by Kreig, K. L.
What are you supposed to do with the fact that the person you were in love with…what? Faked his death? Thought having a family with you was so repugnant he’d rather you think he was taking a dirt nap than break things off face-to-face? Who does that?
Why aren’t I worthy? Why am I not deserving of anyone’s love? Why am I not worthy of anyone’s trust? Why did my father not love me enough to sacrifice for me? Why did my mother turn her back on me? Why did Livia desert me for three long years?
This last month with Asher has single-handedly been the best of my life and, until Saturday night, I was even starting to truly believe that maybe I’d found my person. The one who would really and unconditionally love me, maybe even for the rest of my life, but after seeing Beck, I’m back to doubts and whys again.
Why?
Why?
Why?
No answers. Only questions.
And secrets and lies and hurt and betrayal.
It’s a never-ending vicious circle from which I can’t escape and I’m tired of it. I want off this self-destructing ride. Anger and bitterness and resentment have taken up permanent residence inside me and I want them gone.
I want to believe again.
In goodness and integrity and loyalty.
In dreams and hope and love.
In me.
I’ve been replaying Cooper’s words since Monday, trying to figure out what I’m going to do. “There are things you don’t know. Things you don’t understand, and I think if you knew them, you’d see the situation in an entirely different light. He’s…well, he’s suffered just as much as you have, if not more.”
The thought of seeing Beck turns my insides to a ball of knots. I don’t think I can hear what he has to say and even if I would consider it, how can I possibly believe a single word? He’s let me believe all this time he’s been dead, so it’s pretty clear he didn’t want me to know he wasn’t.
On the other hand, how can I move forward with this all this toxic shit swirling inside me like an electrical storm, threatening to obliterate anything and everything in its path? Threatening to ruin what I’ve tenuously built with Asher?
I think back to the five days I spent in the hospital. I remember little about the first two, because the pain meds made my brain fuzzy and sleepy, but I will never forget the words my father told me on day three while he sat on the corner of my bed holding my hand.
“What happened?” Everything hurts like I’ve been run over by a truck or dropped from the top of a building.
“You don’t remember?”
Remember? There’s something trying to work its way into the frontal lobe of my brain, but I can’t quite grasp it. The elusive memory hangs in the dark fringes, trying to protect me. “No. I can’t…”
“We talked about this yesterday. You were in a car accident, sweetheart. You’re lucky to have survived.”
Accident? Car? I try to wade through the sludge that is slowing my brain function down. In retrospect, I wish I didn’t, because the second the memory slams into me, I am hysterical.
Beck.
Baby.
“Beck, Beck, where is Beck?” I cry.
My father looks angry. The tone he uses when he speaks the words that will ruin my future is completely at odds with the look of pure rage on his face. “The driver didn’t make it. Blunt force trauma to the head. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”
I’m sorry.
I break. My dad holds me as I soak his shirt with my grief. The entire time, I think the only thing I have left of Beck is our baby. But later that day the doctor asks for privacy. Because I am eighteen, my ‘condition’ hasn’t’ been revealed to my family.
“Alyse, were you aware that you were pregnant?”
Even in my drugged state, I don’t miss the use of the word ‘were.’ I nod, not able to speak through the constriction now shutting off my air supply.
She looks sad, delivering her prerehearsed words with just the right amount of sympathy and sorrow. “I’m sorry to inform you that you miscarried shortly after surgery. Oftentimes the trauma…” She continues to talk, but I stop listening to her words. They are all irrelevant anyway. All that matters in my world is gone. Dead, as if it never existed in the first place. As if these past months never happened.
“I’m sorry,” she says with sympathy before squeezing my hand, leaving me to my own anguish.
I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
That phrase has to be the most wholly inadequate one in the entire English language, especially when used in conjunction with death. It’s what we say, because there’s nothing even created that could possibly ever be sufficient, but it doesn’t take away the debilitating pain piercing your very soul. Only time does that, turning that debilitating agony into something you can at least bear without a knifing burn each time you take a breath.
I hear the scrape of the door and quickly swipe the lingering tears, hoping my puffy eyes and splotchy face will be hidden in the darkness. My back is to the door. I don’t turn, fully expecting my visitor to be Asher, but it’s not.
It’s Barb Colloway.
“Hi,” she greets carefully, taking a seat beside me. She looks at my face and to my glass. “How’s the headache?”
I’ve never had a migraine in my life, and somehow I think Barb knows I made up an excuse to escape. That makes me feel even worse.
“Lingering,” I settle for. It’s not entirely untrue. I’ve had a stress headache for five solid days. “Thank you for checking on me, Barb.”
“My pleasure, dear. Asher wanted me to take his spot in their annual game of Monopoly so he could come down and check on you, but I don’t play games with my boys. Haven’t since they were little.”
I chuckle. “Too much testosterone?”
“Something like that,” she says with a wink. She regards me quietly for a few moments. “Is it all right if I stay awhile?”
“I think I’d like that,” I nod, genuinely meaning it. Barb Colloway is a magnificent woman. I can easily understand how her children love her so much. The first time I ever met her, she was so highly regarded by her kids, even at an age when children don’t always appreciate their parents, I expected to see her walking on water. She wasn’t, but seemed to walk on air instead.
I can’t imagine there’s anything that would ruffle that woman’s feathers.
“Maybe I can snag a glass of that, too?”
“It’s straight bourbon.”
“Even better.”
“Barb, you badass.” Chuckling, I jump up and pour two fingers over ice, handing it to her before retaking my seat.
“I’ve been known to have my moment or two,” she quips.
“Are you excited about the wedding?” I ask after a few moments of silence, because now I feel like I need to make small talk.
“Very,” she smiles. “Livia’s always been like a daughter to me. She and Gray are perfect for each other. Always have been, so I’m glad to see they’re finally getting their happy beginning.”
“Happy beginning. I like that.”
“I only wish Frank could be here.”
“I can’t imagine how hard it is for you,” I say softly. I refrain from saying I’m sorry, because…well I think we covered that before.
She doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t have to. The love I witnessed between Barb and Frank Colloway, even the few times I spent with them in my teenage years, was palpable and had an impact on me even then. I wanted what they had. I’d never seen anything like it, not that I had any role models in the ‘endless love’ category growing up.
We both watch the fire and sip our cocktails in comfortable peace for a while before she breaks it.
“You know, my boys do everything fiercely, but when they fall in love, it’s with their whole entire being. They give everything they have, everything they are. Just as they do with everything else in life. They don’t know any other way.”
My gaze slides to her profile, knowing this conversation ha
s now turned from Gray and Livia to Asher and me.
“I believe once you find that one special person, you know it immediately.”
She turns, holding my stare. I’m hanging on every word, wondering what she’s going to reveal next.
“I knew immediately when Gray met Livia that something in him had changed. There was a twinkle in his eye and lightness to his step that wasn’t there before. Happiness radiated from him at the sheer mention of her name.”
She pauses. I realize I’m holding my breath in anticipation. Of what, I’m not sure.
“I’ve seen the same thing in Asher recently.”
I can’t help the small smile that curls my mouth.
“I’ve never seen him as happy as he is with you, Alyse. Not with anyone.”
“I’m in love with him,” I confess thickly. I haven’t told another person, except Asher of course, how I feel about him and now I just blurted it out to his mother of all people. But it feels right. This is a conversation I’ve imagined having a hundred times with my own mother. Talking about boys and love and heartbreak. I want Barb to know how much I do love her son, even if everything else around me feels like it’s falling apart and makes no sense. That is one thing I know with absolute certainty.
“But?”
I’m momentarily taken aback. I’m not sure how to respond. Barb has to be one of the most perceptive people I’ve met. Now I know exactly where Asher gets it. I look down, embarrassed. “No one I love stays around too long, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, my dear,” she replies softly, taking my free hand. “You know, life takes us exactly where we’re supposed to be, even if that road is bumpy and fraught with detours and potholes. I’m going to share something with you that I haven’t even told my own boys, but this stays between us, okay?”
I nod, feeling a mixture of anxiety that I’m so transparent and excitement that Barb’s about to confide something to me—me—that even Asher doesn’t know. “Of course.”
“When I was young, I loved my mother to the ends of the earth. She was beautiful, smart, and funny. But she was also a free spirit and when I was eleven, she fell in love with someone else and walked out on our family.” Her knowing, empathetic gaze finds mine. Of course she knows about my mom. “I later found out she was pregnant with his child and she wanted to start fresh with a new husband, new family. To this day, I still can’t understand how a mother could abandon her family as easily as if she were trading in an old car for a new model. My father took it hard and whereas he was once a kind, easygoing man, he became hostile, abusive. Let’s just say the last half of my childhood was not bubble gum and cotton candy.”
She clears her throat, her personal pain evident even all these years later. “I spent years resenting my mother’s betrayal. I spent my entire childhood and a good part of my early adult life wondering what I’d done to make her leave. Maybe if I’d helped out more? Maybe if I’d talked back less? Could I have done something different to make her stay? It had to be me, right?”
Her words were mine. My feelings. My thoughts.
“It ate me alive. It ruined every relationship I had. I couldn’t let people past that magical protective barrier I’d spun around my heart. Then when I was twenty, I met Frank and we fell madly in love. I knew after my second date that I was going be his wife. After only three months he asked me to marry him, but as much as I loved him, I couldn’t completely drop the guards. I tried to sabotage my own relationship, because I was so lost in fear that I wasn’t good enough. I made mistakes, Alyse. Big ones, almost unforgiveable ones, and he broke off our engagement.
“It was then that I realized I was about to lose the very best thing to ever happen to me because the past was shackled firmly to my ankles like dead weight, and I dragged it around with me everywhere like a darn prize, using it as a crutch, an excuse. It took me a long time to realize, Alyse, that every person is responsible and accountable for his or her own decisions in life. We may not understand them or agree with them, but it’s not our job to.”
I’m captivated, sucking in every word of motherly advice like a dry sponge. Barb Colloway had a childhood similar to mine, with a mother who left her, and yet she is the most put-together, open, and loving woman I’ve ever met. She found the love of her life and raised four wonderful sons.
“We’re all imperfect, Alyse. We’ve all had people betray our trust and our love, but it’s what we do with that adversity that separates us from the pack. Holding on to bitterness and resentment and anger only holds us back. It limits us in every possible way. In life, in love, in happiness. It’s an easy place to stay, but it’s also very lonely.
“Forgiveness, however? That’s hard. Much harder than holding onto our hurts and wrongs and using those to excuse our own actions. It takes courage and bravery to forgive. Oh, but Alyse…forgiveness is freeing. Healing. In both mind and spirit. Forgiveness allows you to thrive and flourish. Forgiveness allows you to shed your burdens and embrace life, short as it is.”
I’m letting her insightful words roll around and sink in when I hear a noise in the kitchen. I look over with blurry eyes to see Asher standing there.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Asher says sheepishly, gaze bouncing between the two of us. I have to wonder how much he heard. I also wonder if my pulse will gallop with excitement every time I lay eyes on him. I hope so.
I glance over at Barb to see a sly smile on her face. Did she know he was standing there? She pats me on the leg before surprising me and throwing back her drink in one swallow. “I should get going, dear. I hope you get to feeling better.”
She’s halfway to Asher when I call after her, popping off the couch. “Thank you,” I mutter, pulling her in for a hug. “Thank you.”
She embraces me as I imagine a mother would. I melt, letting her comfort me, not caring that Asher is watching, not caring that I’m crying again.
“I see how much you love my son. Let him be your strength, Alyse. Besides, I need to grow the number of Colloway women,” she whispers quietly in my ear and I laugh through the tears. “Asher, take care of our Alyse.”
“I will, Mom.” He hugs and kisses her. Then she’s gone and I’m in Asher’s arms. “What was that all about?”
“Girl talk. Your mom is incredible.”
“That she is. Are you feeling better?” With my face in his hands, he searches my eyes, wiping away the remnants of my internal conflict.
“Yes.” After the long talk I just had with his mom, I can honestly say that’s true. The clarity I need is floating somewhere in her wise words, just waiting for me to reach out and grab it when I’m ready.
His thumb plays with one of the one-carat drop-diamond platinum earrings he surprised me with in bed this morning. My leather jacket to him pales in comparison to his gift. When his eyes snag mine again, they’re smoky and swirling with love and blatant desire. “You deserve to be spoiled, Alyse. Every day for the rest of our lives.”
The need to be loved by this man is overwhelming. The intense need to believe it’s all real almost buckles my knees.
“Make love to me, Asher.” His name is swallowed as his mouth descends hard on mine, tongues dueling, hands frantic like we haven’t touched each other in months when it’s only been hours. Then he carries me through his apartment to the bedroom where he spends the rest of the night honoring my request again and again.
Chapter 34
Alyse
“Libs, you need to eat something.”
“Oh my God, I can’t,” Livia mumbles, pacing back and forth in the small conference room that’s doubling as a bridal suite. Her wedding dress swishes hypnotically with every step she takes. She lucked out and was able to find an absolutely stunning embellished ivory lace dress with lace cap sleeves, highlighting just the right amount of cleavage. It’s flowy and elegant, with a high waist, accentuated by a thick silver ribbon that hangs long down the back. The design is flattering, while at the same time it hides her growing belly. She’s the most beautiful br
ide I’ve ever seen.
“You haven’t eaten anything all day. You’re going to pass out when you say your vows. Here, at least eat a protein bar. Get something in your stomach.” I unwrap a Kind bar and hand it to her.
She looks at it with disgust. I wave it impatiently, forcing her to take it. She takes a bite and chews methodically while she walks.
It’s twenty minutes until showtime. Along with making me her maid of honor, she asked me to walk her down the aisle, which brought me to tears. Everyone else, including Barb, departed about five minutes ago, leaving just the two of us some precious time together before she becomes someone’s wife.
“It’s not too late, you know. You can pull a runaway bride and I’ll cover for you.” I wink, knowing that’s not at all the issue. Livia’s crazy in love with Gray, but she hates public speaking. Even though there are only about fifty guests, I’m sure the only memory she’s replaying right now is the one from her eleventh grade speech class where she completely froze, forgetting her entire speech on whether students should be required to take mandatory drug tests. She locked her knees and passed out cold, hitting her head on the hard tile floor and needing seven stitches.
“Livia.” Forcing her to sit down, I take a seat in front of her. “Don’t think about anyone else. Just focus on Gray and how much you love him and your happy beginning. Let him be your strength.” I smile, reusing Barb’s words.
“Happy beginning. Yeah, I like that.” She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Okay.”
“This is what you want, right?”
“With everything in me,” she answers immediately. Her eyes water and I squeeze her hands tight, unable to remain unaffected.
“Stop that. You’re going to ruin your makeup,” I scold, secretly trying to hold myself together so I can help hold Livia together.
