Twisted Truths: The Regretful Lies Duet Book 2

by Azzi, Gina

  A round of shots arrive, along with my Shirley Temple. Evan lifts up his shot glass, “To my future niece or nephew—we’ll try not to fuck you up too badly.”

  A chorus of cheers and laughter rings out, and Eli downs his shot. As our entrees arrive and our table resumes chatting, Eli slowly unwinds, but his hand grips my thigh for the rest of the meal.

  * * *

  The remainder of the weekend passes by in a blur.

  Eli and Harlow take over the kitchen table at Dad’s, their heads bent over schedules and calendars as they try to make a plan that allows Eli to spend as much time in Chicago as he can while also meeting his press junket commitments.

  I head over to Connor’s gym to talk to him about my training schedule. We work out some logistics that has him covering more of my training as my pregnancy progresses, which, he assures me, is perfect timing as he’s getting ready to hang up his gloves.

  On Sunday night, I sleep at the hotel with Eli. Sitting in bed, a television sitcom playing in the background, I outline plans for a maternity workout program I’d like to unroll on my YouTube channel. “What do you think about That Fit Bitch Mom Life?”

  Eli snorts, a smile stretching across his face. “I like it. I like the way your brand is expanding.”

  I gesture at my abdomen. “Yeah, along with everything else.”

  “You look beautiful, Violet. Absolutely perfect.”

  “You’re obligated to say that. You knocked me up.”

  “Hell yeah, I did.” He leans over, kissing my cheek.

  Grinning, I lift my chin at his iPad, “What are you reading?”

  He shifts in bed, sighing, before showing me the device’s screen.

  I quirk an eyebrow, scanning the article about preventative mastectomies. “Eli, I promise I’m okay.”

  “I know.”

  “You’re coming to all my appointments with me. You can ask whatever you want. But, baby, please, you can’t keep stressing yourself out like this.”

  “I’m trying, Zoe.”

  “I know you are. I love you, Eli.”

  “I love you more.”

  24

  Eli

  The bag swings wildly as my fist connects with the leather.

  “Whoa,” Connor murmurs, holding the bag steady as I unleash all the pent-up nerves clogging my veins. He remains silent while I work out my anxiety, my concerns, the goddamn fear eating at my stomach like acid, on the bag.

  When sweat drips down my forehead and my shoulders ache, I drop my arms and swear.

  “Something on your mind?” Connor’s voice is cautious, just like him.

  He’s been my best friend since we were young and stupid. On the outside, we couldn’t be a more unlikely pair. I’m outgoing and loud while Connor’s introverted and mostly silent. I feed off the energy of a crowd while Connor lets it roll off his back, more content to remain on the periphery.

  On the inside, though, he’s one of the most caring, thoughtful, and considerate men I know. He’s deep in the most unassuming way, since most people never get close enough to learn that about him.

  Sighing, I rip off my gloves and walk a few paces away before turning on my heel and facing Connor.

  “I’m having a baby.”

  “I already congratulated you.”

  I snort, some of the tension coiled in my back and shoulders easing. “I’m worried about Zoe.”

  “I know, man. But she was right at the restaurant. You can’t keep breathing down her neck. First off, she’s not Natalie. Secondly, she’s going to make the best decisions for herself and the baby. You need to trust that. Trust her.”

  “It’s not just that. I’m worried.”

  “About her health?”

  I nod.

  “Yeah. I don’t blame you.”

  “You think she’s going to be okay, right?”

  “Of course she’s going to be okay, man. If her pregnancy was high-risk, her doctors would tell her that. It seems like they’re being more cautious with her but nothing over the top.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Eli, you’re not going to raise this baby alone.” Connor blurts out my fear and waves it in front of my face like a damn matador with a red cape.

  I turn and swing wildly at the bag. Connor resumes his position as I go at it again, until I’m panting and sweating and swearing at no one and everything.

  “I don’t blame you for being worried. Your girl’s had a lot of shit thrown her way, a lot of uncertainties. Bro, you suck at dealing with the unknown. You hate not being in control of every single aspect of your life, which is why you try so hard to keep people at arm’s length. But you let Zoe in and now, she has the ability to fuck with your whole life.”

  “She already is,” I breathe out, bracing my hands on my knees.

  Connor points at me. “Exactly.”

  “What?”

  “You pushed her away for so long because you didn’t want her to mess with your life. You don’t want her to hurt you.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “All of that already happened. Of course you’re going to worry about her. But you’re going to worry about her whether she’s pregnant or not.”

  “But now, she can’t get the surgery she—”

  “Do you think it would be better if she ended the pregnancy? Do you think it would help her mentally? Or alleviate any pressure on your relationship?”

  “Of course not. It’d be worse.”

  “Exactly, man. So, be worried. Be excited. Be all the things you feel because you’re in love with an incredible woman and about to become a dad. But more than all of that, be there for her. The way she needs you to be.”

  I nod, exhaling deeply. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

  “Of course I’m fucking right, Eli.”

  “Sorry, Connor. Are you somehow talking from experience?”

  Connor flips me the middle finger.

  “Anything you want to share about you and Low?” I press, rocking back on my heels and crossing my arms over my chest. This conversation is long overdue. In fact, he’s lucky he’s been able to avoid me this long.

  “It’s nothing.” He grips the back of his neck, squeezing hard.

  I quirk an eyebrow.

  “We hooked up a few times.”

  “No fucking kidding. How many? And when?”

  Connor’s eyes shoot to mine, too dark to read except for a warning, “I don’t owe you an explanation, Eli.”

  “Low’s my—”

  “Assistant.”

  “She’s like family, and you know it.”

  Connor swears, low and angrily, “We kept things light.”

  I chuckle, wagging a finger at him. “Right. Because that’s exactly how it feels when you guys are in the same space. The air is all light and airy, dancing with rainbows.”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Don’t hurt her.”

  He glares at me, his jaw ticking in silent fury.

  “Any more than you already have,” I tack on, correctly reading his gaze. Whatever went down between Connor and Harlow is more than a one-night hook-up. Much more. “You want to talk about it?”

  He shakes his head.

  “She’s going to be at the gender reveal party next month,” I remind him.

  “It’ll be fine.”

  “Piece of advice?”

  “From you?”

  I chuckle, patting his shoulder as I walk past. “Take your own advice. Be all the things you feel.”

  * * *

  “Is it safe?” I ask the doctor, raising my eyebrows, my hand loosely linked with Zoe’s.

  Zoe stiffens next to me, her face turning toward mine in my peripheral vision, but I keep my eyes trained on Dr. Salinas.

  It’s been two weeks since Zoe was discharged from the hospital. Two weeks of me hopping between her dad’s house, Evan’s house, the hotel, and random cities to give interviews. Two weeks of nonstop worrying, researching, and getting third, fourth, and
fifth opinions to understand everything about Zoe’s diagnosis and what a pregnancy could mean for her.

  “I feel confident that Zoe can carry the baby to term, yes. We will just continue screening her and monitoring her closely.”

  I narrow my eyes at Dr. Salinas, a petite woman with sharp intelligence and kind eyes.

  She leans over her desk, leveling me with her stare. “I understand your concerns, Eli. Trust me, I know you are worried about Zoe. There are risks and complications with every pregnancy for every woman. The good news is we know what complications to specifically look for in Zoe’s case.”

  I nod, chewing the corner of my mouth as I consider her words.

  Beside me, Zoe is silent. She promised she would give me time to ask my questions and process the answers before jumping in to schedule ultrasounds and ask about cord blood banking.

  I’ve yearned for a child ever since Natalie terminated her pregnancy years ago. I always hoped it would be with a woman like my Violet. Now that it’s happening, I’m a nervous wreck. It just seems too good to be true to have Zoe and the baby. I’m petrified Zoe is risking her future for this pregnancy, because she knows how desperately I want a child and she wants to give that to me. Is she really doing this for herself, as she claims? Is even the smallest part of her influenced by the hopes I shared with her before I ever considered it a possibility for us?

  The thought makes my stomach bottom out with guilt and causes shame to twist through my veins like serpents, poisoning the rest of my thoughts until I can’t bear the idea of her having my baby and dying to do so.

  “I’ll give you two a few minutes to talk.” Dr. Salinas smiles, patting Zoe’s shoulder as she excuses herself. When the door clicks shut behind her, Zoe turns to me, her eyes searching mine.

  “Zoe,” I sigh, scrubbing my fingers over my face. “Are you sure—”

  “I’m having the baby, Eli.”

  “But what if—”

  “I don’t care.” Her voice is strong, the corners of her mouth ticked up in a smile. I can tell she means it. She truly doesn’t care what anyone has to say because her mind is made up. Imagine if all babies had mothers as selfless as ours?

  “Just hear me out,” I try again, waiting for her to nod. When she does, I tell her, “Baby, if you want a family, I’m game. There are so many ways we can do that without you putting yourself at risk. We can adopt. We can foster. We don’t have to do this now.”

  Her smile widens, as if my words are smoke blowing past her. She hunches over the side of her chair and swipes a kiss over my cheek. It’s sweet and comforting, but not at all compromising. “I know that, Eli. I do. But this baby,” she places a hand over her flat abdomen, “this baby is our miracle. No way I’m not doing everything I can to bring him or her into the world. I never thought I would have this blessing. Ever. I swore I wouldn’t, because let’s be honest, who the hell would want to have a baby with me?”

  I grip her wrist, tugging her even closer so she’s practically in my lap. “Me. I do. Don’t say that about yourself.”

  She dips her head, her words low. “Exactly. You. You’re part of the miracle. We’re creating a family, Eli. And it’s by far the most important, meaningful, incredible thing I’ve ever done. I will not risk it. Nothing matters except our baby. Nothing.”

  I exhale, pressing my lips hard against hers. Her softness molds to my hard, her sweetness eases some of the sting in my chest.

  Pulling back, Zoe rubs her palm across my cheek. “You asked me what I want. I want this. You. Our baby. No more worrying and agonizing. I want us to enjoy this experience, be here for it, and celebrate it. This is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me, the one thing I was too scared to ever hope for, or desire, or even allow myself to admit that I wanted more than life itself.”

  Her expression, open and so damn radiant, coupled with her words causes my throat to tighten. I tamp down all of my concerns, and there are a hell of a lot of them, refusing to mar her happiness with my negativity. “Okay.”

  “Say it like you mean it,” she teases.

  “I do mean it.”

  “Then give me a smile.”

  I smirk, pulling her closer, my fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt. “I’d rather kiss the hell out of you,” I admit before kissing her hard, pouring out all the fear I won’t voice and all the concerns I won’t say. Zoe swallows them wordlessly. When she pulls back, she’s radiant like sunshine, and I’m too enthralled to question how bright she burns as long as she doesn’t burn out.

  * * *

  “You sure there’s a baby in there?” Ollie pokes at Zoe’s stomach, his forehead wrinkled suspiciously.

  “It’s in there. It’s just the size of a kumquat,” Zoe grins back.

  Ollie looks up at her, confused.

  “You know, like an oval orange,” Zoe tries again.

  Ollie’s eyes dart to mine and I see the silent question in them: are you sure your girl’s not crazy?

  “The baby’s still growing,” I toss out. Ollie giggles.

  “I hope it’s a boy,” he declares, glancing at his dad before leaning closer and dropping his voice. “Dad says he’s not having another baby. So can your baby be my little almost-brother?”

  “Of course,” I nod back in understanding, feeling a flicker of sympathy for my nephew. I’m not sure if Evan will ever have more kids, but the fact that he’s so set against it sucks. “What about an almost-sister?”

  Ollie groans, rubbing at his forehead, “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

  “We don’t know yet,” Zoe laughs, patting Ollie’s back. “Either way, you can teach him or her all sorts of important things.”

  “Like how to play soccer,” I provide helpfully.

  “And how to make your armpit fart,” Ollie grins.

  Zoe cracks up, “Definitely that.”

  “You can count on me.” Ollie points to his puffed-out chest.

  “Never doubted you for a second, little man.” I ruffle his hair, flipping my chin to the kitchen. “Joe bought that ice cream you like. Just don’t tell your dad.”

  “Duh,” Ollie grins, cutting his gaze to Zoe. “Your dad’s the coolest.”

  Her smile widens, “I think so too.”

  Ollie scurries off to find Joe and ask for ice cream.

  I collapse in the chair next to Zoe, as she beams at me, “He’s so cute.”

  “He’s something, alright.”

  “Can you believe we’re going to have one?”

  “A little shit?”

  Zoe hits me in the stomach with the back of her hand. I grab it and keep it there.

  “I’ve never been happier in my life,” she breathes out.

  “I know, baby. Me too.” I say the words, finally realizing just how true they are.

  Glancing around Joe Clark’s living room, filled with our closest family and friends—with the exception of Mom and Derek who are coming to visit next month—I feel like I finally have everything I ever wanted.

  I’m finally home.

  25

  Zoe

  His eyes are too dark to read as he crawls up my body.

  “Eli,” I murmur, half-asleep. The luxurious mattress in Eli’s Ritz-Carlton Chicago suite knocked me out about five minutes after I slipped between the sheets. “What time is it?”

  “About 8PM,” he chuckles.

  “Oh my God. Why am I so exhausted?” I shift to better accommodate his large frame as he hovers over me.

  A smile spreads across his lips, “Because you’re pregnant.”

  “It’s only 8PM.”

  “No judgement on naps. Ever.” He drops his head to press a kiss against my neck.

  My arms reach up and wind around his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue swipes across my collarbone and I’m wide awake. “Eli.”

  “What’d Dr. Salinas say?” he asks, his fingertips slipping the strap of my sleep tank off my shoulder.

  “You know exactly what she said. You asked her if we could
have sex.” I slide my hands up the back of his shirt, grazing my palms over the rippling muscles in his back.

  His body shakes with silent laugher, but as I glide my nails over his skin, tugging his shirt up until it clears his head, his chuckles stop. He traces a finger over the neckline of my tank top, tugs it down over my right breast, and kisses my skin sweetly before flicking his tongue over my nipple. His other hand kneads my left breast as he glances up, his eyes serious, “You know I’ll always love you, right? The only thing that makes you who you are is your heart, not any of this.” He squeezes my breast. “And I’m so goddamn in love with your heart.”

  My body melts into him as his words bathe me in a tranquility I didn’t realize I needed. “I had no idea you could be this sweet.”

  “Don’t go telling anyone. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

  “As the Hollywood heartbreaker?”

  He grins, his eyes flashing, “Nah, now I’m just yours.” He pinches my nipple, his eyes still thoughtful. “You know that though, right? You’re mine forever. With or without any of this.”

  Nodding, I whisper the truth, “I know, Eli.”

  He nods once, his expression turning almost boyish. “You have no idea how happy you make me, Zoe Clark,” he says, yanking my shirt over my head before pulling my breast into his mouth.

  His other hand works between us, slipping under the waistband of my panties.

  “I think you know just how happy you make me.”

  Eli groans at my bad joke, his fingers parting me, the pad of his thumb working over my clit.

  In my next breath, the joke is clearly on me. Between Eli’s seductive kisses and the torturously slow touch of his fingers against my core, my eyes flutter closed and I lose all my thoughts, unable to focus on anything except the delicious sensations Eli stir inside of me.

  “You like that, baby?” he asks against my skin as he presses kisses over my chest, up my neck, finding the spot behind my ear.

  “Eli,” my voice is needy.