“Trust me.”
The stark urgency of his plea constricts my breathing. Then he slowly pulls me closer until we’re touching, chest to chest. The feel of him warm and hard against me causes my breath to hitch in my throat.
Bringing his mouth down to my ear, with his warm breath misting the shell of it, he whispers, “Come back and let me introduce you to my family. I promise, I’ll explain everything when they’re gone.”
I waffle in indecision for a few seconds, but the worry furrowing his brow and his eyes begging me to trust him makes it impossible for me to say no.
I love him. It’s that simple.
So I relent with a jerky nod and allow him to lead me back to his apartment.
Once inside, I see his mother and sister have moved to the couch in the living room. His brother—who I also recognize from pictures Scott has of him on his phone—is there too. His attention is fixed on the TV as his fingers frantically work the controller of Scott’s Xbox. He barely glances at us when we enter. Very unlike his mother and sister, whose eyes are glued on me. His mother comes smoothly to her feet.
“Mom, this is my girlfriend Rebecca. Rebecca, this is my mom.”
Smiling, Mrs. Carver extends her hand. “Nice to meet you, Rebecca. Scott was just talking about you.”
Nothing like shaking your boyfriend’s mother’s hand when yours is at its clammy best and hers is dry, the handshake firm. Unfortunately it can’t be avoided. Luckily for me, she doesn’t appear the least bit bothered by the fact.
“Nice t-to meet you too.” I can’t help the nervous break in my voice because his mother is kind of intimidating. And not in a mean way because the warmth in her smile appears genuine. It’s more in the way she’s dressed, the way she carries herself. So professional. When I look at her hair, her manicured nails, her makeup and her dress that reeks of a designer’s stamp, I get an image of a corporate big-wig. Not at all how I’d imagined her and so different from my mom, who does her own nails, touches up her own roots and whose most expensive indulgence is a Coach handbag she bought herself for Christmas two years ago
“Hi, I’m Chelsea,” his sister chirps from beside her mother. I feel my face soften and my nerves ease. Open and friendly. Pretty as can be. I warm to her immediately.
“Yeah, that’s brat number one and over there is brat number two,” Scott nods toward his sister then his brother from whom I get a cursory look and a monosyllable, “Hey.”
“Jeremy, manners.”
At his mother’s reprimand, he mumbles, “Sorry. Hi,” giving me something that looks like half a salute and half wave with the hand not holding the controller. Introduction over, he immediately directs his attention back to the game.
Boys.
Mrs. Carver and I share a look. The only thing missing is us rolling our eyes. Okay, maybe I did a little but I’m happy that we’re sharing something, apart from the love of her son. And maybe she isn’t as intimidating as I first thought.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
SCOTT
“I like your family,” Becca says when we wander back to the living room. I sit down on the couch and she curls up beside me, tucking her feet under her.
I heave a sigh of relief. Things had been touch-and-go two hours ago. What can I say? I was in shock and I’m an ass. Now, it’s time to come clean.
“They like you too.”
“How can you tell?” she asks, tipping her head back to look at me.
“Believe me, I can tell. My sister thinks you’re pretty and nice. My brother thinks you’re hot.”
She huffs a laugh. “Could’ve fooled me. I think you’re confusing me with—what’s the name of the game—Call of Duty?”
“Take my word for it he does.” I know my brother. Plus he told me when we went to my room to grab another game for him to play.
“As for my mom, she’s never held a conversation with any of my friends.” And never to any girl I’ve ever brought home. But then, it might have to do with the kind of girls I’ve brought home. I stifle a wince. The conversation ahead is not going to be pretty. The truth never is.
“So are you going to tell me now that they’re gone,” she asks, pulling back a bit, her gaze probing. “Why did you act like that when I showed up?”
“Do you remember last summer when I told you I had to go home? That I had to do something with my parents’ business?”
She gives a wary nod.
“Well technically that was the truth, only my mom is the Senator of California. I had to join the rest of the family on the campaign trail for a week. She was the incumbent and running to keep her seat.”
Becca’s spine straightens as she pushes off my chest until she’s no longer pressed against my side. Her eyes widen as if she’s been dealt a roundhouse blow to the gut.
“What?” she croaks. And then in a flurry of movement, scrambles to her feet.
I have no other choice but to follow her lead, rising to my feet as well.
“Take it easy. She’s a—”
“I heard you,” she snaps, her mouth tightened in…anger? I’m not sure yet. “Oh. My. God. We went out for a year and this is the first time you’re telling me? What the hell, Scott?” She slaps my hands away when I reach for her.
My hands drop helplessly to my side. “I couldn’t tell you.”
Her eyes flash angrily. “Why the hell not? You know my mom is an administrative assistant. You know my dad walked out on her before I was born. You know we couldn’t afford to buy a house until a year-and-a-half ago. You know I have “daddy issues” and that I have two half-sisters and a half-brother I’ve never met. But you can’t tell me your mother is the goddamn Senator of California?”
When my back is up against a wall, I have a bad habit of shutting down but that’s not an option this time. I shut down now and I lose her for good. I know that. “You wanna know why I didn’t tell you? You wanna know why?”
Before she can reply, I hurry to my room, grab my laptop off my desk and take it back with me to the living room, where I find her watching me like I’ve got a screw loose and a head full of marbles. “Here, have at it. It’s what you would have done the second I’d told you.”
Brows puckered in confusion, she looks at me and then at the laptop I’m thrusting into her hands. “What am I supposed to do with that?”
“What do you think? Google her.” It’s what everybody does. Well at least everyone who finds out who doesn’t know me. Everyone who knows me doesn’t have to. They know, if not all, most of the dirt.
REBECCA
Bewildered, I stare at Scott and then my gaze goes back to the laptop nudging my hand. I automatically accept it from him and sink back down onto the couch behind me. With the laptop propped on my thighs, I do exactly what he urged me to do—I Google Senator Carter.
If you want the truth, I’m not that curious about his mom. So she’s a senator. How interesting can that really be to someone who’s really not that “into” politics. My interest is in her son.
Half way down the results list, I get my wish because that’s when I see the name Scott Carver. And not one or two times but his name is prominent in the next six links.
I glance at him as he takes a seat in the other couch across from me, his long legs spread wide, his hands resting on his thighs. He’s watching me closely, strain etched on his face. Clicking on the link, I begin to read. My breath ceases on the caption of the story.
Senator Carter’s son is rumored to have addiction problems.
My horrified gaze shoots to his. His expression is oddly impassive. No, it’s almost like he’s bracing himself for something. Me to freak out.
“What is this?” I ask, dazed but immediately go back to reading.
He doesn’t say a word.
Reported problems with the Senator’s middle son continue. Sources indicate that the seventeen-year-old has graduated from marijuana to cocaine. The senator and her husband are said to be looking for a rehabilitation facility to help their son d
eal with his drug problem.
Unfortunately, trouble with their son is nothing new. Last year he was expelled from private school and is currently enrolled in yet another private school, this one is said to deal with high-profile delinquents. The school denies those claims and says despite the fact that they have many celebrity and high-profile pupils enrolled, there are not delinquents.
The senator’s son was also involved in a near fatal collision that sent local business man, Robert Stanton, to the ICU for two weeks last year. No charges were ever pressed against him. It is unclear whether drugs or alcohol or both were responsible for the collision. He was driving with a female passenger and both walked away from the accident unharmed.
I can’t even breathe when I look at him. “Is this true? The drugs, rehab, getting expelled from school, the car crash?” The list is mind-numbing. Beyond anything my mind can comprehend.
Scott takes a deep breath before he begins. “I used to smoke a lot of dope and I tried cocaine once. It was so bad, I never tried it again. I’ve never been to rehab but my parents sent me away for a semester to stay with my uncle and aunt in Nebraska. I guess that’s how that rumor got started. And yeah, I was expelled from school. I was going to a private, boys-only school and I was caught having sex with one of the girls from the sister school in the girls’ locker room. Actually, I was caught having sex four times. Four different girls.”
I think I’m going to be sick. I mean, it’s not like I thought I was his first or anything like that but four in how long? But he’s not finished.
“As for the crash, I wasn’t driving. The girl I was with was. I was sixteen, she was eighteen. She was drunk and I was high. The cops found two ounces of marijuana on me. Natalie—the girl I was with—was charged with a DUI, spent two days in jail and got three years’ probation. My mother pulled some strings and I got a slap on the wrist instead of a misdemeanor. That’s when they sent me to Nebraska.”
I didn’t even know I’d been shaking my head in disbelief until Scott stops speaking. I mean, I’m just sitting there in a daze.
“Yeah, that was me. That’s the kind of shit I used to do. And that’s why I didn’t tell you. I was afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you looking at me the way you are now. If I’d told you at the beginning, you wouldn’t have given me the time of day. You’d have told me to lose your number. Maybe that makes me a coward or selfish but I couldn’t risk that. I wanted a chance with you. I liked you and I knew that if I told you my mother was a Senator, you’d do what everyone does, you’d look her up or you’d look me up. In any case, you’d find out all this shit about me. Shit I didn’t want you to know.”
“But…this doesn’t even sound like you. You hardly ever drink and I’ve never seen you smoke or—I don’t know, do anything even remotely like this.” My hand gestures to the screen.
He comes forward in his seat. “That’s because I don’t do that shit anymore. I’ve changed. I swear to God, sometimes I look back and I don’t even know who that guy was. Not a fuckin’ clue.”
I’m still trying to wrap my brain around what I just heard because, in my head, I can’t merge the guy he was talking about with the one I know. Scott’s idea of a good time when he came to visit me in Sparks was a movie or dinner at The Cheesecake Factory. I can’t tell you how many nights we’d just been content to order in and watch something on TV or Netflix. And having sex in locker rooms? The most adventurous thing we’d ever done was have sex on the living room floor the weekend my mom went to Vegas with a couple of her friends. Damn, we never even had sex in his car.
“I’m not that guy anymore, Bec. I’m not. I swear I’m not that guy. I haven’t been for over two years.”
“Scott—”
“I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”
My heart squeezes at that. He’s right though, he knows me that well. I wouldn’t have given him a chance. Especially given my opinion of guys like that. He said he’s changed. But a little voice in my head is asking can people ever really change?
“So what happened?” Because I know something had to have happened to change him. Let’s not even get into how he got to be that way to begin with.
His face takes on a pained expression. “I came home one day and caught Jeremy in my room going through my stash.” At my perplexed look, he elaborates, “Marijuana. He was trying to roll a joint.”
“Oh God.”
Scott gives a hard nod. “Yeah, no kidding. I freaked the fuck out.” A self-deprecating laugh. “I guess I thought it was fine for me to do it but not them. But that’s when I stopped. No dope, no drinking, no skipping school. I even took a break from girls—not that I could get the decent girls to go out with me. Their parents thought I was the devil. They definitely couldn’t take me home or date me publicly.”
“But—what happened to you? Did something happen to you to make you…?” I give a helpless shrug. He seems to come from a pretty good family.
“To turn me into the devil incarnate?” he asks, his mouth curled in a humorless smile. “I honestly don’t know that it was any one thing. I was a pretty shy kid growing up. When I reached middle school, all I wanted to be was cool. I swear I would have done anything to be cool. I started hanging out with the wrong crowd. I stopped listening to my parents. By sophomore year in high school, I was labeled incorrigible and a nuisance. I didn’t care because the girls thought I was the shit and the guys respected me. Or so I thought. Anyway, it was about me, not my parents or my older brother. They say every family has one and I was the black sheep of mine.”
I wonder what that means for an only child like me? But wait, I have siblings. Sort of.
Scott continues. “So you not meeting my family, me not wanting you to meet my parents before, that had nothing to do with you. That was all about me not wanting to risk losing you. When you told me you were pregnant, it was in the middle of my mom’s campaign. I was already late joining them on the trail and my parents were pissed at that. Then I got scared. I didn’t want to be the Bristol Palin of my mom’s Senate race. I hadn’t had one mark on my record in over a year and I could just see the headlines, Senator’s eighteen-year-old son impregnates girlfriend, all over the news. My mom’s opponent would have used that to annihilate her and there’s nothing I could have done about it. If she’d lost, it would have been my fault.”
What he’s telling me shouldn’t make me happy. It doesn’t. But it kind of does. If I’d known how much else he had to consider when I told him, maybe things would’ve been different. It certainly would have gone a long way in explaining why he’d basically been incommunicado that whole week. It couldn’t have been easy trying to talk to your girlfriend about how you were both going to deal with an unplanned pregnancy while on the campaign trail with your family. What’s sad is he didn’t want to lose me and we ended up breaking up anyway. We lost a year we can never get back.
“You should’ve told me the truth,” I say, although I get why he didn’t.
“I know,” he says, his expression solemn. “But if you want the honest truth, if I had to do it all again, I still wouldn’t tell you—not at the beginning. First because I promised my parents I would keep a low profile in college, which meant not telling anyone who I was when I went out on those campus freshman tours. Why do you think I chose a school so far from home? I wanted to go to a college where no one knew me and had never heard of my family. I also knew the second I turned eighteen, the media would stop handling me with kids’ gloves. I didn’t want you to come under media scrutiny just because you were going out with me. I know how much you’d hate that. But mostly, I wanted you to see me as a guy so different from the one you were going to hear or read about that you’d know with one hundred percent certainty that I’m not that guy anymore.”
I give an understanding nod of agreement. The Scott I know, the one I love, is not the guy he just told me about. And if he’d told me the truth from the start, there probably wouldn’t have been a year to lose and I’d h
ave missed having him in my life. Missed the experience of loving him and being loved by him. So I guess in a roundabout way, things had actually worked out for us.
“So am I going to lose you?” His voice is strained and hoarse as if he’s struggling to hold it together. As if he’s waiting on pins and needles and truly doesn’t know where he stands with me. And in that moment, if I’d ever doubted his feelings for me, I don’t now—will never doubt it again.
Placing the laptop on the coffee table, I rise to my feet and move to stand between his spread thighs. “You never really lost me.”
A smile of happiness and relief lights his beautiful green eyes as he pulls me down onto his lap. “Thank God,” he murmurs against my lips before he kisses me.
EPILOGUE
REBECCA
“So how did it go?” Scott asks as I approach his car. He managed to get the same parking spot as he had when he dropped me off at the mall two hours ago.
“What do you think?” There’s no way he can miss my ear-to-ear grin. “If you can believe it, I think they were more excited about the meeting than I was.” Which, I honestly didn’t think possible. Although I’m pretty sure I was way more nervous.
“Oh I can believe it alright,” he says before pulling me into his arms for a kiss. What I think is going to be a brief kiss becomes long and involved, slick tongues tangling in wet demand. The kiss is entirely inappropriate for the viewing public.
Which is how I’m finally able to work up the will to end it, pressing firmly against his broad shoulders to separate us. “Scott, we can’t. Not here.” I glance around to see if anyone is watching. No one appears to be. But still…
Scott groans in protest but flashes me an unrepentant grin before reluctantly releasing me. I stand back as he opens the passenger door. He eyes me hungrily as I get in and buckle up so I know I won’t be getting a lot of sleep tonight. I don’t mind.
Those Nights in Montreal Page 13
