L.O.V.E.

by Krissy Daniels

  “I think he’s pouting over Natalie. He hasn’t been the same since they broke up.” Natalie’s name tasted too damn sweet, but I tamped that shit down deep, hardening those feelings to lifeless, colorless clay. “Ellis has it handled.”

  Victoria’s cheeks reddened. “You think Martin still has a thing for her?”

  “I don’t want to talk about them. This is our day.” I stole another kiss and twirled my bride through the crowd. The DJ announced a break. I escorted Victoria to our table. The evening moved on. We laughed and mingled. Guests dwindled. Martin never returned.

  Victoria excused herself to the restroom. She returned smelling of cigarettes, igniting our first fight as a married couple.

  Before the reception ended, Victoria had canceled the honeymoon.

  “What did you find out?”

  I swung the door wider, allowing my friend, Detective Waters inside.

  Dark bags nested his sullen gaze. “You need to have a seat, Cole.”

  “I’ll stand.” Arms crossed, I braced for what was sure to be bad news. “You found her?”

  Waters scrubbed a hand over his face. “If you don’t wanna sit, can I?”

  Fuck.

  The sofa was a mere ten steps away. My legs grew heavier with each lift and drop, but I managed to sit, and Waters followed suit.

  “Martin’s car was found at the bottom of a cliff in Monterey County a couple hours ago.”

  “California?” I asked.

  Staring at the floor, he nodded.

  “What does Martin have to do with my missing wife?” Victoria had lied about a weekend trip with her girlfriends while Martin had ghosted days after the wedding. I hadn’t seen or heard from him in the two weeks since.

  He nodded. Swallowed. Gave me a hard look.

  “No. Don’t say it.”

  Again he nodded, his jaw tensing before he forced the words through gritted teeth. “Martin’s body washed up on shore about a half mile down. They recovered Vic’s ID and a suitcase full of women’s clothing. Her body hasn’t been found, but that’s not uncommon in these types of accidents.”

  The room blurred. Truths speared my chest, razor-sharp puzzle pieces slicing me wide open. Vic and Martin.

  Jesus fucking Christ, what a fool I’d been.

  Veins ice cold, I stared at the wall above his head, unnamable emotions rolling through me. “She emptied our joint bank account twenty-four hours ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “They’ll keep looking for her, right?”

  “Of course.” He ran a hand through his graying hair. “Most likely, though, the ocean claimed her body.”

  “Understood,” I managed to say, though I would never fully comprehend. My best friend. My wife. My child. Fuck. Was the child even mine? Had there even been a child?

  I stood and gestured to the door. “Thanks for coming by, but I...I um…” I couldn’t form a thought, my mind and body numb.

  “Can I call anyone for you?”

  “No. No, I just need a…” I couldn’t finish. My fists curled, the urge to strike someone overwhelming.

  He came to my side, braced my shoulder. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I’ll be back around nine. I called your pops. He’s on his way.”

  “Appreciate that,” I choked out. And before he stepped outside, I warned, “We need to keep this out of the press.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he said.

  I closed the door and fell to the floor.

  Father Christianson gave his final blessing, and the mass of mourners slowly rose and made their way toward the exit, leaving the gloom of the church behind, the procession mostly silent save a few sniffles.

  My body, a thousand pounds of rage, remained glued to the pew. I stared ahead at nothing in particular, the room around me shrouded in a red haze, the pulpit, the cross, the flowers, colorless, lifeless, dead. Like my wife and my best friend.

  “Son.” Dad wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

  I shrugged him off.

  “We’ll give you a few minutes,” he rasped before escorting my mother toward the aisle.

  Seething and broken, I had watched Martin’s ceremony from the shadows. Victoria’s service, however, demanded my presence, and despite her betrayal, I set my mask firmly in place and played the grief-stricken widower while burning and churning and boiling over with ugly, vile hatred.

  Maybe that hatred would eat me alive. Maybe I could join my friend and lover in Hell. I would enjoy watching them burn.

  “Cole.” Natalie’s voice, a lowly whisper, cut through the dark, pernicious haze and sliced me open, demonic fury spilling from the wound.

  “Get the fuck out.” My words echoed off the stained-glass windows.

  A sharp breath, then silence. Soft footfalls retreated.

  Finally, a target for my rage. I rose from the cursed bench and stalked behind, ignoring every well-meaning soul I passed. When Natalie reached her car, I growled, “Why the hell are you here?”

  Shoulders bunched, she turned to face me. A black dress covered her body from neck to knees, hiding the seductive curves underneath. Her hair was pulled into a tight knot, not a fucking strand out of place.

  Natalie met my eyes. Cleared her throat. “I’m not sure. I just… I…um…I just needed to come.”

  She was beauty. I was spite. “To gloat?”

  “What?” She hugged her handbag like the black leather would protect her. “No.”

  “You hated her.”

  “She hated me.”

  “Why did you come?” Why did she ever let me go?

  “I don’t know. It felt like it was the right thing to do.”

  “Fuck the right thing.” I moved closer, craving her pain. “Look what doing the right thing has cost me.”

  “Cole, I’m sorry.”

  The sincerity in her voice broke me all over again. Sorry didn’t mean shit. Sorry wouldn’t right any of the wrongs. I’d chosen the devil. I’d suffer the consequences. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Sorry she’d been fucking my best friend? Sorry they’d stolen from me? Sorry Martin had gambled his way into a debt he’d never get out of, and used my wife, my fucking money, to run? I’ll never—” Anger clogged my throat. “I’ll never know if that baby was even mine. She lied so I would marry her. So she would have access to everything I owned. What the fuck? Who does that shit?”

  “Victoria.” Natalie found her voice, her spine straightening. “Victoria does that shit.”

  “You knew, didn’t you? You knew all this time that she’d ruin me.”

  “I hoped she wouldn’t.”

  “You knew her soul was poisoned, and you stood by and watched. Waited.”

  “Cole, no. That’s not what—”

  “Shut up. Just shut the fuck up.”

  Cheeks crimson, her eyes liquified. I hated her in that moment. Hated that I wanted her, wanted her tears, wanted her sympathy. Hated that I needed to break her so I could feel better.

  “I’m such a fucking fool.”

  With a trembling hand, Natalie reached behind and gripped the door handle, seeking escape.

  I couldn’t let her off that easy.

  “Victoria wouldn’t fuck me. Even on our wedding day, she wouldn’t fuck me. At first I thought she knew I’d been with you and was punishing me.”

  Natalie stood speechless, half turned away from me.

  “You know what’s most fucked up about this whole scenario? She started fucking Martin only after you came into our lives. I found her journal. She kept a goddam record of her infidelity.” I moved closer, towering over her trembling form, hating myself but unable to stop the purge. “You had Martin. She wanted him to spite you. So really, this is your fucking fault, isn’t it?”

  “Cole, stop,” came from her trembling lips.

  “I was perfectly, cluelessly happy. Until you.”

  “That’s enough.”

  “No. Not enough. It’ll never be enough. I don’t have my wife. I don’t have a child.” I sucked in a jagg
ed breath, whispered in her ear, “I don’t have you.”

  Natalie broke, choking on a sob. She shoved me away, curled into her SUV, and locked herself up tight.

  Hands pressed to the window, I watched her cry and fed off her pain.

  When she drove away, I stared at the empty space, the black asphalt dark and dirty as the tar in my heart. I hated Martin. Hated Victoria. But most of all, I hated myself.

  Cole

  I got the call at 1:36 AM. The baby was on his way two weeks early.

  I arrived in time to catch Ellis when he turned green and made like a falling tree.

  Lacey was a champ. They shooed me out of the birthing suite when it came time to push.

  Three hours later, I met Leon Matias Chambers.

  I excused myself when Natalie’s parents stormed into the room, giving them privacy to fawn over Lacey and the dark-haired angel.

  A haggard Ellis found me in the cafeteria, getting my caffeine fix. He fell into the chair next to me, eyes heavy with fatigue, smile wide and proud.

  “He’s perfect.” I shoved my cup of Joe his way. “Just perfect.”

  “I can’t believe this is my life.” The exhausted pallor of his skin blended with the dull peach walls. His hair stood straight up on one side. But that grin on his face? Priceless.

  “Believe it, buddy. You’ve got a beautiful baby boy. An amazing wife. You deserve this. All of it.”

  Ellis stared into the dark liquid, then pinned me with a hard glare. “You deserve the same, Cole.”

  I deserved exactly what had transpired. I’d been unfaithful. For that, I lost everything.

  I’d refused to discuss Victoria and Martin’s affair with anyone, unable to acknowledge a deception I’d yet to wrap my head around.

  “I miss Martin,” Ellis said to his coffee.

  “Me, too.” I forced the lie through clenched teeth. Truth was, the hatred had taken root and spread. A rampant plague. But that was my burden to bear. My disease to carry.

  I refused to tarnish Ellis’s memories of our best friend.

  “I’d like you to be Leon’s godfather. We’re baptizing him in two weeks. But if you’re not feeling up to it, I understand.”

  “I’d be honored,” I said, autopilot engaged. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  “Natalie will be his godmother, of course,” he added, clueless to the tempest he’d conjured with the mention of her name.

  Natalie. Of course. Fuck. I nodded, unable to look Ellis in the eye, instead focusing my attention on an elderly couple two tables away.

  I became hyper aware of the Barry Manilow Muzak playing in the background. The man sitting behind me started to sing along.

  Every nerve in my body zinged, itching for a fight, an outlet, a damn receptacle to vomit my inexhaustible anger.

  “Mind if I join you boys?” When the deep voice came over my shoulder, the mounting pressure eased. “Thought I’d give the ladies some alone time.”

  Ellis pushed to stand, but the man patted his shoulder and offered his hand to me. “Charles King.”

  Natalie’s father. Tall. Well built. Silver hair. Blue, wise eyes, framed in well-earned wrinkles. I liked him. I didn’t want to like him.

  “Cole Adams.”

  His grin faded, but that grip strengthened, a show of support. “Cole. I’m so sorry about your wife.”

  “Thank you, sir.” I managed to hold his knowing gaze, despite wanting to bow under the weight of undeserved compassion. The man wouldn’t be friendly if he knew what I’d done to his daughter.

  Settled in his chair, he clapped Ellis’s shoulder again. “Congratulations, son. He’s a beautiful boy. Beautiful.”

  “Any advice for a new dad?” Ellis asked, beaming.

  “Take care of that lady of yours,” he advised, crossing strong arms over a thick chest. “That’s number one. You take care of Lacey, set a good example for your son, the rest will fall into place.”

  “That I can do.”

  We BS’d about the weather, the Seahawks, the stock market. Ellis couldn’t stand another second away from his new family and practically danced out of the cafeteria, leaving me alone with Charles, a lukewarm coffee, and ice cold agitation poisoning my veins.

  I stared at the man whose daughter had spun my world out of orbit.

  “Must be rough, being here after losing your wife and child.”

  The guy didn’t beat around the bush. Respect.

  “Not sure the baby was mine,” I blurted.

  Charles didn’t flinch. Like me, like Natalie, he knew the truth about my deceased wife, had witnessed her trail of destruction firsthand.

  “She lied to everyone.” Like he’d pierced my bubble with a pin, the words burst out on a rush of air, the truth leaking. “She didn’t want me at all, you see? She wanted my money and my best friend.” God damn, what a relief to say those words out loud, to unburden the weight I’d carried.

  “Doesn’t make it any easier. You loved her. I suspect you loved that unborn child, too. The loss is real.”

  I slumped, no longer able to hold up the facade. I was not okay. I hadn’t been okay for a long time. And the man staring back at me, the stranger with familiar eyes, was one of only a handful of people who might understand the level of psychological damage Victoria had inflicted.

  “I loved her, true. But was it Vic I loved or someone else? Was it all an act?”

  He released a heavy breath. Shook his head. “I can’t answer that question, son.”

  “Funny thing? She ran away with my best friend. And I should be angry with him. But I can’t. He—”

  Charles interrupted, “She was a master manipulator.”

  I nodded.

  “You feel like she deceived him, too.”

  “Yes.” Jesus, the man got it.

  “And you’re struggling because you’re angry with her and not him.”

  “I hate Martin. Hate that he’s not here. That I can’t tell him how I feel or beat him to a bloody pulp.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this.”

  “No?” he asked, leaning forward, arms crossed on the table.

  “What she did to your daughter was far worse than what she put me through. And I hurt Natalie, too. More than once.”

  “Natalie.” He nodded, knowingly, then hit me with a hard glare. “My girl’s a fighter. Back then, Linda and I offered to move her to another school time and time again, but she wouldn’t leave Lacey behind. She put up with years of torment so she could stay with her best friend.”

  Torment. That word struck hard, wrapping around me like a scratchy blanket, then settling, softening, cocooning my soul.

  My pain had a name. My illness diagnosed.

  “She didn’t have to put up with the harassment this time,” he continued.

  “Because she was able to leave,” I concurred, bruised by the brutal honesty of the conversation.

  “She had no choice really.”

  That statement, paired with his glower, held more meaning than I was able to stomach. Did he know about Natalie and me? Our sinful attraction? Our brief affair?

  She’d had a choice. She could have stayed and fought for us. Maybe I had needed her to fight for me. God, was that the root of my anger? If so, that made me a fucking selfish prick.

  “Listen, Charles. I said some horrible things to Natalie at Victoria’s funeral, and I need to apologize—”

  “I can’t help you, son,” he interrupted before I had the chance to beg.

  “Sure. Sure, of course.” Anger rushed through me, and I choked down a slew of profanities. The guy was only protecting his daughter.

  Charles studied me, my heated face, my ticking jaw. He knew. A father always knows.

  Natalie wanted nothing to do with me. For now, I’d let her believe she was safely hidden away. Because, for the time being, distance was the safer option.

  He pushed to stand. “I should head back upstairs.”


  I rose, too, and shook his hand with more vigor than necessary. “Great to meet you, Charles.”

  “You too, Cole.” His smile was genuine, though cautious. “You coming with?”

  “No. No. Would you give my love to Lacey? Let Ellis know I’ll call him later?”

  “Sure.” He turned to leave.

  My feet rooted.

  Five paces away, he turned. “Word of advice?”

  I nodded, gnawing my bottom lip.

  “Get your heart and head in the right place before you try to see my daughter again. She’s tough, but she loves deep. That means she hurts deep.” He huffed, straightening his shoulders. “I don’t like to see her in pain.”

  With that, he left, leaving me with his unspoken threat.

  The pastor’s words fell victim to the deafening thump-thump, thump-thump pounding between my ears, the crowded pews a blur of color in my periphery. I focused on the sleepy baby boy and willed my body to stay upright. Unless in the ring, I wasn’t a fan of center stage.

  Natalie stood at my side, a fucking statue wearing a painted smile, mile-high nude heels, and black and pink glasses that matched her pretty rose-colored dress.

  We hadn’t spoken a word; we’d scarcely exchanged glances. She’d stayed ten feet away from me until we were forced to stand side by side in front of the congregation.

  I deserved as much.

  When the baptism was over, Ellis and Lacey headed to their seats next to Ellis’s parents to enjoy the rest of the church service. Natalie, I assumed, claimed her spot next to her mother as I fled, leaving the congregation behind, shoving through the back door, where I beelined for my waiting vehicle. Only then did I draw steady breaths. Only then did my racing pulse slow.

  Fuck. I wouldn’t make it through lunch. I’d have to bail. Come up with a pathetic excuse.

  I wasn’t strong enough to celebrate the happy couple and their newborn. I wasn’t man enough to face Natalie.

  A tap, tap on my passenger window pulled me from my harsh introspect.

  Natalie offered a shy smile, eyes glistening, so fucking beautiful my chest crumpled.