’d all been in the system basically our entire lives. But we were all determined to not let our circumstances define us. If anything, our humble beginnings drove us to be more successful, to prove everyone around us wrong. To show that we were worthy, that we could make something out of our lives. We’d all ended up becoming successful in our own rights.

I was, as Lizzy pointed out, the tech nerd of The Three Musketeers. From the time I could remember I could disarm any security system I came across. I knew all the cheat codes for every video game and could hotwire cars. I’d carried that gift into my adulthood and developed a cybersecurity system that was used by the Pentagon. I’d been offered billions for the patent but turned it down. Money wasn’t everything and my code in the hands of the wrong people could start wars.

At age sixteen, with my high school diploma in hand I was emancipated and got a full ride academic scholarship to Stanford. In four years, at age twenty, I graduated with a master’s degree in computer science and electrical engineering.

Immediately after graduation I started my own company, TTT Security Systems. The company went public six years ago and the IPO was over seventy dollars per share. Since then, the stock value has skyrocketed.

Alex, who was two years my senior, had been the athlete in the group before he had to drop out of school to provide for his pregnant girlfriend. He worked his ass off in construction until he started his own business, Vaughn Holdings. He began by buying and renovating apartment complexes around the Bay Area but quickly the company went global. Within a few years he became a millionaire.

Nick, the eldest in our trio who was rounding the corner to forty, was the talker. He was a salesman, a showman. He was the true entrepreneur in the group. He’d built his media empire starting as an intern at a local radio station. Soon he was on the air. Within two short years, his radio show was not only number one in its area, it had been syndicated. Once he started making real money, he dabbled in the stock market and made a few bold investments that had paid off. When they did, he created Locke Media Group and bought the station that he’d interned at as well as two other local stations.

We’d all started from nothing and were now leaders in our field. Some people didn’t understand my bond with Alex and Nick, or hell even with my ex, Lizzy and her husband. But I didn’t have a family. I was in the system from the age of five and before that my life hadn’t been easy. Hannah, Lizzy, Ryan, Alex and Nick…they were my family.

A loud bell rang out and we both looked up and saw that Hannah had reached the top. Lizzy and I began to cheer as our nimble five-year-old came down and immediately started another climb.

“So, what’s the deal with Totga? Have you honestly never looked her up?” Lizzy asked. “In all these years?”

“She’s not on social media.”

Her lips flattened to a straight line. “Oh, please. You could find out her phone number, address, social security number, credit score, medical history, her latest Amazon order and probably what she ate for breakfast in less than ten minutes.”

“Five minutes,” I corrected her.

“Exactly, sooo, have you?”

I sighed as I responded honestly. “No.”

“Why not?”

Because she left. She left me and didn’t even say goodbye. And in all these years, she hadn’t looked me up either. Or if she did, she wasn’t interested enough to reach out. I had an Instagram account and was the CEO and founder of a billion-dollar company that had made headlines in several national and international publications.

I wasn’t hard to find. If she wanted to find me, she could.

“Look, Maddox, you know I love you but it’s time to shit or get off the pot.”

“Excuse me?”

“You need to go all in or fold.”

“You’re really leaning into the metaphors today, huh?”

“Those are idioms not metaphors.”

Lizzy was a journalist, and the English language was her happy place.

“I haven’t talked to her in over two decades.” If that wasn’t folding or getting off the pot, I didn’t know what was.

“And?” Lizzy shrugged. “That torch you’re carrying is so bright it burned my retinas when we were dating. The reason why you never have anything serious is because there’s no room in your life for another person. Totga takes up too much real estate in your heart and you either need to find her and give her the deed or evict her.”

“Are you trying to reach a daily idiom quotient or something?”

“Yep.” She smiled as she lifted her hand and held up her middle finger. “One more to go.”

I chuckled as a text came through on my phone and I pulled it out. I was expecting to see a message from my assistant Samara. It was Friday but I’d snuck away for a brunch and rock-climbing adventure with Lizzy and Hannah because next year, I wouldn’t be able to do these weekday activities since Hannah would be in first grade and at school all day.

The message wasn’t from Samara, it was from Alex.

Alex: U going to the reunion?

Me: No, I have Peanut this weekend.

Not that I would have wanted to attend even if I didn’t. Other than meeting Peyton, my high school years hadn’t been the best. Also, I’d only been there two years as opposed to people who had gone for four. There was only one person I’d want to see and since I knew she wasn’t going I had no interest. When I got the invite for the reunion, which was going to include four different classes since COVID had fucked up other years having their twentieth, I declined the invitation.

I started to put my phone away, when I got another message. It was a highlighted screenshot of the attendees. Peyton Russo’s name was in bright yellow.

Holy shit.

My heart slammed into my chest which was constricted tightly as I stared down at the screen. Peyton was going to the reunion? She’d only gone to the school for six months and as far as I knew hadn’t kept in touch with anyone there.

“What? What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Can you keep Peanut this weekend?”

“Why? What’s going on? What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to my reunion.”

Her brow furrowed before her eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. “Is Totga going to be there?”

I didn’t answer.

“She is?!”

I still didn’t answer.

“Can I come?” Lizzy clapped her hands together. “As your date?”

“You want to come to my high school reunion as my date?”

She nodded as a wide smile spread on her face. “Yes!”

“I’m not bringing my baby mama to my reunion. Plus, you need to keep Hannah.”

She cringed as she sucked air through her clenched teeth. “Well, I don’t know. I had a lot of things planned this weekend. But I might be able to move things around if you agree to my terms.”

“I’m not bringing you to the reunion.”

“No, I was kidding about that.” Her left shoulder lifted. “Sort of. I mean would I give my left arm to see that reunion? Hell yes. But did I actually think you would take me? Sadly, no.”

“What are your terms?”

“Playdates.”

“How many?”

“Two per month for the next year.”

“This is one weekend. No.”

“Yes, one weekend which is forty-eight hours. Playdates are usually two hours, that’s four times twelve, forty-eight.” She smiled widely. “It’s simple math.”

I knew that she was playing me. I knew that she was taking advantage of me in a vulnerable time. And I also knew that I would pretty much agree to anything at this point.

“Deal.”

A wide smile spread on her face. “This is going to be so much fun.”

I wasn’t sure if she was talking about me going to the reunion or on the playdates, both had the potential for complete disaster.

I pulled up the information for the hotel where the reunion was taking place and noticed the time. 11:11. My heart caught in my throat. When we were dating, Peyton always used to make us stop everything and make a wish when it was 11:11. And I’d always wished for the same thing. To be with Peyton forever.

Obviously, my wish hadn’t come true.