by Lacey Black
My eyes burn again. God, what the hell is up with all these tears?
“Anyway, he mentioned it when we were cleaning up, but didn’t give too many details.”
My mind wanders back to that evening, to dinner. When we left, he seemed to have a lot on his mind, but he usually does when his family is involved. “So you all know?”
“Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but I would assume Rhenn told Marissa and Jensen told Kathryn.”
“And Mary Ann?” I ask, my heart suddenly up in my throat.
Latham opens his mouth to respond and then shuts it quickly. “That doesn’t mean anything,” he insists when my face falls.
It means more than he thinks. He hasn’t told his mother because he knew it wouldn’t last. He knew about the divorce papers. Why would you tell your mom about getting married if you’d planned to have it taken care of as quick as possible? You wouldn’t.
My sandals are suddenly the most interesting thing ever, and my eyes are glued to them.
“Hey, don’t get upset about that, Free. He’s a different guy,” Latham insists, as if telling me something I don’t already know.
Not really knowing what to say, I reply with, “I know.” And I do. He’s different. He’s anal as hell, but while not everyone understands him, I do.
Or at least, I thought I did.
I smile when I see Harper coming out of the café across the street and heading our way. “Thanks for the talk,” I tell him, even though we really didn’t discuss anything we didn’t already know.
“Anytime, Free, and I mean that. We’re here for you,” he says before he goes to the front door and holds it open for his wife. Harper presses her lips to his the moment she steps over the threshold. “What did you bring me?” he asks, looking down, longingly, at the bag in her hand.
Grinning, she heads to where I’m now standing at the counter, and I can’t help but laugh when I see his eyes following her ass the entire way. She knows it, of course, and adds a little extra swing in her steps. “Here’s a peppermint tea and some vegetable soup,” she says, taking one of the two coffee cups from the holder and setting it down beside me. She reaches into the bag and pulls out a small bowl of soup and two small packages of crackers.
Latham looks over her shoulder, presses a kiss to her cheek and asks, “What’d ya get me?”
She takes a large cookie out of the bag and hands it to him. “S’more crunch,” she tells him, as he shovels half the treat into his mouth.
Before he’s even swallowed it, he presses a kiss to her cheek and waves goodbye. “See you at four thirty,” he mumbles with food in his mouth as he disappears into the hardware store.
“I forgot you’re leaving early,” I tell her as I open the container of soup. The moment I smell the vegetables, my stomach clenches. Without drawing attention to the fact I’m about to get sick, I reach for the tea and take a tentative sip. The peppermint seems to have an instant calming sensation to my unhappy belly.
“You’re still okay to close, right? Snuggles’ appointment is at five,” Harper says. “I can’t believe the little hussy went and got herself knocked up. I mean, when she got out, she was gone for like ten minutes.”
“Most men only need about three,” I remind her, taking another drink of my tea.
“This is true. When we hunt down the dog that did this, he’s going to pay child support,” Harper insists, which makes me snort. I can count on Harper to always provide a few laughs.
The rest of the afternoon passes quickly and before I know it, Harper and Latham are heading out take Snuggles to the vet. I promise to throw them a baby shower soon and find myself actually smiling as they leave to take care of their dog. Of course, now that I’m alone and left with only my thoughts, they’re returning back to the man I’ve fallen in love with.
No doubt about it, I love Samuel Grayson. I have for a while, even if it was merely a carefully guarded secret. I knew, but I made sure no one else did. Especially Harper. Her family is so close, and the last thing I needed was to cause a rift.
Like now.
When this all comes out, and we know it will, I’d hate to think of the repercussions. Will my best friend have to choose sides between hanging out with me or doing something with her brother? Will I ever be invited to Grayson family dinners again? No, probably not. The thought of not seeing Mary Ann again, except in casual passing, makes my heart hurt almost as much as leaving Samuel. Realization sets in. I’m losing so much more than just my husband. I’m losing his family too.
I’m just a ball of fun and excitement as the clock finally approaches six. I’m grateful tonight isn’t the later night to be open. All I want to do is head back to my apartment, curl up with a blanket (on the floor, mind you), and have a good cry. Maybe when I stop and buy a new blanket and pillow, I’ll grab a tub of Rocky Road ice cream and some tequila.
My stomach rolls, letting me know that’s not the best idea.
I go through the closing process, including closing out the cash register, processing all the credit card payments, and turning off the light. There’s a small gate that extends between the main doorway to the lingerie shop. It keeps gawkers from wandering around when the shop is closed. There are a few things in the expansion between the two businesses, but those are things like lotions and other body products that the hardware store can sell if needed. The rest of the goodies are separate and only sold when Kiss Me Goodnight is open.
I head up to the front door to flip the lock and turn off the two light switches on the front wall. After securing the lock, my head starts to feel…funny. I’m definitely coming down with something. I haven’t been able to eat right all day, and the thought of eating that soup I stuck in the fridge makes me want to vomit.
My next stop is the vestibule between the two stores. Whoever is closing down the hardware store already has their lights out, so I pull the small gate closed, make sure it’s secure, and return to the desk. As I’m walking by the counter, heading for the back room, another wave of nausea hits me as the room starts to spin. I reach for the closest solid structure, but it’s no use. I go down. Hard.
The last thing I remember before the blackness consumes me is worrying for Samuel when he finds out I’m gone.
Chapter Twenty-One
Samuel
I’m all smiles as I make my way home. Robert let me go early. Well, early considering I’m usually the one to stay late for visitations. He offered to stay for the last few hours and told Aaron he was staying too, which didn’t make the son very happy. Usually, I’d insist on staying and overseeing the entire visitation, start to finish, but for some reason, I decided to take him up on his offer. I left work.
Before the work was complete.
After a quick stop at the florist to grab a bunch of daisies and meatless tacos from the restaurant at the edge of town, I’m finally heading home. To Freedom. And it’s only six o’clock.
I pull into my driveway, surprised she’s not home yet. Another quick glance at the clock lets me know she should be here soon. The shop closes at six on Fridays, so I can expect her within the next fifteen to twenty minutes. Just enough time to run through the shower.
Inside, I set the flowers and food on the coffee table and head straight to my bedroom. Our bedroom. I strip off my suit, making sure it goes in the dry-clean bin, and make my way to the bathroom. I can still smell her soap as I start the water, and the smile is instantaneous. Her scent is embedded in my soul, just like her. She has quickly become the very reason for my existence. A few weeks ago, I wouldn’t have thought that was possible, to want or need anyone, but here I am, needing her like crops need rain. She’s the air I breathe.
I reach for the bodywash, but something seems off. I can’t really pinpoint it, but the shelf just seems…different. Freedom probably rearranged everything on me again, which I’m pretty sure she only does to annoy the crap out of me. It works too.
After a fast shower, I return to my bedroom to get dressed. I opt for a
loose pair of shorts and a T-shirt. I rarely wear them, especially this early in the evening, but there are times when I just don’t feel like putting on a suit and tie. Not often, but it does happen.
I run a comb through my hair and finally return to the living room. Six fifteen. She should be home any minute. I grab the flowers and dinner and take them into the kitchen. I find a vase beneath the kitchen sink and fill it with water. I realize I’m humming a happy tune as I place the daisy stems in the water, carefully arranging the white and yellow blooms as if I knew what I were doing.
Turning the oven warmer on low, I place our food one two plates and stick them inside to stay warm. Then, I grab a bottle of beer from the fridge and pop the top open, my hip resting against the counter as I wait.
A few minutes turns into another fifteen, then twenty, and I start to worry. Freedom’s rarely not home by six thirty, unless she’s working at the massage parlor. I know she’s not, though. She was filling in this afternoon with Harper, whose employee had dental work done, and since she’s been a little tired lately, she didn’t schedule anyone this evening.
I’ve noticed her exhaustion. She may not realize I’ve picked up on it, but I have. That’s why my plan for tonight was dinner, a relaxing bath, and bed. I can keep my raging libido caged for the night just so she can get a little rest. I’m not that much of an animal.
Deciding to head back to the living room and check the driveway, a stack of papers catches my eye. They’re lying on top of the countertop, directly above my mail drawer. It’s sticking out slightly, so I use my hip to close it. Freedom must have put today’s mail in there. She’s notorious for leaving a drawer or a door open. Drives me crazy.
Grabbing the papers, I smile when I see what it is. Our marriage certificate arrived. My heart starts to sing as I stare down at our names. Something about seeing this document makes our marriage, I don’t know, official. Sure, I’ve found the receipts and the rings, but with no true memory of the wedding taking place, I guess it never really felt…well, real.
Smiling, I decide to pick up a frame tomorrow after I leave work. I can frame this and possibly display it on the wall or our dresser. I know she’s been itching to decorate my bedroom, so maybe this is a great first step at making the space ours.
I set the license down and realize what else I’m holding. The divorce papers. The ones I had shoved in the drawer the night before. I can barely breathe as I gaze down at the document in my hand. It’s the last page, and it’s signed. Her name is there in her bubbly, slightly angled signature, and I’m pretty sure my heart actually breaks in my chest. I’ve broken up with past girlfriends, and while it hurt, this is something different. Deeper.
Excruciating.
With the papers still in my hand, I take off down the hallway, stopping in front of the guest room. It’s empty. Sure, the furniture is still there, but all of her personal effects, the life, is gone. I step across the hall and realize right away what’s wrong with my bodywash. It’s alone on the shelf. The pink razor and fancy shower gel are gone. Only my belongings remain.
I already know what I’ll find—or, specifically, what I won’t—but I make my way to my bedroom next. There’s nothing there but empty white walls and clutterless furniture tops. No knickknacks. No sage burning too close to the curtains. No water rings on the nightstand from her glass of ice water.
Nothing.
The entire house feels…lifeless.
My head is spinning. I have to find her. But where would she go? I know her apartment isn’t ready, and even if it were, her belongings aren’t there yet. She’d have no bed, no couch, no real belongings. But then again, that’s such a Freedom move. It’s the only place that’s hers, so why not go there anyway.
Determined to find her, I head for my dresser to grab my phone, wallet, and keys, not even caring I’m wearing old shorts and a T-shirt. My attire is the least of my worries. Right now, I need to find Freedom and explain those papers. Maybe, just maybe, she’ll see why I had them drawn up.
And how seeing her name on that line makes me realize I don’t want it.
Not at all.
My cell phone rings as I’m slipping my bare feet into the pair of old Nikes I wear for yardwork. I almost let it go to voicemail but realize quickly it could be Freedom. “Hello?” I answer, without looking at the screen.
“Hey, Samuel, it’s Latham.”
“Hi, Latham. Listen, now’s not a good time,” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I need to tell you something. It’s about Free.”
My heart drops to my toes and a lump the size of a golf ball lodges in my throat. There’s something in his tone, in the way he says her name. My lungs flat out refuse to work, though that may be okay, because if something’s happened to her, if I’ve lost her for good, I won’t need air.
I’ll be as good as gone myself.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Freedom
The steady beep of the monitor keeps me company as I watch my bestie pace the emergency room floor.
When I woke up, I was lying on the floor at Kiss Me Goodnight. I didn’t remember how it happened, but I found Harper and Latham hovering over me, freaking the fuck out. Harper called 911, even though I insisted I was fine. Latham refused to let me get up, maintaining no one passes out just because. And I knew he was right, I just didn’t want to admit it. Thank goodness she forgot some orders she wanted to review and went back to her shop.
The ambulance arrived a few minutes later and took my vitals. Even though I was feeling much better by that point, we all agreed—and by that, I mean Harper guilted me into it—going to the hospital to get checked out was for the best.
The ride to the hospital was fun. Harper rode with, asking a billion questions to the poor female EMT who was just doing her job to make sure I was stabilized for transport, while Latham brought his truck and met us here. Before I was whisked away to be stuck with five needles, I made them both promise to just keep this to ourselves. There was no reason to get everyone all worked up—specifically, Samuel—when we didn’t know anything. I could tell by the looks on their faces they didn’t approve, but neither argued with me.
So here I am, waiting for the results of my lab work to come back, while my best friend works on wearing down a pacing path on the old tile flooring. I’m in one of those standard hospital gowns, my clothes balled up on the chair by the door, and wishing I had my phone. It’s probably still at the boutique, since I don’t recall Harper grabbing it after she snatched my purse out of her office.
“What’s taking so long?” Harper asks, pacing back and forth.
I shrug. “Dunno. Maybe they all went on a coffee break,” I mutter, picking at the tape holding down my IV.
“That’s not funny,” she says, her hands on her hips. “I wish you’d let me call—”
“Stop right there. I’ve already told you we’re not calling anyone. I’m sure there’s nothing wrong here, and the moment they let me go, I’ll head back to my place and everything will be fine.”
She stops her pacing and gazes at me. “Your place? You mean Samuel’s house? Aren’t you living there permanently now?”
“Oh, uh,” I stutter, trying to think of something to say. When nothing comes to me and her stare becomes more intense, I finally say, “I’m moving back to my apartment. It’s ready to go.” I throw on a wide smile, so she can tell how happy I am about the news.
Harper comes over and stands next to my bed. “But…what about living with Samuel?”
Again, I start picking at the horrible tape stuck to my skin. “It was only temporary. I live at my apartment.” My heart starts to ache just thinking about moving back into the place I’ve lived for the last few years.
Alone.
My bestie drops onto the plastic chair sitting beside the bed. “But…why? I mean, you two are married,” she whispers so no one else can hear. After all, our marriage is one big ugly secret, right?
I shrug and feel my eyes well up. I open
my mouth to reply, to tell her it doesn’t always work out the way you plan, but we’re interrupted by the attending physician. “Good news, Freedom,” he says as he comes into the room. “Most of your lab work looks good.”
“Great,” I reply, ready to get up out of this bed.
“Wait, what do you mean most of her lab work?” Harper says, stepping up and taking my hand.
The doctor smiles. “Well, you’re a little dehydrated, and your blood sugar was very low. I’m certain that’s why you passed out. We see that a lot in the early stages of pregnancy.”
Well, I didn’t eat much today because—
Wait.
What?
I glance at Harper, whose eyes are locked on me, her mouth hanging to her chest. Okay, so my hearing is going bad already. Swell. I could have sworn he said—
“Pregnant?” Harper asks.
The doctor smiles. “Yes. I’m assuming by the shocked look on your faces, this wasn’t something you already knew.”
Slowly, I shake my head.
“Can you tell me again what you ate today?” he asks, pulling out the chart with the test results.
“Uhh…well, I didn’t really eat anything,” I say softly, wishing the bed would swallow me whole.
“Are you throwing up? Nauseated?”
“I’ve been nauseous a few times in the last week or so,” I recall, my eyes dropping down to my still-flat stomach.
“Well, I’m going to prescribe prenatal vitamins for you. If you can get that filled tonight still, that would be beneficial. Start taking them tomorrow morning. I’m also going to suggest you make an appointment with an obstetrician. Let them know of your ER visit today. I’m sure they’ll want to schedule you just to check everything over. If you don’t feel like eating much, make sure you’re still drinking plenty of fluids. But at the least, try to eat small meals and snacks. Crackers, breads, things like that. Do you have any questions?”
