Through His Eyes

by Nikki Ash

  And then I hear sobs coming from behind me. I look back over at Sylvia. Her tiny body is shaking uncontrollably. That should be me, I tell myself. I should be the one crying like my life is over. I’m pregnant, and my husband is dead.

  Before I can think about what I’m doing, I’m standing in front of Sylvia. She looks up, her perfect, flawless face, streaked with her makeup.

  “You realize you’re crying over a married man who you were having an affair with, right?” I say, my voice flat, devoid of all emotion. I hear several gasps, but I don’t look anywhere but at Sylvia.

  She wipes the snot from her nose and takes several deep breaths before she finally speaks. “You might’ve trapped him in a loveless marriage, but Rick loved me. He was trying to find a way to divorce you because he didn’t love you. He didn’t want you,” she says, her voice getting louder with each word she speaks.

  “Is that what he told you?” I ask, stifling the manic laugh I feel bubbling up inside of me. “That’s a lie. He could’ve divorced me at any time he wanted. Nothing was keeping us together.”

  “He was afraid you would take all his money,” she hisses. “He worked so hard and he knew you would try to take it all…because you’re trash!”

  “We have a prenup,” I inform her, and her eyes go wide in shock. Yep, looks like he’s been lying to you, too. “Did he mention he was sleeping with several other women besides you?”

  Sylvia glares and stands. “You’re lying. You are a lying, fat, needy bitch,” she spits.

  “Hey!” Jax booms, ready to defend his littler sister’s honor, but I hold my hand up to stop him. I should be mad at this woman, but I’m not. Every time a man cheats on a woman, the mistress gets blamed. She’s called a home-wrecker, told she’s destroyed their marriage. But the thing is, if a marriage is solid, there’s no wrecking a home. There’s no destroying a marriage. This woman was lied to, just like I was. Just like all the other women I’m sure were lied to. Sure, she knew Rick was married, but he’s the one who made the vows, not her. And I can see it in her eyes, she loves my husband.

  The only thing I feel is pity towards her.

  Pulling out my phone, I select the screenshots I saved and send them to her. “Rick Thompson was a lying, cheating, selfish bastard,” I tell her. “I’ve sent you the proof he was sleeping with at least three other women aside from us that I know of. I wish you the best.”

  As I turn to walk away, Sylvia says, “Aside from us? That’s how I know you’re lying. Your husband wasn’t sleeping with you. He could barely stand to look at you, let along fuck you.” I consider pointing out that I’m pregnant just to spite her, but decide against it. It’s none of her business.

  “That’s enough!” Jax roars. “Let’s go, Quinn.” Wrapping his arm around my shoulders, he walks me out of the hospital. When I ask him to please take me home, he refuses and brings me back to the townhouse in Cobble Hill, the one I was living in with him and Jase before I fell for Rick’s charm and agreed to move in with him. Since then, Jase and Skyla have moved out and in with Celeste, and Willow, my brother’s girlfriend, has moved in. When we get back to his place, Willow makes me a hot cup of tea, while Jax holds me until I fall asleep. I have no idea what I would do without my family.

  Three

  Quinn

  I considered going to the funeral, if for no other reason than to gain some closure. Jax insisted he and Willow would go with me so I wouldn’t be forced to face Rick’s parents on my own. The morning of, he came out of his room dressed in a suit, with his hair gelled neatly, and Willow came out looking gorgeous in a tight yet modest black dress. Jax drove over to the condo, and I picked out a black dress and heels, then showered and got dressed. But on the way, I told them I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk into that church and put on a fake front, playing the part of the heartbroken, mourning widow.

  Especially after calling Rick’s parents to tell them what happened, only to learn Sylvia was over and had already told them. Jacquelyn, Rick’s mom, went on to say she and Sylvia would handle the funeral. That she knows what her son would want, and Sylvia, the amazing secretary she is, would help organize everything. While I should’ve been offended my husband’s mistress was helping to plan his funeral, instead, I felt relief.

  Kenneth, Rick’s father, called me to let me know when and where the funeral would be held, and also to let me know the following day would be the reading of the will. While the thought of taking a single penny from my cheating husband made me sick, I now have a baby on the way, and I’ll be damned if he, or she, will go without because of my stubbornness.

  So, here I sit, in a chair in my father-in-law’s office across from my mother-in-law, waiting for their attorney to begin the reading of the will. Jax, of course, offered to go with me, but I told him this was something I needed to do on my own. It’s time I start standing on my own two feet again.

  “Does anybody need anything? Water? Coffee?” I glance over and see Sylvia standing in the doorway. She’s wearing a loose, almost see-through flowy blouse matched with a conservative pencil skirt. Her blond hair is neatly pulled back into a harsh bun, and her makeup is done to perfection. As she strides across the room, her tiny ass sways, and I briefly wonder, if I completely starve myself, could I ever be as small as she is? I can’t even picture it.

  When I don’t answer her, Jacquelyn says, “Quinn, don’t be rude. Sylvia is asking you a question.”

  “Excuse me?” I snap, wishing now I would’ve let Jax accompany me.

  “She asked you if you wanted something to drink. The polite response would be yes, please or no, thank you.” A very unladylike snort comes from me, and Jacquelyn’s eyes widen. In all the years I’ve been with Rick, I’ve never shown any kind of disrespect to his parents. Without having any of my own, I was hoping to develop a relationship with Rick’s. Unfortunately, I learned fairly quickly the only people more cruel and cold than Rick, are his parents.

  “Let me get this straight,” I say. “You want me to be polite to the woman who was fucking my husband for the last several months, maybe even years. The woman, who was with him the night he died because instead of being with his wife at a family get together, he was taking his mistress out to dinner with the plan to fuck her afterward.” Jaquelyn gasps, Sylvia sniffles, and Kenneth glares. And I take a deep, cleansing breath because holy shit, it felt good to speak my mind and stand up for myself.

  “Oh, you didn’t know? That your son was a lying, cheating, piece of shit? And spoiler alert.” I take a moment to look at each of them before I continue. “She wasn’t the only one. There were several.”

  “How dare you!” Jacquelyn yells. “My son is dead! Don’t you dare spread lies about him. You will not tarnish his reputation.” Of course her only concern is his reputation.

  Before I can respond, the family attorney walks in. Needing to keep up their appearances, Jacquelyn and Kenneth both compose themselves and greet Mr. Levine. Sylvia asks if he would like anything, and when he says no, she scurries out.

  The will is read. Due to the prenuptial agreement I signed, and the fact we were only married for three years, everything that is related to the company goes to his father since they are partners. Rick left me the condo, since he paid it off and put my name on the deed as a wedding gift. The Porsche is also mine, as well as whatever is in our joint checking account where he used to deposit my “allowance” as he liked to call it. His sole bank accounts apparently go to his father, as it states in the will, to be used for the business. I am the sole beneficiary of the life insurance policy he took out on himself after we were married, though, so there’s that. Mr. Levine hands me all the paperwork, and when I look at it, I see the policy is worth a million dollars. Outwardly, I don’t show any emotion, but inwardly, I’m breathing a sigh of relief I’ll have the means to take care of my baby.

  After thanking him, and without saying goodbye to my in-laws, because good fucking riddance, I walk out of the door and out of the building for the last
time. Of course, Jax is waiting outside for me.

  “You okay?” he asks, walking with me.

  “I will be,” I tell him truthfully. When we get to my car, he takes my keys from me so he can drive.

  “What’s next?”

  “I was thinking I would put the condo up for sale. I don’t want to live there anymore,” I admit, instinctually placing a hand over my belly. I can’t imagine raising my baby in the same home where Rick would tear me down and belittle me on a daily basis. I need a fresh start. I can’t change the past, nor would I want to, since it gave me the precious baby in my belly, but I can sure as hell control my future.

  Jax notices my hand and asks, “Is it true?” He nods toward my belly. “Are you pregnant?”

  “Did Celeste tell you?”

  “No, she wouldn’t say anything, but Jase hinted at it.”

  “Yeah, I am, which is why I want to move. I need a fresh start.”

  “You know, there’s a perfectly decent-size townhouse with two out of the three rooms available.” He smiles softly at me, and for the first time in a long time, my heart feels content. “And I heard it’s a great place to raise a baby until you’re ready to get back on your feet again.” He’s referring to Jase raising Skyla there until she was thirteen and they moved out to start their life with Celeste.

  “Are you sure?” I ask. “I don’t want to impose on you and Willow.” Jax and Willow have been together for almost as long as Rick and me, but I’ve never once heard them discuss having babies or getting married. I can’t imagine a couple with no kids would want their home to be overtaken by a single mom and her baby.

  Jax grins. “I’m more than sure. It was actually Willow’s idea.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” I don’t want to get in their business, but I’ve always wondered… He nods once. “Is there a reason Willow and you haven’t gotten married or had any kids?”

  Jax’s smile drops, and I worry I’ve overstepped. I’ve always had a close relationship with my brothers—sharing a home with them for the first thirty years of my life will do that. But over the last four years, since I got together with Rick and my life slowly began to spiral out of control, our relationship has deteriorated. Now, I fear, I may never be able to repair the damage that’s been done.

  “I don’t usually like to share someone else’s story, but Willow already told me if the time ever came when I was in a situation where I needed to explain, I could.” He scrubs his hands over his face before he looks back at me. “Willow was diagnosed with endometrial cancer at a young age. It required a full hysterectomy.”

  I gasp at his words. Poor Willow. I was over here feeling sorry for myself for getting pregnant by my asshole, cheating husband, meanwhile, she can never have a baby of her own. “I’m so sorry, Jax.” I lay my hand on his arm. “Are you…” I feel bad even asking this, but I have to. He’s my brother. “Are you okay with not having kids?”

  Jax smiles and nods. “I am. I love Willow. I offered to adopt with her a few times, but she’s said no every time. I think by getting cancer so young, it made her realize how short life can be. So instead of dwelling on what she can’t have, she focuses on what she does have. And we’re blessed with all our nieces from Jase and Celeste, and soon we’ll have one from you. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the one to finally give everyone a damn nephew.” We both laugh, and it feels good. It feels right.

  “Seriously, though,” he says with hearts in his eyes, “Willow is my other half. She’s all I need to spend the rest of my life a happy man.” I swoon over his admittance. Why couldn’t I have found a guy more like my brothers?

  “Well, if you guys are sure, then I’m there. But if, at any time, you guys want your privacy back, please just tell me. I’m not broke,” I tell him. “I received money in Rick’s will that will take care of my baby and me.”

  “Good,” Jax says, “it’s the least the asshole could do after what he put you through.”

  After we pack up a suitcase of my clothes, Jax tells me he’ll have a moving company handle the rest. I let him know I don’t want any of the furniture and it can be sold with the place. Anything that’s Rick’s, his parents can have, and whatever they don’t take, can be donated to charity. He says he’ll handle it all.

  When we pull up to the townhouse, I spot Celeste’s SUV in the driveway, and Jax says, “Celeste thought it was a nice day for a family barbeque. If you’re not up for it…”

  “No.” I shake my head. “That actually sounds pretty damn perfect.”

  We walk inside, and I’m immediately greeted by Celeste, Jase, Willow, and Skyla. Everyone takes turns hugging me, and Willow even welcomes me home. Then, my two adorable nieces, in their little black pigtails and frilly matching dresses, come running over.

  “Card for Auntie Quinn,” Melina says, handing me a scribbled on, folded piece of paper.

  “Love you,” Mariah adds.

  Bending down to their level, I scoop them both up into a hug, taking a moment to breathe them in and get lost in their innocence. In a few months I’m going to have one of my own. My own baby to love and spoil. The thought brings me to tears.

  “Skyla, would you mind taking the girls out back to play for a few minutes?” Jase suggests, confusing my happy tears for sad ones.

  “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m okay.” I wait until the three girls are out of the room before I continue. “I was just thinking in a few months I’m going to be a mom.” My sobs get harder as I admit the truth to my family for the first time. “He was so mean, and I was so weak.” I shake my head. “He would call me names and tell me I’m fat and should lose weight. And instead of leaving, I joined the gym. But then he accused me of cheating and forced me to quit.” Tears fly down my face as I rush to get everything out.

  “And he wouldn’t let me work. I told you guys I didn’t want to continue my photography business, but I was lying. He wouldn’t let me. He gave me an allowance. A fucking allowance.” I choke on my sobs. It feels almost cathartic to finally tell my family everything. “He would only have sex with me when he was drunk. He was cheating on me with God knows how many women.” I bury my face in my hands, completely embarrassed, but Willow pulls them away.

  “Don’t do that,” she demands. “Don’t you hide. You have nothing to be embarrassed of.”

  “I’m okay,” I repeat my earlier words. “Even though my husband was a horrible, despicable person, before he died he gave me the most precious gift.” I cover my belly with my hands. “I was scared to admit I was pregnant. Terrified what my life would look like raising a baby with him. I thought about running away and never looking back. But he’s dead.” I smile because I’m finally free. “And I’m going to love my baby with everything in me. I’m going to be the best damn mother I can be.”

  Celeste and Willow both smile back, Jase looks like if Rick were still alive, he would find him and murder him, and Jax looks at me with brotherly love.

  “So, where do you go from here?” Celeste asks. “What can we do?”

  “First things first, I’m changing my last name back to Crawford, and then I’m going to take it one day at a time. It’s time I finally find myself.”

  “And we’ll be here for you every step of the way,” Jase says, “just like you were there for me while I was trying to figure out how to raise Sky, how to navigate being a single dad.” Jase pulls me into his arms for a hug. “We’re family, Quinn. Let us be there for you, please.”

  Four

  Quinn

  Five Years Later

  “But Mom,” Kinsley whines, “I don’t want to go to the tattoo shop. It’s not fair.” I look in the rearview mirror at my frowning five year old daughter. She still has leftover tears in her eyes, and a red nose from all the crying that ensued about twenty minutes ago in the front office of her school as she threw herself onto the ground in a breakdown of epic proportions. During which time, I was forced to pick her up and carry her to the car, all while she screamed and cried and told
me I was the worst mom ever.

  As I drive to Forbidden Ink, the tattoo shop my brothers own, I remember my daughter isn’t always like this. She’s generally a very sweet and adaptable child. But today, she’s mad at me. Because in the chaos and insanity of dealing with two engagement parties, a wedding, and a pregnancy photoshoot, all this week, I forgot Kinsley needed to be at school early for a field trip. The entire kindergarten class was going to the science museum and my little girl was counting down the days. Literally. With a red pen on our calendar that’s pinned to the wall in our kitchen. She lives for the science museum, is obsessed with everything science related.

  When we got to the school, late, we were told she would have to remain in the office all day because her teacher isn’t there. I suggested taking her to the science museum and dropping her off, but was told, legally they can’t allow that. Which left me no choice but to take my very pissed off and disappointed child to the tattoo shop, so Willow and my brothers can keep an eye on her while I drive across the city to the pregnancy shoot I’m already late for.

  “I’m sorry, Kinsley,” I say, for what feels like the millionth time. There’s no worse feeling than that of a mother who’s let her child down. “I’ll make it up to you. This weekend, you and me, science museum all day. We’ll get there before it opens and stay until they kick us out.”

  She lets out a frustrated huff, crossing her tiny little arms over her chest, and glares my way. It’s during moments like these, when her features are put on display, I’m reminded of how much she looks like her father. I’m not about to blame the genetic card for her attitude. She doesn’t have an ounce of malice or cruelty in her body. But with her shockingly bright azure eyes, light brown hair, and willowy body, Kinsley Crawford might’ve resided in my belly for nine months, and share the same last name as me, but she, one hundred percent, looks like her father—well, aside for our skin type. My poor girl inherited my pale complexion that alerts everyone, whether we want it to or not, of every emotion we’re feeling.