Chapter Sixteen
Justin
I slapped the file closed and shoved it to the side of my desk. Work had been going well this week, although still piled high around me—because it was the only thing keeping me sane—I was getting it done.
Clay signed off on the latest contract negotiations that morning. All that was left to do was set up a meeting with Marcus and the new band. By next week, signatures would be marking pages and I could move on to something less stressful. Hopefully. If Everett didn’t dump more stuff on me as soon as he got back from Bora Bora.
Marcus had popped in to check on me earlier, telling me I should go home to be with my wife. His perceptive gaze and innocent questions unnerved me, but I pushed thoughts of Sarah aside and pulled my law textbook out. I had an exam the next day, and I was behind on my studying. Squinting at the fine text, I reread the paragraph I’d started in the early hours of the morning.
Sleep had been evading me. I felt like a robot fueled by caffeine and the obsessive need to plod forward consistently enough that I didn’t have to stop and face my pain. My batteries could never be fully recharged, because every time I closed my eyes I pictured my wife writhing under someone else. Was he tall? Muscly? Handsome?
Would she ever see him again?
I did and did not want to know the answers to those questions. They burned inside me though—a red flag waving in front of my eyes. But if I found out the answers, what would that do to me?
What if I knew him?
What if I’d shaken his hand?
I’d never been to after-work drinks with Sarah, but I’d briefly met a couple of her designer friends. Was it Jules? Had he had my wife at The Venetian in Vegas?
Sarah said he was gay, but what if his effeminate hand flicks were just a ruse? What if they’d secretly been doing it for months and finally Sarah couldn’t hold it in any longer?
The pen in my hand snapped, making me jerk and hiss at the same time. The sharp plastic nicked my skin. I sucked the blood and threw the broken pen into the trash can under my desk. Rubbing the wound, I gazed at the small red cut, and once again found myself swamped by that overwhelming realization that I was alone.
I’d walked out on my wife.
What the hell was I supposed to do now?
A sharp tap on my door made me look up. Everett Torrence strode in, a half smile tugging his mouth up at the corner. “Afternoon, son.”
“H-hi.”
“I just wanted to stop by and congratulate you. Clay said you’ve done a great job on the contract.”
“Th-thank you, sir.”
Everett filled up most of the chair when he took a seat opposite me. His large, intimidating body made me sit back. Placing my hands on my lap, I rubbed my cut and hoped my expression was calm and neutral.
“So, Adeline wanted me to invite you and Sarah over for dinner…when we get back from our vacation, of course.” He chuckled.
I let out a nervous laugh that sounded more like a mouse squeaking.
Clearing my throat, I pulled back my shoulders and tried to go for mature and manly. “You must be looking forward to your v-v-vacation.”
“We sure are.” He grinned. “It’ll be nice to get away for a few days.” He pointed at me. “But we want to have a decent catch-up when we return. Feels like we haven’t seen you two in a really long time.” His jacket hitched at the shoulder when he shrugged.
I shifted in my seat, clearing my throat again to delay my answer. A sick fear twisted my stomach into knots. How was I supposed to reply? I couldn’t tell him the truth. Sarah may have hurt me, but I wasn’t about to dump her in it. Besides, what did her betrayal say about me?
“We’re b-both pretty swamped with w-work at the m-moment, but I-I-I can a-ask her.”
“It won’t be for at least a week. I’m sure you can fit us in.”
I gave him a tight smile.
Everett leaned forward with a sigh, resting his elbows on his knees and staring straight at me. “I know it’s been a tough year for you two. Marriage, new house, new jobs…not to mention the loss of your brother.”
My throat grew thick and gummy when I tried to swallow.
“But you two are gonna make it. You’ve both got great work ethic. Now is the time in your life that you really want to make inroads for your future, you know? If you can get this law degree, learn everything you can from Clay and me, then you’re going to set yourselves up great. Do it before a family comes along, that’s what I say. You work hard in these early years, then you’re going to be able to whisk Sarah away for the island getaways she deserves.”
I nodded, gripping the arm of my chair and trying to keep it all in.
“Anyway, talk to my daughter and we’ll work out a time to have a meal together.” He shot out of his chair and made for the door.
Relief whistled through me but then evaporated when he turned back and asked, “Oh, by the way, how was Sarah’s show in Vegas?”
“G-great.”
“I didn’t know about it until Adeline told me yesterday. You should have mentioned that’s where you needed to be this weekend.”
“I-I didn’t want to l-let you down, sir.”
Everett grinned and wagged his finger at me. “That’s a good man. Keep the father-in-law happy.” He barked out a loud laugh then shook his head. “But seriously, family first, son. Next time your wife asks you to be at one of her fashion shows, you make sure to be there.”
Sick bile swirled in my stomach when I tried to smile at him.
“I can’t tell you how proud I am of my little girl. The rate she’s going, she’ll be a celebrity in her own right. You’re a lucky man, Justin.” The pointed look he gave me before turning and walking away said more than his words ever could.
You look after my baby girl, or I’m going to finish you.
I rested my head on the back of my chair and looked up to the ceiling with a miserable sigh. I wondered how proud he’d be if he knew what his precious little girl got up to in Vegas.
“He’d no doubt find some way to blame me,” I muttered.
I’d never been good enough for his daughter.
Scrubbing a hand over my face, I forced myself to sit back up and stare at my law book again. Self-loathing would have me for dinner if I didn’t concentrate on something else. I had no idea how Sarah and I would get out of having a meal with her parents. That problem seemed too big to face in that moment, so I focused back on the tiny text in the mammoth book and drowned myself in a sea of law. It was boring. It was mind-numbing. But it was safe.
Chapter Seventeen
Sarah
I only took Monday off. Tuesday morning, I had to drag my exhausted butt to the Echelon Fashion building, puffy eyes and all. I walked into the old-style brick factory that had been refitted into a chic, modern workspace. Open-floor planning, which I initially thought was so amazing and cool, turned into another burden. People were constantly moving around—dancing and humming as they worked on their designs, popping past my station with ideas and questions. Jules worked right next to me, his dark eyes like laser beams every time he flashed me a concerned smile.
A thick layer of makeup hid the brunt of my pain. I stayed near my desk and kept my head down. Thankfully, there was a lot to do, and most people were caught in the throes of prepping for Paris.
With Vegas behind us, we were gearing up for our European tour. Enrique liked to put a fresh twist on his Euro-line, so new designs and variations of what we showed in Vegas were expected by the time he returned from New York. Thank God he was in New York. I didn’t want to face him. The man had the keenest eyes in the world; he could strip anyone bare with only a look.
My excuse that I was battling some kind of virus probably wouldn’t fly with him.
I flicked out the shirt I was working on and held it up to the light. The sheer cream fabric would float and sway around the model perfectly with the cut I’d chosen. I wanted to give it a little something more. It was stunning now, bu
t it needed an edge.
Pre-Vegas, I would have come up with one in a snap. But my creative light was swamped by a foggy sorrow. I couldn’t seem to think past the basics.
I dropped the shirt to my table with a heavy sigh and snatched my sketch book from the shelf underneath. Flipping it open, I thumbed through the pages, looking for my original design concepts…the ones I came up with before Vegas.
Damn Vegas.
I felt like everything I did revolved around that cursed word. I had been so excited to go—to explore, to celebrate…to rekindle.
But all I’d done was hurt the person I loved most.
The pages nearly ripped as I flicked through them, my movements growing fast and agitated the more I relived waking up next to the wrong man. With a frustrated huff, I slapped the book closed and smacked my hand on the cover.
I should have quit the day I got back.
I couldn’t do the job anymore. I couldn’t focus. I didn’t want to interact with anyone, and I sure as hell didn’t want to bump into him again. What would I do when he walked into the office? He traveled a lot—New York, Milan, London…Vegas. The guy could show up to the LA offices at a moment’s notice.
My fingers shook as I pressed them to my forehead.
But what would I do if I quit?
Justin had left me. I needed a source of income to keep me afloat while we waded through this crap. There was no way on Earth I could tell my parents what I’d done. I had to keep my mouth shut, my head down…and get on with life. Justin would come around eventually, right?
My eyes smarted and I covered my mouth, tears blurring my vision.
“Please come around,” I whispered against my palm.
It’d been less than a week. We’d spoken once since he collected his stuff and left. I called so many times on Monday night that eventually he answered and begged me to please give him some space to think. I hadn’t had the guts to call him again.
And so I was playing this cruel waiting game.
I missed him.
The house was cold and empty without him.
I dreaded going home each night, but I didn’t want to stay at work either. The only thing distracting me from my nightmare was trying to get through the workload piling up around me. But I couldn’t work fast enough. My creative juices had dried up. The well inside me that usually bubbled over was nothing more than a dribble.
Sniffing at my tears, I reached for a tissue and found Julian’s gaze on me again.
I shook my head then dabbed at my eyes. “Please don’t ask, Jules. I can’t talk about it.”
“I’m here if you need me, chica.” He moved around his table and came to stand in front of me. Resting his elegant hands against the wood, he gave me his best smile.
He was so gorgeous with his dark skin and wide brown eyes. He was dressed in a bright purple shirt with a floral print collar and a pair of pinstriped pants that hugged his slender figure perfectly. He always dressed with flair. I loved that about him.
The gold ring on his pinky finger caught the light as he waved his hand in the air. “Jules always has a hug available for you, pretty blue eyes.”
I sniffed again, attempting a smile. It didn’t work. I couldn’t lift my quivering lips past a half-assed twitch.
Grabbing the shirt I was working on, I clutched the floating fabric and shook it in the air. “I just can’t seem to get this right. I know it needs something more, but what? I can’t come up with anything today!”
“This week,” Jules murmured with a knowing smile. His full lips pursed as his eyes traveled over my breasts then down to my belly. “You’re not pregnant, are you?”
Fear spiked my chest like an ice-cold dagger. My eyes popped so wide they actually hurt. I hadn’t even thought about that. It couldn’t…
The idea was so horrifying that bile surged up my throat. I slapped my hand over my mouth and ran for the bathroom. Shoving the door open, I nearly took out Jenna. She yelped and jumped out of my way, but I didn’t have time to apologize. All I could do was smack open a stall door and lunge for the bowl. My stomach hadn’t been very full, so once my banana smoothie was out, it became kind of painful. My stomach kept jerking and heaving though, driven by a blinding terror that I might be knocked up.
No, I couldn’t. This could not happen.
I always used protection.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I retched up a little bile before slumping to the floor and heaving in some oxygen. Had I used protection in Vegas?
My stomach shuddered, threatening another violent attack. I lurched up to my knees and gripped the porcelain, but nothing came. I was scrambling for a memory of the night, some kind of indication that we’d been safe, but I couldn’t conjure it. Until that point, I’d been grateful I couldn’t remember much. I didn’t want to relive my shame. I didn’t want to understand how I could have let myself do something so awful.
But…
“No, please, no,” I whimpered. “I can’t be pregnant.”
How did I find out? It’d only happened six days ago. Did the body know that fast? I tried to figure out when my period was due but couldn’t think past the word: PREGNANT. My sisters talked about ovulation when they were trying to start their families. I’d listened with half an ear as they discussed the optimal timing for conception. Had I been in that window? I’d barely listened to those conversations. Kids weren’t even on my radar.
The idea of taking a pregnancy test made me shiver.
“Sarah, sweetie, are you okay?” Jules called through the bathroom door.
I couldn’t form any kind of coherent sentence so I just whined in my throat.
The door creaked open, and his polished shoes clicked across the tiled floor. I hadn’t bothered to lock the stall. He found me easily.
With a sigh, he bent down and helped me up. Only Jules would walk into a ladies’ room to collect some hurling wretch off the floor. Guiding me to the basin, he pulled some paper towels free and wet them. I dabbed my face, attempting to clean up the makeup massacre on my cheeks.
“So, pregnant?” He crossed his arms, his right eyebrow peaked.
“I can’t be.” I shook my head vehemently.
He snickered. “Why not?”
Because Justin and I haven’t had sex in months, which means the father would have to be…
The thought was so abhorrent, I nearly ran for the stall again. But after a painful jerk, my stomach settled. Gazing into the mirror, I stared at my pasty white complexion. A year ago, I’d been beautiful, filled with light and joy. Now everything was broken, and I looked like a wide-eyed urchin.
Tears swamped my vision, turning the mirror into a warped piece of glass. My chin began to tremble.
“Oh, chica.” Jules pulled me into his arms, resting my head on his shoulder and holding me tight.
I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to his shirt and praying for an empty womb.
I’d never win Justin back with another man’s baby growing inside me.
Chapter Eighteen
Justin
The examination room was suffocating. The only noise I could hear was the ticking clock on the wall and the scratch of pen on paper. Except for my pen.
My pen was doing fuck all.
I wriggled the Biro and glared down at the question. I didn’t know what kind of answer they were looking for. I’d spent the week cramming study into my spare time, and it’d all flown out my ears the second I sat down.
I couldn’t think past Sarah. A blonde with a physique just like my wife’s had taken a seat two rows in front of me. That was it. I was done.
Closing my eyes, I scraped my fingers through my hair and bit my tongue against the string of swear words I wanted to unleash.
I wished Blake was there. He always knew the right thing to say.
He’d slap my shoulder, giving it a squeeze as he imparted some insight I hadn’t thought to consider. His take on Sarah’s dirty deeds in Vegas would have been interesting.
Shit
! I wanted him back.
I wanted to sit down with a cold beer and just shoot the breeze with him. I wanted to play a game of pool and share my woes while the balls fired across the green table. We used to tell each other everything around a pool table. The hours we spent in our basement in Albuquerque—laughing, chatting, hanging out. Secrets were shared and revealed, our bond solidified.
I wanted my brother. I needed him.
But he wasn’t there. Damn it, why hadn’t he worn a helmet? Why had he sent me off to check on his wife? If he hadn’t been recklessly driving on the wrong side of the road, none of this shit would have happened. Sarah wouldn’t have gone to Vegas alone and ended up cheating on me!
I snapped my eyes shut, my bitter blaming working like razor blades on my conscience. How could I even think that? Blaming a dead guy—that was a new low.
My throat constricted, cutting off my air supply until a thumping headache threatened to blind me. Images of Blake’s broken body shot through my mind. They were still crystal clear, like a photograph I could never throw into the fire. Dad and I had rushed to the scene while Sarah comforted a shell-shocked Jane. We hadn’t spoken as we tore along the country roads.
Dad slammed on the brakes when we spotted the flashing lights.
A red sedan was sticking awkwardly out of the ditch. Workers gathered around the front of the car. I caught a glimpse of blond hair, matted with blood. Arms bent at funny angles, combined with the quiet murmur of voices around her, told me the female driver hadn’t survived the crash either.
I shuddered, my stomach vibrating as I ran around the police officers and spotted my brother’s mangled bike.
“Justin.” Dad’s brother, the one who’d called in the accident, clutched me against him, trying to face me away from the wreck. I wrestled him off me, shoving him back so I could get access to my brother.
Rough Water (Songbird #7) Page 8
