Fate Interrupted 2

by Kaitlyn Cross

  He sat up straighter, narrowing his gaze.

  “I shouldn’t have made you come here and do this.”

  “You didn’t make me do anything. He did.”

  “Well, I shouldn’t have agreed to it.” Her eyes lowered to her stomach. “I just want this baby to have what money can’t buy.”

  Dean stared blankly. The way she rubbed her stomach made him anxious, like he needed to run.

  Megan dabbed her nose with the napkin. “But I realize now that this isn’t what’s best for anyone, especially this baby.”

  He cocked his head to one side, swiping his thumb back and forth across the bottle’s condensation. “What do you mean?”

  She cleared her throat and lifted her chin, her blue eyes finding his big browns. “I’m saying I want a divorce.”

  His thumb froze mid-swipe, his heart stopping with it as he watched her slip the diamond off her finger and set it on the table. The room’s excited buzz softened to a distant drone in his ears. “What?”

  Chapter Six

  Evy peeled her eyelids apart and squinted at the sunlit balls of tissue littering the coffee table, a small pillow clutched to her chest. The words Network Media Player faded to and fro across the flat screen, a mournful apparition trapped in its own web. Dean flashed through her sleepy mind, caught up in her web. His smile made her knees tremble. Like the time they were watching movies on the couch – this couch – and Evy noticed a spider meandering across the coffee table. After inhaling sharply and pressing into the cushions as far as she could go, Dean sprang into action. Carefully, he wrapped that black legged bugger into a wad of toilet paper and proceeded to chase her around the apartment with it, Evy laughing and shrieking, the floor shaking beneath their weight.

  She wrestled free of the cocoon of blankets strangling her body and swung her heavy legs to the floor. The smell of stale wine drifting from the glass in front of her awoke a dull thud behind her right eye. She glanced at the large wall clock and groaned. Early afternoon, but what day she couldn’t say as they all blended from one to the next.

  The kitchen floor was cold beneath her bare feet, the water from the fridge cool against her tongue. Evy chugged it down with greedy gulps, leaning against the counter as a frozen ice pick punctured her frontal lobe. She set the bottle down and made a beeline for the bathroom, refusing to look at herself in the mirror no matter how many chances she got. She could feel the puffy bags beneath her eyes without the mirror’s help.

  When she came back out, she stopped in the living room and put her hands on her hips, studying the nest she had created over the last two days. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup wrappers and chip bags covered the coffee table and floor, fanning the flames of sorrow in the pit of her stomach. She scratched at some chocolate squished into her leggings and noticed a wine stain in the shape of a mouse on the carpet around her feet. Evy gave up on the chocolate and buried her face in her hands. Dean’s face bobbed to the surface and she immediately pushed him back down, refusing to go there for at least the next ten minutes.

  Her phone vibrated on the weathered coffee table. She rushed over and snatched it, wincing when she saw Brooke’s name. Evy hit ignore and checked to see if Dean had called or texted. A groan rattled loose from somewhere deep down inside. Nothing. She returned the cell to the coffee table and turned off the TV. Evy stood there in silence, looking out the window and reminding herself she had another nine minutes left to not think about him. A loud knock on the door made her gasp. Her eyes scoured the messy room, not knowing where to begin first. Another knock convinced her it was too late so Evy padded over to the front door, knowing it was Brooke.

  Ben stared back through the peephole like he could see inside. He leaned forward, his big eye blinking at her. She took a step back and surveyed her wrinkled t-shirt and chocolate stained leggings, swearing under her breath.

  “Come on, Ev, I heard the floorboards creak. I know you’re in there.”

  “No, I’m not,” she replied, smoothing her hair.

  Ben stood there without moving, a heavy stillness slipping through the crack beneath the door like a cold morning fog.

  Evy rolled her eyes, knowing he wouldn’t go away, and opened the door.

  Ben’s handsome face soured. “Good God, are you okay?” he said, barging inside.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, shutting the door behind him.

  Ben scanned the living room, furrowing his brow as he digested the wads of tissue and chocolate wrappers. “I’m on a death check,” he said absentmindedly, turning to Evy and thumbing to the clutter behind him. “Have you been having a Lifetime marathon?”

  “No,” Evy grunted, traipsing into the kitchen to brew some much needed coffee. “It was a Netflix marathon.”

  “For two straight days?”

  She glanced at him out the corner of her eye, stuffing a filter into the skull of a red Mr. Coffee maker. “It was a day and a half.”

  “Well, your sister is worried sick. She’s tried calling you a hundred times.”

  “I’m fine and, for the record, those were my days off anyway.”

  “I know, but…” Ben paused to rest his hands on his hips, his retro Zeppelin t-shirt choking his biceps. “Listen, whenever my great grandma didn’t answer her phone my mom would make us pile in the car and drive over to make sure she was okay. Whole way over here I was trying to figure out how I would tell Brooke if I found you hanging in a closet.”

  Evy hit the brew button, a frown pulling at her lips. “I would never hang myself in a closet.”

  “Well, thank God for small miracles.”

  “My feet would touch the floor. I’d do it in the shower.”

  Ben chuckled and took a seat in a cottage armchair. “She’s just worried about you, Ev. Answer her calls, okay?”

  Evy turned to him and sighed, the back of her wrist resting on a hip. “Fine.”

  “So can you close tonight? We have tickets to The Black Keys at the Bradley Center.”

  She pulled two mugs from a cabinet and lifted a shoulder in a weak shrug. “Sure.”

  “Hopefully we can score some backstage passes!”

  An eyebrow leapt across her forehead. “How?”

  “Same as always, Brooke will flash the band.”

  Evy bit back a laugh. “Doesn’t that bug you? Guys seeing your wife’s boobs?”

  Ben shrugged. “Not if it means I get to meet the band.”

  A loud knock on the door drew their attention like a car wreck.

  The coffee maker percolated in the silence that followed.

  “That’s probably her now,” Ben whispered. “You’re in deep shit.”

  Evy exhaled a weary breath and went to the door, dreading Brooke’s impending interrogation, twisted the knob and pulled. Her heart started pounding so fast it made her dizzy. The hallway lights buzzed in her ears. White spots danced across her field of vision. “What are you doing here?” she muttered, clutching her chest like she was having a heart attack.

  “We cut the trip short, just got back in town,” Dean replied, glancing at Megan. “Can we come in?”

  Evy’s eyes snapped over to the blond dressed in skinny jeans and a shimmery top that matched her eyes, an icy finger running down her spine. Evy swallowed against the inferiority complex swelling inside of her and opened the door, nonchalantly smoothing her wrinkled t-shirt and tangled hair.

  “Deano!” Ben said, rising from the chair. His legs locked up when Megan fanned out from behind. “Oh shit,” Ben mumbled bleakly, eyeballing the pretty blond from top to bottom.

  “What’s up, Ben,” he said, shaking Ben’s hand and gesturing to Megan. “This is Megan.”

  Ben nodded and looked back to Dean, almost as eager for an explanation as Evy.

  Evy shut the door and turned to face them, the quiet as thick as her head. They stood there studying each other, the coffee maker going through its cycle with desperate choking sounds. The smell of Dean’s cologne and fresh coffee swirled with the
tension in the air.

  She stared at Dean, unsure if he was really standing there or not. Shit, he was sexy as hell. The way his cotton v-neck tucked in just behind the belt buckle around his dark jeans made her heart beat faster. Her hand subconsciously followed his intense gaze to the arrow necklace dangling around her neck. He smirked at her, making her knees go weak. She drew a steadying breath, her eyes snagging on Megan’s piercing gaze. Her freshly styled blond hair and makeup made Evy shift in her stance.

  “Doesn’t anyone call ahead anymore?” she mumbled, breaking the silence and brushing lint from her shirt.

  “You wouldn’t answer your phone if they did.”

  Evy shot Ben a look and turned back to Dean, her toes pulling at the carpet.

  “I’m sorry,” Dean said, diving head first into Evy’s green pools. “But this couldn’t wait.”

  Evy frowned. “What couldn’t wait?”

  “Maybe I should leave you all alone,” Ben said, inching toward the door. “Sounds like you’ve got a lot on your plate and I’ve got some flour or something to buy.”

  “This involves you, too, Ben,” Dean said sternly, his eyes remaining fixed on Evy.

  Ben froze in his tracks. “Oh good,” he murmured dully, retreating to the armchair.

  Evy wasn’t sure if she wanted to jump into Dean’s arms or punch his lights out. His presence was toxic, commanding her senses, triggering flashbacks of nights when the world had faded away as they melted together on this couch right here.

  “You’re very pretty.”

  Stirred from her thoughts, Evy looked to Megan and blinked back into focus. “Thank you,” she said, her voice cracking.

  Megan stepped closer, her hands clutching a yellow purse in front of her. “I’m sorry about the things I said to you on the phone the other day. I had no right to do that.”

  Evy opened her mouth only to find herself completely speechless. Her brow dipped, uncertain if she had caught the slightest hint of sarcasm in Megan’s voice.

  Megan took another step, the heavy smell of her flowery perfume driving Dean’s scent into the corners of the room. “That was wrong,” she continued, sincerity or sarcasm dripping from her tone.

  Evy wasn’t sure which.

  Megan’s eyes lowered to her belly, the ghost of a grin shaping her lips. “Sometimes I think my hormones are going to get me committed.”

  A short laugh slipped from Ben’s mouth and Megan shot him a look that made him squirm like a nervous school boy.

  Evy studied Megan’s belly, her anger rising. If there was a baby bump in there, she couldn’t see it.

  Megan glanced at Dean, who was still staring at Evy with his mouth agape. “This is wrong, too.”

  Dean met Evy’s puzzled expression with a light nod.

  Megan took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, hesitant to release it back into the room. “We’re getting a divorce.”

  The coffee maker finished its pot with a frantic sucking sound in the thunderstruck silence that followed. Evy heard Ben swallow hard. She folded her arms across her chest, her pointed glare darting back and forth between Dean and Megan.

  “Oh shit,” Ben mumbled in the background.

  “What the hell is this?” Evy asked, her patience wearing thin.

  Dean stepped in front of Megan and took Evy’s hand, a smile spreading across his face like a wildfire. “She knows this will never work, whether I’m the father or not.”

  Evy stared up into his big brown eyes, waiting for the punch line. When it didn’t come, she looked to Megan, who was watching them through thin eyes. “What about your father?”

  Megan turned to examine the apartment, walking across the living room like a fashion show runway, one high heel in front of the other. “I will deal with my father,” she said curtly. “Leave him to me.”

  “And Sugars?” Ben said, scooting to the edge of his seat. “Do we leave that to you as well?”

  Megan leaned forward for a closer inspection of some family photos lining the top of a bookcase. “That won’t happen again. Trust me.”

  “And how do we know that?” Ben laughed. “Because your crazy-ass dad is going to shit bricks when he finds out you’re getting a divorce. This isn’t up to you!”

  Megan pursed her lips and slowly turned to him, her gaze as cold as a moonlit January night. “I will tell my crazy-ass father that Dean isn’t the right fit for me.”

  “Oh sure, why not,” Ben grumbled incredulously, leaning back into the chair and shaking his head. “Because that’ll work.”

  “Why?”

  Megan turned to Evy, hoisting her perfectly arched eyebrows.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Divorcing your man?” Megan paused, waiting for a response from Evy that never came. “Because it’s the right thing to do,” she said, lowering her gaze back to her belly. “For all of us.”

  The way she rubbed her belly made Evy’s gut tighten. Megan was literally rubbing it her face. Evy imagined something dark and sinister inside that womb, some sort of creature that could destroy the world as they knew it. Megan’s cell phone started ringing and Evy breathed a sigh of relief when she stopped rubbing to dig the cell from her purse.

  Evy’s eyes gravitated back to Dean’s, taking solace in them while she could. “Is this really happening?” she whispered coldly.

  He squeezed her hand and stepped closer. “I’m sorry. I should have never gone, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

  She stared at him, speechless.

  “Can you ever forgive me?”

  The tan line around his ring finger drew her attention. She winced with the thought of him marrying Megan on the perfect destination wedding.

  “If you will let me, I will spend the rest of my life making it up to you.” He cupped one cheek in his hand, soaking up her warmth and looking her in the eye. “I promise,” he said, lowering his lips to hers. He hesitated for a split second bursting with anticipation, Megan talking to someone on the phone in the background, and the room spinning around them like an out of control merry-go-round.

  Evy breathed his breath in as they locked eyes. With a quick lick of the lips, he pressed his mouth to hers for the first time in what seemed like decades. Evy threw her arms around his neck and pulled him in. Fireworks exploded around them, waking the flush of heat between her legs. She hadn’t been sure she would ever taste him again so she kissed him hard, wintergreen on his lips, collecting his heartbeats in her palm.

  “That was my dad.”

  Grudgingly, they parted and turned to Megan.

  Darkness had settled in around the edges of her eyes. “He knows we’re back in town.”

  “How?” Ben asked, holding a hand up to stop her from answering. “Let me guess, the old bald bastard.”

  Megan kept her eyes on Dean. “I told him we came home early because you picked up some island bug.” She slipped the phone into her purse and seemed reluctant to continue. “He wants us to meet him.”

  Dean crinkled his brow. “When? Now?”

  She nodded weakly. “Somewhere in Waukesha.”

  “Waukesha?” Dean groaned, letting go of Evy’s hand like Clay could somehow see them.

  “Holy shit, he’s going to kill you out in the middle of nowhere, Dean.”

  Megan turned to Ben, a twisted scowl stealing her good looks. “He’s not going to kill him, Ben.”

  “What’s he want?” Dean asked, anxiously shifting from one foot to the other.

  Megan lifted a shoulder to her ear. “He just said it’s important, but he didn’t sound pissed. In fact, he seemed happy we’re back early.”

  Evy grabbed Dean’s hand and pulled. “Don’t go.”

  “It okay, Evy,” Megan said, grinning at her from across the room. “We’re going to explain everything to him and get this…insanity behind us.”

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Dean said, planting a wet kiss on Evy’s lips she wished would have lasted longer. They stared into each
other’s eyes and Dean mouthed the words: I love you, triggering a grin to burrow into Evy’s cheeks. “I’ll call you as soon as I get the chance,” he whispered, looking over his shoulder at Megan and nodding to the door. “Let’s go see what this is all about.”

  “Take a gun!” Ben yelled, as the door swung shut behind them.

  Evy locked the door and stood there, gathering her racing thoughts.

  “What the hell was that all about?” Ben asked.

  “Do you think she’ll really go through with it?”

  “Do you?”

  Evy had to stop and think about it for a moment, wanting to say yes more than anything in the world, but knowing better than that. Her fingers lightly traced the arrow around her neck in complete silence, Megan’s face seared into her brain forever. “No.”

  Chapter Seven

  Ben pulled his F-150 over to the side of the road and turned off the beefy engine. Silence enveloped the truck’s cabin, wrapping it in an itchy blanket of unease. The houses on both sides of the street were modest and new with small trees providing little shade. A sprinkler watered a nearby yard, its rainbow of relief lazily shifting back and forth through the air.

  Evy slunk down in her seat. “Is that him?”

  “Gray haired guy?” Ben said, unbuckling his seat belt. “Probably.”

  Evy squinted down the sun splashed street at the trim man in a navy blue suit standing in the driveway of a small ranch with a front porch swing. “Who’s the lady with the clipboard?”

  “Judging by the for sale sign in the front yard, I’d say a realtor.”

  Evy’s face constricted. “Realtor?”

  Ben peered over the top of his sunglasses, watching Dean climb out of his Jeep and approach the olive colored house like he was about to be executed. Megan got out and followed him, the spring back in her step. “What the hell is going on here?” Ben murmured, pulling out a smoke.

  “I don’t know, but let’s go.”

  “Shit.”

  “What?’ she whispered, ducking down again.

  “Down to my last smoke.”

  A heated breath seeped from Evy’s lips. “Don’t do that to me.”