Fate Interrupted 2

by Kaitlyn Cross

  “I am going to fuck you so good, baby,” she whispered, stroking him hard.

  He sprang to his feet, tearing from her grip and using the sheet to hide his confused boner. “That is rape!”

  She leaned back and spread her legs, laughing drunkenly. “Oh, Dean, stop being so dramatic. We’re married, for God’s sake.”

  “So,” he curtly countered, wrapping the sheet around his waist, his hard-on poking out like a spooky ghost. “It’s wrong, Megan!”

  She stumbled from the bed to her bare feet. “That cock is mine and you know it!”

  Dean’s face warped in the sunlight streaming through the windows. “Are you drunk?”

  “Dean, I’m pregnant,” she said, snatching at the sheet. “Remember?”

  He jumped back, her hand just grazing the silky material. She giggled and went to the rack holding her suitcase against the wall by the bathroom. Her hand disappeared inside, her tight bikini bottoms bouncing in the air. “Look what I brought,” she sang out, pulling out a plastic rod shaped like a dipstick with marble-sized balls dotting its length.

  Dean’s eyes widened in horror. “Are those anal beads?”

  She giggled and slid her bikini bottoms to the floor. “There’s some lube in the drawer.” She nodded to the nightstand next to him, sauntering closer with toned legs that casually stepped one foot in front of the other.

  He thrust a hand out like a traffic cop. “Stop,” he said sternly. “I have a girlfriend. I’ve made that very clear.”

  “Dean,” she said softly, backing him against a wall and placing the anal beads in his hand. “You have a wife.” She reached behind her back, untied her bikini top and teasingly let it slip from her fingers to the floor. “And your wife has needs.”

  “Megan,” he pleaded, his brow creasing as she began massaging her breasts. “This isn’t going to happen.” He tossed the anal beads across the room and she grabbed his junk before he could stop her.

  “That’s not what your friend here says,” Megan laughed, pulling on his softening cock.

  Dean slapped her hand away and backed into the couch, falling over backwards and giving Megan a clear shot up the sheet. He somersaulted to his feet and took up a defensive stance. “That’s enough!”

  “Ooh, so you wanna be the one to play hard to get now, huh?” She stepped around the couch and blocked his exit. “I’m game.”

  He opened his mouth to lay it all on the line when his cell phone vibrated on the desk.

  Their heads snapped around simultaneously.

  Megan’s features tightened. “That’s her isn’t it?” she grumbled, stomping toward the desk.

  Chapter Five

  Brooke sighed again, cranky from another slow day at Sugars combined with her sister’s unwillingness to listen to reason. “Evy, you’ve made it this far, why ruin it now?”

  “It’s been almost two days, that’s why.”

  She threw her hands out. “So?”

  “So, one text message isn’t going to hurt. This is bullshit, Brooke, and you know it!”

  Brooke’s arms fell back to her sides, defeat settling. “I know it is, sweetie,” she said warmly, lunging for Evy’s cell phone.

  Evy squealed and spun on her heels, keeping the cell just out of Brooke’s reach. “Brooke,” she cried, accidentally hitting the call button next to Dean’s name. Brooke tried snatching it again while Evy ran circles around the island table.

  “Nice one, Brooke,” she whispered, pressing the phone to her ear and hearing it ring. “You made me accidentally call him.”

  Brooke laughed, giving up her pursuit. “I made you call him? Just hang up!”

  Evy pressed a finger to her lips, blood pumping through her arteries. “No,” she hissed. “He’ll know it’s me.”

  “So what?” Brooke whispered back. “What if she answers?”

  “She won’t.”

  “Hello?”

  Evy froze, her features falling to her sneakers with her heart. “Put Dean on,” she said flatly, triggering a frown to slide down Brooke’s face. Evy had to remind herself to keep breathing in the staggered silence that followed.

  “He’s mine now, Evy.”

  Dean yelled something in the background.

  Evy’s lungs clawed at shaky breaths. She set her jaw and raised her volume. “Put Dean on, Megan.”

  Megan snickered into the cell phone. “Oh trust me, girlie, Dean is on Megan! All night l…”

  There was a brief shuffle like Megan had dropped the phone and Evy nearly hung up.

  “I’m sorry about that,” Dean panted into the line. “I’m here.”

  “Dean,” Evy murmured, using all of her strength on that one word.

  “Get back,” Dean shouted away from the phone. “I’m not playing, Megan!” Megan said something Evy couldn’t understand and Dean’s heavy breathing quickly returned. “Jesus Christ, this shit is driving me crazy.”

  “I haven’t heard from you in two days! Why haven’t you called?”

  Brooke crossed her arms, eager for the answer.

  There was another pause with no further words exchanged between him and Megan. “I’m sorry, but it’s complicated,” he replied, exhaling a weary breath across the hundreds of miles stretching between them. “Did Sugars get its license back yet?”

  “Does that mean you married her?”

  His hesitation spoke volumes. Razors tore at her gut as she struggled to maintain her composure.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” he said calmly. “Did Sugars get their license back yet?”

  She nodded softly, trying to keep her emotions in check. “Yes.”

  Dean breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Now listen to me,” he said, lowering his voice. “This is all going to be over sooner than any of us thought. I swear to you.”

  “That’s impossible; it’s already gone too far.” Evy’s words rattled around in her head like tin cans, sounding like someone else had spoken them. Brooke stared at her from across the table, dying to know what was happening. Evy felt like she was floating with her back against the watermarked ceiling, watching from above.

  “I know it has,” His voice fell to barely above a whisper as he wandered to the balcony door, staring down at the ant-like people playing in the surf below. “I need to know you trust me.”

  “Of course, I do,” Evy said on automatic pilot, even though she wasn’t sure she did. “Did you marry her?”

  Dean took his time deciding whether the question warranted an answer or not. “Yes.”

  His words cut like a steel knife through her windpipe. “Oh, Dean…”

  “Do you trust me?”

  She searched her sister’s face for the answer only to find more questions waiting. “Yes,” she said so faintly Dean had to turn up the cell’s volume.

  “Good. I’ll be back in touch very soon. Wait for me.”

  Evy’s mind reeled, making it impossible to form complete sentences. “How soon?”

  “Soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “And Evy,” he said, making her heart flutter with the mere mention of her name.

  She placed a hand on her chest. Her heart pounded against her palm. “Yes?”

  “I love you.”

  Evy swallowed thickly, her eyes turning glassy. “I love you, too.”

  Brooke rolled her eyes and went into the office.

  Dean massaged his sun burnt face as Megan snatched the bed sheet from his waist, exposing him in front of the glass door to the entire world. “I’ll call you soon.”

  “Dean, wait,” Evy shouted into the phone, staring at the industrial-sized dishwasher through vacant eyes.

  Dean hung up and covered his privates with both hands. “You psycho bitch!”

  Megan laughed maniacally, dragging the sheet back to the bed, just as naked as he was now. “Come and get it, lover boy,” she giggled, trying to see through his hands.

  He snatched some jeans from his suitcase and pulled them on with a quick hop. “Get
dressed. We need to talk.” He took off his wedding band and held it up for her to see. “And this, you can give back to your shithead dad,” he said, setting it on the desk and throwing on a t-shirt.

  ***

  Evy slowly lowered the phone, looking at the screen like she just realized it wasn’t hers.

  Brooke came back out of the office, tucking her phone in her apron. “What’d he say?”

  “He hung up.”

  “What’d that crazy bitch say?”

  Evy looked up, sadness bubbling in her eyes. “She said he’s hers now.”

  Shaun popped his head over the half swinging door, his eyes bouncing from Evy to Brooke. “Do we have anymore rolls of quarters?”

  “In a bag under the register,” Brooke replied, not taking her eyes from Evy.

  Shaun followed Brooke’s line of sight to the cell phone in Evy’s hand. “Did you talk to him yet?”

  Evy responded with a doleful nod, Megan’s words echoing in her head. “Just now.”

  “How’s he doing?”

  “Married.”

  Shaun traded a worried look with Brooke. “Evy listen…”

  “I know. It’s not real.”

  Shaun barely nodded and almost said something else before disappearing back up front to wait on customers.

  “I told you this would happen if you called. You have to trust him.”

  Evy discreetly wiped away a tear about to fall and tried on a phony smile. “I think I’m going to head home if you don’t need me.”

  “Sure, sweetie. Try not to think about it too much.” Brooke watched Evy grab her purse and head out the backdoor. “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid!”

  Evy pushed the door open with both hands. “Too late.”

  ***

  A lunch crowd of retirees, newlyweds and other vacationers kept the hotel restaurant busy. Waiters and waitresses weaved through rays of sunshine streaming through large panes of glass that overlooked the beach, trays of food and drinks perilously perched upon their shoulders.

  “You need to eat something,” Dean said, forcing himself to take another bite of a ridiculously overpriced cheeseburger. “Your mood swings are bad enough as it is.”

  Megan pushed a papaya salad around the plate, her eyes refusing to meet his, her diamond wedding ring sparkling in the sun. “I don’t have mood swings.”

  Dean rubbed the bare spot on his finger where his ring had been, already feeling lighter without it. He chewed the same bite for what seemed like forever. “I told you in the beginning I was seeing someone. Someone...”

  “Different.” She stopped the fork and finally looked up, her eyes constricting into angry slits. “I remember, Dean. I just kind of figured you’d get past that seeing as how we’re married and I’m pregnant with your child and all.”

  A gray haired couple seated at a nearby table stopped chewing and glanced over. They slowly turned back to each other and lowered their voices, continuing with their meals.

  Dean washed a cringe down his throat with a quick drink of beer, careful to control his shortened fuse. “You don’t have to get loud.”

  “You don’t have to have a girlfriend!”

  He wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin and cleared his throat, ignoring the turned heads. “The only reason I married you is because your father, Clay Crawford - the almighty alder…”

  “Yeah, I get it, Dean!” Megan said, dropping her fork to the plate with a loud clatter. She sat back and crossed her legs, folding her arms across her chest. “You act like he’s in the mafia.”

  A dumbfounded look flashed over his face. “I think he is!”

  She tipped her head back and laughed like he had just told her aliens had invaded New York City. She took a deep breath before growing somber, her teary eyes staring right through him. “Why won’t you at least give this a chance?”

  “Because I love someone else,” he said, dabbing a fry in ketchup. “I don’t get what part of that you don’t understand.” He watched her face slowly fold in the bright sunshine, cursing his selfish weakness that could potentially sink Sugars. He had come this far only to realize he couldn’t go a step further, no matter the cost. He loved Evy. Period. Nothing was worth being away from her, especially this. “Don’t you want to be married to someone who - oh, I don’t know – loves you?” He took her piercing glare for as long as he could and turned to the window next to them, wondering when they could catch the next flight to O’Hare, wondering if Ryder would try to stop them.

  Megan’s uncommon silence eventually drew his distant gaze. She sat slumped in her chair, staring at her barely touched food, a tear gliding down her cheek. For the first time, she looked scared and it made him hate himself even more. His carelessness had put a lot of people into compromising positions, Megan included, and it all pointed right back to him.

  Dean returned to the window and tipped back a bottle of Corona, squinting at the people strolling the beach, the surf washing over their feet, not a care in the world. Dean grunted. The world went on like none of this was happening, leaving him with a bad taste in his mouth. Whatever the consequences, it was time to right his path. It was time to put this place behind him.

  He turned to Megan, her pouty lips impossible to miss. “You are not alone in this.”

  Her glassy gaze jerked up. “I feel like I am,” she sniveled, dabbing the corners of her eyes with her napkin.

  “You’re not.”

  Silverware clattered around them. A group of what had to be the entire wait staff streamed out of the kitchen in a single file line, clapping and singing a traditional island song. A dark haired man in the lead set a small pineapple cake in front of a little girl with eyes just as big as her smile. She blew out the lone candle and everyone clapped like she had just foiled a bank robbery.

  Dean turned away, determined to get the hell out of here as quickly as possible. These people were way too happy. His grief mixed with this resort like a funeral at Disneyland.

  “I just want this baby to have the love of both parents.”

  His eyes shot back to Megan, her words still bouncing around inside his skull.

  She exhaled a wistful breath. “My mom and dad were always at some fancy dinner or cocktail party, or on vacation somewhere like this. For the most part, it was just me and the nanny.” Megan gazed out the window through faraway eyes. A short laugh stumbled from her lips. “Everyone envied us because we had money, but it was more of a curse than anything else.”

  Dean studied her face, fighting the tinge of pity flowering in his stomach. He still wasn’t convinced she was as innocent as she claimed. For all he knew, she was reporting everything he said and did back to her father. This had gone far enough, but caution was still a necessity.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  He slowly shook his head and drained the last of his beer, trying not to roll his eyes behind the bottle. Making small talk with Megan made his skin crawl and if she started talking about the weather next, he was getting up to leave.

  “Me neither.” She picked up her fork and speared a small piece of papaya. “My mom retired early when I was in high school, but by then I was so used to my freedom I couldn’t stand having her around all the time.” Megan slipped the fork into her mouth and chewed, looking up to see if he was listening.

  Dean met her blues and held them, the getting to know you game taking a toll on his patience.

  “What were your parents like when you were growing up?”

  His insides twisted into painful knots. She didn’t just hit a nerve, she dug a heel into it and slowly grinded. His gaze drifted out the window, drawn to the vast ocean less than two hundred yards away. A slideshow of images flickered through his tired mind: playing catch with his dad in the backyard, building a tree house, grilling hotdogs and hamburgers while his mom toiled in the garden with a big orange hat. He had always been thankful they were around for his entire childhood and dared not imagine anything different. It was a silver lining t
o the black cloud still following him to this day.

  “Dean?”

  “They were great.”

  The waitress set a new beer down and took his empty, her sun kissed skin setting off her pearly whites. Dean thanked her and took a long pull, desperate to numb his hangover.

  Megan forced a warm smile. “Are they both still working?”

  Dean let his gaze return to the amazing view next to them, the one that didn’t ask him stupid questions. “They’re both dead.”

  She stopped chewing and stared at him unblinkingly.

  Excited conversation peppered the air around them, spilling from table to table with praiseful comments about the delicious food or detailed plans of the day’s events. A loud burst of laughter erupted five tables away, probably the result of some sordid tale of last night’s alcohol infused adventures.

  “Are you serious?”

  Her words were slow to register. When he remembered what they had been talking about, his response came in the form of a short nod.

  More laughter and revved up prattle punctuated the quiet between them. Dean shifted in his chair, the festive mood of the resort colliding head on with their poignant conversation, making it impossible to get comfortable.

  “I’m sorry, Dean,” Megan whispered, throwing kerosene on the jumping flames. “When did this…”

  “When I was nineteen,” he said shortly. “A drunk driver ran a red light and t-boned them.”

  Megan gasped. “Oh my God, that is horrible.”

  Dean chugged his beer, the lime wedge doing slow somersaults inside the clear bottle. He wiped his upper lip with the back of his hand, refusing to meet her gaze.

  She set a hand on his, letting her guard slip for the first time since he had known her. “I’m sorry.”

  Dean pulled his hand away. “It was a long time ago.”

  She shook her head, her blond ponytail swinging through the air behind her. “No, I mean about all of this.”

  Dean sent an eyebrow bending into his forehead, turning to read the look on her face.

  “I feel horrible.”