O is now as big as a house. I can’t tell her this without fearing for my life. She walks briskly, but all of her movements are so exaggerated I sometimes think that she resembles a clown in a fat suit. I’m not really this immature, of course, I know enough not to mention any of this. It’s just that I’ve never seen a pregnant woman before. Not so up close and personal.
Today, she enters the kitchen with both arms full of groceries and fresh flowers.
“Please take these now, NOW!” She yells. I run over and grab everything from her just in time. The groceries are from the farmer’s market. So they are all packaged in bulky, eco-friendly, recyclable paper bags, which are bulky and awkward to carry.
“You think you got enough groceries?” I ask. O has become obsessed with eating cleanly. No frozen dinners. Nothing with MSG, whatever that is. Nothing processed. She even started to make her own hummus!
“I’m going to make a quiche for dinner tonight,” she announces with a wide smile. I stare at her. I’m still not used to this new and vastly improved version of O. She cooks and cleans and nests as if there’s no tomorrow.
We have yet to talk about her ex. The father of her unborn child. But she has been so friendly, upbeat and happy ever since Brielle came home from the hospital that I didn’t want to break the spell by bringing him up. Clearly, she wasn’t in the mood to discuss him or she would’ve brought him up herself, I reason. O was never one to shy away from an uncomfortable topic of conversation.
“A quiche, really?” I ask furrowing my brows. That sounds complicated.
“Yes, really,” she rolls her eyes. I’m sure she knows why I’m surprised. How can I not be? I’ve never seen my sister bake a thing in her life. Up until a few months ago, I doubted that she even knew what an oven was or how to turn it on.
“You’ve really come a long way, O,” I say. I hope that I sound encouraging rather than sarcastic.
“How so?”
“Well, remember how I got you that ‘Microwaving for One’ cookbook for your birthday a few years back? And you told me that you tried making something from it and it was too complicated.”
O bursts into a laugh. Strong and powerful and unashamed. I’m suddenly reminded of my old sister, the one who was never afraid to laugh too loud or dance as if no one was watching.
“I have come a long way since then, didn’t I?”
I nod. “I like this version, though. It’s a good version.”
She smiles and winks. “Me too.”
“Can I ask you something?” I ask when she starts to lay out all the ingredients for the quiche. I figure it’s as good of a time as any.
“Sure, shoot.”
“Brielle got these emails from some guy named Ryan.”
“What kind of emails?”
I tell her everything. She listens carefully as she chops the spinach. She thinks about it for a moment while whipping the eggs.
“No, I don’t believe it’s anything, Wyatt. That girl loves you. I see it in the way she acts around you.”
I think about that for a second. She’s right. Of course, she’s right. And yet, something in the back of my mind gives me pause.
“I know,” I finally say. “I know. But I’m just not so sure. What if I’m wrong?”
“You’re not wrong.”
“Okay,” I take a deep breath. I didn’t want it to come to this, but I need a second opinion. “Well, that’s why I sent them to myself.”
“You did what?” O’s eyes grow wide.
“She just acted so weirdly. I didn’t think anything at first. But then, I wasn’t so sure. So I sent them to myself when she was in the shower.”
O shakes her head.
“I know, I know. It was a really shitty thing to do, wasn’t it?”
“Kind of. You know, if this turns out to be nothing, then she’ll really feel like you violated her trust.”
“I know,” I hang my head. I feel my shoulders sloping down and taking the whole world with them.
I get my phone out and show her the emails. O reads them carefully. I wait, trying to guess her reaction.
“I don’t know,” she finally says. “This guy, Ryan, sounds desperate, in love maybe. But I still don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
I try to figure out what’s worrying me. I just don’t know.
“The thing is that it’s not even really him or what he says. It’s her reaction. She looked…I don’t know, uncertain? Scared? In some instances, petrified even. She was trembling when she got the first one.”
“Trembling?”
I try to convey exactly what I saw, experienced, but whatever words I find are not enough. There was a lostness to her. A kind of sorrow.
“Maybe she’s just afraid of your reaction to them. Seeing you two together these past few weeks,” O smiles. “You two are getting along so well. You’re so happy. I just don’t think this is anything for you to get jealous over.”
O is trying to be reassuring, but I’m not convinced. On one hand, I know she’s right, of course. But on the other, I’m not so sure. There are other factors in play. Facts that I’m not aware of. And that makes me worried. We are happy. It’s not an act. But the emails, they have to mean something, right? Why else would she react that way?
“How about this?” O puts her hand around my neck. “Why don’t you just ask her?’
“Just ask her?”
“Yeah, what’s the worse that can happen?”
The following day, Brielle is still acting strangely. I’ve tried to bring the emails up a few times, but the problem is that I’m not supposed to know about the emails. Plural. I’m only supposed to know about one. And I can’t very well accuse her of keeping the others away from me without incriminating myself.
But there’s something else on my mind as well. Brielle and I haven’t had sex since she got Ryan’s first email. She’s trying to act normal, but it doesn’t feel natural. It’s like she’s forcing herself to be friendly. Or maybe it’s just my own feelings being mirrored back to me?
“Want to go horseback riding, today?” I ask Brielle, popping into her room after breakfast. I’m not expecting a yes, by any means. I’ve gone horseback riding multiple times without her, and she has avoided going with me for weeks for a variety of reasons. For one, she’s afraid of horses. She can’t even let one smell her hand without recoiling. This isn’t really a good sign, not according to most horse experts. According to lore, only people who are inauthentic are afraid of horses, because horses can spot a fake from a mile away.
Another reason is that she’s angry at Sebastian for breaking my legs. They’re not all like Sebastian, of course. For one thing, they’re not all young stallions. I’ve reassured her about this multiple times, but she still won’t step foot into his part of the barn.
“Sure, that will be great,” Brielle says. I look at her, unsure if I heard her correctly.
“What?” I ask. I’ve forgotten the question.
“Let’s go horseback riding,” she smiles. I’m not sure if I believe her.
“Really? Why the sudden change of mind?” I ask her when we are already on our way over to the barn.
“Just looks fun,” Brielle says. There’s a slight hesitation in her voice as if she’s trying to cover something up. But I’m not going to let her back out.
“Hey! Hey!” I hear someone yell behind us. I turn around and see O wobbling toward us. It’s supposed to be a run, but at this point she’s so pregnant that it’s not really a run anymore.
“Hey! Wait up!” she yells when we are already standing still near the barn. When she finally reaches us, her beet-red face sparkles in the sun. She grins from ear to ear.
“Are you okay?” Brielle asks. “What’s wrong?”
“No, nothing,” O says catching her breath. “Really good news. Just give me a moment.”
We wait in anticipation for her to get a handle on her breathing. She seems to be taking her sweet time.
“I just ta
lked to your mom,” she finally manages. “She’s getting married. Do you know that?”
Brielle’s face falls. She looks at the ground. There’s a mixture of anger and disappointment building behind her eyes.
Finally, she nods. O doesn’t seem to notice a thing. Excitement flows out of her and she loses her breath again.
“I just talked to her and she’s really into doing a very small wedding. She was actually thinking of eloping, but then she thought about you and how much she wants you to be there.”
“Oh thanks,” Brielle says sarcastically. “I’m glad that she gave her only daughter at least that much thought.”
“Anyway,” O rolls her eyes. “Danielle and I talked about what she wanted, and she was thinking of going to a courthouse and doing some small dinner in LA. And then I said, why doesn’t she just come to our house?”
“Our house?” The prospect of a wedding at our house scared the hell out of me. “No, no, no, O. Don’t you remember the disaster that was Mom and Dad’s vow renewal ceremony? It took like a year to plan and occupied the house for nearly a month!”
“Hear me out, Wyatt!” O put her hand up.
“What the hell are you doing?” I can’t help but laugh. “Sticking your hand in my face? What is this the 90’s?”
“Okay, sorry! I just need you to hear me out. Brielle! Where are you going?”
I turn around and see that Brielle is already halfway back to the house. I run after her calling her name. O follows slowly behind me.
“Brielle! Wait up!” I grab her arm and spin her around.
“Leave me alone.” Brielle’s crying. Large, round tears are slowly rolling down her face. Her lips are puffy and the lipgloss that had only a minute ago glistened on them has disappeared.
“Where are you going?”
“What does it matter? Leave me alone!”
“Brielle, please,” I try again. But I feel like I’m losing her.
“Leave me alone, Wyatt! Let go. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”
I let her go. O finally catches up.
“Brielle, please. Wait. I didn’t tell you everything,” O says. Brielle turns on her heel to walk away but then stops.
“And what is it that you left out? How you’re going to have this glamorous wedding for my mother and her wealthy fiancé here at the house? And how much fun you two will have planning all the details? And picking out the dress?
“No,” O shakes her head. Brielle doesn’t understand. “No, not at all. That’s the thing. Your mom doesn’t want a big wedding. It’s going to be hardly a wedding at all. More like a special occasion dinner. They’re just going to say their vows, and then we’ll all have dinner. No one’s coming besides you and us. And the only reason I think Wyatt and I are even invited is because we live at this house.”
Brielle hesitates. I feel her processing all the information.
“She doesn’t want a wedding?” she finally asks.
O shakes her head. “No, not at all.”
“Not at all?” I ask. A wave of relief covers me from head to toe.
“I knew you’d be ecstatic about this too,” O says pointing to me. “He’s not one for lavish parties.”
Chapter 24 - Brielle
I can’t believe the roller coaster of emotions that I went through when I heard about my mom’s wedding. I’d agreed to go horseback riding with Wyatt, because I’ve reached the end of my rope regarding reasonable excuses. He has become really suspicious of practically everything I do ever since the Ryan emails, and I needed to find a way to reconnect with him. We haven’t had sex since I got that first email from Ryan. And that’s unacceptable!!
Walking over to the barn, I was trembling. Shaking like a leaf on a cool autumn day. I heard somewhere the horses can tell right away if you’re not being honest, and I was terrified that my secret from Wyatt would come to the surface. Then, just when I was worrying about the whole Ryan debacle, a whole other thing shook my world.
My mom is getting married. She’s actually doing it!
And she’s coming here. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about this last part. O is excited. She’s over the moon to be exact. But me? I don’t know.
“Are you okay?” Wyatt says. I turn to face him. I’d completely forgotten that he was in the room. How long had I been staring into space like this?
“Yeah,” I flash him a quick smile. “Fine.”
“Not so sure,” he says picking up his phone.
In the span of only a few weeks, we have managed to become an old married couple. Not sure how all of this took place, but suddenly, there is an ocean between us, even though there are only inches that separate our bodies.
Only a few weeks ago, just laying this close to him would’ve sent shivers over my whole body. All I would’ve thought about is how to find just the location for my arm so that I can brush up against him, accidentally. But now. Now things are different. My mind is elsewhere. On two things specifically. My mom’s impending nuptials and Ryan’s disconcerting emails.
“Brielle? What can I do? What’s wrong?” he puts his phone away and faces me.
“I want this to work,” he says. I’m covered in cold sweat.
“What do you mean? I want this to work, too. Very much so.”
“I’m no so sure,” he shrugs. “Things are so different between us, now. It’s like you’re running away from me or something. Every time I see you, you make some excuse to avoid me. To not spend time with me.”
“No, no I don’t.” I don’t know what else to say but deny the truth.
“Yes, yes, you do,” he’s not letting me get off that easily. “There’s something going on that you’re not telling me.”
I shake my head.
“Why are you lying to me, Brielle? Why?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?”
“Really? Really? You’re going to go there?” he gets up and takes his phone. I shrug and wait.
“And what about these emails? You got two other emails from Ryan after that first one. He’s apologizing. He wants to see you.”
The whole world went silent. I felt like I was punched in my stomach. How does he know about the other emails?
“Are you going through my phone?”
“Yes, I did. I’m sorry about that. But you were acting very weird, Brielle. I had to do something. I had to find out what was wrong.”
I can’t speak. My mouth is parched and I feel like I’m going to pass out any second now. “I can’t believe you went through my phone.”
“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry about that. But please tell me what’s going on with Ryan. At first, I thought it was nothing. Just some ex. But your behavior after you got the emails just got stranger and stranger. Now, I know that something’s going on.”
I can’t say a word. I feel like I’m choking. I also want to choke him.
“No,” I finally manage. “Nothing’s going on.”
It’s not true. A part of me is screaming on the inside to tell him. Tell him the truth. It’s not as bad as he’s imagining it to be, but my fear is not letting me. I’m too scared to tell the truth. So all I can do is lie. And get mad.
“There’s nothing going on, Wyatt. Not with Ryan and me. But I can’t believe you went through my phone. Are you that fuckin’ insecure? Are you that much of a coward?”
I’m riling myself up to make all of this his fault. It’s not right, but blaming him is all I can do in this situation. There’s a look of disappointment in his eyes. Quickly, it turns into anger.
“I thought you were better than this, Brielle. I thought that we had something. Real.”
“We do. But we can’t continue to have it without you trusting me.”
“I do trust you,” he whispers. “At least, I did until right now. I know that something is going on. With you and Ryan. Otherwise, you wouldn’t react like this.”
“You don’t know shit,” I say and turn away from him. Just tell him the truth. The trut
h. It’s not this bad. It will stop him from thinking all these bad things about you. About you and Ryan. I try to find the words, but nothing comes out.
“There is no me and Ryan. He’s some ex. That’s it,” I finally manage to utter.
“Why is he writing you? What does he want?”
I can’t even imagine. I can’t let my mind go there. Shivers run up my spine, and I start to shake. Wyatt doesn’t know what he’s talking about. What he’s asking me to say.
“What is he apologizing for, Brielle? What happened between you two?” He asks carefully. He can probably sense my anxiousness. The depths of which he will hopefully never know.
“Nothing really,” I shrug. But I have to offer him more than that. “Okay, we dated. For a bit. Not long. And then I broke up with him. That’s it.”
I pray that that’s enough information. But it’s not.
“So what is he apologizing for?”
I need to offer him more. Tell him the truth, I say to myself over and over again while Wyatt waits patiently.
“He just didn’t take it very well, that’s it,” I finally say. I can’t look Wyatt in the eye. I feel like he can sense the truth just by looking at me. When we finally do make eye contact, I realize that he can’t. His expression is completely blank. Like one of those that Buddhist monks have when they reach enlightenment. I saw a documentary on them recently on Netflix, and it clearly left an impression.
“Is that all?” Wyatt asks quietly.
“Yes,” I nod. Please leave this alone. Please. Please. Pretty please.
“You’re full of shit, Brielle. You know that?”
His words hit me so hard, they knock the breath out of me.
“It’s true,” I whisper.
“No. No, it’s not. You know that. And I know that,” he says and walks away.
When he reaches the door, I start after him.
“Wyatt, please.”
“We have nothing else to talk about, Brielle. Unless you want to tell me the truth.”
“This is the truth,” I start to sob. Please believe me.
“No, it’s not,” he shakes his head and walks out.
Big fat tears start to roll down my face. I’m a coward. I’m a freak. Why couldn’t I just tell him the truth? I love this man. I did nothing wrong. And yet, something kept me silent.
Auctioned to Him Page 23
