by Harlow James
With her tongue tied by NDA’s and contractual language that would void her employment and any future income from me if she caused trouble or ran her mouth about our marriage or me, she took her settlement willingly and fled California, keeping her maiden name since we never bothered to change it after we were married. And now the only time we speak is pertaining to the company, except for her impromptu visit right now.
“I’m happy, Trinity. I’m not the same person I was back then and it’s taken me a long time to get here.” And then I think about Shayla, what she must have thought seeing Trinity here, and my heart starts racing. “What did you say to Shayla when she saw you?”
Her lips purse with pleasure. “Oh, I just told her your wife was home and she needed to leave.”
“Mother fucker!” I shout, twisting away from her, fighting the impulse to throw something against the wall. “Why the fuck would you say that, Trinity?”
“Something tells me she didn’t know about me at all by the look on her face.” She chuckles and then reaches for her bag. “But I guess that doesn’t surprise me since you’ve never let anyone in. Thanks for the shower and free entertainment. I feel like my work here is done.”
“You had to come ruin my happiness because you’re pissed off that I’ve moved on? We never would have worked, Trinity!” I shout as she makes her way down the hall.
“I know. And it’s not fair,” she says over her shoulder before retreating to where I’m standing, fisting her hands in my sweaty shirt. “We could have been good together, Wes. I could have been standing beside you while you ran this company, the dutiful wife and mother of your children. But you were too much of a coward to let me. And now this woman thinks you’ll let her too? Well, at least I just saved her from the same heart ache.”
I push her off of me gently as she relinquishes her hold on me. “No, Trinity. We were together for the wrong reasons. We were young and stupid and drunk for most of our marriage. And Shayla is different. She isn’t you. And you quite possibly just ruined my future with her.”
“No, you were drunk during our marriage, Wes. And you have no problem ruining good things all on your own. See you ‘round,” she spits out before turning on her heel again and walking back out my front door.
I watch her leave and then panic sets in.
Shayla.
My God, what is she thinking right now? I told her I loved her last night and then today she thinks I’m married?
“God damnit!” I shout rushing over to the counter and locating my phone. I press Shayla’s name from my contact information and wait as ringing comes through the line. And then her voicemail.
“Please answer, Shayla,” I mutter, pressing her name again, but only hearing two rings before she sends me to voicemail this time. Realizing I have nothing more to lose at this point, I wait for her greeting to finish and then starting speaking at the tone.
“Shayla, baby. Please answer. It’s not what you think. Trinity… she wasn’t supposed to be here. What she told you is a lie. You have to believe me. I’ve never lied to you.” Yeah, but you’ve omitted a shit ton of truths.
“Please call me back. We need to talk about this. There is so much for me to explain. I love you, Shayla. That was and still is true.”
I press end on the call and then toss my phone on the counter, tugging at the strands of my hair that are still soaked with my sweat.
This can’t be happening. I had a plan. It was all supposed to work out.
Yeah, so much for that, Wes. Seems your ex-wife had her own plan in place.
***
After twenty-four hours with no response from Shayla, I leave my office the next afternoon and decide to confront her at her apartment. It’s a risky move, but I’m desperate at this point. I know she’s been getting my messages because she hasn’t blocked my number yet. Her voicemail still picks up after a few rings and my messages are showing as read.
But I can’t wait around and do nothing. Time is of the essence right now. Every minute that passes in which Shayla thinks I betrayed her will only push her further down the path of self-preservation. After everything that she’s shared with me regarding her feelings about relationships, her mother’s behavior and how that’s affected her, and how reluctant she was to let me in, I can only imagine the agony she’s feeling right now.
I run up to her door as soon as I park my car, knocking several times before bouncing on my toes, waiting for her to answer. But a pissed off Chloe answers the door, and suddenly I know without a doubt this was not a good idea.
“Chloe,” I start, but she reaches out and smacks me across the face, the sting of her palm radiating heat across my skin.
“How could you!” she shouts, shoving against my chest now.
“Chloe …”
“I vouched for you! I told her she could trust you! And you went and lied!” She moves to shove me again, but I gently grab her wrists, holding her still as her face contorts in anger.
“I didn’t lie. Trinity did. I’m not married.”
“Sure.”
“I was, but it was a long time ago.” I reluctantly release her as she stands there, narrowing her eyes at me.
“You still never told her, Wes. That doesn’t bode well for you.”
“I know.” I nod. “But I need to talk to her. I have a lot I need to tell her, but she won’t pick up.”
“Of course she won’t fucking pick up your calls! She’s heartbroken, Wes! You crushed her!” I can see the tears in Chloe’s eyes, and if her reaction is this strong, I can’t imagine how Shayla feels.
“Can I talk to her? Please?” I ask, looking around her to see if I can see Shayla inside.
“She’s not here.”
“Where is she?”
“Work.”
“But it’s Monday. Doesn’t she have class?”
Chloe shrugs and then crosses her arms over her chest. “Yes. But she also picked up a shift at the club. When Shayla’s sad, which doesn’t happen very often, she busies herself—running, work, anything to keep her mind busy.”
I sigh defeatedly. “Fine. Can you at least tell her I stopped by? And try to convince her to hear me out? Please, Chloe?”
She scrutinizes me with her gaze. “I want to believe you, Wes, but a part of me feels like you broke my heart too. You made me believe that there were good guys out there that had it all—looks, money, and a heart. But now …” She shakes her head.
“I promise, Chloe. There’s a story. I just… I need Shayla to let me tell it.”
She sighs. “Fine. But I’m not making any promises.”
“Thank you.”
I turn to leave and hop back in my Range Rover, staring up at the apartment door that’s now closed, reminiscing on every moment I’ve had with Shayla at that door, wondering if I’ll ever get to add to that reel, or if I’ll be faced to play it on repeat as I pay for my poor decision making, having no one to blame but myself for losing the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Chapter 25
Shayla
Work. Work. Work. Work. Work. (By the way, if you sang that to the tune of Rhianna’s song, than you’re definitely my kind of person.)
That’s all I’ve been doing for the past three days between class and struggling to sleep. Distraction is my antidote for dealing with emotional turmoil. It’s exactly how I dealt with growing up with a mom like mine, finding every excuse to leave our apartment to avoid living with a parent who never felt that her child’s emotional well-being was a priority. It’s what I did the second I moved out with Chloe, scared shitless to be on my own truly for the first time in my life. It’s what I’ve done for the past eight years to avoid acknowledging that I was always too scared to put myself out there to date for fear of being hurt.
And now that I have been—now that my heart feels sliced in jagged pieces that could never fit back together the same way—well, I’ve resorted to what I know. Work.
Any downtime gives me time to think, time to feel. An
d I’m done feeling. I let myself feel everything with Wes and look how that turned out.
When I got home late Monday night after begging Manny to let me work at Loft 24 even though I was off the schedule, I opened the door to find Chloe on the couch, elbow deep in a bag of Doritos. She was stress eating, a sight I’ve seen often enough to recognize. I sat down across from her on the couch as she muttered something about Wes showing up at our apartment earlier, wanting to talk to me. When Chloe explained that I wasn’t here, he attempted to convince her that he’s not married, or more accurately, that he was but isn’t anymore.
Despite my desire to believe him, the truth of the matter is that he lied. And worst of all, my mother was right! I never thought I’d give her credit, and I’ll be hard-pressed to ever admit that to her face, but she was right about Wes. He was married, hiding a life from me that at this point in our relationship, I should have known about. And even though the woman inside who still loves that man is begging for me to give him a chance to explain, the other woman—the one I was before this man entered my world and made me abandon my entire belief system—she’s put on her gloves, prepared to fight for her dignity to the very end.
After class Thursday morning, I decide to make a detour to the beach before I head home. With all of the chaos and constantly needing to be somewhere in the past few weeks, I haven’t been diligent about my morning runs. And I honestly can’t remember the last time I just sat in the sand and watched the water roll in. Even though I know that sitting there will probably let my mind wander, the tranquility that the beach gives me is something I desperately need right now.
I shuck off my shoes and plod through the sand, finding a spot at the top of the slope of the coast and making myself comfortable. I shield my eyes from the sun with one hand, and balance my upper body behind me with my other arm.
Inhaling deeply, I take in the smell of the ocean, the saltiness of the breeze coming off the water in front of me that looks like glass from the reflection of the sun.
My head spins to the right as I hear a dog barking, and then the memory of running into Wes slams into me like a freight train. I was watching a dog that same morning when I wasn’t paying attention and crashed into his chiseled chest, the morning the man made me forget how to think with something other than my vagina.
And then I agreed to go on a date with him despite my better judgment and look how that turned out.
I adjust my position, folding my arms to rest on the top of my knees and continue looking out over the water.
Am I being unreasonable? Should I believe what that woman said even though I saw her in his house with my own two eyes? Am I being that stupid, naïve girl who’s believing everything the ex says because I’m too damn stubborn to let the man explain?
But here’s the thing—even if she’s being a manipulative bitch, it doesn’t negate the fact that Wes kept a huge secret from me, a monumental part of his past that came back to haunt him. He never mentioned being married, either formerly or presently, and I don’t understand how you repair that type of trust in a person when you find out they’ve been hiding things from you.
About a half hour later, I return home to find Chloe chewing on her nails as she fidgets on the couch. I squint at her as I cautiously enter the apartment, not sure how frazzled my best friend is right now and what version of her I’m about to encounter.
“Chloe?”
She stands abruptly, shaking out her hands. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“Okay …” I drop my bag on the couch as I stand before her.
“I just want you to be happy.”
I sigh. “Chloe …”
She holds her hand up, palm toward me. “And I know that I should be on your side through this all, but I want to believe that what you two had was real.” Her shoulders slump as she watches for my reaction.
“Okay …”
“I want you to talk to him.”
“Chloe, I can’t.” I turn away from her just as she reaches for my shoulder and pulls me back to facing her head on.
“Yes, you can. I know you’re about as stubborn as they come, Shayla. But you didn’t see him the other day. His face was sullen. He looked like he hadn’t slept. He looked …”
“Guilty. He probably fucking looked guilty, Chloe!” I know I shouldn’t be shouting at her because she only has my best interest at heart. But right now, she’s the person in the path of my anger and it needs somewhere to go.
“No! He looked pained! Like a man that made a mistake, but is fighting like hell to correct it.”
“He never told me. He had a wife, Chloe! A wife! How do you just forget to mention something like that?”
She stands there, taking a deep breath. “He had to have his reasons, Shayla. Just like you had yours for pushing him away every time something threatened your wall you have up that prevents anyone from getting close.”
“Fuck you, Chloe! You don’t get to tell me about my walls,” I cry, tears building so fast that I can’t prepare for them as they start to fall. I haven’t cried since Sunday, and even then I only allowed myself a few moments to let the pain I felt to leak from my eyes. But then I told myself no more. I don’t cry over men. I’m not my mother. I won’t feel sorry for myself for my own stupid decisions.
“No, I’m the one person that can! I know why you have them, why I’m the only person you’ve ever let in. We’ve been through some shit, Shayla,” she speaks truthfully, referring mostly to her own upbringing rather than mine. Where I had one parent who was less than mediocre, Chloe had none, bouncing around group homes until she turned eighteen and we left Los Angeles together. “And guess what, here we are again at a crossroads in our lives. Well, mostly your life.”
“What’s your point?”
“Do you remember when we left and moved up here? How fucking terrifying it was?”
“Yes,” I choke out, wiping my tears as they continue to stream down my cheeks.
“But we did it. We struggled, didn’t know if we’d make rent most months in the beginning, but we managed. We’ve had good days and bad, rough patches and smooth sailing. And from what I understand, that’s what love is like too. It comes in waves—some are the perfect crest and others are jagged and harsh, but you still love the ocean just the same.”
“I really hate you right now,” I grate out even though that’s so far from the truth. I turn my back to her, but then I feel her arms wrap around me from behind.
“You can hate me all you want, but you’ll always love me because no matter what, you know that I’ll love you. I’ll be here no matter what happens, but if my best friend doesn’t pull her head out of her ass, I might just have to beat her into submission.”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Okay. I cave.”
“Awesome!” She jumps back and then reaches for her purse. “Come on.”
“We’re going now?” I watch her race for the door, opening it up and waiting for me to walk through it.
“Yes, before you change your mind.” She flicks her head in the direction of the parking lot. “Let’s go.”
I glance at the time on my phone. “It’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. He’s working.”
“I’m sure he’ll stop whatever he’s doing if you show up, Shayla. The man loves you,” she says on a tilt of her head. And deep down, I know she’s right. There’s no way that he wasn’t sincere when he uttered those words to me the other night. And I feel the same for him, so strongly, which is why this hurts so fucking bad.
“Fine.” I grab my purse and then follow her outside, hopping in her car as we make our way across town to Wes’s office.
***
“What are we waiting for?” Chloe asks as I stay rooted in the passenger seat of her car, staring across the street at Wes’s office.
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him.”
Chloe huffs and then turns to face me. “You tell him that you’re ready to hear what he has to say. And because he loves you and
isn’t a complete idiot, he’ll drop whatever he’s doing and tell you everything, right there in his office.”
Inhaling a breath of courage, I reach for the handle on the door. “Okay. That sounds good. Completely doable.”
But just as I pull on the handle to open the door, Wes comes striding out of his office holding his cell phone to his ear.
Just the sight of him has my body weakening, my resolve crumbling as I watch him walk to his car wearing a black suit and dark red shirt under his jacket. But his hair is a mess, probably from pulling on it all day. I’d like to think part of his stress is from missing me, although I know his job isn’t exactly a walk in the park either.
“Where’s he going?” I ask just as his break lights light up and he pulls out of his parking space and starts driving away.
Chloe turns the key in the ignition and then shifts into reverse. “I don’t know, but we’re about to follow him.”
“What? I can’t just ambush him wherever he goes, Chloe!” I see his Range Rover two cars ahead of us, which helps with our cover since we’re now following him around.
“Let’s just see where he ends up. If it’s a meeting, then we’ll wait for him to finish, but if he goes more than—” she glances down to the dash in her car, “fourteen miles, then we’re shit out of luck.”
“Seriously? You only have fourteen miles left in your gas tank? Who lives like that?”
“I do!” she says proudly, pointing to her chest. “Living on a prayer over here, Shayla!”
“You’re my best friend and I never knew this about you! You’re a heathen!” I yell as Chloe misses the light in front of us, stopping at the intersection that Wes just rolled through.
“Great, now he’s getting away.”
“No, look!” She points up ahead as Wes pulls into the parking lot of a construction zone, a building on State Street that had seen better days until apparently Wes took over the construction on it. Is this the project he’s been working on here?
The light turns green as Chloe guns the gas pedal, shoving me back in my seat. She screeches to a stop just before the building, searching for a parking spot and deciding on a lot that is across the street where we can still watch what’s going on with a clear view.
