Heartbreak Warfare

by Heather M. Orgeron

  Gavin grabs his packed suitcase from the two that sit on the luggage rack, his decision in his hand as his eyes sweep me for a reaction. I turn my head away from the anger they hold because I can’t handle another second.

  Licking my salty lips, I nod.

  “Just so you know…” I say as he reaches the door and glances back at me. Pulling myself to stand, I face him head-on. “That was me. That was me kissing you, and you know it. I’ve been fighting every single damned day to get her back to you, but this is who I am, and who I am now just kissed you. That was me you rejected. I want our family. I choose our family, I choose you, and I always will. Please don’t do this.”

  He closes the space between us in two determined strides.

  “Prove it.”

  And then he’s gone.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Katy

  By the time the limo arrives at the studio, I can barely breathe. When the door swings open, Liv is right there waiting to escort me back. I wish that I could just be normal. I feel silly…I’m a grown woman hyperventilating over a five-minute car ride, but my fears are real. On top of that, I cried nonstop all night long. I’m sure I look a mess.

  Liv is put together, dressed in a white pantsuit and heels, with a clipboard clutched in one hand and a coffee in the other. She smiles at me now, as if we are old friends. Even though I know she can tell I’ve been crying, she doesn’t let on that anything is out of the ordinary. I’m sure she sees some crazy shit in her line of work. And with the way she divinely intervened yesterday, I’m guessing the face I’m sporting this morning isn’t a surprise.

  “Good morning. Let’s get going, shall we?” She dips her head to the left and takes off walking, so I follow, tripping over my own feet to keep up. “This is Briggs’s dressing room, and yours is here, next door. He’s already arrived.” She starts up the steps and pauses, looking around like she’s lost something.

  “I’ll show Gavin to the green room when he arrives,” she says timidly. She doesn’t want to ask, but she has to know if he’s coming. This woman is a blessing, nothing like the tough New Yorker I imagined.

  “He, uh…he can’t make it. He had to get back to our son. He flew home this morning.” The truth is I have no idea where he is, but I have to respect his decision. With the way things happened, I can’t blame him for his reaction. I’ve lost his trust, and I’m here to get it back.

  “Sorry to hear that.” She pushes the door open and ushers me inside. The room is filled with racks of designer clothes, all with the tags still attached, and a vanity loaded with makeup and every snack and beverage you could imagine on the coffee table in the center of the room. “Your stylists won’t arrive for another twenty minutes or so. Go ahead and look through the clothing and pick out some things you like. They’ll help you decide when they get here.”

  I run my hand through the hangers, letting the fabrics brush my skin. Everything is so beautiful and much nicer than anything I have at home. “Thank you.” I look at her pointedly, and we have one of those moments that conveys a lot more than pleasantries. She’s rooting for me.

  “No problem. There’s a service phone over there. Just ring us if you need anything.”

  Just like that, she’s gone, and I’m alone.

  I’m alone, and all I can think about is the fact that Briggs is feet away and I know what’s about to happen. Because it has to happen. I have to find a way to fix things with Gavin, and this is the first step.

  I place my purse on the table, slipping my phone into my pocket, and with my heart in my hands, I head over to start phase one of getting my family back.

  Butterflies swarm inside and around me in waves that have me swaying left and right.

  Left.

  Right.

  I’m a poor man’s soldier. But I have to do it one last time; I have to soldier up.

  The heart wants what the heart wants, and I want them both. I just have to teach mine better.

  Seconds after I knock lightly, the door opens, and Briggs stands there in a pair of faded jeans with a T-shirt resting on his shoulder. I can’t stop the way my body reacts to Briggs any more than I can help the way it’s always reacted to Gavin. I just wish it responded to my husband with the same fervor it does for this man.

  Amber eyes flirt over the expression on my face as his smile appears, along with his dimple. I drink him in like fine wine, savoring every bare inch of him. His body is even more beautiful than I’d remembered. No longer gaunt and sickly, but strong, hard lines of toned muscle. He’s recovered from our experience, maybe even stronger than before.

  When he reads my expression, the corners of his mouth curl up into a devastating smile. His eyes take me in slowly, and he says my name with such reverence. “Scottie.” I’m already drunk on this man, and I can’t handle the fire I’m playing with, but leaving without this conversation would be a mistake. One I can’t afford to make.

  “Can I come in for a sec?” My pitch is high, my voice shaky, and my palms are covered in sweat.

  “Sure, yeah. Of course. Come on in.” He reaches for my hand, and without a second thought, I reach back.

  Sparks.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Briggs

  I’m lounging on the obnoxious teal couch in the corner of my dressing room, staring at my broken knuckles, when a knock sounds on the door.

  I toss the sample questions that I’ve been blankly staring at for the last half hour down on the coffee table, forcing my tired limbs to move and answer it. I haven’t slept a second since leaving her last night, and I’m no longer capable of lying to myself that I’ve moved on. The problem with that is I feel the same type of denial inside of her.

  We’ve been ripped away from each other at every turn, never having a chance to catch our breaths before time is taken away by life’s obligations and our decisions. The truth is I’m still fighting it, and fighting is the opposite of forgetting. She can’t be my past when she’s all I long for in the present. I’m nowhere near ready to say goodbye. The pendulum is swinging—the noise crippling me as it slices through time, like she and I don’t matter. Whenever I reach in to stop it, I lose another piece of myself, and the seconds tick on.

  When I swing the door open to see Scottie standing there, her face wrecked from endless tears, I know here and now—time is up.

  So many times, I dreamed of her showing up just like this, telling me that she finally realizes she needs me just as desperately as I need her. For a split second, I allow myself to believe it’s the reason she’s here until her eyes connect with mine, and my heart plummets back into the dark hole it’s resided in for five long months. Slipping on my shirt, she steps inside, while I shut the door behind her, examining the damage.

  Her face is red and swollen, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. She’s been crying. I reach out, tucking an errant curl behind her ear.

  God, I love her wild hair.

  I allow my thumb to trail the side of her face, and she sucks in a breath, leaning into my hand.

  My heart goes wild, leaping and flipping in my chest. It’s not right, but I already know all too well that there is no controlling my masochistic heart when it comes to Katy Scott. It wants this woman, and I’ve done everything I can think of to change that fact.

  I close the space that separates us, opening my arms wide. She falls into them willingly, soaking my shirt with tears she cries for another man. Loving Scottie is equally the easiest and the most difficult experience of my life. We are perfect for each other. We belong together, but it isn’t that simple—because every moment, every touch, every memory is stolen from the man she’s already promised herself to.

  “What happened?”

  “We happened.” Her body stiffens.

  Scottie backs away, fiddling with the frayed hem of her worn T-shirt. She lifts her eyes, locking with mine. “I can’t lose him, and I won’t lose my son.”

  And there it is—the one thing standing in our way. It’s something I can’t
compete with, and I don’t want to. We are perfect, and we are impossible. I can’t ask her to leave them, and I won’t. If it had been just Gavin, maybe. No, definitely. I’d drop to my hands and knees, and I’d beg. But, Noah needs his mother, so I simply nod my head in understanding. But I don’t—I don’t understand at all. Love is supposed to be enough. It’s not supposed to rip you to fucking shreds.

  A loud knock sounds on the metal door, causing her eyes to widen in a panic, interrupting our conversation. I’m in no condition to speak to anyone at the moment, but I have to get rid of them. Scrubbing my hands over my face, I hold up a finger.

  Each step I take away from her is painful. It always is. Opening the door just a crack, I poke my head out, finding a slew of people anxious to help dress me for the show. It suddenly seems so ridiculous. “Hey, ladies. I’m in the middle of something. I’m just gonna pick something from these racks and get ready myself. I’m fully capable,” I wink, trying to disarm them with charm.

  They all start talking over each other, trying to put up an argument. “I really can’t do this right now,” I insist as I begin retreating back to Scottie. “Thank you all so much. Sorry.” I shut the door and bolt it, taking a few deep breaths before striding back across the room toward her. She stands with her shoulders thrown back, her features lined with determination, as stormy eyes search mine.

  “I know that look; I saw it the day we met.” I give her a smile she doesn’t return. She’s in protective mode, and I’m not the one she’s protecting.

  “I need you to break my heart,” she declares, wringing her hands nervously. “Give me a reason to hate you, because wanting you this way is…it’s ruining me. It’s ruining my life.”

  She is dead serious.

  Lifting her chin, as if ready to take a blow, her turbulent eyes implore mine. “Tell me about them. Tell me about all of the women you’ve been with since Germany.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “Hell no.”

  “Oh, please, Briggs. How long did you wait? A few days?” She laughs sarcastically. “I bet you didn’t even make it a day.”

  She’s coming out guns blazing, and I can see it’s physically killing her to do it.

  “Are we playing the guessing game? Do I get to ask how many times you’ve fucked your husband?”

  “Sure,” she says with a shrug. “We’ll trade. You go first.”

  She’s bluffing, and I’m calling her on it.

  “Don’t do this, Scottie. You don’t really want to hear about that.”

  “Humor me, Briggs.” Her eyes plead with mine. “I need to hear this.”

  “Fine. You want the truth?”

  She nods.

  “Complete honesty?”

  Again, she bobs her head.

  She stands stock-still as I pace the small room, feeling the blood begin to boil beneath my overheated skin.

  Fuck it.

  I stalk back toward her, stopping inches away. “You really want to know that there have been so many that I’ve lost count? How they’re all blondes with blue eyes? But the blue, it’s never right, and their smiles—all wrong.”

  She swats at the fresh tears that trail down her cheeks as her lips begin to tremble. Reaching out, she places a hand on my chest, and I know that she must feel the way my heart is pounding against my rib cage, reaching for her. Always reaching for her.

  I jerk myself away and brand that touch to memory.

  In about forty-five seconds, my heart is going to implode. I start ticking them down.

  “You want me to tell you all about how I have to drink myself stupid, till their faces blur enough that I can pretend…” I pause, running a hand down my face. “So that I can pretend they’re you? You want to know how fucking miserable I am? How when I slide between their legs, I close my eyes, and it’s your face I see? How I’m always careful not to kiss them because their lips are all wrong. How every time I finish I want to fucking kill myself because I can’t stand the pain of wanting the one woman I can never have.”

  Thirty seconds.

  “Is that enough?” Her eyes snap to mine. “Hate me yet?”

  Face crumbling, she gasps out a sob, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.

  “Come on, Scottie. Let’s not kid ourselves. I’m still the same prick you hated when we met. Nothing’s changed. I think we’ve romanticized this situation long enough, don’t you?”

  Taking another step away from her, I tilt my head. “You’re a housewife,” I say snidely. “Someone else’s wife and I’m a career soldier. This isn’t exactly ideal.”

  She flinches visibly, and my heart bottoms out.

  Fifteen.

  I cut my hand through the air. “At the end of the day, this was nothing but a big mistake. And we never would have happened if—”

  “Stop,” she cries out painfully. “Stop, I’m good,” she whispers before rocketing toward the door just as I reach for her, my fingers curling in the space she just left. Handle in hand, she looks back at me with the sweep of her eyes until they meet mine. That’s how we started, and it’s only fitting it’s how we should end. For the moment, we’re right back there in the place we created, where we are perfect. Where our souls line up without any visible smudges on the seams. In a place where there is still so much love, so much that I can’t stop the tear that slides out before batting it away with the back of my hand.

  An identical tear runs down her cheek. “Thank you.”

  Three. Two. One.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Katy

  How much can a heart handle in one lifetime? I’m pretty sure I’ll never know the exact answer to that question, but the scars that mar mine make me hate the fucker for continuing to beat.

  I’m lovesick, strung out, and so over it.

  The occasion calls for a Xanax, so I take two. I’m not the one piloting the plane. Exiting the cab, I swallow them without a thing to drink. The bitter taste spreads throughout my mouth. The minute I step into the hotel lobby, I see his face.

  Up on the monitor, is the half of my heart I’ve just abandoned, sitting in a tailored suit. He’s smiling for the cameras as he answers the questions with the same relaxed candor as when we met. He’s stoic in his delivery, his panty-melting smile and dimple on display so the rest of the world can fall in love with him.

  I hope he finds so much love.

  The TV is muted, but the caption is on. As I read the words, it feels like my chest is being rubbed against sandpaper. But I can’t look away. I watch as the announcer’s words pop up on screen.

  It’s a shame she couldn’t be here today.

  Chris nods. Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well.

  She’s a fucking lunatic.

  I’m trying to think of any reason for either of these men to love me at this point. In my moment of weakness, I miss Mullins. Oh, how I wish she was here to call me a pus-say. Laughing through my tears, I continue to gaze up at him on the screen.

  So, how’s your time at home been?

  Chris pauses, and in his silence, I see it—just a glimpse of his pain. He’s so strong, so handsome, so resilient. The brightest light in my darkest hour. I resist the urge to lift my fingers and touch the screen. It’s been good, been getting back into the routine.

  Still a soldier, huh?

  Most definitely. He flashes his teeth, adds a “Hooah!” for effect, and the audience goes wild. Unable to see anymore, I step away with a tearful smile when I spot Gavin watching me from a few feet away.

  Not bothering to hide my tears, I wait for his move. There’s nothing more I can say or do at this point. We either fight together or fall apart. I’m guilty of exactly what he’s accusing me of. I’ve been fighting since I returned home for the half of me that still beats for him, and today I fought harder than ever before. Gavin approaches me, and I soften at the fact that he’s still here.

  “You didn’t leave.”

  “Didn’t make it past the lobby.”

  “You determined to make me lose
my shit in public, Captain?” I say, looking up at the ceiling as tears trail down my cheeks.

  “You haven’t—” he whispers hoarsely, “you haven’t called me that since you’ve been home.”

  “Yeah, well, I haven’t quite been myself,” I say with a sigh. “Please take me home to my son.”

  Gavin nods and leads me toward the elevator.

  Gavin is completely quiet on the plane ride home and the car ride after. It’s just as well; we’re still covered in the aftermath of our battle last night. The first thing I notice when I walk into the house is that it’s eerily quiet. In my haste, I hadn’t even looked for my mother’s car in the drive.

  “Where are they?” I ask Gavin, who stands by the entryway with his packed suitcase still in hand. He’s halfway through the door which means he’s just made the decision.

  “I had your mother take him to her place for a few days.”

  “Oh,” I say, wiping at my eyes with my fingers, “because you’re leaving me.”

  His face contorts in pain. “Katy, I need some space. We need a break.”

  “Space,” I say with a laugh. He gauges my reaction, but I’m done with this show. “Because there’s no shortage of that.”

  “I’m so fucking mad. I don’t want to turn this house into a war zone.”

  “I get it,” I say, pulling my suitcase away from the door and dropping it on the floor between us. “But tell me something. The truth. It doesn’t matter that I chose you, does it? It doesn’t matter that I love you more, or that I want this marriage to work. You don’t even believe me.” I shake my head as he stands speechless. “Jesus. Go get your break, Gavin.”

  Tears are falling heavily between us. “I’ll be here if you ever decide you can love me again.”

  “Katy—”

  “Think I’ll go enjoy some lemonade on my porch swing.”

  “Baby—”

  “Just in case you’re wondering, I still love you,” I say before hauling ass through the back door, unable to bear the sight of him walking out on me. I slam it shut and take a seat on the swing just as the sun begins to set. After a minute I hear his truck start up and allow myself to absorb the loss of him as I continue swinging until I’m blissfully numb.