Rough Water (Songbird #7)

by Melissa Pearl

  If I’d known what was going to transpire, I never would have approached Sarah that first night I saw her.

  I expected the thought to maybe bring me a small sense of comfort. But it didn’t. Because if I hadn’t spoken to her that night, I never would have known what it was to love her.

  And at college, I was convinced that loving her made me a better man.

  It was still true.

  She’d always brought out the best in me. Blake’s death had severed something inside, cut off my ability to let Sarah in. So she’d gone somewhere else…and she’d had every right to.

  I needed to let her go. We both needed to move on.

  I had no idea what moving on looked like, but I didn’t think I could stomach law or Torrence Records for much longer. Slapping my laptop closed, I pushed it off my legs and stared across the darkened room.

  Without Sarah, none of that stuff was worth it.

  I just had to stay long enough to get things finalized, have a little money in my pocket, make sure she was financially secure as well, and then I could quit and move on.

  It was time I left my life behind and stopped trying to live up to everybody else’s expectations. For the first time ever, I could figure out what the hell I wanted.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Sarah

  The restaurant felt cluttered and nauseating. The smell of rich Italian meat sauce was churning my stomach, making me want to run to the toilet and throw up. Reaching for my water glass, I downed the clear liquid then patted my mouth with the cloth napkin.

  Maria rotated her fork in her spaghetti, using her spoon to make a neat mound that would fit into her mouth. My nose crinkled as I watched her suck up a loose strand then start munching.

  “You not hungry?” Libby touched my arm.

  Her cold fingers made me flinch. I gazed down at my half-eaten lasagna and shook my head.

  “Well, at least have some wine.” She lifted the bottle and went to pour me some, but I smacked my hand over my glass before she could.

  “No, thanks,” I clipped.

  “You’re not drinking either?” Maria’s pale eyebrows made a sharp V. “What is up with you today?”

  “I just don’t feel like drinking.” I shrugged. “I have a busy day at work and…”

  I never want to touch alcohol again, because it makes you forget and do stupid things that ruin your life.

  “Oh, no way.” Maria’s fork clattered into her bolognese bowl. “I told you to wait.”

  “What are you talking about?” Libby frowned at her.

  I stared at the empty chair in front of me, so grateful my mother was away in Bora Bora. I didn’t want her witnessing my demise. I knew exactly what Maria was getting at, and I didn’t know if I had the power to refute her. Because I still didn’t know if I was pregnant or not.

  “Sparky’s pregnant.” Maria announced it like a fact, while I shuddered in my seat.

  “No, I’m not.” My argument sounded so lame and pathetic.

  Libby’s eyes narrowed in on my face.

  I hated these damn monthly lunches. I needed to figure a way out of them.

  “You’re kind of acting like you might be pregnant.” Libby’s voice was soft and genteel.

  I met her sweet tone with a sharp snap. “Or my period might be brewing.”

  Slapping the napkin down on top of my cutlery, I huffed and crossed my arms.

  “Something’s brewing,” Maria muttered, bulging her eyes and slurping up another noodle.

  Libby snickered. Glancing at Mom’s empty spot, she no doubt wished our matriarch were there. I scowled at her then shot a glare at Maria when she asked, “So, come on then. Spill.”

  “I don’t have anything to spill.” I flicked my hands in the air. “Why can’t I just be having a really shitty day?”

  Libby’s eyes popped wide, her head jolting back.

  “You guys have them all the time, and I have to sit here listening to you bitch and moan about the trials of motherhood and trying to run a busy household. But no, I have to be perfect, right? The youngest. Apple of Daddy’s eye. The sweet little golden girl who never does anything wrong. I’m not allowed to get a little pissy when things don’t go my way?”

  “Sweetie.” Libby reached for me again, but I tucked my arm beneath the table before she could touch me. “What’s not going your way?”

  “Nothing!” I slumped back in my seat and looked up to the ceiling. My heart was racing so fast I thought I was going to pass out. No way in hell was I telling them the truth. Clenching my jaw, I jerked back up and muttered, “I’m just under a lot of pressure at work and I’m tired.”

  “Well, is there anything we can do to help?” Maria leaned toward me on the other side and I felt completely boxed in.

  Maybe I could crawl under the table and bolt for the door. I’d never get away with that though. I had to pull it together or fess up. And fessing up to my sisters was never going to happen.

  Sniffing in a sharp breath, I raised my hands and gently pushed them away from me. “I’m just having a little outburst. All I want to do is rant and complain for a second, and then I’ll be fine. In fact, I’m already feeling better.”

  Maria’s left eyebrow peaked and her lips bunched as she tried to quell her laughter.

  “What?” I swatted her arm.

  “That’s it? You’re already feeling better? Come on, that rant was, like, less than thirty seconds. Girl, you seriously have some work to do.”

  “Yeah, I mean, when I get going, I can be fuming for a good half hour.” Libby grinned. “Poor Trent.” She shook her head and squeezed my shoulder. “Justin’s a really lucky guy if you’re only a thirty-second ranter.”

  I frowned and shrugged my sister’s hand off me.

  Maria snorted. “I remember when I was pregnant, poor Lyle would just sit there on the couch, watching me pace and cry, my big fat belly poking out.” She laughed. “He’d look at me with this kind of glazed, gobsmacked expression, tracking me back and forth across the room. He always knew not to come in with the hug until I’d finished with my ‘I’m a whale’ cry.”

  Libby laughed, rocking back in her chair as she covered her mouth. I forced out a chuckle, wondering who would listen to me as I paced around my living room, fat, alone, and pregnant.

  The thought worked like an electric shot to jolt me out of my seat. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself, while my sisters both looked at me like I’d just slapped them awake.

  “Sorry,” I snickered. “I just have to go to the bathroom.”

  They nodded then turned back to each other, sharing a curious look before Libby launched into her own pregnancy story.

  I rested my hand over my belly, clutching my blouse as I double-timed it to the bathroom. I didn’t know if I wanted to hurl or pee. My bladder stepped up as I pushed the stall door open and I pulled down my pants. Lowering myself on shaky legs, I rested my elbows on my knees and spotted my salvation.

  With a gasp, I tugged at my underwear, taking a closer look at the spots of blood. So familiar. So comforting.

  “Oh, thank you, God.” My voice jumped and quaked over the words. Gripping my mouth, I released a dry sob that could have been either a cry or a laugh…probably a mix.

  Who knew that a little blood could give a girl so much hope?

  Closing my eyes, I let a lone tear slide down my cheek before cleaning up and heading back out to the restaurant. I snatched the handbag off the back of my chair and immediately excused myself to the bathroom before my sisters could ask any questions.

  By the time I did eventually return, they’d both worked out what my little re-run to the ladies’ room was all about.

  “You know, you should always just take it with you whenever you go anywhere.” Maria pointed at my handbag.

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mom.”

  She giggled and wiped her saucy lips with her napkin.

  “So, no kidlet on the way then?”

  “No,” I s
ighed. “Thank goodness.”

  “Really?” Libby looked a little disappointed.

  “Lib, come on, my job is insane at the moment. I can’t imagine bringing a baby into the mix right now. Maria told me to wait, and I agree with her. A baby’s not going to make my life any easier.”

  “Well, that’s true, but…” Libby sighed, her lips rising into a smile that only mothers can give. “They also make life so incredibly beautiful.” She touched her chest. “For all my complaints, I love being a mom. My children have made my life complete.”

  Maria started nodding, her face taking on that affectionate glow as well.

  I wanted to slap the table and yell at them. The only reason it works so great is because you both have loyal husbands to support you. I don’t have that anymore! I’m not sure I ever will again!

  The screaming in my brain brought me up short.

  No, I couldn’t believe that.

  I would get my husband back.

  I wasn’t pregnant with another man’s child. My chances had jumped from non-existent to slim. Once again, I could shift into the waiting zone and just pray like crazy that after I’d given Justin the space he wanted, he’d come back to me.

  Surely he was missing me as much as I was missing him.

  Surely the cavity in his chest was growing on a daily basis. Mine definitely was. If he didn’t return soon, I couldn’t say how much of me there’d be left waiting for him.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Justin

  My briefcase felt heavy as I walked into Torrence Records. I kept my gaze forward as I headed past the main reception. I looked to the ceiling as I stood in the elevator, and I pretended to be checking my phone as I breezed past Kelly and Marcia. They both greeted me, but all I could do was nod.

  Slipping into my office, I slapped the case down on my desk and extracted the manila envelope that would change my life. With a heavy sigh, I pulled the divorce papers free and scanned them for what felt like the millionth time.

  It’d been time-consuming, yet so straightforward to acquire them. I held the corner and flicked my thumb over the pages. My penmanship was shaky but legible. It took me less than an hour to file them with the courts. All I had left to do was serve them to Sarah, and the process could begin.

  Closing my eyes, I reminded myself to breathe. I was doing the right thing. It was a miracle she’d stuck around as long as she had. Blake’s death had killed me too. I couldn’t be the kind of husband she needed. I couldn’t even make love to her anymore.

  This divorce would set her free to pursue whomever she wanted.

  The idea of Mr. Vegas having her again scorched my stomach. Slamming my teeth together, I forced air through my nose and dropped the divorce papers before my fist could scrunch them.

  They floated to the floor around me.

  “Oh, here, let me help you.” Kelly appeared out of nowhere.

  I jerked, surprised I hadn’t seen her in my doorway. “N-n-no, that’s okay.” I dropped to the floor to gather them, but I was too late. She was already crouching down, collecting the sheets.

  Her efficient movements ground to a halt when she caught sight of the first page.

  “Thanks f-for that.” I tried to distract her by snatching it out of her hand, but she lurched away from me. Her eyes were round with despair as she looked up from the pages.

  “Please tell me these aren’t yours.”

  I dipped my head and looked down at my desk.

  My name is on the first fucking page. Of course it’s mine!

  I closed my mouth against my sarcastic reply.

  Kelly’s bright gaze bored into me, her voice firm and unrelenting as she asked, “What’s going on?”

  “This isn’t your concern, K-Kelly.” I nestled my hands on my hips but kept my eyes on the floor.

  “You haven’t even been married a year.”

  I held out my hand, beckoning for the document with a flick of my fingers. “C-can I have them back, p-please?”

  She hugged them to her chest, her eyebrows dipping low. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”

  “Like I said.” I gritted my teeth. “It’s not your c-concern.”

  Her hard expression eased up a little when I looked at her. Maybe she could see how strung out I was. Or did my complete failure just ooze from the pores of my skin these days?

  Her tone dropped to a soft lilt. “I don’t think you want to do this.”

  “Oh, yeah?” My breathy laugh was brittle. “H-how do you f-f-figure that?”

  “You look like you’re about to sign your own death sentence.” Her shoulders sagged, the papers slapping against her thigh as she gazed at me.

  My face twitched while I tried to rein in my expression. I couldn’t let her see how close to the truth she was hitting with that one. “It’s for the b-best,” I croaked.

  “Are you sure? What happened?”

  “I c-can’t…” I shook my head. “She’s better off without me.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “And you’re basing that on what?”

  “She chea—” Placing my hands back on my hips, I looked to the ceiling. “I need to l-let her g-go.” I cleared my throat, hauling back what little control I had left. “S-some things can’t b-be overcome, Kelly. We j-just have to m…” My lips struggled to form the words as my stutter choked me. “Move on,” I finally punched out.

  Kelly’s face crinkled with sadness.

  Her expression was killing me, so I snapped my fingers and reached out my hand again. “Give me the p-papers.”

  She hesitantly passed them back but wouldn’t release them until I gave her a sharp frown. “Just be one hundred percent certain before you do this. Marriage is supposed to be forever.”

  I gazed at her beautiful face. We may have been the same age, but she still had so much to learn.

  “Nothing lasts forever.” I slapped the papers onto my desk and sniffed. “Now, did you n-need something?”

  “Uh…” She sighed. “Yeah, Marcus wants to set up that final contract meeting this afternoon. Are you free?”

  “Yep,” I clipped. “Just let me know the time as s-soon as you d-do.”

  “Okay.” She paused at my door, resting her elegant fingers on the frame.

  I looked away from her and kept my head down, refusing to engage in any more conversation. The only sound in my little office was the shuffling of papers as I reordered my “death sentence” and got ready for my after-work execution.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sarah

  He was there. Oh, shit, he was in the office.

  He’d breezed in from New York about an hour before, with his charming smile and gentle voice. I kept my eyes down, focusing on the dress I was adding a unique thread design to. It had to be hand-stitched, and the intricate pattern took all my concentration.

  The average eye wouldn’t even notice the fine blend in the material, but this dress was hopefully bound for Paris, and they would most definitely notice it there.

  Franco and Jules were chatting with him.

  Man, I couldn’t even bring myself to think his name.

  I didn’t want to taste it on my lips again. I couldn’t remember if I’d said it sometime during our night together. I mean, I would have uttered it at some point. I just prayed I’d never said it while we were having sex.

  My spine did a crazy little twitch. I brushed my cheek on my shoulder, trying to counter the involuntary spasm. I couldn’t let him get to me. If I was lucky, he’d only be in for a few days then out the door again. I could do a few days. As long as he didn’t talk to me.

  “Hello, Sarah.” His smooth voice made me flinch.

  I looked past his tailored suit and saw Jules grinning at me. He was giving me that excited face—the one that told me good news was coming.

  The man unbuttoned his jacket and smoothly slid his hand into his pocket. I glanced up and gave him a tight smile. He was looking over my head at the mannequin behind me.

  “The
blue dress is looking good. You’ve made a few adjustments.”

  I nodded then clipped, “Thank you.”

  I kept my eyes on the stitch work I was bound to mess up while he stood there. That would go down well…just what I needed.

  Pausing, I laid my quivering fingers on the table and looked past his arm, tracking the back of Franco’s head as he worked two tables in front of me.

  The man leaned down to cross my line of sight. I sniffed and moved back.

  Why wasn’t he more awkward? How could he stand there looking at me like nothing had happened between us?

  “Looks like you might be going to Paris.” He grinned. It was a slow crocodile smile that made me twitch.

  I tried to respond appropriately. The news should have thrilled me, but all I could do was squeak, “You think so?”

  “By the look of that dress, I do.”

  With a thick swallow, I nodded.

  “You’re doing so well, Sarah. For such a young designer, you certainly know how to make an impression.”

  My eyes snapped to his face. It was impossible to miss his double meaning. What an asshole. I hated his triumphant smirk.

  My cheeks flamed as I stared down at the dress I was working on, plucking at my waning courage. The guy was my superior. Was it really a good idea to piss him off? I glanced up again. He was still eyeing me, his eyes trailing my torso while he obviously relived our little tryst.

  I clenched my fists and quietly asked, “Will, ah… Will you be going?”

  His gaze swept over me, the warmth of it doing nothing to improve my mood. I’d liked it once, even appreciated it. Not anymore.

  “It’s undecided whether I’ll be in Paris or not. But I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  He buttoned his jacket again, obviously hoping his charming smile would soften me. Instead, I stiffened, transfixed by the gold ring on his wedding finger.

  My nostrils flared as I quietly spat out the words, “Yes, you better do that. Because if you’re going, I won’t be.”

  He snickered, my harsh tone surprising him.