Holy shit!
“Evan!” I scream as I run out of the foyer and into the hallway. “Stop it!” I yell and grip onto his arm. I slam both of my hands into Evan’s chest, managing to separate the two men as Jacob grabs his jaw.
“You fucked my wife,” Evan yells over me, screaming at Jacob and this time I want to smack Evan straight across his face. I don’t. I don’t give him any reaction except to turn toward Jacob to apologize.
“I’m so sorry,” I offer Jacob who keeps a surprised smile on his face, as if it didn’t bother him in the least.
“You fucked—”
“Stop it!” I scream again, and this time my voice feels raw and it pains me to scream. My body’s hot and shaking, adrenaline coursing through my blood as my heart races.
“Get out of here,” I say as I usher Jacob away. His eyes flash with something, perhaps disbelief.
“You’re cheating on me,” Evan says it as if it’s a question, his nostrils flaring and his hands still clenched into fists.
“You’re an idiot,” I say, keeping my voice low, apologizing again to Jacob and feeling the heat of embarrassment.
“It was a sucker punch,” Jake says loud enough for Evan to hear. “And no, I didn’t sleep with Kat.” He looks Evan dead in the eye with the last line.
Embarrassment and horror wrap themselves tight around me as Jake leaves.
With my throat tight and arms crossed, I face Evan and say, “I’m not the one keeping secrets, you fucking asshole. He’s a client and nothing more.” My gaze almost shifts away from him. I know there was something, a chemistry that kindled between Jacob and me. A tension that I wanted to push. But it’s only because I was hurting, and I never submitted to the temptation. I couldn’t hurt Evan like that. I never would.
“What is wrong with you?” My question is dripping with nothing but disdain. For a moment I think of all the questions on the tip of my tongue, asking him why he’s doing it and when he turned into this man. But this is the man I married. I’m the one who’s changed. Not him.
Evan takes a step forward and his hand raises to my shoulder. I smack him away, barely feeling his hot skin against mine. “Don’t touch me,” I yell at him. My hand stings from the impact and I can’t stand it.
I can’t stand what we’ve become.
Evan’s shoulders rise and fall steadily.
“Kat,” he says and his voice cracks, like my name strangles him as he whispers it again. He takes a hesitant step forward, raising his arms and the blood from his torn knuckles is all I can see.
“What were you thinking?” I can barely ask him. Evan’s expression falls and he looks past me. It’s only then that I turn and see that Jake is gone. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What was he doing here?”
“I’ve never cheated on you, and I wouldn’t. Ever. Evan, I can’t deal with this. The partying and what you’re doing. Punching people for no damn good reason!”
“I quit, Kat. And you sure as hell know what it looked like. If he didn’t fuck you, he wanted to.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to tell you everything,” he says and his admission changes the tension in an instant. The evening is seemingly colder in the blink of an eye.
“I might … I might have some things happen.” He closes his eyes and moves his hands to his hair. Hands with split knuckles and traces of blood.
Was he always like this? I want to hold and comfort him. But it’s no use.
“I was stupid.”
“Evan, you’ve had years to be stupid. Years of me begging you to grow up.” Every word hurts more and more. I know I’m not going to give him what he needs. I can’t anymore.
“I wanted you to be my partner.” I whisper the words, my voice laced with disappointment.
“I thought that’s what we were.”
“I need someone who’s ready for the next stage of life.” I barely get the words out as my throat dries and closes, threatening to suffocate me. But I finish the thought, making my heart split into two as I look deep into Evan’s eyes and tell him, “Or no one at all.”
“Kat,” Evan says, whispering my name as if it’s a threat. One against him. Or maybe it’s a plea. “I’m sorry, okay?”
My head shakes and the words won’t come out.
“I’m sorry I hit him, it looked bad at first. It looked like something else to me, but even then I shouldn’t have hit him.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“It was shitty of me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he says and I believe him. But it’s not enough. He’s still the same Evan.
I wipe the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand as I shake my head. “I can’t do this anymore.” It’s the truth and even though it’s the worst pain that I’ve felt in my entire life, I know it needs to be done. “I will be better on my own.”
“Don’t say that,” Evan pleads, but he stands there not moving, his hands by his side and his body stiff with disbelief. Or maybe fear. “I can’t lose you,” he says. I feel like my heart is breaking, but I shake my head.
“Maybe I should just be alone.” My eyes burn with more tears as I shake my head again and say, “No, I need to. I need to be alone. I’m sorry,” my voice fails me as I whisper the apology. I hate hurting him; I can’t stand the pain in his eyes and expression. He doesn’t try to hide it in the least, and it shreds me.
But we’re just not meant for each other, not with the lives we’re leading.
“I love you.”
“Love isn’t enough!” I yell and hate myself. I truly do. “It’s not enough anymore,” I say, steadying my voice although it’s still low. I cross my arms and try to keep myself together, I try to hold my body upright although it begs me to collapse.
“Is that what you want?”
“I want a divorce,” I say the lie in a single breath. The words all come out at once, bunched together and needing to be said, to be heard. To be felt to the very core of who Evan is.
My fingertips dig into my forearms as I slowly raise my eyes to his and the conviction wavers.
He doesn’t speak, although his lips part once and then again. He licks them as his brow furrows and he visibly swallows then looks past me at the empty wall. Again he starts to say something but stops, clasping and unclasping his hands and trying to find some way to tell me what he’s thinking.
The worst part is that I want him to say something. I need him to give me something to hold on to him.
I’d go mad waiting to hear him tell me he’ll make this right. For him I’d fall again, I know I would. There isn’t enough strength in my body to keep me from Evan.
But he doesn’t say a word; he never does when I need him to.
It takes a long moment. Each second my heart beats, the steady sound is all I can hear. And then he turns his back to me and walks away without saying another word.
My body is freezing as I slowly turn from the hall and head toward our door. I can’t breathe, but somehow I am. I can’t manage a thought, but my mind is whirling with the image of what just happened.
The way he spoke my name like he needed me. The way his voice was laced with desperation and his eyes shined with determination, but then failure. The way his expression crumbled when he realized he lost me.
I don’t stop walking until I get back to our bedroom, barely glancing at the unmade bed and remembering the last time we shared it and everything about that night. I can still feel his lips on my neck, his hands traveling ever so slowly down my body as he whispered how much he loves me. And I believe the sentiment. No one has ever loved me like Evan, and no one else ever will.
It’s just not enough.
For me, I’d go back to him. I’d let him do what he wanted and I’d pay the price. I head into the bathroom.
I pick up the small plastic stick still hanging off the edge of the sink.
My head’s been a mess the past month. I didn’t realize I’d missed one period, let
alone two.
It’s the brightest set of pink lines. I may not be the best friend I can be, or the best wife for that matter. But for my child, I’ll be the best mother I can be and that starts with saying no to the life I once lived and had with Evan.
My hand splays on my lower belly as I lean my back against the edge of the sink. I have to tell him and I will, but not yet. I need to stop loving him first. I need to move on and focus on what I can change and make better for what’s to come.
It’s not just me who deserves that anymore.
Evan
I promise to love you forever. And that’s the easy part.
To honor and cherish you.
To keep your wishes and dreams my own.
To comfort you and keep you safe, always.
Till death do us part.
My wedding vows haunt me. The parts of them I can remember, at least. I can’t stop seeing the look of complete devotion on Kat’s face on our wedding day, as I read my vows from the scrap of paper where I’d written them.
My heart raced as I spoke each word, my gaze straying from the paper to look back at her. She was so beautiful, with a love that I knew I didn’t deserve.
I can still remember the feel of her soft skin as I cupped her cheek in my hand. I can still smell the sweet fragrance that drifted toward me as I leaned closer to her, all of our friends and family clapping and cheering as I took my first kiss from my wife.
I can still taste her lips on mine.
When I said those words, I meant them. I thought they’d be so easy to keep, to be honest, and it never occurred to me that I’d forget.
A large metal door opens at the end of the hall and I look up, my view obstructed by steel bars of the jail cell.
It’s been a long damn time since I’ve been locked up. Years. Almost a dozen years, to be exact. I knew I’d be back soon, though.
It was only a matter of time before they brought me in for questioning. Samantha tried to warn me but it was too late. Soon after I left the townhouse the cops picked me up and brought me in. I sit hunched over, resting my forearms on my thighs as I wait for the attending officer to come get me. With the footsteps echoing down the small corridor, my gaze raises in anticipation, only to drop again to the cement floor. He walks right past me without a glance in my direction and I drop my head, focusing on the cracks in the concrete and recalling every detail of the night that put me here.
My hands sweat as I twist my wedding band around my finger. I can’t think about Kat right now or what she’d say. I haven’t told her a damn thing about this and we’re in the same place we were when I last left.
The worst part about all of this is that I don’t have a way out yet. I’m falling into a dark hole, not knowing how I can escape, or if it will ever end. Never in my life has a situation seemed so dire and I’m more than aware that I miss her presence the most. It would make all this hell seem insignificant if only I knew she still loved me.
Someone coughs and I slowly turn my head to the left where it came from a few cells down, but I can’t see a damn thing but bars and concrete. I think there’s only one other person in holding with me. And he’s on the same side so the rest of the cells are empty. I guess Tuesdays are slow days for the station.
My foot tap, tap, taps on the ground as I wait. The cops haven’t given me any information to go on yet. Other than the word murder. My best guess is that they think I gave Tony the coke and knew it was laced with something deadly.
Even if I didn’t know it was tainted, I’d still be held accountable. At least here in the state of New York, I am. If it was deliberately tampered with, though … then someone wanted him dead. Although the only two people who knew it was even there were me and James.
My shoulders rise with a heavy breath as the anger gets the best of me. Rage seeps into my blood just thinking his name. The image of him flickers in front of me the second I close my eyes. He smiled as he patted my back, walking out the room after making sure it’d be ready for our client, Tony.
He’s the one who put it there. The only question I have on my mind is whether he’s the one who laced it. I can’t imagine he did. He wouldn’t be that stupid, but I’m not taking the fall for murder. Not to save his skeevy ass. I’m not a rat, but if James plays his cards against me—the proof that I was with Tony before he died, then I’m taking that fucker down.
“Thompson,” the cop’s voice bellows and echoes off the walls of the small cell.
“That’s me,” I answer, looking the detective square in his light blue eyes. I don’t recognize him as he puts the key in the lock and opens the door wide for me to get out and walk to the interrogation room. Adrenaline pumps hard in my blood. It seems more intense now than it did years ago.
Maybe it’s because I don’t know how I’ll get out of this. I have an alibi, but if James showed them the pictures proving I was with Tony that night, then I’m fucked.
I have to wonder if he would, though. If that’s the case, he was deliberately withholding evidence and they’d have to question his intentions and his involvement, as well as the fact that he lied during the first questioning. He could do it anonymously, though, and knowing his character, he’d sure as hell take that route.
My boots smack against the floor and I walk at an easy pace, making sure I don’t do anything to piss off the cop. He’s a short guy. Probably in his thirties, I guess. Lots of wrinkles around his eyes, though. Maybe from the stress of the job, maybe from the sun.
“After you,” he says with a grim look pulling his lips into a thin line as he opens the door. I give him a nod and walk in; he doesn’t follow.
I only hesitate to sit down for a moment. There are two men in the room already. A tall cop with broad shoulders and a thin mustache that I want to shave off and Jay McCann, the lawyer from James’s PR firm.
“You’re fired,” I tell Jay the second I sit down. I don’t even look at the slick lawyer. He’s represented me and plenty of other clients before, but I know he’d break attorney-client privilege and tell James everything. I don’t trust him.
“Are you sure?” the cop questions, not hiding his surprise in the least and glancing between the two of us as McCann stumbles over a response. Jay is obviously shocked and I don’t blame him.
“Evan,” Jay starts, his voice strong although he instinctively reaches to loosen the knot of the dark navy tie that matches his suit, “I highly suggest we talk about this before you—”
“Yes, I’m sure. Sorry, Jay.” I turn to face him and wait for a response, but he stands up and straightens his jacket. His clean-shaven jaw clenches as he grabs his briefcase and I can see he wants to say something, but he holds it in.
Probably a good call on his part.
I watch him walk around the table and exit without another word, leaving me alone with the cop.
“I’m Detective Bradshaw, Mr. Thompson.”
“I would say it’s nice to meet you, but …” I reply with a smirk and tilt my hands out with my palms up. Detective Bradshaw doesn’t laugh or respond to my little joke and that’s fine. They never do in here where it’s recorded. I know how this works.
“Have you been informed of your rights?”
“I have,” I answer him.
“And do you know what you’re being charged with?”
“Charged?” I say and although I keep my voice even, my back stiffens slightly as my muscles tense. “I wasn’t informed I was being charged with anything.” That statement comes out far too casually for the adrenaline racing through me.
“Well, I imagine there’s no refuting the charge on your part. You supplied Tony Lewis with the cocaine he overdosed on.”
“You want me to admit to handing over the cocaine to him, so you have someone behind bars to take the fall for a hotshot’s death?” I ask him sarcastically, seamlessly hiding how my nerves want to crack and how my blood pounds in my ears. I let out an uneasy huff of a laugh and shake my head. Leaning back in my seat, I look him in the eyes
with a smile as I say, “That’s not happening, Detective.”
“Well, someone is going to go down for murder, yes.” He sucks his teeth as he stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’d only be sentenced for your part and we’re willing to cut you a deal. Whoever laced it with fentanyl intended for it to kill. There’s no doubt in the DA’s mind that it’s murder, Mr. Thompson. I’d take the deal if I were you.”
He waits for a reaction, but I use every ounce of energy in me to not give him anything. I won’t say a word. Inside, I’m denying it. No fucking way. There’s no way James would give a client something that would kill him. They’re wrong. If it wasn’t James … then who?
“We know it’s someone within the firm. It’s not the first time one of New York Stride Public Relation’s clients have turned up dead.” He leans back and adds, “As I’m sure you’re aware.”
As he talks, he half pushes, half tosses the manila folder that was sitting on his end of the table my way. It lands with a heavy thud in front of me and I open it, feigning disinterest.
“Nothing points to that person being you, but this was intentional. Someone wanted whoever was going to be taking this coke to die. It was laced with enough fentanyl to kill instantly.”
I don’t say anything as he pauses, opening the manila folder when I don’t and pulling out a page with charts and shit I don’t know anything about. He points his finger to a graph, then taps it far too hard, turning his knuckles white. “Whoever did it wanted even the smallest dose to kill.”
Silence. All I do is stare at the man and then force my gaze back down, to the photos of Tony, dead on the floor of that hotel room.
“If you have any information on how we’d go about finding the killer, that’d be useful, and we’d certainly be grateful for that.”
I have to calmly exhale a few times, keeping as still as possible and making sure my expression doesn’t change in the least before I can respond. “I really liked Tony and it’s a shame what happened to him. It’s extremely upsetting to think someone murdered him.”
You Know I Love You: Book 1, You Know Me duet (You Are Mine 3) Page 17
