Every Breath You Take (The Every Breath Duet Book 1)

by Faith Andrews

  She pulled away, looked into my eyes, and swiped at the tear that trickled down my cheek. “Have you spoken to him at all?”

  I shook my head, swallowing the onslaught of emotions. “There’s nothing left to say.” I shrugged. “It’s over. I can’t trust him anymore.”

  Mom pursed her lips, her eyes watering as well, but quick as the sadness washed across her beautiful face, it was replaced with a bright, encouraging smile. “I can’t give you the kind of marriage advice you’re looking for because, well, my experience is lacking, but don’t give up hope, baby. The world works in mysterious ways.”

  “Please don’t do that.” I spun away from her and went back to unpacking boxes.

  “Do what?” She was at my side in an instant.

  “Nothing, Mom.” I didn’t want to argue with her. She was more fragile lately and besides, she was only trying to help. She was being the mother I’d always been proud to call mine, but her proclivity for optimism wasn’t what I needed right now. Screw the bright side! I had no idea how she maintained that kind of outlook after all she’d been through, was still going through.

  But she wouldn’t relent. “Don’t shut me out, London. This is what I’m here for. I hate that you’re hurting, but you don’t have to hurt alone.”

  “I know that, Mom.” I huffed and closed my eyes. “Just . . . don’t go spreading that false hope crap around like some miracle is going to come along, make everything right and make this mess go away. The world doesn’t revolve solely on love and optimism!”

  She stared back at me as I took a calming breath and then hung her head, pulling one of my folded shirts to her chest. “That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She was crying now.

  “For what? This isn’t your fault. It’s just life. It-it happens.” My voice cracked as I tried to convince myself that I’d accepted what life doled out for me and Hunter. But it was impossible to accept it. I still loved him even after everything he did to us. I’d probably always love him, and now I had to live without him.

  My throat constricted with the strain of containing my emotions, but I couldn’t hold back anymore. Tears sprung free, sobs erupting in my chest. “Oh, Mommy. Why did this happen?”

  “Come here, baby.”

  We sat together on my bed in a tight embrace. It was littered with clothing and random items spilling out of boxes, a reminder of the reason I was here, the struggles we both faced. We cried, hard at first—there was so much to be sad about lately—but when the weeping turned into sniffles and we were done feeling sorry for ourselves, what mattered most was that she was here. That we had each other.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said, leaning over to kiss her soft cheek.

  Her warm hands cradled my face. “Good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

  I hoped to God, or whoever was listening, that she was right.

  MY BEST GIRLFRIENDS, Allie and Emilia had finally convinced me to join them for margaritas at my favorite Mexican restaurant. I’d shut myself out from everyone and everything since Hunter left more than two months ago, but I couldn’t ignore their phone calls or dodge their invitations any longer. It was time to rejoin the land of the living, even if only for one night to get them off my back.

  Allie’s glass was currently empty, her straw making an obnoxious slurping sound.

  “I think you’re done. You’re sucking air.” I laughed and lifted my own glass to my lips for a much needed taste of the liquid comfort.

  Allie motioned to the waitress to bring her another and then her eyes were back on me. “God, I needed this night out. Work has been torture. I haven’t gotten laid in months and I’m a cranky bitch.”

  I nodded, silently, knowing all too well how it felt to have the worst day ever, one hundred plus days in a row.

  My friends shared a discreet look. Emilia—the more reserved of the two—was first to break the uncomfortable silence. “How’ve you been holding up?”

  “Oh, not this again.” I shifted uncomfortably in the booth. I could handle this one of two ways. Cry, which is what I usually resorted to. Or take another sip of my margarita and pretend it wasn’t a big deal that my life had fallen apart.

  Feeling like a change of tune, I went for option two. “Listen, girls. I appreciate your concern more than you’ll ever know, but I came out tonight to avoid thinking about all this shit. It sucks, my heart is broken, I’m living with my mom like a loser because Hunter gambled away every last penny, and my marriage is over. Yes, I’m still upset. No, I don’t want it to be this way. But what more can I do? I have to learn to live with it.” Rehashing the ordeal created a knot in my stomach. No matter how flippant I sounded, I was still crushed beyond belief. Suddenly, the enchiladas I’d been looking forward to were unappetizing.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. I can only imagine how difficult it’s been.” She paused then, looking to Emilia and then me with a hesitant expression. “It’s been really weird for all of us, too, because on one hand I am so mad at what he did to you but on the other—”

  “I know.” I huffed, folding my hands on the table. “Hunter was your friend, too. I don’t expect you guys to hate him or to pick sides. That would be childish. But, ladies.” I leaned forward and tried to act as if this whole thing wasn’t killing me. “It is what it is.” If only it weren’t.

  “How’re Sam and your brother dealing with all of this?” Allie asked, gritting her teeth.

  I lifted my drink and sucked a big mouthful of my margarita. “Can we not even mention Memphis? I’ve barely heard from my brother since this all went down, and I can’t even remember the last time Hunter made mention of him. He’s off in Cali doing his own thing as if we don’t exist. But Sam’s another story. He would kill Hunter if he could. He’s furious. I miss him and all, but it’s probably better Sam’s not here for any of this. He feels betrayed too and I can’t blame him.”

  Allie looked to Emilia and giggled. “I’m actually shocked he didn’t hop on the first plane home to come to your rescue.”

  They always teased me about how overprotective Sam was. They saw it one way, I saw it another. He’d stepped in as a big brother when mine wasn’t around. He was my oldest friend and there was nothing he wouldn’t do for me. Except hop on a plane and come rescue me from falling to pieces.

  “Yeah, I was kind of bummed, too, but he can’t leave. He has to at least finish out the year before he can ask for another transfer. Guess that’s what you two clowns are for. Reinforcements.” I draped my arm around Emilia and winked at Allie. They were better than just back-up friends, of course. They were lifelong friends.

  “Seriously, though, London. Is there anything we can do to . . . you know . . . help?” Bless Emilia and her generous heart, but I knew what she was getting at and I wasn’t having it.

  “Em, you are the sweetest thing, but I’m not taking money from you. I took on a lot of new clients at the salon when Karina left and I’m slowly building things back up, as far as finances go. I know I’ve worried you guys because I’ve been a wreck, but . . . I’ll be okay. I’m sure of it.”

  “Of course you will, honey.” She reached across the table to pat my hand and gave me one of those half smiles that reeked of pity.

  I hated seeing that emotion on their faces. It made me feel weak. And what woman in this day and age wanted to be known as fragile? It was so unbecoming, so nineteenth century. If Sam were here crashing our girls’ night out—which was totally normal—he’d tell them to back off. Hell, he’d cause a scene and dance on the tables just to turn this pity party into a good time.

  But all that aside, I couldn’t be mad at them for caring. I had the best friends. There hadn’t been a single day since my world came crashing down that one of them didn’t call to check up on me. They were an amazing support system.

  Now, if only Sam would get his ass home to fill the missing piece in the fr
iendship circle.

  By the time the waitress cleared away our dinner plates and dessert was on its way, I was feeling lighter, happier, than I had in a while. Granted, my friends struck a few chords tonight, but I’d been dealing with their antics since high school, and although our lives had radically changed over the course of the last ten plus years, I could always count on them.

  “Is Reese walking yet?” I asked Emilia. Her cherub-faced daughter had recently turned one. This girls’ night was therapeutic, but I wanted cuddle time with that beautiful baby of hers soon.

  She opened the photo album on her phone to show us a recent picture. “Almost. She stands without holding on to anything for a good while but then kind of plops to the ground and gives up before actually taking any steps. Crawling is her jam. She gets where she wants to go faster that way, I guess. And of course it doesn’t help that Nate carries her around like an accessory.”

  It was horrible to be envious of your friends, right? Wasn’t that a cardinal sin? Emilia’s life with Nate and the baby were everything I always imagined Hunter and I would have. I sat across from her and listened with a smile, but inside my heart ached. What I wouldn’t give to live one hour of her day.

  As she told us that she and Nate were going to try for a second baby soon, I felt my phone buzz in my bag. Saved by the bell, I thought, digging to the bottom of the oversized purse. Pulling it out, I expected it to be my mother, but my world stopped spinning when his name blared back at me.

  Hunter.

  Oh my God, why was Hunter calling me? I hadn’t spoken to him in months. My ears rang with the drumming of a too-fast heartbeat, my hands clammy and restless.

  “What’s the matter?” Allie asked.

  “It’s Hunter,” I croaked.

  “Well, answer it!” Emilia urged.

  It should be that simple, but it wasn’t. I was momentarily frozen by the prospect of hearing his voice again. It would hurt. It would be like pulling at a scab that was this close to healing. I didn’t know if I had it in me, but the curiosity of not answering would kill me.

  “Hello?” I gaped at my friends for support as they stared back at me, equally jarred.

  “Hey, London. It’s me, Hunter.”

  No shit. Did he think I’d taken his number out of my contacts? Had he done that with mine? Why was he doing this to me? What did he want? I was frantic with worry, with too many scenarios swimming around arbitrarily.

  “You there?” he asked when I remained silent a beat too long.

  “Yes, um . . .” I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat. “Everything okay?”

  I heard a long sigh, a groan even. Hunter wasn’t an evasive man. He usually cut right to the chase. But I could sense the apprehension in his tone, even through the phone. I didn’t like it.

  “London, you think you can come over? Tonight, tomorrow, whenever?”

  If my heart hadn’t been threatening to burst out of my ribcage earlier, it certainly was on the verge of breaking free now. “What? Why?”

  There was that sigh again. That harrowing, unsteadying release of air. “I-I—”

  “Would you just spit it out already?” I shouted, not caring who heard me. Why is he dragging this out? Why the sudden need to see me in person?

  “The lawyer delivered the divorce papers today. I need you to sign them.”

  They—whomever those assholes were—were wrong when they said words could never harm you. I’d take the sticks and stones over the words Hunter spoke any day of the week.

  I closed my eyes and allowed what he said to penetrate. The finality of everything scorched through me like a wildfire blazing and ruining everything in its wake. How could I be so happy one second and so utterly devastated the next? How could he inflict this pain on me all over again?

  BE STRONG. YOU can do this. Do you want us to come?

  While I would’ve loved a hand to hold, I had to face this alone.

  After hanging up with Hunter, Allie scooted into the booth beside me, sandwiching me between her and Emilia to console me while I cried. I wanted to pretend that phone call never happened. I’d been doing so much better, and now this.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t ignore him. I should have known this was coming sooner or later. I guess I was content in my naivety. I blamed my mother and that optimism of hers. False hope is the devil.

  With the night still young, I jotted down Hunter’s new address—even that tore at my gut. He had a new place. A place without me. I plugged it into the navigation app on my phone and drove there in quiet contemplation.

  Fragile.

  Everyone saw me that way right now, but there was no chance in hell I could allow Hunter to think that of me. What good would it do? It wasn’t attractive. So I talked myself into being strong, even though I felt anything but.

  Park the car. Turn off the engine. Apply the lipstick. Walk up to the door.

  I did each of those things as if watching my motions play out through some warped out-of-body experience.

  Lifting a trembling hand to the door, I balled it tight and knocked. Childhood memories of ring and run fed my urge to hit the pavement and fuck this whole thing. Let him mail the papers to me. Serve me! Work for it, you bastard. But after about thirty of the longest seconds ever, the door swung open and there he was.

  Tall, virile, commanding. His skin was golden from what I imagined were hours working outdoors. His hair had grown out a bit, enticing my fingers to reach out and ruffle the unruly waves. Whenever he was due for a haircut, I made sure to remind him. The fact it was longer made me wonder if there were other things he’d failed to keep up with in my absence. He’d never done a single load of laundry while we were married. He didn’t have to. I did that for him and I loved every second of it because I loved him.

  “Hi,” he said, his lilt a mere whisper. A whisper that once tickled my ear with its soft, breathy delivery.

  “Hello, Hunter.” I gulped my emotions down and willed my tears not to betray me.

  “Thanks for . . . Please come in.” He opened the door wider and motioned for me to walk inside.

  I did and I immediately wanted to crumble.

  It was a small studio apartment with a few windows and very little furniture. Everything was neat, clean, and crisp. Had I walked into a disaster, I would have felt better. But this—this state of normalcy, of new beginnings, of surviving so effortlessly—meant he was doing fine on his own. He no longer needed me. What a slap in the face.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, most likely sensing the devastation that coursed through me at tidal wave force.

  “Nothing,” I lied. “Absolutely nothing and . . . fucking everything.”

  He narrowed his eyes, that crease of worry I knew so well forming above the bridge of his handsome nose.

  I knew every line of his face, every contour of his body, each and every reaction he was going to make before he actually did. I hated that he wanted to take that away from me. There was an innate familiarity that came with being with someone for so long. And by remaining silent, he was acting as if I was a stranger to him, discounting my obvious pain. I wanted to be strong, but I couldn’t let him get away with it.

  “What, Hunter? You think this is easy for me? This has been a nightmare! And now I’m here to sign divorce papers, to make it all final.” I was still so angry, but God help me, looking at him, being in the same room as him again, made me miss him. “I had no fucking idea seeing you after all this time would hurt so much.” So much for getting through the first five minutes without a meltdown.

  “It hurts me, too, Lon.” The tone in which he made his quiet confession resuscitated my dying heart. For a quick moment, I second-guessed everything. Maybe we could make it work. Maybe give it one more try? We could rebuild trust, get him help, go back to how things were in the beginning. If I dug deep, I could find it in my heart to forgive him, couldn’t I?

  I held on tight to those thoughts, wishing we could erase the mistakes of our past and st
art over, but when Hunter lifted his face to bring his eyes to mine again, it was evident he’d reached the end of his rope, too. “This is the best thing for us. Well, for you. I’ve hurt you enough. I can hardly live with myself for everything I put you through. I have nothing left to offer you and I don’t want to drag you down anymore. You deserve so much more than I can give.”

  I appreciated his remorse, but it was his fault we were in this predicament. If he hadn’t done what he did, maybe we could have salvaged what was left of that powerful love that once saw us through everything. We both had flaws—neither of us were perfect—but there was a time when our life together was perfect. I missed those days so terribly it was impossible to imagine that there would come a time when anything, or anyone, would make me happy again.

  Something came over me then. Devastation morphed to rage. I marched over to the television console and grabbed the remote that belonged to what looked like a brand new fifty-inch flat screen. “How the hell can you afford all this, huh? Where’d you get the money to rent this place? I’m shacking up with my mother and working like a dog to get by, but you’ve got a shiny new place to call your own. Explain that, Hunter. Explain how the hell you’ve managed to move on when I’m stuck in fucking limbo.”

  “It’s not my place,” he mumbled, unable to make eye contact.

  “What do you mean it’s not—? Oh my God.” I looked around at the décor. Not Hunter’s taste. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed them when I walked in, but a pair of women’s slippers sat beside the front door. Realization sucker punched me. He had to be kidding me. I was struggling to survive and he was . . .”Tell me you’re not living with someone . . . with another woman!” I pulled at my hair, big angry fistfuls that burned my scalp.

  “Calm down! Stop!” Hunter was in front of me in an instant, his hands over mine, coercing me to release my grip.

  I relented, weak beneath his touch and the weight of everything unfolding around us. Disintegrating into a mass of wilted limbs and a river of tears—the picture of fragility at its finest—he pulled me against his chest and patted my back. “There is no one else. I promise. Please relax, London.”