by Gia Riley
Like she’s debating whether to stay or go, or even waiting for someone to stop her, my words come out harsher than I realize. My heart is thumping so wildly, I feel like I just finished a marathon. I stayed up all night, waiting for this to happen, and here she is, about to bail. That’s why, with teary eyes, I tell her, “If you walk away, Lemon, don’t come back.”
I won’t let her destroy Lane again.
Surprised by my voice, she turns around with her hand on her chest, her fingers fiddling with the pendant she wears around her neck. “Noelle, I didn’t know you were awake.”
“I stayed up all night making sure you didn’t do what you’re about to do. I even felt a little guilty for expecting it after you stayed in your room all night long, but it looks like I had every right to worry.”
“Why do you care if I stay?” she whispers. “Your life would be so much easier if I left.”
“Maybe I don’t want easy, Lemon. Don’t get me wrong; eventually, I’d get over you leaving. It’d be hard for me to wrap my head around why you would want to, because I care about you and want better for you, but I’m newly invested. I’d be okay after some time. It’s Lane who wouldn’t be.”
“He’s made it this long. All I ever do is hold him back.”
“He told me about the scar on his chest last night, and after hearing how close he came to death, I won’t ever let him go after you again. I love your brother too much to risk losing him. I just wish you did, too.”
Like I’d slapped her across the face, she steps away from the door. “I don’t want to keep hurting my brother. He’s done so much for me.”
“Then when is enough, enough? When are you going to want more for yourself? Because if I were you, I’d be so tired of being taken advantage of and used.”
“Well, you aren’t me,” she snaps back. “You have no idea what I’ve put up with, let alone lived through. I hate to break it to you, but life isn’t the fairytale you’re hoping for, Noelle.”
I move a little closer, wrapping my fingers around the granite slab covering the island countertop to keep me from completely losing my shit. Looking her straight in the eye, I tell her, “You’re right, it’s not a fairytale. But since I’ve been with Lane, it’s been pretty damn close. Life is about surrounding yourself with the right people, and as soon as you start doing that, you’ll see the difference. You’ll believe in fairytales again.”
She rolls her eyes at me, only pissing me off more. “That’s so easy for you to say. You land someone from Midnight Fate and think you have it made. I guess you probably do considering what they’re worth, but most guys aren’t like Lane. I’ve never met someone who even comes close.”
“Then I suggest you keep looking until you find one who is. I’m not a gold digger, and if you’re suggesting I am, then I’ve got nothing else to say to you other than this destructive pattern you’re in needs to stop. I won’t let you rewrite my story because you’re too damn stubborn to do something about your own.”
Lane walks into the living room with his hair sticking up and his pajama pants hanging loosely off his hips. “What the fuck are you two arguing about at eight in the morning?” he asks, looking back and forth between the two of us like we’re children who need scolded.
Finished with the conversation, I try to storm past him, but he grabs my arm and keeps ahold of me. “Noelle?”
“I’ve said all I have to say.” Pulling my arm out of his grasp, I walk over to the fruit basket where I pull another banana off the stem. After throwing it down on the counter, I look at Lemon and tell her, “Here, take two.”
By the time I slam Lane’s bedroom door, I’m on the verge of tears. I hear them talking back and forth, and I don’t move again until their voices fade away and the silence becomes too much to handle.
My nerves are so shot I chew on my nails, wondering if Lemon stayed or if she left. As much as I want to help her, I feel like this is about to become more than we can handle. That’s if it already hasn’t.
“Noelle?” Lane calls out when he doesn’t find me in bed.
Unless I jumped out the window, there are really only two places I could be—the bathroom or the closet. Regardless, I help him out when I yell, “I’m in here.”
He follows the sound of my voice, walking into the closet with a confused expression. It doesn’t help that he finds me huddled in front of a shelf full of shoes, and sitting right next to my suitcase.
Jumping to conclusions, he says, “Now you’re leaving? What the fuck is going on with you two today? I thought things were good when I went to bed.”
“I’m not leaving. I’m just choosing to sit here and sulk for a little while.”
Like he hadn’t considered it, he shrugs and joins me, sitting on the plush carpet in his walk-in closet. “You were pretty badass out there, laying down the law and sticking up for me. That was so fuckin’ hot.”
I reach for a shoe off the shelf and chuck it at him. “Don’t tell me I’m hot. It’s not funny. This is serious.”
“You’re absolutely right. Noelle, you’re hideous, and I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”
Half laughing, I want to throw another, but I don’t. “I wasn’t trying to start drama. I think we already have enough of that.”
His voice softens a little when he says, “You know that no matter what happens with Lemon, you’re still my priority.”
“After waiting so long to finally be with you, I really want you all to myself. I want to go back to being in our perfect little bubble that nobody can pop, but that would be selfish of me, especially since Lemon needs you.”
“You’re not just saying that because it’s what you think I want to hear?”
“Depends if she stayed or if she left,” I tell him honestly.
“She stayed, Noelle. Because of you. Not me.”
“The last thing I wanted to do was guilt her into getting help. But something came over me when I saw her at the door, about to walk out. It was like she was the one giving up on us, and I couldn’t figure out why she’d rather leave a safe place for one that’s eventually going to kill her.”
“It wouldn’t have been your fault if she left.”
I rest my head against the wood shelving, wishing that were true. All I want is to curl up in his arms and forget about life for a little while, but this is only the beginning of Lemon’s journey. Depending how far along she actually is, we have months ahead of us. Months for her to change her mind and hurt herself or the baby. “Time’s running out, Lane. She’s used to numbing her pain and avoiding her feelings. Her running is most likely an attempt to get some relief.”
I’d never forgive myself if I led her to hurt her baby. For all I know, she already could have, but I’d like to think we’re stepping up in time to save them both.
“We have an appointment in two hours. All you have to do is relax. I’ll make sure she gets there and follows through with whatever the doctor needs her to do.”
“What do you mean, relax? I’m going with you.”
He blinks a couple times like he wasn’t expecting me to actually want to go to the appointment. “You are?”
“We’re in this together, Lane. You said so yourself. I want to be there, even if she makes me stay in the waiting room and thinks I’m a bitch for yelling at her.”
“I’m pretty sure she’s not mad at you.”
“I can handle it if she is. Believe it or not, I’ve been in a few fights before.”
Lane moves to his knees, crawling closer until his face is mere inches from mine. “You make tough really sexy, you know that?”
Smiling, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer. “I tell you what I know, Lane. I know I love you, and some days I wonder how I ever managed life without you.”
He presses his lips to my forehead, sighing against my skin. I wait for him to say something that’ll make me swoon even more, but he says, “God, I wish I had time to fuck you properly right now.”
I laugh becaus
e, even though that wasn’t what I was expecting him to say, it was exactly what I needed him to say. “Maybe Easton’s free.”
Before I know what’s happening, I’m flat on my back with a very hungry Lane on top of me, his determined steel-blue eyes peering down at me. “Baby, it’s bad enough you once said his name with my face between your legs. Let’s not take it any farther.”
“I don’t want Easton, babe. You’re more than enough man for me.” I reach for handfuls of his pajama pants and pull him as close as I can get him. When I can feel his hardness against my thigh, I smile for totally different reasons. “You know what else I think?” I ask him playfully.
“What do you think, baby?”
“I think that, as much as it bugs you, you’re a little intrigued by the idea of a threesome.”
He rolls his eyes and silences me with his finger to my lips. “Just stop talking and kiss me already.”
Lane and Lemon are quiet on the walk to the doctor. Even though it’s only a couple blocks from the condo to Park Avenue, Lemon starts limping.
She stops walking completely about halfway there, reaching into her purse and pulling a tissue out. We wait as she shoves the folded paper between the back of her shoe and her heel. “Are you okay?” Lane asks her.
“It’s rubbing again. They don’t fit right.”
Lane glances at me but I shake my head, answering his unspoken question. The shoes aren’t mine. Not wanting her to be in pain for her appointment, I lean against the stone wall of the bank next to us and pull on my shoelaces. Kicking my sneakers off, I slide my feet into Lemon’s shoes.
“What is she doing?” Lemon asks me with wonder in her eyes.
“I think it’s called helping a friend,” Lane tells her, equally surprised by my gesture.
She whispers the word, “Friend,” like it’s completely foreign to her. “I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve had one of those.”
She slides her feet in my shoes and Lane bends down in front of her to tie the laces for her. When he stands back up, Lemon’s smiling, and with her head held a little higher, she walks faster toward the doctor’s office.
Lane takes my hand and leads us the rest of way down the sidewalk. I stare up at him with a warmth so special, I’m pretty sure I’ve never loved him more.
“This is us,” he tells us when we come to the next set of shiny glass doors.
After taking a minute to glance at the directory, Lane leads us toward the elevators.
“I feel like I’m in a hotel,” Lemon whispers as we step inside.
I punch the button for the third floor before letting go of Lane’s hand and running my palms over every floor after ours until they’re all lit up.
“What are you doing?” he asks me with an amused laugh.
I shrug, realizing how childish I probably look. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”
As soon as the doors open, we’re right in the middle of a busy practice. I walk with Lemon to the receptionist while Lane takes off and finds a seat in the back corner of the waiting room. At first, I think it’s because he doesn’t want to chance being recognized, but as I watch him, his eyes focus on the very pregnant bellies surrounding him, and then on the crying baby across from him.
Once Lemon’s finished filling out her papers, I lead her to the back of the room, away from some of the hustle and bustle.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I ask him as I sit down.
He says, “I’m good,” but his bouncing knee tells a different story.
I gently place my hand over his leg, trying to soothe his nerves, but it takes him a few seconds to get it under control. “I can’t believe this is really happening. A fuckin’ kid,” he whispers.
I lean closer so none of the other mothers hear him. “You probably shouldn’t say ‘fuck’ and ‘kid’ in the same sentence anymore.”
“Right,” he whispers back.
While I’m close, I let my hand drift up his thigh, closer and closer to his dick. He lets me get pretty close until he swats my hand away, his elbow knocking over the art on the table next to us, sending a few pamphlets to the floor, too.
He quickly bends to pick everything up, suddenly realizing he’s not holding your average bowl or statue. “Why is there a heart on the table?”
Lemon snickers, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. “Lane, I think it’s a uterus.”
As soon as the words leave her mouth, it’s like he loses all control of his motor skills, letting it fall to the floor again with a thud. It rolls under my chair and after I bend to pick it up, I place it safely on the table.
“Who the hell decorates with body parts?” he asks us both.
Lemon points to the art in frames around us, each a slightly different depiction of pregnancy and childbirth. They’re tastefully done—some might even be considered beautiful—but they’re still not something I would choose to have hanging on my wall.
Desperate for his eyes to focus on something else, he takes the folded pamphlet and opens it up, studying the words like they’re song lyrics. Two seconds in and he chucks that back on the table, too. “I don’t even want to know why they’re shoving that up there.”
I glance at it and laugh even harder. “It’s a type of birth control that stays inside a woman. It’s not some medieval torture device.”
“I’d rather take my chances than have my dick bumping against that shit.”
The three of us manage to sit quietly for a few minutes, but I can feel the tension building the longer we sit in silence. It makes me start to itch. “If I stood on my chair and yelled ‘pussy,’ would it make you two relax a little bit?”
Lemon’s mouth drops open, and Lane laughs so unexpectedly he makes himself cough. “Baby, I think if you did that, we’d get kicked out of here so fast Lemon wouldn’t have a chance to see the doctor.”
“You’re right, what was I thinking?” I tease them, just as Lemon turns her body to face me.
“You’re like my hero or something,” she says, barely above a whisper before finding her voice. “You always seem to be thinking what I am, and doing what I wish I could.” She looks at her brother, waiting until he makes eye contact with her before she states, “Please, don’t screw it up with her.”
He smiles proudly, only saying, “Don’t plan on it, sis.”
“Men never really plan anything, Lemon. It just seems to happen.”
“Isn’t that the truth,” she agrees as she stares at her stomach, the smile now gone from her face. I wasn’t insinuating that about her baby, but I can see why she made the connection. That little one isn’t exactly something she planned on having any time soon.
“Are you okay?”
She bites her lip, her eyes tearing when she says, “I hate when people judge me. The doctor will think I’m a bad person as soon as she starts asking questions. Wait, it is a woman, right?”
“It is, and she won’t judge you, Lemon. This is Manhattan. I’m sure she’s seen it all and heard it all. But remember, no matter who you come in contact with during your appointment and all the ones that follow, you’re not a bad person. ”
Surprising me, she says, “Sometimes I think I’m a bad person.”
After hearing Lemon’s admission, Lane looks like he wants to bail on the appointment entirely, instead taking his sister back home where she’s less vulnerable. Though right now, Lemon needs more help than we can give her on our own, and thankfully, he understands that.
Before we can give her any kind of pep talk, the nurse calls her name. She glances at us, but we wait for her to make the call. We’ll come if she needs us, or we’ll stay right where we are if that makes it easier for her. All we want is for her to be honest with her doctor—and for her to do it for both her and her baby.
Finally, she says, “I can do this. Will you be here when I’m done?”
“We’ll be sitting right here waiting for you.”
With a tiny nod, she stands and walks toward the nurse. She ma
y be taking each step in my shoes, but without even realizing, she’s finally starting to walk alone.
A little over an hour later, Lane and I are practically asleep in our chairs when the door separating the waiting room and the treatment rooms is flung open so hard it bounces off the wall with a loud bang. Not expecting Lemon to be the one responsible, she’s running by us so fast we’re too stunned to move.
Lane’s body finally unfreezes and he jumps over a row of chairs, desperate to stop his sister. Just as he leaves the office, the nurse and doctor come running into the waiting room.
I look between the two of them, trying to get a read on what could have possibly happened to make Lemon so upset. Although their eyes are full of compassion, there’s only so much they can do for their patient if she’s not willing to follow through.
I turn away from them, praying it’s not the last time I see their faces. I’m two steps from the door when Lane yells my name from the hallway, his voice more panicked than I’ve ever heard it.
Lemon’s in the corner, next to the vending machine, with Lane standing in front of her, doing his best to keep her from getting away. After a few more seconds of struggling back and forth, she finally gives up with one last guttural groan.
“What happened?” I ask them.
“I don’t know,” he says, with more bite than he intended. I don’t let it bother me. Not when he’s absolutely petrified for his sister.
Instead, I duck under his arms and crouch down in front of Lemon. I don’t try to brush her hair away from her face like I want to or ask her questions she isn’t ready to answer. All I do is let her get each sob out of her system, praying she’ll be okay.
When she has a chance to catch her breath, she raises her head and says, “They think I’m crazy. They want to lock me up. You swore to me they wouldn’t.”
I crane my neck to look up at Lane. His eyes are so determined and I can tell he’s on the verge of saying something stupid to the doctor. With my eyes, I beg him to stay here with me.
