The Consequence of Loving Me: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Aftershock Series Book 1)

by Kat Singleton

  “Every item you see here tonight has been donated by very generous donors. Some of you have already bid on items we laid out in the grand room for your viewing. We appreciate how much money you’ve already donated, just on those items alone. Now, we will present you with many more items in effort to help us fund our wishes for the upcoming year. I will explain the items up for auction, and if you’d like to bid, please hold up your paddle.” Maria fixes the train of her dress and faces the huge monitor behind her.

  “First up is an all-expenses paid trip to Breckenridge, Colorado. This includes a five-night stay in a ski in, ski out cabin. Air fare is included. Bids will begin at two thousand dollars.” Maria looks out into the audience as paddles are raised all over the room.

  For the next forty-five minutes I’m struck with awe as a ton of money is raised. They’ve auctioned off trips, meat, experiences, gifts, TVs, and so much more. At first, I tried to calculate how much money they’d raised thus far for Connor’s Ocean, but eventually the number got too high for me to keep track of.

  My mom and I are chatting about the dress one of the winners has on when Kenneth goes back on the stage. He stands next to his wife as she smiles out at the audience.

  “The next group of items are very special to us,” Maria begins. “They were brought to us by a very generous donor. He told us we could do with the items as we liked, that he felt we deserved them and would want to see them. He had mentioned how important it was to him, that if we could find it in our hearts to part with any of them, that they be auctioned off for money for the charity in Connor’s name. While there were two very special pieces we kept for ourselves, the rest we want to share with you. The donor has requested to remain anonymous, but his one wish is that if you buy one of these pieces, that you buy them with the intent to fully appreciate them. He was very firm that they couldn’t be simply a talking piece at your dinners.” There was a collective laugh heard in the ballroom. And then, “So, please, keep that in mind before you raise your paddle.”

  Men in tuxedos begin to push carts into the room with velvet blankets hung over them. There are four carts on the stage now. The audience is silent as we wait to see what’s been donated. I’m on the edge of my seat. I can tell, by the way Kenneth and Maria are both beaming on stage, that whatever has been donated is very special to them.

  I feel so much anticipation as Maria kindly asks the men to pull off the covers.

  The audience gasps as the paintings come into full view.

  I gasp, too—probably loudest of all.

  Because on stage are four of my paintings.

  The paintings I made after telling Maverick my story.

  The same exact paintings Maverick bought from Clementine’s.

  A sob breaks free from my chest when I realize what he’s done. When I see his love for me, selflessly auctioned off in the name of my first love.

  “This collection is called Imperfections and was done by a very talented young artist,” Maria says.

  Even though I’m seated in the middle of the crowded room, Maria’s eyes find mine. She softly smiles at me and I can’t help but return a pain-stricken smile back to her.

  “Bidding will start at ten thousand for the one on the far left,” she states confidently.

  People raise their paddles enthusiastically as they auction off each of my paintings. I don’t even realize I’m clutching my mother’s hand like a lifeline as numbers are thrown out that are way larger than I could have ever expected.

  Tears fall freely from my eyes as I witness my work raise more than one hundred thousand dollars for Connor’s Ocean.

  My paintings.

  I was so pissed at Maverick for buying them.

  Now, I don’t know how I could ever repay him.

  He gave me the greatest gift of all. Maverick had been so adamant that he didn’t want these paintings on some rich person’s wall, but instead of keeping them all for himself, he donated them to charity.

  To Connor’s charity.

  My hand goes to my mouth when it all clicks together.

  This man.

  I love him.

  Oh my god. I actually love him.

  The realization makes me push my chair out from the table.

  I need air.

  I need it fast.

  40

  Veronica

  “I can’t explain to you how happy I am that you chose to come visit.” Maria holds the front door open to their home, gesturing for me to come inside.

  I stand in the middle of their entryway, looking around the house I used to be so familiar with. It’s a lot smaller than the house I grew up in, but that’s why I always loved it. It had charm without being flashy and in your face.

  It’s been over a week since the charity function. Over a week of me crying, smiling, laughing, and wishing I could call Maverick to thank him. I have yet to talk to him, though. After talking with my therapist, I agreed with him that I needed to talk with the Liams more before I attempted to move on to anything else.

  So, here I am—standing in the Liams’ entryway, petrified of how this might go down.

  They were nothing but kind to me at the charity function, but that doesn’t mean my anxiety isn’t at an all-time high. For me to leave this conversation feeling like I can move on, I have to tell them the whole story. From my lips. And they can do with that information as they please.

  I would understand if they never wanted to see me again.

  But for the first time in forever, I have hope. Hope that they can forgive me for the exact thing I haven’t been able to forgive myself for. For the part I played in their son’s tragic death.

  Footsteps echo through the house. They come from upstairs, where Connor’s younger twin brothers must be getting into trouble. Kenneth barks something at the two of them. Giggling is heard soon after.

  Maria and I share a smile. She leads me to their kitchen, where teacups and cookies are already placed on the table. “Please sit, Veronica,” Maria says softly, giving me her warm smile as she pulls a tea kettle off the stove.

  This would probably be a bad time to confess to her that I hate tea, but I sucked it up for her when I was dating Connor and I will suck it up today as well.

  I mutter a thank you as she fills my cup with piping hot tea. Steam wafts out the top in soft spirals. After she pours herself a cup and is putting the kettle back on the stove, I put about five spoonfuls of sugar in my cup behind her back.

  We sit in silence for a few agonizing moments. It’s just long enough for my heart to start hammering against my chest.

  “Your paintings are so beautiful.”

  It’s not what I expect her to say, so I choke on the hot tea that’s halfway down my throat. After coughing for a minute straight, I’m finally able to respond. “Thank you so much, Maria. To be honest, I don’t even know what to say.”

  Maria gives me a beaming smile. “Thank you works just fine. Please know I mean it. The two pieces we kept of Connor, I’ll never be able to thank you enough for. They are so special to us.”

  “Oh, please don’t thank me.” I look down at my teacup, too uncomfortable to look her in the eye at the moment. “I would never have had the nerve to show you those, if they hadn’t been donated. I just—”

  I suck a deep breath in, trying to come up with a way to start this conversation. “I just didn’t think you and Kenneth would want anything from me after everything that happened.”

  “Will you look at me?” Maria’s hand reaches across the white table and places it on my wrist.

  I stare at my tea for a few moments longer before I get the courage to look her in the eye again. I don’t see any resentment on her face. There’s no hate or disappointment. I just see a face that is calm. Loving. Understanding. I still feel like I don’t deserve it, but I can’t turn away from her kindness.

  “Kenneth and I never blamed you, Veronica. Do you understand that?” Her small hand tightens on my wrist to get her point across.

 
I can feel the lump in my throat start to form. I’ve needed to hear those words for years, but I still can’t fully believe them.

  How can they not blame me?

  They still might when they hear the whole story from my mouth.

  “You don’t know everything,” I manage to choke out.

  Maria leans back in her chair while holding her teacup. “Why don’t you tell me then?”

  I take in a huge deep breath, trying to suck in as much courage as I can. This will be the moment that destroys me or heals me. Her reaction to hearing the truth is what will seal my fate. I can’t go on another day with this guilt on my back. But if she can forgive me for the part I played…well, maybe I can get rid of the burden that has sat on my chest for years.

  “It was my fault Connor was even in the ocean. We were fighting because I was being dumb. I loved your son, I promise I did—I still do. But, back then, I had a lot of personal things I hadn’t worked through.” I shake my head and let out a nervous, disgusted laugh. “I needed to fight with him to know he loved me. It was so fucked up.”

  Her eyes widen, and I add, “Oh my god, I meant messed up. I’m sorry for cursing. Anyway, we were fighting. I had conjured this picture in my head where I thought he wanted another girl in our class. I wouldn’t let it go. It was so stupid.

  “We were on the beach, and to get away from me, he walked to the ocean. I followed him. We continued to argue as we both went deeper and deeper into the water. If I hadn’t kept egging him on, if I just got out, I know he would’ve followed me. But I stayed in the water—in those waves—and so did Connor.

  “Finally, he hit his breaking point. After a while, I pushed him so far over the edge that he needed to get away from me. He did that by swimming deeper into the ocean. The next thing I knew I was pulling him onto the shore and he was just…so limp.”

  I’m talking so fast at this point, emptying all of this off my chest and I can’t get rid of it soon enough. I hadn’t realized how badly I needed her to know everything.

  I look her in the eye as tears race out of my eyes. They fall down my cheeks and stick to my chin. “He was so limp, Maria. I tried to bring him back, I swear I did, but it wasn’t enough. I wasn’t enough. I’m so sorry. God, I’m just so freaking sorry.”

  My throat clogs up at the end.

  I can’t get anything else out. All I can do is sit there and bawl in front of Connor’s mom. I shouldn’t even be allowed to grieve. I lost a boyfriend, but she lost her son.

  I feel guilty for even reacting like this in front of her.

  My eyes track a tear that runs down her cheek. Above us, shouting begins again. We both stare at the ceiling for a moment as we hear the twins fight about something in a video game. My eyes are still on the ceiling when Maria begins to speak again.

  “When we got the call—that something had happened to Connor—it was the most devastating moment of my life. No mother imagines they’ll have to bury their child, but it became my reality. When we got the call, we were out at a little league game for the boys. I dropped to my knees in front of everyone when the officer asked us to come down and identify the body. I lost myself in front of the whole town. Connor was our sweet boy, our first born, I didn’t know how to continue on without him and his sense of humor.”

  At this point we’re both crying at her kitchen table, our teacups haphazardly set in front of us, neither of us bothering to touch them.

  “When the on-scene paramedics told us what had happened,” Maria said, “when they recounted the story you told them, it became the second most devastating moment of my life. Because not only had I lost my son, I was then faced with the fact that you were there when it happened. That must have been such a traumatic experience and I couldn’t imagine how you were feeling. I know how much you loved him. Every person we talked to told the same version of the story you just told me, Veronica.

  “Except the story they told us had more to it. The fact that you—a tiny girl—had pulled a soaking wet Connor to a safe beach almost all alone. How you did chest compressions on him until your hands bruised. How your eyes were so bloodshot from opening them in the saltwater to look for him. They told us how hard you tried to bring him back to us. And I broke down for a second time that day because, even though I had lost a son, and I was absolutely devastated, a girl I loved as my own daughter had just gone through something so horrific. I wanted to reach out to you, but you had to heal in your own way, and I don’t blame you at all for how you handled things.

  “But, Veronica Rose Cunningham, I have to tell you something and I need you to listen very carefully.” Maria gives me a determined look, even though tears are still welling up in her eyes. “I never once blamed you for what happened to Connor—not once. I know you blame yourself and I wish I could take that burden from you because it isn’t one I want you to bear. But please know that every part of me thanks you.

  “I thank you because you did everything you could to bring him back. And yes, neither one of you should’ve been in that ocean when you knew the waves were high and that you were near a sandbar. The conditions were perfect for a rip current, but that doesn’t mean anyone is to blame or at fault. We’ve all been in that water at some point when it wasn’t safe.

  “It was a tragedy that out of the hundred deaths a year there are from rip currents, Connor was one of them. But I will say this again. It isn’t your fault, Veronica. It never was. You can’t let the guilt from his death continue to eat you alive.”

  I’m bawling, shaking my head at her.

  How is she not blaming me?

  It was my fault.

  For a few long moments, I refuse to believe she doesn’t hold me accountable. But the sincerity in her expression changes my mind.

  And I realize she’s right; if Connor or I had been paying any attention, we would have known a rip current was likely.

  We were near the sandbar.

  The waves were big.

  The ocean was basically screaming at us to stay away.

  But we both got in the water—both of us.

  “Connor wouldn’t want you to blame yourself,” Maria says. “And we don’t want that either. Forgive yourself, Veronica. Please, forgive yourself and live your life the way Connor would have wanted you to. While we don’t blame you for what happened to him, I will blame you for wasting your life in an abyss of guilt even after I’ve told you how we feel. How we don’t blame you at all.”

  Snot falls from my nose as I continue to sob. I’ve needed to hear these words from Maria’s lips for years. I take a deep breath in and, for the first time since I lost Connor, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

  Maria comes around the table and pulls me in for a hug. I rest my face in the crook of her neck as we both continue to sob.

  It’s a moment I will never forget.

  A moment of healing. Of moving on. Of going forward.

  Finally, we both gain our composure enough to speak.

  Maria smiles at me from a splotchy red face. “Would you like to know more about all that we’ve been able to do with Connor’s Ocean?”

  I smile at her. A genuine smile. One I feel in every part of my body—even my heart. And my head nods.

  41

  Veronica

  We spend two hours going through all the things the Liams have been able to do in Connor’s name, and it’s amazing. I’m in awe, staring in wonder as she shows me everything they’ve accomplished in the two years Connor’s Ocean has been running.

  I ask her a million questions, some she answers and some Kenneth answers after he joins us. They’ve done so many wonderful things in Connor’s name and it makes my heart so happy. I wish I could've been part of everything they’ve done so far, but I take comfort in knowing I’ll be part of what they do next.

  And she’s right when she again reminds me that I needed time to heal. I did need it, but already, I feel like my gaping wound of guilt has started to slowly close.

  It feels like h
ealing.

  We’re flipping through a file folder that holds all the plans for the recent charity function they just hosted. It took six whole months for them to plan it. Kenneth shows me the final total of the money they raised and I almost fall out of my chair. They raised over two-hundred thousand dollars. My jaw is hanging open as Maria continues to flip through the folder, continuing on about their future plans for Connor’s Ocean.

  An envelope falls out and Maria lets out a soft gasp as it lands on the floor in front of my feet. She quickly bends down to pick it up and says, “This is something you may want to read.” Her finger traces over the seam of the envelope before she hands it over to me. “Kenneth and I are going to go check on the boys.” Maria looks at Kenneth, giving him a look that makes it obvious she expects him to follow her upstairs.

  I curiously watch them go, wondering what’s inside the letter. Obviously, it’s something personal enough that they want me to read it alone. I tuck my finger in the seam of the envelope, flipping the top part of it open.

  Inside of it sits a handwritten letter.

  I unfold the piece of paper, my eyes instantly trained on Maverick’s name on the bottom.

  Whatever this is, it’s from Maverick.

  My eyes scan over his written words.

  Dear Mr. and Mrs. Liams,

  You don’t know me, but I recently came into possession of items I think you might be interested in. You might be wondering why a delivery driver just showed up at your workplace with six random boxes, but I promise you I think you will prize what’s inside them.

  In the boxes are paintings that somebody very close to me created. They mean a lot to me, and I think they’ll mean a lot to you as well. You see, the person who painted these is a girl I think I’m in love with. A girl that your son, Connor, was also in love with. Her name is Veronica Cunningham.

  She painted these in a very vulnerable moment for her. It was the night she came clean to me about what happened to your son. I need to add before I continue any further that I am so very sorry about what happened. Hearing Veronica talk about your son let me know that he was a very special young man. But I also gathered that she holds a lot of guilt for what happened to your son, and to be honest, it’s killing me to see her live like this.