by Harlow James
After parking and unbuckling, we both lean forward in our seats as Wes gets out of his car and walks up to a woman and a young boy in a wheelchair waiting on the sidewalk. There is chain link fence placed around the lot where the building sits, but one of the construction workers wearing a white hardhat comes over and opens up the gate, allowing all three of them inside.
“Who is that?” Chloe asks as I stay silent for fear of missing something important.
And I’m glad that I never turn away or take a moment to speak—because when I see Wes lean down and hug the woman, her lips touch his cheek with a kiss before she pulls back and cups the side of his face, staring up at him appreciatively.
And he smiles—fucking beams down at her before turning to the boy and ruffling his hair. The boy stares up at him, with a giant smile plastered on his face as well, and that’s when I see it—the resemblance between Wes and the young man sitting in the wheelchair beside him. The same blonde hair, the same smile, and I bet if I could see his eyes, they’d be a dark shade of green that rivals the color of the trees in a forest.
“What the actual fuck?” Chloe shouts, startling me from the train wreck I just witnessed, the desecration of our relationship and any hope we had of reconciling it.
“Take me home, Chloe,” I choke out, holding back my tears because what I just saw was the final nail in the coffin. Wes may have had a wife years ago, but it looks like now he has a fucking family, and I’ll be damned if I’m the fool that gets wrapped up in his double life.
I’m done.
As Chloe starts up the car, Wes turns his head over his shoulder and his eyes land on me as if on instinct, growing larger by the second as he registers what I just saw.
“Fuck! Shayla!” he bellows before running across the street as a car almost crashes into him. He stops in his pursuit as the car rolls past him and then he’s running again.
“Chloe! Fucking go!” I turn away from the window, curling into a ball as I hear him yell in the distance while Chloe speeds out of the parking lot.
“Shayla!!!!!” His voice calls to me, but I can’t look back. I can’t let him hurt me again, see me crumble as every memory of the two of us together shatters like glass, just like my heart is doing in my chest.
***
Two days later, I hear a knock at the door as my mind barely registers the sound. I lift the bottle of wine from my hand and take another swig before slowly standing from the couch. I’m not sure how long I’ve been sitting there, but I was enjoying the numbness that was seeping down my limbs and through my mind.
Once I have my bearings right, I stumble to the door, opening it without looking to see who’s standing on the other side of it. And that was my first mistake.
Waverly and Hayes stand there with at least a good two feet between them, but their eyes are filled with worry.
“Shayla,” Waverly starts, but I hold my hand up to stop her.
“Don’t.”
Hayes decides maybe he’ll have a better chance, so he speaks next. “Shayla, we need to talk to you.”
I scoff and then lift the bottle to my lips again, taking in several gulps of white wine this time. Yes, I’m drunk, and I fucking deserve to be. You know why? Because there’s only so many strong and independent woman chants you can channel before you fall the fuck apart.
“I don’t know why you’re here.” I walk away from the door and back to my couch, openly inviting them to come in even though that’s the last thing I want. And yet, a part of me wants to hear what they have to say. I’m all alone right now as Chloe went out for more booze and junk food to aid in my binge, and the quiet was eating away at me before the alcohol took over my body. Perhaps these two will give me something to distract myself with as I wait for my alcohol.
“Wes told us what happened.”
I laugh as I sit back down in the same spot on the couch I was in before. “Glad to know he has no problem telling the two of you about his life, when he couldn’t be bothered to tell me that he was married.”
“Yes, well, my brother is an idiot, Shayla. But he is an idiot that is very much in love with you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know that I can believe it. But hey,” I declare, sitting up higher on the couch while leaning my arm off the back. “Why are you two here together? How did you not kill each other on the way over here?”
They share a glance as Waverly rolls her eyes. “It was touch and go there for a minute, believe me.”
“There is nothing wrong with my driving,” Hayes interjects as Waverly’s eyes bulge out of her head.
“Are you kidding me? You almost ran over a woman and her dog!”
“The light was green. She shouldn’t have been in the crosswalk.”
“Pedestrians always have the right of way, Hayes.”
“No, the woman needs to get her eyes checked.”
“You need your eyes checked, Hayes.”
“Bite me, Beaverly,” he seethes just as she grins across the room at him.
“Just tell me where, sweetheart,” she replies with a back and forth fight I’ve heard more than once now.
“Oh, God! Will you two just fuck each other already?” I shout before bringing the bottle of wine back to my lips.
“Yeah, that won’t ever be happening,” Waverly declares as she flips her hair over her shoulder and then focuses her attention back on me.
“Then tell me why the fuck you’re here before I kick you out.” I slide down the couch again, resting my head on the pillow behind me.
Hayes takes a seat next to me and gently places his hand on my leg. “Shayla, you need to hear him out.”
“No, I don’t.”
“Shayla, I don’t blame you for being angry and doubting everything. And both Hayes and I told him weeks ago that he needed to come clean with you about his past,” Waverly adds as I peel one eye open and glance at her.
“So I’m the only one in the dark here? Great. That makes me feel way better.”
“With good reason,” Hayes adds. “He was planning on telling you why he was here in Santa Barbara and about his divorce in a few weeks once the facility was done, because believe it or not, they’re kind of interconnected.”
I sit up straighter now. “What facility?”
“The one he’s building for Nolan,” Waverly answers.
“Is that the boy I saw? His kid?” I ask, afraid to hear the confirmation of what I assume to be true.
Waverly’s eyes veer to Hayes and then back to me. “Is that what you think?”
I lift my shoulders and then slouch back down. “All I know is I saw your brother with a woman who kissed him on the cheek and a boy that looked at him like he hung the moon. First he has a wife—excuse me, ex-wife—and now he has a family? I can’t handle all of the secrets.”
Hayes sighs and Waverly shakes her head. “Please talk to him. I’ve… I’ve never seen him like this.” The worry in her voice startles me back to awareness.
“Like what?” I want to know if he’s suffering like I am, although alcohol is helping to numb the pain. But Wes doesn’t drink, so how is he coping?
And then a horrific thought comes to mind—he wouldn’t break his sobriety over our break-up, right?
“He’s snapping at people left and right. My father had to fix a deal he had going with a contractor in San Diego because Wes flaked on the meeting, and the two of them are screaming at each other on the phone. He’s not sleeping. I don’t even know if he’s eating… at least Grace says she’s making him food but he’s barely touching it. And part of me wonders if—” she trails off, as I finish the thought in my head.
If he’ll have a drink.
“I will be the first to admit that my best friend is a fool, Shayla. But as soon as I saw him look at you, I knew he’d be foolish not to pursue you. I also knew that he’d mess this up, but everyone makes mistakes. Wes has made a lot, but this is not one he deserves to be punished for. He punishes himself enough for his own poor choices as it is.”
I cast my eyes over to Hayes, and then to Waverly. “Why should I believe you? Believe him?”
Waverly shrugs and then says so effortlessly, “Because you love him and he loves you. And because since you’ve been around, I feel like I’ve gotten my brother back. You’re the calm to his storm, Shayla. You’ve helped him accept that he doesn’t have to pay for his mistakes for the rest of his life. That he can find happiness and want it, and that’s okay.”
I narrow my eyes at her, fighting my heart’s desire to see him, to listen and suck up my pride. But this is exactly why I never let someone in. This is the type of pain that I witnessed and told myself I’d never put myself through. This is the type of deception that is almost impossible to bounce back from.
I’m skeptical, and damn it, my pride has been bruised. I don’t let people hurt me. I don’t let myself need anyone because when you’re vulnerable, this is exactly the type of shit that happens. I’ve never depended on someone else for my happiness and now happiness seems impossible without Wes in my life.
Blinking at them from my seat, I feel myself sway on the couch as my eyes burn with tears because as much as I want to say no and stand my ground, the ache in my chest is getting harder to ignore. It’s been a week since I’ve touched him. The last memories I have of him are visions of him screaming my name as I fled from the scene in Chloe’s car. I don’t want that to be the end, the image I see when I think back on our time together. As much as I hate the doubt his lies and secrets have stirred up, the least I can do is hear what he has to say, especially if Hayes and Waverly are vouching for him this hard. They wouldn’t be encouraging me to hear him out if he were this god awful monster, right?
And has the time we’ve spent together meant nothing? Did I let myself fall for the man just for this to be the end of it all? I’ve heard that there will be ups and downs in any relationship, so am I running the first time things gets hard? I mean, this is pretty intense, but I love him—and I deserve to know the truth before I write him off completely.
Just as I come to my realization, Chloe bursts through the door and takes in the scene. “Did it work? Is she going to talk to him?”
“You were in on this?” I shout across the room at her once I realize what she’s insinuating.
Chloe rolls her eyes. “Yes. I know what we saw, but something just doesn’t add up, Shayla. How can he have an ex-wife and a family at the same time that he never told you about? And by how old the kid looked, I’m gonna guess he either cheated on his first wife, or got some chick pregnant really early on.” She shrugs. “Either way, you deserve to know the truth and he owes it to you.”
Waverly stands and shakes her head. “You’re both wrong. Just… talk to him.” She turns to Hayes. “Come on, asshole. Let’s go. We did our job.”
“I love your term of endearment for me. I can tell you really care,” he says on a smirk as he follows Waverly to the door.
“Believe me. You should honestly consider that a loving name compared to what I call you when you’re not around.”
“Please, talk dirty to me, Beaverly.”
“Shut the fuck up, Hayes,” she mutters as they leave our apartment and shut the door behind them.
“Come on. We’re going to his place right now,” Chloe says as soon as the door clicks.
I look down at my clothes and reach up to smooth out my ratted hair. “I’m a mess, Chloe. And I’m drunk,” I admit on a hiccup.
“Chug some water and go brush your hair. You should probably change your shirt too,” she says as she glances down at my tank top that is covered in cheese residue from the bag of Doritos we devoured earlier. We’re up to bag number four since Monday.
“Okay, okay.” I traipse down the hall, willing my mind and body to get somewhat sober before I arrive on Wes’s doorstep. Although maybe being slightly buzzed wouldn’t be such a bad thing? You know, soften the blow of the truth and all that.
By the time I change, freshen up, and down a bottle of water and four ibuprofen courtesy of my best friend, we hop in her car as she follows my directions to Wes’s estate. The wrought iron gate is open when we pull up. I cautiously open the car door and step out, staring up at the home I felt so safe in just a week ago, knowing now that I don’t know what happens when I step through the doors this time.
But I need to know. I need to hear everything. Whatever happens tonight, at least I can make peace with my decision knowing I had all of the information, that the list of what if’s won’t cloud my mind for the rest of my life.
“Call me later,” Chloe says as I close the car door and start to walk away from her, my feet carrying me forward without realizing it, as if I’m entranced and following a trail of breadcrumbs that will lead me to the man I love. But then I realize I have no way home.
“Wait! What if things don’t go well? You’re just going to leave me here?”
“I’ll think you’ll be fine.” She smiles at me wistfully through her window. “You’re doing the right thing, Shayla.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I turn back around and keep moving forward, slowing down as I inch my way to his front door with a surge of hope in my chest, but also a shield erected over my heart. I don’t know what to expect, what I might hear, but I know I don’t want to be right about accepting that this was a mistake—that letting Wes in was a catastrophic mistake I will pay for for the rest of my life.
However, I won’t know that until I face what’s on the other side of the door head on.
I debate knocking, but then decide maybe just to walk in. Show him that there’s no turning back from this moment. We face this head on tonight and decide after what happens between the two of us.
I turn the knob without another moment’s hesitation, opening up the door to a dark house with only one light coming from the living room straight ahead and the flicker of flames casting shadows on the walls. I gently shut the door and then quietly walk down the entry way, past the dining room and office and into the open room where the living room and kitchen are—but the sight in front of me nearly steals the breath from my lungs.
A dimly lit shadow of Wes hovers over the mantel of his fireplace, one hand resting on the brick—and the other clutching a bottle of vodka.
Chapter 26
Wes
I don’t know why I bought it. I knew it was stupid and the worst possible decision I could have made tonight.
No, strike that. The worst possible decision I could make is actually opening it, but just holding onto the bottle of vodka in my hand is toying with fire just enough.
I know I should call Chase, let my sponsor talk me down off of the proverbial cliff I’m peering over right now. But for just one moment longer, I’m going to clutch onto this bottle as if I’m holding onto hope.
At this point, I don’t see what else I have to lose. I’ve already battled addiction, almost killed a kid, and lost the love of my life. How much worse can it get?
I peer down at the bottle, watch the flames from the fire dance through the clear liquid and the glass, reminding me of the burn I would feel down my throat if I just took one sip.
But one sip will turn into two, and before I know it, I will have thrown six years of sobriety down the drain for one night of drowning my sorrows. I’ve come so far. I can’t go back to that place, even though the depths of that despair I felt during those days is reminiscent of what I feel right now without Shayla.
I don’t know what else to do. How can I tell her everything if she won’t hear me out? How can I convince her that I can’t live without her if her mind is already made up? How do I erase the image of her driving away from me with hurt in her eyes that slices right through my heart?
“Wes?”
I spin around and almost drop the bottle to the floor as I take in Shayla standing across from me in my living room, her face free of make-up and her eyes filled with tears.
“Did you …” she starts, but I answer her before she can finish.
“No. No, I
didn’t.” Frozen to the ground, I wait to make sure that what I’m seeing is real—that the woman who owns me is actually here in my house and not a figment of my imagination.
When I snap out of my trance, I place the bottle of vodka on the coffee table, relinquishing the hold it has on me as the person who now possesses that same pull stands before me. “What are you doing here?” I ask like a fool, knowing that it doesn’t matter. At least she’s fucking here.
“I—I want to hear what you have to say. I’m so confused and I just—” She shakes her head and then looks down at the ground.
“I want to tell you everything, Shayla. I promise you, no more secrets.”
She takes a deep breath and then nods. “I’m ready to hear it all.”
***
“It all happened around when my divorce was finalized. My grandfather had died about two months prior, and named me the new CEO of the company,” I recall, knowing that Shayla knows some of those details. “I wanted to let loose, celebrate that my marriage to Trinity was over.”
“That’s her name? Your wife—I mean, ex-wife?”
I nod. “Yes. I married her at twenty-two. We were young and stupid and thought all that mattered was drinking and partying. Ultimately, I realized I never should have married her and things got ugly as my drinking got worse. I know that divorcing her was not only the best decision for me, but also for her. I was a mess, and she was sick of putting up with me.”
“I see.”
“But now she works for me,” I admit as Shayla’s eyebrows shoot up.
“What?”
“Part of our divorce settlement entitled her to employment with Morgan Hotels. It was a way for me to make sure she was taken care of, even though things didn’t work out between us. Besides, I was three sheets to the wind when we made the arrangement so I thought it was a brilliant idea.”
“My God, Wes.”
“Anyway, she saw pictures of us together and came out here just to stir up shit, which she was successful in apparently.”
