Page 6

six

Maggie

"L ike I always say, one and done, baby. That's the key." I heard Reece say my name as I got just outside of the massage room. Added with Zander's awful words, and then to top it all off, they laughed like it was some big joke—like I'm a joke.

My heart drops as I come to an abrupt halt just outside the massage room. My hands shake, and I almost drop the water bottles I so foolishly grabbed for them.

You need to stay hydrated.

I teased, with a flick of my hair as I ran naked out of the room, actually thinking tonight meant more to them than one night only or, as Zander put it, one and done.

The thought of them high fiving each other at how easy it was to score with the flakey yoga girl has me pushing forward to kick them out before I'm humiliated anymore by the three of them.

Thankfully I had the foresight to slip into one of the silk robes that's part of the auction basket, or I would be feeling more vulnerable than I am right now after finding out I'm only a one and done, hit it an forget it kind of girl to them.

Okay, so technically no one said, hit it and forget it, but they might as well have for how dirty Zander's words make me feel.

Assholes. I'll show them the true meaning of one and done.

Strutting into the room I begin throwing the water bottles at them, secretly hoping to hit them with the full plastic bottles. "Here, your massages are complete. Take your complimentary water and leave." I cringe, knowing they didn't exactly get the massages they were expecting.

"Maggie, what's wrong?" Reece steps toward me, but Owen stops him with a shake of his head.

"Nothing's wrong. I provided a service. It's done. Now, it's time for the three of you to leave."

"But we still owe you three thousand dollars." Zander takes a step toward me, ignoring Owen's earlier warning.

I thought Zander's words before were hurtful. These take the cake. What do they think I am? Some whore who has sex for money.

"Out! Get out of my studio!"

Surprisingly, they don't put up a fight. Instead, they back out of the massage room, all but Owen. He's taking the trash bag full of used condoms out of the wastebasket, tying it shut, and holding it in his hand.

Realizing what he's doing hits me square in the face, "Oh—my—God! You're taking the used condoms with you because you're afraid I'm going to suck up your baby batter with a turkey baster and inseminate myself to trap you into paying child support for the next eighteen years." A vision of three little boys pops into my head, one with blond hair, one with dark hair, and one with brownish-red hair calling me mommy.

Fighting back the tears, I hold my ground. I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for a denial, even though I know there's no denying the truth.

"Maggie May, it's not like that." Owen reaches for me but thinks better of it as he pulls his hand back. "It's a force of habit. Women will do almost anything to bag themselves a pro athlete. It's hard to trust people in our line of work."

Hearing him call me, Maggie May almost breaks me. He doesn't have the right to call me that anymore. He lost that right when I became a joke to them. "Maybe if you would stop sticking your dicks into people you don't trust, you wouldn't have to steal the garbage like a thief in the night." I push past Zander and Reece, who have returned to the doorway to observe our heated conversation, and stomp to the front of my studio, unlocking the door and holding it open. "Out." As each file passed me, a little piece of my heart breaks.

"Maggie, at least let us drive you home—it's late."

As if I would take Reece up on that offer now. "I am home. I live above the studio." In a tiny, cramped studio apartment. But they don't need to know how small it is. "But don't worry, I didn't steal any of your precious sperm, so I won't be raising your child in my apartment."

The hurt look on their faces confuses me. They're the ones who wanted a one-and-done booty call, but now they look like I've kicked their favorite puppy. I feel myself caving—wanting to console them, but in the end, I let them walk past me and out of my life.

I slam the door with all the anger built up inside me, making sure to lock it before I escape to the scene of the crime, as I plan to never speak of it again, to clean up any evidence of what happened here tonight, when I notice a black garbage bag that wasn't there earlier and realize it's the one Owen was taking with him.

Did he accidentally forget it? Or is he saying he trusts me with his sperm?

I spend the next thirty minutes scrolling through my phone looking up how long sperm lasts outside the body because if I can't be the mother of their children, I can at least respect their wishes and dispose of their sperm properly so no one else can use it without their consent.