“Has this whole situation struck a nerve?” Eliza shoots me a disgustingly fake smile. “I’ll have you know there was plenty of consideration for Emily. She came here with nothing. No money. No family. Nothing. Meeting your brother was the best thing that could have happened to her.”
“Oh yes, I forgot. We quantify everything in dollars and cents in this family.”
“Let’s not get snide, Tyler,” she continues, wiping the large, round dining room table with her hand and frowning at the dust that she disturbs. “You benefit very well from your trust. And I afforded you the same opportunities as Blake. In fact, you had even more potential. You were more likeable, smarter, less troublesome when you were younger.”
“Except that I had no intention of selling my soul to uphold the family name. That may be true, before I realized what a cold and calculating woman you really are. But why Emily?”
“She’s a good fit. No baggage, no discernable history that would one day appear in a magazine.”
“And pliable. You insisted that Blake marry her because she would fit well into your plans for him.”
“Well, I couldn’t exactly have your brother marrying that girl with the tattoos and the piercings all over,” she says, referring to Aria.
“Both Emily and Aria are amazing, and neither of them deserve to be treated the way Blake is treating them,” I rebut furiously.
“What about Blake? Does he deserve the way you are treating him?” She rolls her eyes when I stare at her blankly. “Do you think I didn’t notice that you and Emily left the event the other night together, were gone for a remarkably long period of time, and then you disappeared and she reappeared looking like she had just finished running a half marathon?”
I avert my eyes. I have no response to that. I should have guessed that if anyone noticed those things, it would have been my mother.
“So I suppose,” she continues, “that it’s easy for you to pass judgment on others, but very difficult to admit your own shortcomings. Good, bad, or indifferent, you slept with your brother’s fiancée. Because you are impulsive and rash, relishing your freedom. And you justify your wrong actions in the name of love and passion. But how long before you leave here again, running away because everything is getting a little too hard?” Eliza stares at me, unblinking.
“You know why I left the last time,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Why, because you felt so passionately for your cousin Chayse? Because he went to jail, and your brother didn’t?”
“Because you sold him out, just like you sold Emily out!” I yell back.
“She is better with Blake. Blake will give her stability. And for someone who has no one, that’s what she needs. And if you had any common sense, or a practical bone in your body, you would see that leaving well enough alone is best for all concerned. You included.”
“How is leaving her better for me?” I ask.
“Because, contrary to what they tell you in the movies, love is not enough. Your father and I were in love once. That doesn’t mean that he comes home to me every night. I’d be lucky if he comes home once a month. It is what it is. If she accepts it, why should you care? She knows what she’s getting herself into.”
“I knew coming here was a bad idea,” I say dejectedly. “I had hoped to appeal to your human side, but apparently you don’t have one!” I storm back out the door, slamming it hard in my wake. Leaving Eliza Carson staring after me. I don’t know what I had hoped to achieve with my visit, but from it I got nothing but more angry.
I fly through traffic, weaving in and out of cars. Acting a fucking fool, acting recklessly. That’s really what everyone thinks of me. Eliza is right. I do run, far away from the amoral behavior of my family. There’s nothing left for me here. I’m sure as fuck not sticking around to watch Emily stand in a church and marry the demon seed himself. I can barely stand the thought, let alone witness the sight. This time, running away is not a choice. As far as I’m concerned, it’s the only option. Necessity. And it’s also the best thing for Emily. The only way she’ll be able to process her own guilt is if she doesn’t have to be constantly reminded of it by seeing its source.
When the plane takes off into the horizon, an unsubtle sadness envelopes me. I order copious amounts of alcohol in the hopes of forgetting the fucking travesty of leaving Emily. It doesn’t work.
Chapter 21:
Blake
I’ve spent the whole day driving. I’ve driven out to the Hamptons and back. Now I’m driving towards Long Island. I have no idea where I’m going. I’m seeing things from a whole new perspective. Jules, the bitch that she is, sent me a smiley face accompanied by a nice knowing you message in response to my impromptu resignation. Maybe I’m not as memorable as I thought.
I decide to swing by and visit Chayse next. It’s been over two weeks since I last saw him. It’s unusual, because he usually seeks me out at the hospital. So either he no longer works there, or he’s just avoiding me. Would make sense. It is, after all, piss on Blake week.
I run up the shabby carpeted stairs to his apartment and knock. I hear shuffling. “Chayse, open up!” I yell.
Chayse opens the door, and my smile disappears when I see the murderous glare he shoots me. “What the fuck do you want, Blake?”
“Chayse?” I say, confused. “Is everything okay?”
Before I can even react, Chayse pushes me back, his heavy arms pinning me to the wall, his forearm choking me. I struggle, but he’s strong, and he’s pissed. “What’s wrong, Blake? How about we talk about the accident? Anything you may want to tell me?” He looks ready to kill.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” I defend weakly.
Chayse releases me in enough time to swing a right hook, landing it square across my lower jaw. I recoil and barely have enough time to duck before his fist flies into my face again.
“Wanna talk now?” Chayse spits. “I’ll fucking start. I did a little research. I read the tox screen at the hospital. Ice, fucking sedatives, alcohol. You let me put Hannah in a car with you, and you were that fucking high! And drunk! I knew you were angry. I knew you were tipsy. But fuck! You never thought to mention that you were too fucked up to see straight?”
“I don’t remember!” I yell, grabbing at straws in my defense.
“Yes you do, Blake,” Chayse growls, still holding me tightly by the collar. I know better than to swing at Chayse. He won’t relent, won’t stop if I do. And he’ll probably kill me.
“And that was just the fucking tox screen. Imagine my surprise when I read the police report that you filed. I was driving? Is that why I went to jail? Because I was fucking driving! I wondered why the sentence was handed down after only one court appearance.”
“I had nothing to do with that!”
“Your signature is on the bottom of the statement. I gave a statement, too. Except my statement never made it into the case file. Neither did your drug test. Not the original one, anyway. I’m sure that the Carson family would just love to be embroiled in a scandal. Did she pay off the judge, or the DA? How did Eliza Carson get the fucking golden boy out of this? Do you even give a fuck about anyone other than yourself?”
I don’t answer. I stare stonily ahead, not man enough to meet Chayse’s eyes. Not daring to challenge him.
“You killed Hannah!” he yells. “Your selfish, reckless fucking behavior killed the girl I loved. I swear to God, you will pay for this. Not by my hand. But for all the shit you do, I’ll let karma fucking handle your ass. I spent a year in jail, doing time behind bars and trapped inside my own fucking head. I relived her death over and over, in nightmare after motherfucking nightmare! I hope you live every day of the future knowing that you’ll never be able to wash Hannah’s blood off your hands!”
Chayse walks into the apartment and slams the door behind him. The light fixture rattles above. I sink against the wall and crouch, my head in my hands. When karma does come for me, it can’t be much scarier than a murderous Chayse
.
Resolutely, I drive over to Aria’s place. It’s after seven pm, so I text Emily to tell her I’m busy. Not that I’m coming home soon. Just that I’m busy. My jaw aches, and I can still taste the coppery tinge of blood in my mouth.
Aria opens the door and stares at my lip. She walks towards me and gently touches it. I don’t lean into her. I just walk inside. I must look like shit. I feel even worse.
“What happened, Bake?” she asks quietly.
“Hmm,” I laugh. “Where should I start? Oh, you leaving me. Emily acting weird. Chayse finding out about the accident.” I point to my face and laugh manically. “Oh, and I quit my job by text. For you. And before the day is over, I’ll probably kill my kid brother.”
“No, you won’t,” Aria says simply.
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because he isn’t the problem. You trying to be someone that you aren’t is,” Aria answers. “And you should go, because I don’t do pity parties like this one.”
“What the hell is your problem? Are you still mad? Because I hit Tyler?” I ask angrily. “Why is everyone so fucking protective over that little asshole?”
“No, you hate Tyler because Tyler exposes everything that you aren’t. He’s kind, and loyal, and unselfish. And you hate standing side by side with him for that reason.”
I recoil from her touch, hurt by her words. She reaches for my arm.
“I have to be selfish too. All or nothing. I deserve better than this.” She stares at me with sad eyes.
“Aria, the only person who truly makes me happy is you. I know that. Two years together, and the only time I have felt real freedom is in your arms. I could never love Emily the way I love you. But I have choices that I can’t ignore.”
“Let’s make your choice easier,” a familiar voice says from the doorway. I spin to see Emily standing there, tears streaming down her face. I’m stunned, so shocked that I just stand there, slack-jawed. I have no idea what to say. Or who to speak to first. I look towards Aria, and she takes a step back. The look she gives me says unmistakably, handle this, or else.
“Emily—” I take a step towards her. She leaps back, arms raised furiously out from her chest.
“Don’t touch me!” she screams, angry unshed tears in her eyes. “Don’t ever come near me again!”
“Emily, just listen!” I shout in frustration.
“I have been,” she says as she shakes her head, tears streaming down her face. “How could you? How could you lie to me? I feel so stupid! And Tyler, he was telling the truth! The only one who did. And I treated him like the liar!”
“Tyler?” I question. Of course the little fucker has something to do with this.
Emily addresses Aria directly. “Has he told you he loves you? Wants to be with you forever? Doesn’t want anyone but you? Because he also told me all of those things. Contrary to what he’s telling you, the role he played as my fiancée was not for the sake of mere convenience. Ask him in front of me.”
“You don’t know me,” Aria says coldly. “And you really don’t know Blake, either. You never did. The person you saw was only a small glimpse of the man he is with me. Go away, little girl. You never could compete.”
Emily takes a step forward and in one swift motion, lands a resounding slap against my cheek, right on the spot where Chayse punched me. Pain erupts in my jaw like a motherfucker.
She turns to Aria. “You can have him,” she says venomously. “Please, take him away from me. Did you think I was going to hit you?” She glares at her. “I’m not even going to call you a fucking name. You know why? Because this piece of shit is not worth fighting over. And hell will freeze the fuck over before I ever raise my hands to fight over a man!”
I stand still, immersed in the eye of one phenomenal shit storm.
“And you!” she yells, turning to face me, pointing a menacing finger. “How fucking dare you? You don’t love either of us, do you, Blake? You are the worst kind of person. You know why? Because you lie with a straight fucking face!”
She turns on her heel to walk off, but rethinks the decision and turns again to face me.
“By the way,” she says. “I fucked your brother, at your mother’s charity event. And then the next day. I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon. And just for the record, he made me scream like you never could!”
With that, she turns and walks out, slamming the door behind her as she leaves. My vision turns scarlet as I think of Tyler’s hands on my fiancée. Or ex- fiancée. He’d better be gone by now, because if he isn’t, I’ll fucking kill him.
“So,” Aria says from the far wall. “Now that Emily is gone, there are no more obstacles. I know your mother hates me. But if you love me, you have a clear choice to make. Choosing to be with me is exclusive this time. You have enough money for us to start over far away from here.”
“You don’t understand, Aria,” I say, rubbing my temples in frustration. “Without Eliza, I am broke, no money, nothing.” I stopped thinking about Emily the minute she left. But I’m also losing the clarity I started out with this morning, in light of all that has happened today.
I stare at Aria. I quickly take in her bold stance, determined eyes, and fierce body. But spending my life immersed in her means that I sacrifice everything else. Career, reputation, money, family. Everything.
“I love you,” I say, not quite meeting her eyes. “But the truth is Aria, you aren’t enough. I’m sorry.”
I turn and walk out the door. Just as I reach the doorway, a glass shatters into the frame. Millimeters from my head. I guess this means I’m not welcome here anymore.
Chapter 22:
Emily
Tears blur my vision as the New York cityscape glides by. The sun has set. The bright neon lights glare holographically through the salty dampness of my eyes. All I want is to see Tyler. I need him to wrap me in his strong, safe arms and make all this go away. I hate Blake for hurting me, but I hate myself more for questioning Tyler. When I reach the apartment building, I speed past the doorman and take the elevator up.
I knock furiously at his door, my fists releasing all of my rage onto the hard wood. But there’s no reply. Going back downstairs I race up to the doorman. “Please, I need you to open a door for me.”
The doorman places a hand over his master keyset suspiciously. I stand before him, eyes pleading, tears streaming down my face. Without a word, he walks over to the elevator. He’s a little stunned when he realizes that it’s not my door I want opened. After much begging, he agrees to open the door to Tyler’s apartment. Immediately after it swings open, I burst inside. My eyes fall to the hallway, looking for the suitcases. My heart drops like lead when I see that they are gone.
In a miserable trance, I walk over to the pod chairs and drop wearily into one. My heart is broken. Twice in one day, by two brothers. I was nothing more than the prop in their pissing contest. Why would Tyler leave? Why would he send me to that girl’s place, knowing what I’d find? Knowing that it would shatter my heart?
Because I gave him no choice. He tried to tell me, yet I somehow still expected him to be here to pick up the pieces. I spend a good while indulging myself in this pity party for one, before I let myself into my own apartment, take the few clothes and personal items that I arrived there with, and leave.
Another cab drops me at the salon. Thankfully, the lights are still on. I walk in, small duffel bag in hand, mascara smeared mercilessly across my face, eyes burning.
“Emily?” Janie calls, rushing towards me. Mac leaves the towels he’s rinsing and he, too, comes rushing to me.
“What happened?” Mac asks. “Blake?” I just stare. “Tyler?” I nod slowly, my eyes welling again with fresh, painful tears.
Mac leads me up to his apartment, holding my elbow delicately, like I’m breakable fine china. He lets me in and sits me on the sofa. Violent sobs wrack my body. Each time an image of Tyler’s empty apartment finds its way into my mind, the tears stream like torrents down my face.
/> Mac sits opposite me, handing me tissue after tissue. Eventually, I’m calm enough to breathe. And I start talking. The words, once they start, speed out of my mouth at a hundred miles an hour. I tell him everything that happened with Blake and Tyler. And when I reach the end, the part where I realized that he was gone, I convulse with small, labored sobs. Mac, like a true best girlfriend, voices his feelings about both Tyler and Blake by way of profanity, and then folds me into his arms. And there I stay, for a good long while, hoping above all hope that I can somehow will my pain away.
The next days will go down in history as the eight days of Christmas, so dubbed by Mac. Every day for the next week I answer the door to large, ornamental floral arrangements, all from Blake, which I then toss unceremoniously out of the apartment window and into the waiting dumpster below. Then there are the cards. Letters. I rip those into shreds and throw them down the trash compactor. I throw every jewelry box and Tiffany bag in the bin as well. Mac forages through each night, retrieving the unwanted gifts and scolding me for throwing away good jewelry.
“Are you honestly going to wear all those things?” I ask him as he fingers a delicate filigree chain one day.
“Fuck no!” he answers. “I’m going to pawn them. Your cheating bastard ex-fiancée will be paying our rent for the next year, at this rate.” He shoots me a mischievous smile. I like the way he thinks.
A knock on the door interrupts the conversation. I roll my eyes, dreading the face of yet another florist’s delivery driver. I’m startled when, upon opening the door, I am standing face to face with Eliza Carson.
“May I come in?” she asks when she receives little more than a gaping-mouthed stare from me.
I stand aside and she walks in. Mac excuses himself to his bedroom.
Scared of Forever (Scared #2) Page 14
