Accidentally on Purpose 6 Book Box Set

by L. D. Davis

  “How soon?” Her voice was unusually high and her eyes had widened. She bit down on her full lip.

  “Next week,” I said stiffly. I had to ignore the normal things about her that would typically drive me crazy. Like her teeth sinking into her plump lip. “By the end of next week.”

  Emmy took a step back as if my tone alone was frightening. Good. She should be frightened.

  “I've decided I don't want you to come with me,” I said.

  I watched her delicate throat as she struggled to swallow. She tried to smile, but she looked very uneasy.

  “I understand,” she said. “You have a lot going on with your sister and family.”

  “This isn't about my family, it's about you. I don't want you.” I said it as coldly as I could manage. It worked. Her smile faded. She took another step back.

  “I thought if I gave you some time, you would make a decision,” I said. I tried to be firm, but my emotions were hard to keep down, and they were leaking into my words. “I thought you would stop stringing me along as a backup and really commit, but you haven't. You're still seeing Kyle.”

  Her eyes closed and she swayed slightly as my words impacted her. I should have cared that she looked like she was going to fall, but coldness was trickling in with my anger and pain. I didn’t know it was possible to feel cold, hurt, angry, sad, and unbearable grief all at once. Until now.

  She hung her head. Tears slipped down her cheeks. I wanted to slap them off of her face, but I don’t hit women. Ever. I would rather die than to hit her, but the desire didn’t fade easily. She was already crying. She already knew she was caught and the charade was over, but I couldn’t stop telling her my thoughts.

  “I'm not sure which part bothers me the most, the fact that you've been lying for months or the fact that you thought I was too simple minded to see what was going on. I can't count how many times you've lied about where you were or who you were with, or the times that you climbed into my bed still reeking of him. How many times have I kissed you and your mind was with him? I've given you opportunity after opportunity to come clean, but you never did.”

  She was still looking down at the floor. She didn’t even have the guts to look at me, to look at the man she fucking broke! She had plenty of guts to spread her legs for that asshole and to lie to my face, but she couldn’t look at me now?

  I growled and stepped towards her. I spoke very softly, my tone laced with unspeakable threats.

  “At least give me the courtesy of looking in my fucking face while I am talking.”

  Slowly, she raised her head and met my eyes. I could almost feel her shame. Her eyes were filled with self-hate and regrets, but it was too late. I didn’t care if she hated herself. She deserved to hate herself. Hell she deserved my hate, too, but despite the conflicting emotions I had, I couldn’t make myself hate her.

  “I looked like the biggest idiot at work, committing myself to the girl who was obviously fucking Kyle Sterling.”

  Her mouth fell open in surprise. Was she really that dense? I almost snorted. She should have taken her head off of his dick long enough to look around.

  “Everyone knows, Emmy,” I told her. “Despite your sneaking around, people still know. You both think everyone else is too inferior and dumb to figure it out.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. This infuriated me. Fire raced through my veins. This was the biggest response I had gotten out of her and it was because everyone else knew she was a slut, not because I alone knew she was a slut.

  “Don't you fucking shake your head,” I growled fiercely, pointing in her face. She backed away from me with fear in her eyes, but I didn’t care. I wanted her to be afraid of me. I pushed forward until I had her backed up against a wall.

  “You're more upset that everyone else knows than you are about me knowing!”

  She jerked when I yelled and hit her head on the wall. On any other day, I would have immediately felt bad and made sure she was okay, but this wasn’t any other day. I hoped that she hurt her head, though I knew it would never compare to my own hurt.

  “No, that's not true,” she protested. She wiped at her tears and it only made me angrier.

  “Like I can believe anything you say now!”

  “I'm so sorry,” she sobbed.

  “Maybe you are, but I don't forgive you. I can't even forgive myself for falling in love with you, knowing that you were Kyle's whore,” I said with abhorrence.

  She looked at me with wide, teary eyes. She had never witnessed me behave like this before, ever. I never had a reason before her. She apparently brought out the worst in me. She looked away from me, towards the living room, like she was thinking of leaving. Did she really believe she could do the shit she did and just slither away? I saw only red. My anger and pain consumed me. I roared as my fist worked on its own accord and slammed through the wall only a couple of inches from her head. She screamed and winced. She thought I was going to hit her. I backed off. I wasn’t going to hit her, but chances of me handling her entirely too roughly were very high.

  “Luke, your hand!” She reached for my hand, but I moved away. I could barely feel the pain in my hand. The pain in my chest muted every physical pain. I heard the soft patter of blood dripping onto the floor.

  “Let me at least help you take care of your hand,” she begged, cautiously reaching for me again.

  I let her take my hand. I don’t know why. I was still beyond angry and I wasn’t even sure if I was really in control of my actions, but I allowed her to fix up my injured hand. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. She was gorgeous, even crying and sad, but she was dangerous. She ruined me. I was completely ruined. There would never be anyone else for me but her, but she was already gone. She had been gone for a long time and I didn’t accept it.

  Her fingers lightly touched my wrist. I fought not to touch her.

  “I didn't know how to let go of either one of you,” she whispered.

  “Fortunately for you, I made that decision for you,” I said coolly.

  She burst into tears. She sobbed so hard that she looked like she would collapse. I hated her for crying. I loved her for crying. I fucking hated it.

  She released my injured hand and began to turn away from me. As it turned out, I wasn’t in control of my actions, because why would I stop her? Why would I crush her body into mine and kiss her with every emotion I felt? Why would I do that? It hurt me to kiss her, because I knew I’d never kiss her again.

  I forced myself to stop kissing her. I held her face in my hands and wiped away her tears with my thumbs. Her face blurred before me as my own tears overflowed and spilled hotly down my face.

  “Listen to me,” I said, my voice breaking. “I don't ever want to see you after today. Don't call me, don't text me, don't email me. Whatever relationships you were building with my family, it's done. They've already cut you off at my request.”

  God. This was it. This was the end. It was over. I was over. I was going to die without her. I would die with her.

  “I love you, Emmy, but you fucking broke my heart. I know I am part to blame, I know, but…” I looked at her hard. I wanted her to know how much I meant what I was about to say. I wanted her to feel pain as I had felt it.

  “I hope Kyle Sterling rips your heart out of your chest and makes you choke on it.”

  Chapter One

  My cell phone was wedged between my shoulder and my ear as I listened to Claire bitch about my lack of commitment. I juggled my briefcase and my duffel bag as I unlocked the door to my apartment before kicking it open. I dropped the bag on the floor by the door as it closed behind me and set my briefcase down with more care.

  “Claire, I told you in the beginning I wasn’t looking for anything serious,” I said tiredly as I pulled open the fridge to get a much-needed beer. “I was very clear about it and you said you were fine with it.”

  I should have known better than to believe that she would be okay for more than a few weeks. Claire wasn’t a casual
sex kind of girl. Claire was a settle-down-and-get-married-and-have kids kind of girl. I knew that very well about her since I had dated her for a year before moving to Philly many years ago, but she seemed so adamant that she could handle a casual relationship.

  “I thought you just needed some time to deal with whatever the hell you were dealing with in your head,” she whined. “I thought you would come around.”

  I rolled my eyes at this bullshit. I didn’t realize Claire was so stupid. I took a pull on my beer and said, “Have I ever been anything but straight forward with you, Claire? Have I ever said one thing and meant another in all of the years that you’ve known me?”

  She paused for a moment before answering. “No, but…but you were never…brokenhearted before. The circumstances are different.”

  I closed my eyes for a moment. The last thing I wanted to talk about was the state of my heart.

  “Yes,” I reluctantly agreed. “The circumstances are different, but that doesn’t change my direct approach.”

  “I turned down other guys for you, Luke!” Claire yelled.

  “You could have ended our agreement at any time if you wanted to be with someone,” I sighed as I walked into the living room and dropped down onto the couch. “Listen, Claire, I don’t mean to hurt you. I really don’t. The last thing I want to do is hurt anyone, but…”

  “But what?” she snapped. “But you want to sleep around with other women? Is that it, Luke?”

  “Not at all,” I said patiently as I glanced at the pile of mail on my coffee table, remembering that my sister Lena told me I had a letter delivered by a courier yesterday. “I don’t sleep with more than one woman at a time, Claire. You know me better than that, but I don’t want a relationship either.”

  She said something in response, but I didn’t really hear her. The envelope on top of the pile caught my eye. I wasn’t sure if I was seeing it right until I picked it up and held it only inches from my eyes. Emmy sent me a letter.

  I was disappointed that my heart rate suddenly increased, and further disappointed that my hands were itching to open the letter, but a large part of me wasn’t sure if it was something I wanted to open. After months of trying to push any memory of her out of my head—only to be repeatedly reminded of her when I saw her mother—I had at least gotten to the point where she wasn’t the first thing on my mind when I woke up and the last thing on my mind when I went to sleep. I had finally gotten to the point where my pain was dulled and more often than not forgotten. I was able to go days without thinking of her more than once or twice a day, opposed to the constant torture of hearing her voice in my head and smelling her skin in the weeks and months after I broke up with her.

  “Are you listening to me?” Claire whined again. I realized at that moment that Claire whined a lot. Even when we were having sex, she did this weird whining thing that she probably thought was sexy, but it really wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

  “I gotta go,” I said distractedly. “I’ll call you soon.”

  I didn’t give her an opportunity to respond before ending the call and dropping my phone on the couch beside me. I stared at the letter, weighing it in my hands. What could she possibly have to say to me after all of this time?

  “Only one way to find out,” I sighed heavily before beginning to slowly peel open the envelope. I pulled out the folded letter inside and weighed that in my hands, too. I could burn it or push it into the garbage disposal and not worry about what Emmy had to say. I could put it back in the envelope, reseal it and send it back without looking at it. I was very tempted to do any one of those things. I had finally moved on and I didn’t want to find myself stuck on someone that didn’t deserve my time and my thoughts, but I knew I had to open it even though I had a gut feeling it was about to change my life.

  I unfolded the letter and began to read.

  Dear Luke,

  I have rewritten this letter a dozen times already, but I feel there is no smooth way to lead up to what I have to say, so here it is: You are the father of a five month old, beautiful baby boy. His name is Lucas, in honor of his father, and he was born May 18th.

  I didn't tell you because I know you hate me, and my biggest fear is that you will hate my son, too. Maybe that fear is unreasonable, but I have had a very hard time getting past it.

  I am in Chicago for a day or so, at the Fairmont, room 317. If you would like to meet your son, I will be here all day today.

  I am sorry for keeping this from you, and I am sorry for forcing my mother to keep this from you. Please don't be angry with her. It is my fault entirely.

  Sincerely,

  Emmy

  The paper fluttered to the floor as I stared at nothing with my mouth hanging wide open.

  This had to be a joke. This couldn’t have possibly been true. Even Emmy wasn’t that cruel to keep a child away from me, and her mother was the bluntest person I knew. Surely, she would have been falling over herself to tell me about my son, if I really even had one.

  And then I realized something. Samantha didn’t go out of her way to spend much time with me as she did with my sisters. I didn’t think anything about it because they were all women and women tend to cluster together, but what if she was avoiding me? What if those looks of pity weren’t for the fact that her daughter had destroyed my heart or that my sister was near death, but because she knew a big, earth shattering secret?

  “Shit!” I yelled as I jumped off of the couch and dashed for the door. I took a detour into the small kitchen for my keys and then ran out into the hall.

  Emmy would fuck someone else throughout our relationship and lie about it, but Emmy wouldn’t lie about something like this after over a year long absence. Samantha would hold this secret for her daughter or risk losing her and her grandson.

  I rocketed out of the parking garage and onto the street, just barely missing oncoming traffic. I hate driving in the city and usually take public transportation, but I was anxious to get to the Fairmont. My mind was racing all the way there and I couldn’t keep any one thought in mind before another rushed forward to take its place. It wasn’t until I had rushed into the lobby a little while later that another thought occurred to me, halting me in my tracks and knocking the breath out of me.

  What if this Lucas wasn’t really my kid at all? What if he was Kyle Sterling’s?

  “Can I help you, sir?” the woman in guest services asked me.

  It took me a few seconds, but I was able to tell her why I was there before I started towards the bank of elevators.

  “Miss Grayne stepped out,” she called after me. “Can I have your name?”

  I stopped and took a few steps back until I was standing in front of her. “Luke Kessler,” I said, curious as to why she needed my name.

  She smiled at me. “Yes, I was expecting you yesterday. Miss Grayne and the baby went out a little while ago. Maybe you can wait for her in the lobby,” she said, gesturing towards the fancy furniture behind me.

  I nodded and wordlessly walked away from her. There was nothing to say. One thing was confirmed, there definitely was a baby. The question was whether or not he was mine. I immediately felt a little bit like a dick for thinking that. This was definitely something Emmy wouldn’t drag me into if Lucas was not my kid, but what if he wasn’t? How would I know? But what if he was—what would I do about it?

  I suddenly felt like an ass for showing up to meet my son for the first time empty handed. I got up and marched to the gift shop. There were little shirts with Chicago scrolled across them, but I didn’t know what size the kid was. There were little sippy cups and a few other baby items, but I didn’t like any of it. I wasn’t going to give my kid some cheesy gift shop gift—if he was my kid. I told the woman at guest services that I would be back shortly. I rushed out of the hotel and used my cell phone to find a store to buy Lucas a gift. Once I was inside the baby store, I felt overwhelmed by all of the possibilities. There were so many baby items, things I had never even seen before with my nie
ces and nephews. Emmy and Sam probably made sure Lucas had everything he could ever need, so I walked away from the many gadgets and headed towards an aisle of toys.

  What did I like as a kid? Hell, he was five months old. He probably liked anything that tasted halfway decent when it went into his mouth. I picked up a little stuffed whale. It reminded me of a vacation my family took to Sea World when I was a little kid. My parents were hard working lower middle class people. Trips to Sea World and the like were far and few between, if ever. It hit me then how hard it must have been for them to afford that trip and continue to feed us and keep a roof over our heads the months preceding and following that trip, but my parents wanted to make sure that we actually went somewhere and did something. They wanted to give us a little more than what their parents were able to give to them. If Lucas was indeed my kid, I wanted to be able to give him more than what my parents gave me, too.

  I took the whale to the checkout line. Lucas or Emmy may not understand the significance of the whale, but I would. Besides, it was a sensible gift to give to my son that I was just meeting for the first time, though nothing about the situation was sensible.

  I returned to the Fairmont and sat back down in the chair I had sat in earlier. I had an unobstructed view of the entrance. I didn’t take my eyes off of it. I’m not even sure I blinked. I don’t know how long I was sitting there staring before I saw first a stroller full of bags roll inside, and then the waves of brown hair, stuck to her face from the October wind. I watched as she pushed the strands off of her smooth cheek and smiled at the blond hair, blue eyed infant in her arm before continuing to push the stroller with her spare hand. Even from where I seemed to be stuck in the chair, I could see that Lucas was my son. His startling blue, smiling eyes were my own.

  Somehow I pushed myself out of the chair and moved across the lobby until I was standing in their path. As soon as our eyes met, I felt immeasurable pain, anger, fear, and remarkably, love. For a half a moment, I wanted nothing more than to take Emmy and Lucas into my arms and make everything the way it should have always been, but then I remembered that she fucking broke my heart. I inhaled sharply as that old knife twisted in my heart, and then I turned my attention to my son. My son.