“The mother you never told me died.” Myra’s voice broke.
I frowned but didn’t interrupt. Not yet.
“Again with the hysterics, Myra? For the love of God, just stop it. You were eighteen. You didn’t know what you were doing.”
“I knew what I was doing and thinking, Mother. I loved him.”
“And now you sound like a Disney princess flailing about,” her father said, pacing the room.
“You showed my husband doctored photographs?”
“And he easily believed them,” her mother added. “What does that tell you?”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Myra held up a hand. “That’s something the two of us will deal with later.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure you will,” the other man in the room remarked.
“Stay out of this, Roland. I don’t even know why you’re here,” Myra snapped.
“I’m a neutral party.”
“Did you know about this?” Myra said. “Did you know what my parents did?”
“Honestly, I didn’t even know you had gotten married. So you’re a divorcee and not a spinster? Interesting. It only makes sense why you’d move out to the boonies. Surprised you don’t have a dozen cats and haven’t taken up knitting. Still working on your little paintings, cuz?”
I reached out and touched the small of Myra’s back. She jolted and looked over her shoulder at me. I was afraid she might reach out and punch the smug little prick. Since I wanted to do exactly that, I wouldn’t have blamed her, but it wouldn’t get us anywhere.
“Let me get this straight…” Myra began, taking a deep breath. I lowered my hand.
I felt the loss immediately, and yet I didn’t know what I was supposed to think or feel.
She hadn’t cheated on me. And I hadn’t believed her. I had pushed her out and hurt her. I’d hurt her so much, I couldn’t understand why I had let myself believe the horrible things her parents led me to believe.
The evidence had been right there, yes, and yet…I should have questioned it. But I hadn’t.
“You believed that you could change my life. That you could make my decisions for me,” Myra continued.
“We were paying for your college. We let you come out here for a year to see what it was like seeing as my mother talked about it so often. And yet, you were doing nothing with your life. You weren’t maintaining the GPA that we required of you.”
“You paid a small percentage. I got scholarships for the rest. I’d have paid for it all myself if I had to. If I’d known. And I had a 4.0,” she said.
“Yes, but in the easy classes. The harder ones were coming up, and you were not striving to do your best. You were getting distracted by this boy.” Her father sighed, waving his hand in my direction.
“I was not distracted.” Myra put her hands over her face and let out a deep breath. I wanted to reach out and touch her, tell her that everything was okay. But I didn’t believe that. I didn’t know what the hell was going on. I could barely keep up with my feelings, let alone know how to help her.
“We did what was best for you,” her father snapped.
“So, you what? Hired someone to manipulate a photo? I know you’re not that good with Photoshop.”
Her father snorted. “We did what we had to do. You looked a lot like the woman your ex was seeing at the time, and he was all too happy to take photos for a little monetary enticement. He added the bracelet that you wore to ensure that your so-called husband believed what he saw.”
Her dad went on about her ex and how they would have been perfect for each other, and yet I couldn’t quite believe what I was hearing.
“If her ex was so perfect for her, then why did he take the money? Sounds like a weak ass loser to me,” I said, sounding like I had when I first met Myra, not like the man I was now. I felt so lost.
“Weak?” Her mother laughed. “You’re the one who believed a simple photo. You were so easy to convince that our daughter was cheating on you. You let us take her away without a fight. What kind of man are you?”
“You need to go,” Myra said after a moment, her voice calm. Too calm.
“Yes, Nathan, you should go.” Her mother raised her chin.
“No, he can stay.”
“You’re going back to him?” her father asked incredulously.
“Please don’t, that’s so cliché.” Her cousin rolled his eyes.
“It is none of your concern what I do in this home or this state or this world. You need to go. Now. I will see you at the lawyer’s office. But I am done with this. I am done with you. You thought you could control me? Fuck you. You never could. All you did was ruin everything. Take away all that I’ve ever wanted. Over and over again. You took my happiness, my future. You took my chance to say goodbye to my grandmother. To Nate. You took everything. All because you thought you knew best. I came out here because I know better. I know what I need. And it’s not you.”
“I do wish you would stop with all the melodramatics.” Her mother sighed, sounding far more melodramatic to me.
She stood up, brushed off her already impeccably clean suit, then picked up a bag and walked away without another word. Her father glared at me and then pushed past me.
Her cousin simply smirked. “Are you sure the photos weren’t of you? You always were a whore.”
I took a step forward, but before I could reach out and punch the guy, her cousin staggered back, Myra having slapped him hard across the face. She went at him again, and I looped an arm around her waist, pulling her back.
“He looks like the kind of man who will sue,” I whispered into her ear, and she froze against me, her soft curves molding to the hardness of my chest.
“Go,” she said through gritted teeth. The other man rubbed his jaw, smirked again, and then strode out. He slammed the front door, and I stood there, Myra in my arms. And then I realized that I needed to let her go.
I didn’t want to.
“Please take your hands off me.”
I released her quickly and took a step back. “I’m sorry.”
She turned slowly. “Sorry for what? Touching me? Not letting me hit him again? Or for believing that I could be the person my parents led you to believe I was?”
“I... I don’t know what to say, Myra.”
My heart thudded in my ears, and everything came back to me.
“I thought... If you would have seen the photos…”
“But I didn’t see them. You pushed me out without even letting me speak. You believed my parents.”
“I believed what I thought was evidence.”
“So, you’re a detective now?”
Tears streamed down her face, and I swallowed hard, not knowing what to say.
“I... I didn’t... I didn’t know what to believe. I saw the bracelet, and everything I thought about you got twisted.”
“Because you thought I was capable of that kind of deception.”
I shook my head. “Because I thought you were always so much better than me. That I didn’t deserve you.”
“So you pushed me away?” she shouted.
“I thought you could do better, and believed you had. So, yes, I was hurt. I pushed you away. I thought you had cheated on me and I said some horrible things. And I hated you. But I was so fucking wrong. I see that now. And I’m never going to be able to take that back. I’m so sorry, Myra.
“Sorry doesn’t help,” she whispered.
“I know.”
“You had the evidence they provided, yet you never believed me. No wonder you didn’t want to forgive me, even though I wasn’t the one who did anything.”
“Myra—” I began.
“No. I think you need to go, too. Because I need to break down, and you can’t be here for that. You broke me once before, Nathan. I won’t let you do it again.”
“I understand.” I put my hands into my pockets and let out a breath. “I need to think about everything that just happened. As you do. I want you to know that I’m going to do everything
in my power to try and make amends or something. I’m so fucking sorry, Myra.”
“I don’t know if I care,” she said, then she paused. “I think I need to tell the girls.”
I swallowed hard. “I think you do. You need to talk to someone, and I know it can’t be me.”
“No, Nathan. I don’t think it can ever be you.”
The metaphorical knife twisted in my chest, but I deserved it. I looked at her then, at the tears on her cheeks, at the fact that she looked as if she couldn’t breathe.
And I walked away.
Again.
Chapter 8
Myra
* * *
Four days later, I still wasn’t sure that I was making the right decision. It was the only choice I could make, but lack of sleep and too much caffeine had sent me into overdrive with poor decision-making skills. I was usually better than this, but then again, maybe I wasn’t. If I had been good at making the correct choices, at laying out my options and doing what I needed to do, I wouldn’t be in this situation. But now, here I was, in my car on my way to Hazel’s to tell my friends that I had been keeping a dramatic secret from them for as long as I had known them. And in Hazel’s case, that was quite a long time.
Not only was it a deep secret that could be construed as a lie in some cases, but it also involved someone we all knew, and had a layered history that I was only now becoming aware of. I wouldn’t be surprised if my friends hated me forever given what they were about to learn, but I would find a way to make everything right.
I swallowed hard and gripped the steering wheel. “Or, they’ll drop everything and help me make things better, and I’ll run away because I have no idea what the hell I’m doing.” I sighed. Great, now I was talking to myself and trying to lie and say that everything was fine when it clearly wasn’t.
I sat at the stop sign two blocks from Hazel’s house and knew I needed to get this over with. The sooner I did it, the better for everybody. It didn’t make it any easier, though. I looked both ways and made my way across the intersection. A horn blared, and I slammed on my brakes, skidding as a passing car nearly hit me. It must have run the stop sign, and my heart raced, my palms going clammy, my ears ringing.
“Breathe, breathe. You’re fine.”
I pulled over to the side of the road and looked for the other car, only I didn’t see it. I vaguely remembered seeing a dark vehicle out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t remember what make or model it was or exactly what had happened. Since I hadn’t hit them and they hadn’t hit me, I guessed it didn’t matter in the end.
The other vehicle had been inches from me. If I hadn’t slammed on my brakes, something I probably shouldn’t have done in the first place, I could’ve been hit. And considering that it had been coming at my driver’s side door, I probably would’ve died. Even with me going twenty miles an hour. The person in the other car had definitely been speeding.
I swallowed hard, bile filling my throat.
“Oh my God,” I said, my hands shaking. “This isn’t a sign. It totally isn’t a sign.”
I took another deep breath, trying to calm myself. The guy had just run a stop sign. The whole thing had only scared me a bit. But whoever it was had driven away, seemingly not caring at all, even though it had been their fault. Would they have even stopped if they had hit me?
If they had been forced to stop because of the collision, sure. Still, it freaked me out. I didn’t like the idea that I had nearly died, and no one was around to witness it.
I shook my head, pushing those thoughts from my brain. Just because I was nervous about what was about to happen didn’t mean I had to be so melancholic. I had people who cared about me. Friends. Family I had made. Simply because most of my relatives seemed to be horrible didn’t mean that I didn’t have people who cared for and about me.
And I was going to see three of them now. I really hoped my friends continued to care about me once they learned my secret.
I pulled out onto the road again, made another turn, and parked in front of Hazel’s home. The girls were already here. I was the last to arrive, something I had done on purpose. Not to make an entrance as Paris might have jokingly accused, but because I needed time to plan.
I reached over to the passenger side seat and picked up my purse and the two bottles of wine that thankfully hadn’t moved since I had secured them tightly. If I hadn’t, they would have ended up splattered all over my dashboard when I slammed on my brakes. I always protected my wine, even if it was only a joke between my friends. But now I could only think about what else could have been smashed if that car had actually hit me.
I shook my head, telling myself that I was only focusing on that as a distraction from what I needed to tell my friends. I got out of the car and made my way to Hazel’s front stoop. She opened the door before I even had a chance to reach the front step and smiled at me.
I only hoped she would continue smiling once she heard the truth.
“Hey there. I was about to send out the cavalry because you weren’t here yet.” I held up the bottle of wine.
“Are you sure you weren’t missing our day wine?” I asked, keeping my tone light.
“That too.” She smiled again, then hugged me tightly and took the bottles. As she pulled away, her eyes narrowed on my face. “What happened?”
I opened my mouth to say something and then promptly burst into tears.
I didn’t know who was more shocked, Hazel or me. She pulled me into the house, closing the door tightly behind me.
“Girls. We need you.”
I shook her off, wiping my face. “I’m fine. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Something sure did,” Paris said. And then I was in her hold, her strong little arms hugging me tightly. I sobbed even harder. Dakota’s soft arms were around me then, the same as Hazel’s. The three of them stood around me, cocooning me in a shelter of love and support as I let everything out.
I hadn’t even told them anything yet, and I was already breaking. What would happen when I finally said the words?
I leaned into my friends, sank into the comforting embrace I wasn’t even sure I deserved, and was finally able to breathe again. I had been holding in so much over the years, not to mention what I had been doing for the past few days.
Finally, I pulled away slightly, and they let me have some space, worry still in each of their gazes. My friends were so different, so much their own people, but their masks were all identical now. Worry for me. And, again, I wasn’t sure I deserved it.
“I know you called us because you wanted to talk to us,” Paris began. “But if it’s so bad, do you need a moment?” she asked, and I shook my head.
“No, I think I need to go over it now. All at once.”
“Do you want to tell us exactly why you’re so pale first?” Hazel asked, her voice careful. Oh, so careful.
I swallowed hard. “I’m pale because I almost got into an accident on my way over here.”
“Are you okay?” Dakota asked, sounding aghast. She reached out and cupped my cheek. “What happened?”
I explained about the stop sign, and Paris frowned. “That’s a pretty well-known intersection. Teenagers sometimes miss it,” she explained.
Hazel bit her lip. “I’m so sorry that happened. Do you need to sit down?”
I shook my head. “I think I need to stand for this.” I swallowed hard again. “Perhaps you should be sitting, though,” I said softly.
“We can do that.” Dakota met my gaze. “But first, are you sure you don’t need to sit?”
“Please, sit. And then I’ll go over everything.”
“I have a feeling we may need wine,” Paris said, taking the bottles from Hazel’s hands as she went off to the kitchen. Dakota tugged at my hand and pulled me into the living room. They had set out deviled eggs and a few other crudités and appetizers. Dakota had gone all out, and I knew Hazel had helped. However, Dakota was the chef among us, even though she called herself a home ba
ker.
I wanted nothing. I knew that anything I ate would likely taste like sawdust, and it would be a disservice to Dakota’s talents.
Hazel came back in with the open wine bottle, and that’s when I noticed that there were already wine glasses and water on the table.
“Thank you for bringing it over in an insulated sack because Rosé All Day needs to be chilled,” Paris said, pouring glasses for us. I noticed that she gave me the largest one, and I didn’t blame her.
I had no idea what I looked like to them, but I knew it wasn’t the composed Myra I had tried so hard to be for so long. We clinked glasses, and I took a large gulp.
“Okay, now, tell us what’s on your mind,” Paris ordered.
I looked down at the rosé in my glass, studying the pink liquid, wondering if I could chug it and forget about why I was here in the first place. The other women gazed at me, all three of them thankfully sitting down. I stood, ready to pace if needed. No, I couldn’t simply drink my worries away. I had to tell them everything.
“I don’t know where to begin,” I whispered.
“Timelines usually work,” Paris said.
“Hush,” Hazel admonished, and Paris shrugged. I knew she was trying to help, and I was grateful, but I needed to tell them everything. And to do so, I had to throw my carefully planned speech out the window.
“My parents came here four days ago.”
Hazel’s eyes widened. “They were here? I didn’t even know they knew where you lived.” That made me snort, while Paris and Dakota frowned at each other.
“We do not get along. Shocking, I know.” None of us really got along with our parents, so I wasn’t the outcast.
“I moved away when things went beyond annoying and began to get unbearable, and I decided to come out here with Hazel, to a place I loved before.”
“I remember you saying you went to college in Colorado for a year,” Dakota added.
“I did. I loved this area because it was my grandmother’s home before she met my grandfather and moved to California.” My voice cracked, and Hazel set down her glass.
“Is your grandmother okay?” Hazel asked. She had met Grandma Sharon a few times when we were in California, and once here when Grandma came to visit.
From Our First: A Promise Me Novel Page 8
