She. Betrayed. Me.
The new me isn’t going to sit around and whine about it. I’m moving on. I’m writing the book. I’m going to do something meaningful with my life so the woman who used to fall asleep stroking my forehead, dreaming about what I could become won’t have wasted all that hope.
19
Lindsey
Two Months After Germany
My hands shake as I look at the pregnancy test. What did you think would happen when you let Chris cum inside you without protection, Lindsey?
I throw it in the sink, feeling sick, and I don’t think my nausea has anything to do with the positive pregnancy result. I want to punch the universe in the face for making some couples spend years trying to get pregnant, and yet Chris can do it on his first try.
The worst part is how a not-so-small part of me is happy to have some part of him with me. I can’t believe he decided to trust Alec and his forged signature over me. His stubborn, idiotic decision doesn’t change the connection I felt with him. Stupid or not, being with Chris felt right. More right than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“You almost done shitting in there?” asks Brooke. “I’m about to pee on the ground if you take much longer.”
I wrap the pregnancy test in toilet paper and stuff it as quietly in the trash as I can. “I’m not pooping, I was just—”
“Linddseeeey!” she whines, rattling the door. “Open up! I have to go to work in a few and I don’t have time to pee myself.”
I open the door, trying to look natural. “All yours.”
She rushes in past me and slams the door behind her.
I go back to my room and lay on the bed, trying to imagine how many fans Chris has probably slept with since I left him alone on his book promotion tour. The idea makes me feel even more sick. None of it is fair. None of it.
My biggest regret is that I didn’t find some way to poison Alec before I left, because that man deserves everything bad he has coming in one massive dose. Hopefully a massive enough dose to strike him dead on the spot.
God. I’m pregnant.
I’m in some version of shock because I can’t quite let it sink in. I started suspecting as soon as I missed my period a few weeks ago, but it wouldn’t have been the first time my period had a mind of its own and decided to mess with me. It was only last week when I seriously considered getting a pregnancy test, and only this morning when I finally went through with it, just to shut up my thoughts.
I want to cry when I think about it. I still haven’t found a way to pay for Amelia’s beauty school, and my blog has been earning less and less every month as my readership starts to slip. I’m not even keeping the family afloat as it is. I have no idea how I’m going to manage with a baby.
The obvious answer is to tell Chris it’s his and make sure he takes care of us, but he’s not the only one who’s stubborn. Every time I think of reaching out to him and trying again to convince him Alec was lying, I think how it’s him who should have to apologize to me. I shouldn’t have to grovel and beg him to believe me. I won’t turn my baby into a paycheck. I’ll figure something out.
Without Chris.
20
Chris
Four Months Later
It’s exactly the kind of party I hate, but I’m unfortunately obligated to show at my own release party. It’s a high-brow kind of deal for the publishing execs and all the people who are going to make a shitload of money from my new book. It’s done. I called it Broken Promises, and if my editors and proofreaders are right, it’s going to be a global sensation, just like Lindsey predicted.
Lindsey. Fuck.
I let out a long sigh, adjusting my tie and straightening my jacket. I thought time would make thinking about her easier, but there’s still a gaping hole she left behind. A raw wound that refuses to heal. I’ve lost track of how many times I thought about saying fuck it and giving her another chance, betrayal or not. After all, can I really blame her for being desperate for the money? But I have to remind myself it’s not that she wanted the money. It’s that she was willing to lie to me to get it, that she’d go as far as fucking me just for a paycheck.
That I can’t forgive.
Alec is shaking hands with Trent Greene, who is one of the biggest names in publishing. I watch with a sour twist of my lips. I used to think of Alec as a friend, but I can’t quite make myself do anything more than tolerate him these days. I’ve changed since coming back home, but I haven’t exactly made an effort to strengthen friendships or make new ones. The only person I’ve talked with much is Lydia, who I invited tonight.
She’s over by the appetizers, talking to a guy who looks like a douche. Hopefully she’s not into him, because he looks like a total ass. I chuckle at myself for being protective of her. That is new, and it’s a testament to how much things have changed between us. It’s still not perfect, and it never will be, but I think of her as my sister now. A friend. Someone I can confide in if I need to.
I notice Alec leading Trent and a small group of people over to me.
I grudgingly push off the wall and force a half-smile for them, shaking hands as everyone congratulates me.
Trent squeezes Alec’s shoulder and smiles at me. “The dream team in the flesh,” he says. Trent is in his late fifties and has the permanently red nose and cheeks of a lifetime alcoholic, but he’s not all bad. He does his job well, and he generally treats his employees well, which is rare in this industry.
I make an effort to look jovial, because I should feel good. I wrote a book that matters to me. A book that I can be proud of. This isn’t a “fuck you” to anyone. Hell, it’s as far from that as it could be. It’s a love letter.
“In the flesh,” I say.
“I’ve always said Alec was the only one who could keep you under control,” laughs Trent. “I have to admit, I didn’t think this book was ever going to happen.”
“It wasn’t,” Alec said a little too loudly.
I glance at the drink in his hand and realize he’s had a few too many already.
“Chris needed some provocation,” he says, grinning sloppily. He laughs, doubling over a little and gripping Trent’s shoulder in anticipation of what he’s about to say. “I had to scare off one of his little girlfriends to get him to focus.”
My blood turns to ice. My eyebrows draw down, eyes narrowing. “You what?” I ask.
Alec immediately realizes he said too much, sobering up before my eyes as he waves his hand like he can erase what he just said. “I’m just being dramatic,” he says. “Just fucking around.”
“Tell me what you did,” I growl.
Everyone looks uncomfortable, and one of the woman smiles nervously before dismissing herself from the little circle of people. Trent looks like he swallowed something that’s wiggling its way down his throat.
“Same thing I’ve always done,” Alec says puffing himself up. “All I’ve ever done is give you what you needed to succeed.”
“And what did you think I needed this time?”
“You needed her gone, man. Face it. How much did you write while you were messing around with her. Nothing. She was like creative poison for you.”
“What did you do?” I ask. My voice is a low, gravelly growl, and my fists are clenched. I can barely hear the sound of the music over the thrumming of my heartbeat in my ears.
“I forged the signature,” he says, like he’s annoyed to have to explain something so insignificant. “I had to do something to get her out of your head. Look man, she was just another groupie, another—”
I punch him in the jaw hard enough to spin him around and make him stumble to the ground where his glasses slip from his face and shatter.
“Fuuuck,” he hisses, touching his jaw and glaring up at me. “What the—”
“Get up,” I say, standing over him. “Please. Give me an excuse to punch you again. Maybe I can break some fucking teeth this time.”
He slumps down, shaking his head. “You’re making way too
big a deal out of this.”
I kneel, gripping his shirt and lifting him with both hands, ignoring the stunned silence as everyone at the party watches me manhandle my agent, who is half my size. I pin him against the wall and look up into his face. “You can have your fucking cut of the money, I don’t give a shit. But you’re done with me. Got it? Fired. And if I so much as see you again, I can’t promise I’ll stop hitting you until you stop breathing. So get the fuck out of here.”
“Fire me? I’ve known you since we were kids.”
I set him back down roughly, letting him drunkenly lose his balance and knock his own ass on the ground this time. “And now I’m firing you. Don’t ever let me see your face again.”
I leave the party in a rush, not caring to explain to anyone or stopping to make apologies. They’ll figure it out. All I know or care about right now is fixing what I fucked up with Lindsey. My first reaction is to feel an immense relief, because I didn’t want what Alec said to be true. Everything felt so fucking right with her. With Alec’s lie exposed, there’s no reason it can’t be again. Except the fact that I didn’t believe her.
My stomach clenches when I remember her trying to explain what I now know is the truth to me in the hotel. Everything inside me felt like shit at that moment and I just wanted her to get a taste of how she’d made me feel, so I told her she was a good fuck and left.
Truth was, she wasn’t just a good fuck. She was the sexual experience of my life, like nothing I’d ever had with anyone else. I haven’t so much as touched a woman since we’ve been apart. I couldn’t even bring myself to think about it. Honestly, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to settle for anyone else, even if she tells me I lost my chance and that I need to get lost.
I can’t let that happen though. Wherever she is, I’m going to find her and make this right.
21
Lindsey
Ryan and Claire’s wedding was last week. I did a little guilty Facebook stalking and looked at some of the pictures. Of course, the venue was absolutely beautiful, but it’s not really surprising that I’d think so, considering it was the venue I had told him I was dreaming about since I was a kid. I just thought something was so romantic about lighthouses, and they reminded me of when I was a kid because my dad used to bring us to the lighthouse on Anastasia Cove. It looked straight out of some old sailor’s painting, graceful but strong enough to bear any storm--kind of how I always wished I could be, I guess.
I’ve gone to visit my dad more since everything happened with Chris. It’s still not easy to see him how he is now. He has chronic pain that prevents him from doing much on his own anymore, and his identity was always in his competence. Need something fixed? He could do it. Need someone to work hard? He was the man for the job. One injury with a forklift ruined his back and it only took a few years for it to do the same to the dad we loved. He’s bitter now, and hardly speaks, like he’s just sitting there, blaming the world for everything that went wrong.
But when I told him about the baby, a change came over him. His eyes moved away from the TV and he actually smiled a little. Since then, I’ve been making small steps with him, and I’ve gotten Amelia and Brooke to get over to visit him more, too, which seems to be helping.
I put a hand to my belly, feeling the unfamiliar tightness and the strangeness of knowing a little person is growing inside there. No matter how scared I am when I try to figure out how I’ll ever afford this little baby of mine, I’m already so attached I can’t help but feel excited. For all the chaos and pain Chris Savage brought into my life, I’ll never look at the baby he gave me as anything but a gift.
I’m still browsing wedding photos with a wistful kind of sadness, like I’m looking at a life I thought I wanted not so long ago, and realizing how wrong I was. I felt like my whole world was falling apart when things went to ruins with Ryan, and now I look back and thank God they did. I have a bad feeling I’m not going to ever be able to look back, and feel glad that Chris and I ended the way we did.
My phone rings. I almost don’t check it because I’m in a mood to retreat from the world today, but I blow out a sigh and take a look. I frown down at the number. It’s an area code I don’t recognize, but curiosity gets the better of me so I answer.
“Hey,” says an oddly familiar voice.
“Chris?” I ask. My heart is already pounding and a thousand things rise up, things I’ve wanted to say for what feels like forever--explanations, apologies for things I didn’t even do.
“You’re not going to believe this, but I was coming up to my cabin and my tire blew out. It’s just like a quarter mile from your house. Any chance you could bring me a tire iron?”
“What?” I ask, not even knowing where to start.
“Please,” he says. “I know we left off weird, but just come.”
“Chris,” I say, looking out the window. “It’s going to be pouring rain soon. And what makes you think I can just go back to pretending like everything is normal? Did you forget—”
“Look,” he says, cutting me off. “I really gotta go. But please don’t leave me hanging out here, I could really use the help. Thanks.”
He hangs up, leaving me looking between my phone and the brewing thunderstorm outside with a bemused expression on my face. He knows I’m going to go to him. But if he thinks I’m going to go out there and give him a big hug and beg him to take me back, he has another thing coming.
I grab a jacket big enough to hide my belly and go searching through my car, not even sure I have a tire iron. I finally find it. I test the weight once it's in my hands, making a note of how effective it would work for bashing Chris across the head if he tries to grin and smirk his way out of this.
I set off down the only road up or down the mountain, heading downhill. I have plenty of time to think of what I’ll say to him, even though I’ve had months and haven’t done much but think about him and everything that happened.
It’s only a few minutes before I see a surprisingly old and beat-up looking truck. Chris is sitting on the hood. He’s wearing a light blue shirt, and jeans, looking like a supermodel, as usual. This time though, it only fuels my anger toward him. I pick up my pace, gripping the tire iron and preparing to just wing it at him when it comes to explaining exactly how obnoxious and insane he was to call me of all people to come bail him out.
The first light rains start to fall, but there’s thankfully no lightning yet.
He hops off the trunk and walks straight toward me, falling to his knees and taking my hands. I’m too shocked to do anything but drop the tire iron and look down at him with a baffled expression.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I look behind him and notice all four wheels on the truck are intact.
“Chris. It’s about to pour and you don’t even have a fucking flat tire,” I snap. All the emotion and anger of the last four months of being alone and dealing with the pregnancy by myself boil over. “Were you just in town and you thought you’d humiliate me for old time’s sake? Just had to prove I was still like a dumb puppy who’d come when you call? Well here I am, okay? Does it feel good?”
“Lindsey,” he says, hair already darkening with water as rivulets of rain run down his face. “I’m so goddamn sorry. Alec admitted what he did a few hours ago. I flew out here as soon as I found out. I was wrong. I was an idiot. I was everything I shouldn’t have been and I let you get away. I fucking let you get away and I’ve spent the last four months convincing myself I did the right thing even though my heart was telling me I didn’t.”
“You didn’t let me get away. You shoved me away as hard and fast as you could,” I say, pulling my hands away from his. I self-consciously position my arms, trying to hide my belly as my jacket and clothes try to stick to me in the increasing downpour.
“I finished the book,” he says, standing, towering over me, making it impossible not to notice the way the rain has turned his blue shirt nearly transparent.
“What do you want me to do,
congratulate you? Did you find some other girl to suck you off in a fake confession booth to get your creative juices flowing?”
“I haven’t touched anyone, not since I met you. It has only been you, Lindsey. Fuck. Even when I thought I hated you, I still couldn’t bring myself to think about other women.”
“Really?” I ask, feeling the wall of icy anger I’ve put up around myself thawing.
“Really,” he says, stepping closer and taking me by the shoulders, pulling me slowly into a hug I reluctantly allow.
It’s only when I’ve let myself be pulled into him that I realize he’ll feel my belly against his. Before I can back away, he’s already kneeling, both hands on my stomach and his expression is of complete concentration. “Is this…” he says, voice barely audible over the pouring rain pattering down on the trees and road.
“Yes,” I say. “Yes,” I laugh at first, but then a sudden wave of sadness crashes into me when I think about how pathetic I must seem right now.
He stands, cupping my face in his hands like nothing ever came between us, like we’re still in that moment back in Germany, where the world existed only in the places our skin collided, where nothing was insurmountable because I was his, and he would never let anything bad happen to me. If only…
“It’s mine,” he says. It’s not a question. There’s no doubt in his voice that I might’ve had some angry rebound sex and accidentally got pregnant. For some reason the complete trust he places in that idea means the world. It’s not everything. It’s not the complete act of apology, but it’s a step, it’s one brick to rebuild the foundation between us, and I’m not ashamed to admit I’ll accept a single brick, hell, even half a brick.”We’re having a baby,” he says, laughing and kissing me.
Hate at First Sight Page 35
