by Pamela Ann
My chest felt like a boulder was pressing against it, making it hard to breathe. However, I pasted on a happy face the moment I entered Carter’s room. The day wasn’t about me, but him and his recovery. I was convinced his hankering for alcohol wasn’t the problem. The underlying difficulty was his determination to move on from his heartbreak. It was moments like these that I wished he would go back to his man-whore ways. Sure, it was such a blasted thing to wish for, but heck, I would rather see him bouncing between women than pale in a hospital bed, looking like death was knocking on his doorstep. Anything … any-fucking-thing but that.
When I got to the hospital, even before I entered the room, I knew Trista and Amber along with Brody were all already there. Trista’s high-pitched voice was so distinct it was hard not to smile just thinking of the kind of lecture Carter would be getting from her. She gave tough love, and I adored her for it.
Sometimes, when I thought my problems were too overpowering, I looked at my lovely friend and realized what I had gone through barely compared to her trials. She had endured losing her brother, distanced herself from her family when she’d had an affair with her cousin’s husband, lost her baby through termination, went through one of the darkest paths a woman could ever go through, and she had still come out after all those hurdles a sane woman. True, her boyfriend Taylor could account for always pushing her to be a better woman, but it was her—the woman within. The kind of power she was harboring made her plow through each difficulty with every fiber of her being. Though she might be dying inside, she still pushed on and never gave up.
I can be her. I can be just as strong as her, I reassured myself as I tried to compose my breathing with my fake smile in place.
“Lindsey, I’ve been hounding your phone all morning. Why haven’t you answered?” Trista gave me a censuring look before coming towards me and giving me the most comforting hug a best friend could ever give. I lavished in her warmth, hoping she’d transfer some of her strength and fire, for what was to come when I saw Dimitris that evening. If I ever saw him …
Returning her hug, I whispered, “I was in a hurry and never had the chance to take it out of my purse. Sorry, but I’m here now. Thank you for being here.” My smile, though weak, showed my gratitude for her undying support. “Has he woken?” I glanced at Trista before directing Brody a look.
His face brightened when our eyes connected. “He did for about thirty minutes, but after he drank some water, he went back to sleep. He said he’s never felt this shitty in his life.” He barked out a dry laugh, finding humor in such a grave situation.
Carter’s comments assured me that he was getting better. He just needed more IV fluids to hydrate his body and to recuperate more since his body had gone through such a shock. Most of all, what was his deal with the perfumes? I would address that when the right time came. Sure, the alcohol poisoning was troublesome, but perfumes? That was some Dr. Oz material right there. That action proved he was in a deeply severe mental state, and we had to fix that before he tried something even more drastic. That wouldn’t happen on my watch.
“Hey, Linds …” Amber reluctantly glanced at me. “I’m on my way out to get some coffee; do you want any?”
It was another attempt for her trying to branch the massive gap that was sitting between us. Usually, I ignored her complete existence, but maybe it was the draining fight I had with Dimitris the previous night that made me soften towards her.
I didn’t have an ounce of a fight in me, and to be honest, I was emotionally depleted thinking about what my future entailed with Dimi. Maybe it was time to move forward. What had happened to Carter was evidence that we were all fragile beings. We could die tomorrow, and we’d always carry regrets that weighed heavily on our hearts. I couldn’t go on that way; it was grueling to hate everyone who had done me wrong.
“Yes, I’d love one. Thank you,” I said politely before taking the same chair I had used the night before.
“I’ll swing out with Amber since I need to make some important calls before I head out to the children’s wing to say good morning to a few of my babies,” Trista grinned while she referred to the kids in the cancer ward where she volunteered.
“Ummm, one more thing, sweet cakes …” She gave me a skeptical look, one I had gotten to know well. One that usually didn’t have good news. “Emma’s going to be in the vicinity in about ten minutes. I don’t know, but I feel like I have to ask you first. Should I tell her about Carter? I’m not sure if these two are talking or what the what, you know? It’s so complicated, and she’s … you know.” She meant pregnant, though she didn’t want to say it out loud because Brody was there, and also, there might be a chance my brother would come out of his unconsciousness when he found out his one and only was with child again.
This was so tricky, and Emma was the closest friend I had. Contemplating whether to even tell her was frustrating, but she was one of the main reasons Carter was in this situation; therefore, I wasn’t sure if it would be beneficial to her.
“So, yay or nay?” she pressed while my mind rendered blank.
“If she wants to come see me, no one better stop her, or things could get ugly,” Carter’s weak voice broke through, surprising us all.
He still had his eyes closed, but apparently he had been awake the entire time, listening to us talk.
Emma. He would always love her, even when he was at his weakest. It saddened me to see him so unhappy; however, if he insisted on seeing her, then all I could do was be here to support him, hoping he got it together once Emma got through to him.
Here’s to hoping she can.
Trista blew out a loud whistle before accusing Carter of spying on us. She then explained she and Amber would be back before leaving the room.
It felt like old times with only the three of us: Brody, Carter, and I. I thought about us growing up. The olden days were so much simpler. How I wish I could have some clarity to help me through, because the old Lindsey would have figured out things. She would most likely hatch a plan that would succeed, and Claudine would already be out of the picture. Alas, I was the new version—too in love and too invested to see beyond my fears and problems.
When Brody started recalling what had happened after he found him unconscious, I remained mum, training my eyes on the two men I had grown up loving. Brody would always be family, so dreaming of hating him forever was out of the question. Even if our romantic relationship had all but gone to ashes, he would forever remain special to me. I had, after all, loved the man even before I had understood what the word meant.
What’s more, even though Dimitris was adamant that I didn’t speak to him one on one, I knew, deep down, it would put Brody and I in a much better place. Because, at the end of the day, we were family.
He had witnessed the rise and fall of my life. He knew my family; the darkness Carter and I had grown up in, always with a shroud of loneliness that went over the emotional abandonment category. He was one of the only people in the world who could read me without me having to explain what I was feeling. He and I deserved to talk, even just this once.
We both deserved to put the past aside. Besides, even though it was blatantly obvious that he still had feelings for me, I believed he deserved to understand that I had truly moved on from my hero-worshipping of him. I was a woman bent on love, bent on a mission to get Dimitris and the kind of trust and love I had thrown back in his face when I had decided to walk away from him.
I was done cowering. It was time to move forward, shredding old views with new ones. Maybe, just maybe, when Dimitris saw me maturing to the woman he had always dreamed me to be, he would change his mind and marry me again. It was worth a shot since I was left with little to no option otherwise.
Chapter 8
Lindsey
While Brody entertained Carter, I distracted myself with my phone, checking every other minute or so, hoping I would get a message from The Greek man himself. Since he was always up at ungodly hours of the day, and given that
he was on a European body clock, I knew he was up, most likely barking orders on his phone or going through work as he pushed his laptop to the hilt.
The night before had been scarily telling of where he and I stood in the long run. Clearly, he and I were on different wavelengths. Could it be due to the fact that he and I had an unconventional relationship to begin with? The more I thought about it, the more I was convinced things would play out rather differently and more in my favor had I decided to stay in Athens and be there with him full time. However, regretting a missed decision, weighing the what ifs, wouldn’t solve anything.
Seeing my brother talking and trying to laugh made me feel a little better somehow, though it truly nagged at me that he kept gazing towards the door. I knew what that look meant; he was waiting for Emma to waltz in here, crying a river, asking if he was okay. He was a sucker, and I felt ten times worse witnessing him hold out hope for whatever emotional scraps he could get from her. He was better than that; how could he not see it? There were a lot of women who would give their right kidney just to have him. Why not choose any of those?
I knew Emma was a great woman for him—hell, I wanted her to officially be my sister—but it wasn’t meant to be. He had better accept that because he would only hurt worse if he kept going this way.
“Everything ‘kay, Linds? Your eyes look puffy,” Carter weakly told me. Even though he appeared exhausted and out of it, his keenness seemed to be on par and pretty much intact. I hated seeing that he worried about me. So much so that he was addressing my puffy eyes right in front of Brody, knowing well enough how his best friend had been trying to get me back for months to no avail.
Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, I merely shrugged and gave him the biggest smile I could muster. “Their puffiness was the after effect of too much crying because you gave me a heart attack by pulling some dumb shit like getting alcohol poisoning. Why would you do that, Carter? I thought I was going to fucking lose you, too.”
Although it was only a partial truth, my issues with Dimitris Kosta didn’t need to have any light shed on them. I didn’t want Carter knowing how fragile my relationship was with the Greek. In fact, I didn’t want anyone to know how delicate it was, because I was afraid they would tell me they would be reacting the same, too. That, after what I had caused Dimitris in the past, they simply couldn’t blame him if the idea of matrimony with me had left a bad taste on his tongue.
I pushed my own troubles aside as Carter gave me a look, one that said that he was sorry, but also that he hadn’t meant to alarm me. He knew what I had meant when I’d said, I thought I was going to fucking lose you, too.
I meant to lecture him about being a reckless drunkard when my phone started beeping, alerting me to an incoming message. My heart rate sped up, soaring at the thought of Dimitris finally reaching out to me, but when I opened the message, I couldn’t help feeling let down when it was a note from Emma.
Could you meet me in the lobby for a second? I’m right outside.
Fuck.
“Give me just a second. I’ll be right back.” I waved my phone towards the men. “Something I gotta take care of really quick.” It was rather vague, but it was the best I could do. I wasn’t sure what Emma planned to do yet; thus, there was no point in telling Carter about it.
Both barely glanced at me before they resumed discussing the latest updates on anything soccer related; as a result, my instant exit from the room wasn’t even noticed.
Upon exiting the room, I immediately saw Emma looking glum as she hovered around the far end corner. If her teary face was any indicator, she felt rottenly guilty.
Advancing towards her, I made a wry face before giving her a fierce hug. “Hey, you,” I greeted her with a smile. “Since when did you become a shy woman?” My eyes connected with hers before my palm softly rubbed her still-flat abdomen. “How’s the little bun in the oven?”
The very thought that we would have a little miniature version of Bass Cole or Emma walking around brought immeasurable feelings of happiness to me. This baby would definitely be a knockout, whether it was a girl or a boy. The little monster had a prime gene pool.
While I was bubbling with joy, in the back recess of my mind, another thought came out of the blue, surprising me—the question of what my baby would look like if Dimitris and I had one of our own. It was a forward thought, one that left me reeling yet exhilarated at the same time. As much as I wanted to ponder what that all meant, weighing the pros and cons of my thoughts could wait until I was alone because Emma kept staring at me like she wasn’t sure where to start or what to say to me, making me frown.
“What’s wrong with you, woman?”
“I’m sorry. I’m sure seeing Carter this way brought out the ugly skeletons in the closet. I don’t know where to begin to tell you how sorry I am …”
Sigh. As much as I wanted to blame her, Carter was responsible for his reckless actions.
“I’m not going to lie and say the thought of blaming you hadn’t occurred to me, but let’s get real here. Everyone who knows my brother knows he’s a pro at alcohol binging, but for him to go overboard … there’s no one to blame but himself for that.” I purposely left out those damning perfumes. I wasn’t going to reveal that troubling tidbit to Emma. I was sure Carter was highly disconcerted by being in the hospital alone because, by being there, it marred his bad boy persona. Besides, I truly doubted he wanted Emma to see him as a basket case, either. He’d never forgive me for that.
Emma seemed touched, giving me a doe-eyed look before glancing towards Carter’s room. “I want to go in to see for myself that he’s okay, but I’m not sure if he’d welcome me or if it’s wise choice,” she reluctantly said before giving me a look that indicated she was more than open for suggestions.
Well … “He’s not over you—we all know that, Em—so what if you go inside and he gets clingy? What do you plan to do with that?”
She bit her lip, looking even more distraught. “I called Bass before texting you, and he told me he’d support whatever decision I make. He doesn’t like seeing me upset, and he knows I blame myself for Carter’s recent behavior changes. I want to talk to him. I want to help.”
Help? Her? Fuck. Sure, her influence over Carter might be effective to help him get out of this heartbreak phase of his, but there was a major downfall with that plan, too.
“What happens if he tries to win you back again, Emma? We both know my brother did that far too many times to even count.” I winced, dreading where this was all leading. “Even if you’re married to Bass, as long as you keep appearing in his life, he won’t get over you. He’s too crazy and too stubborn to listen to logic. When he sees you, he only ever sees you. That’s it. But if you think you can help him move forward by controlling this love he has for you and use it to your advantage to heal even a fraction of his injured heart, ego, and pride, then you’re more than welcome to take up the challenge.”
I loved those two madly and hated being in this position, but as much as Emma was the reason for his lunatic actions, she also had the power to heal him like no one else. Emma simply had that kind of influence over him. It was truly boggling how he would open his arms, knowing he’d keep on hurting over and over again. As the saying went, “Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”
She sighed. “You’re right. Maybe I have to think this through. There’s only so much stress I can handle. I mean, after the miscarriage, I want this one to be different. Going through that ugly process once was enough.”
“You know better than anyone what’s best for you, babe.” Reaching out to give her arm a tight squeeze, I released a breath, the heaviness in my heart easing.
“I’ll call him later today, and I’ll take it from there. Maybe he and I could talk without having to see each other.” She was talking more to herself rather than conversing with me. “Yeah.” She made a small nod, as if she had finally made up her mind. “I think I can handle that
better …”
I thought it was the best idea I’d heard all morning.
“It’s brilliant, babe. It wouldn’t hurt to try it. Thanks for dropping by anyway. It’s good to see you.” I leaned over to kiss her cheek before she and I made quick goodbyes and promised to call each other for updates.
It was admirable of Emma to even consider trying to help Carter after what my brother had caused between her and Bass. However, I supposed she was secure enough in her life to look beyond the past and focus only on the road ahead.
It was commendable, though a little foolish, too.
Heck, but who was I to judge? I had my own mess to solve, and by the look of it, my problems wouldn’t go away even if I made a deal with the devil just so Claudine would disappear from our lives. I felt guilty for not being one hundred percent focused on my brother’s predicament as I had promised myself; however, all that had dominated my mind since I dragged myself out of bed to shower was how to solve the problem of Claudine without damaging my relationship with Dimitris.
She was my Nikki to Emma’s previous hurdles with Bass. And God how I loathed that Russian cunt! She hadn’t stopped until she had wreaked havoc in all their lives, ruining and poisoning their relationship until there were only ashes left.
At one point, I had honestly thought Bass and Emma weren’t ever going to get back together. They were just too destroyed, too distrustful, too possessive, and their love was the epitome of borderline psychosis. They represented the fine line between love and hate. We were all shocked when they managed to pull through it and start having a well-adjusted married life.
If Emma could endure and survive all that crap, why couldn’t I? My girlfriends were my best friends and also my mentors, though they had no clue I thought of them in such a way. Heaven forbid Trista ever found out. She would happily lecture me on every mistake I committed from there on out. So, yes, there were valid reasons for why I kept that to myself.
