The Ultimatum Chapter 1

Most guys, after sleeping with the girl they loved for the first time, were probably ecstatic. But Billy Maguire was in a panic. He ran into the room he and his best friend, James Lanier, shared at the shitty motel they dubbed “the Bates Motel.” “James! James! JAAAAAAMMESSS!!!”

James had been sleeping. He sat up in bed, angry. “WHAT do you WANT?!”

Billy’s nineteen-month-old daughter, Flo, started crying. Billy picked her up from her crib and rocked her. He’d had custody of her for a year, since her mother ditched her because her stupid boyfriend didn’t want someone else’s kid around, but he still hadn’t gotten the hang of this fatherhood thing. “I’m sorry, mija. Don’t cry.”

James stretched. “Seriously, dude. What do you want?”

Billy put Flo back in her crib and sat on James’ bed. He could tell James. He told James everything. “Um, should I tell Josefita?”

“Tell Josefita what?”

“What the hell do you think?” Billy demanded.

James’ jaw almost hit the floor. “You haven’t told her? What is wrong with you?”

“What isn’t wrong with me?” Billy retorted. “So do I tell her?”

“Um, yes!” James shouted in his booming voice. “Why the f–”

Billy covered his friend’s mouth with his hand. “Keep your voice down! And watch your language around my daughter!” James licked Billy’s hand; Billy grimaced. “Dude, you are disgusting.”

“Why would you not tell the girl you’re in love with that you got molested when you were a kid?” James whispered after Billy removed his hand.

“I…” Billy racked his brain for a good excuse. He was usually quick-witted, but for some reason the battery in his brain chose this time to die. What he eventually came up with was, “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

James smacked his forehead with his palm. “You didn’t think it was relevant. You guys are crazy in love with each other, and she finally sleeps with you, but you didn’t think your getting molested as a kid was relevant.”

“Yup!” Billy nodded too quickly.

“Well, it’ll be relevant when you’re on the floor in the fetal position and she’s wondering why!”

Billy cringed. He hated to remember that. The only reason James knew was because one day, pre-Josefita, James had walked in on Billy having a post-coital nervous breakdown. Crying. Shaking. Hurling. The whole nine yards. Amazingly, James had, after dragging out the truth, responded kindly, hugging Billy, hearing him out, and promising that he’d always be there.

But would Josefita? Or would she reject him? Would she think he was disgusting or damaged goods? Josefita loved him despite all the wrong he’d done, and he loved her more than life itself. He needed her. He couldn’t tell her.

And yet. He felt like he had to. Unlike him, the Slut of the South, Josefita had waited a while to have sex. And of all the men, many more deserving than he was, she chose him. Even though she was nervous about it being her first time and about him seeing her burn scars, she went through with it. That was proof of how much she loved and trusted him. Billy felt like he was lying to her by not telling her.

Billy explained this to James, who was damn lucky not to have gone through this. “Plus,” he added, “I just don’t want her to know that I’m, you know, damaged goods.”

“You are not,” James replied. “And you need to tell her. She deserves to know.”

“But what if she leaves me?”

“Then f–” James looked sidelong at little Flo, who was in her own world. “Then forget her!” He punched the bed. “Then she’s not worth it!”

But Josefita was worth it. After Flo and James, she was the best thing that had ever happened to Billy. She was beautiful, whip-smart, funny, brave, and strong-willed. She could cuss and insult people better than anyone he knew, but only used her talents on those who deserved it. She knew all about the mistakes Billy had made, but somehow saw enough good in him to love him as much as she did. And she loved Flo. Unlike any other girl Billy had ever been with, he could see himself spending the rest of his life with Josefita. And he wanted to. He needed to.

“William Henry Maguire,” James said sternly. “You need to tell her. And you have exactly twenty-four hours to tell her. Or I will.”

Billy gulped. James was serious, he could tell. And James was relentless when he was serious. Billy was in deep shit.