The whole reason to avoid getting an annulment was to avoid a controversy. But now, I’ve stepped into an even bigger one.
My mind is reeling.
This is Hannah’s doing, I know it is. I could see the doubt in Meg’s eyes when she asked me about the money. The bribe. That’s what I should call it, because that’s what it is. The Montagues convinced me to take the money and forced me into that marriage contract, and I never said no because all I cared about was football.
I was so fucking stupid. Now, I’m at risk of losing not only my career, but I’m losing Meghan, too. My hand drifts to my shoulder and I massage it gently.
The ache in it is gone, and I know I’ll be able to play my best season yet. Or, I would have played my best season yet. If any of this mess gets out to the press, or the team, or to my coach, then I’m done. My career will be over in a heartbeat.
I close my eyes as emotion slowly breaks me down. As the seconds tick by, I sink lower and lower and lower until tears start streaming down my face.
I don’t even know what I’m crying for. I’m crying for football, and the thought of losing my one passion. I’m crying for Meg. I’m crying for the fact that I trusted her, and I thought we had something real.
I’m crying because I was so fucking stupid to think that Hannah would let me go.
She won’t let me go. She won’t rest until she’s destroyed every bit of happiness in my life, and she has control over it all. It’s about more than just money, I realize.
She doesn’t want to be the rich girl that dated an NFL star for a while. She wants to be the NFL star’s wife. She wants her spot in the public eye, but she doesn’t have enough money or talents to get there on her own.
I wipe my face as laughter starts bubbling up inside me. Then, as soon as I started crying, I’m laughing maniacally to myself.
I laugh until my cheeks hurt, leaning back in the chair and staring at the ceiling. At least laughing feels better than crying. When the laughter subsides, I feel empty. I’m a husk of myself, just a body that’s been completely cleared out of all emotion.
Pushing myself off the chair takes all the strength in my body. I find my phone on the kitchen counter and stare at the screen. When I swipe it with my thumb to unlock it, I wonder what I’m going to do.
I could call Hannah and tell her to back the fuck off. I could threaten her, and yell at her, and tell her that she’ll never get what she wants.
I could call Meg and tell her to come back. I could tell her that I don’t care about her past. It’s true, I realize. Once the jealousy passes, I realize that I don’t care what she did before. She’s not doing it now, and if she says she never slept with them, that makes it even easier to look past it all. No matter what she did before, she makes me happy.
The one thing that I can’t get past is football. I care about my career. I care about the season, and my team, and my reputation. If I call Meg back and tell her that I want to be with her, then I might as well kiss my football career goodbye.
I stare at my phone screen as a sharp pain passes through my chest. I have to choose between football—my passion, my career, my everything—and Meg. I squeeze my eyes shut. Either way I choose to go, I’m losing a part of myself.
When I open my eyes again, I flick through my phone until I find the number I’m looking for.
It rings a few times until the familiar voice comes on over the phone.
“Andrew!”
“Hey, Mom,” I sigh, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“What’s wrong, honey?” She asks right away. I chuckle bitterly.
“Is it that obvious?”
“What happened? Is everything okay? Is Meg okay?”
“Meg is fine,” I say. “Well, I don’t know. I think she’s fine.” I take a deep breath. “Mom, I need to tell you something.”
“Anything, Andrew. You know that.” I hear her step into a quieter room and a door clicks closed over the phone. She’s alone now. “Go ahead, honey,” she says. I walk to the couch and sink down into it, and then I tell my mother everything. At first, the words are tough to say. She makes a noise when I tell her about the money and the contract in college, and I hesitate.
But then, it gets easier. I tell her about Hannah, and how she changed as our relationship went on. I tell her about meeting Meg and marrying her on a whim. I tell her that last weekend was the happiest I’ve been in years. My mother listens and says everything and nothing as I pour my heart out to her and tell her everything that I haven’t been able to say for the past seven years.
I even tell her about Meg’s past. I don’t plan on saying anything, but it just tumbles out of me and I can’t help myself.
“Oh, Andrew,” she finally says, sighing. “Honey.”
I hear her sniffling, and the two of us cry together. With the entire country separating us, I cry on my mother’s shoulder as she just keeps saying Oh Andrew, oh honey over and over again.
34
Meghan
“I don’t know what I was expecting,” I say to Naomi and Ariana as we sip coffees at our favorite coffee shop. “I mean, I just stormed over there and thought he would be okay with it, I guess.”
“Have you talked to him since last night?”
I shake my head.
Naomi’s eyebrows draw together in concern, and Ariana sighs.
“It’s fine. Vegas was just a drunken night, we’ll get an annulment and I’m sure I’ll be laughing about this in no time.”
“It is kind of funny,” Ariana says with a small grin on her lips. “I thought I was the one with the scandalous love life.”
I chuckle despite myself. “I want to laugh about it, but at the same time it just hurts so much.”
“You really like him, don’t you?” Naomi says, sighing.
I nod.
Ariana leans toward me. “Look, we’ll just be like those old ladies with rings on every finger and matching pantsuits. We’ll talk about our exploits and have lots of young boy toys around. It’ll be fun!”
I know Ariana is trying to make me feel better. That’s our thing—growing old and needing no one but each other. Right now, though, the thought of ending up alone hurts a lot more than it did a week ago.
“I guess I just started thinking ‘what if’, you know? Like, what if I was happy? What if it worked out? What if I’d met a man that was actually good for me?”
“If he makes you feel like this, he’s obviously not good for you,” Naomi says gently. I nod and take a sip of my coffee.
“I just wish he hadn’t looked at me like that. It made me feel just like I did years ago, when the whole sugar baby thing came out to my family. I just felt so worthless.”
“You’re far from worthless,” Ariana says. She puts her hand over mine and smiles. “It’ll work out. Just give him a day and then try to talk to him. He probably just needs some time to process.”
“Plus, it’s not like he’s an angel, either! And he could actually lose his entire career if this came out!”
“So could I! Can you imagine if Julia found out I used to be a sugar baby? God,” I shake my head. “I was so stupid back then.”
“You did what you had to do to put yourself through college,” Naomi says. “You’re a fighter.”
When I leave the coffee shop, I feel slightly better. My friends built me up but as soon as I leave them, I feel myself slowly deflating like an old balloon. When I get home, I sit down at my computer and stare at the screen.
An idea pops into my head.
This whole mess—both my mess and Andrew’s—has come about because we’ve been hiding things. What would happen if I was totally honest? What would happen if I just opened up to him completely, if I told him everything?
Then the ball would be in his court.
With a deep breath, I open my email. But then, I catch a glimpse of the last email I received—the one from the anonymous email. I try to stop myself, but I can’t. I read it again and my heart sinks.
I frown. I hadn’t read that last line very carefully before rushing off to see Andrew. It’s obviously a threat toward Andrew, but there’s an undercurrent of threat to me, too. ‘Caught in the crossfire’? What exactly is that supposed to mean?
He thought it was Hannah who sent this email—why is she so intent on destroying him? And breaking us up would be her ultimate goal, wouldn’t it?
With my heart racing, I open a new email. I type as quickly as I can, explaining to Andrew what I did when I was a sugar baby. I tell him about accompanying people to weddings—much like he did with me. I talk about going for long walks and listening to lonely men tell me about their wives who had passed away. I give him the name of the website that I worked through and explain the logistics of the payment through the sugar baby agency. Finally, I give him a list of every single man that ever hired me. There aren’t that many, only seven names. Two of them gave me aliases, and I never learned their names. Still, it’s all I have.
If he wants, he can confront these men himself. I know that I shouldn’t breach that confidentiality, but it’s the only way that I can see that shows Andrew that I’m open, and honest, and I’m not ashamed.
After all, the only way that anyone could shame me publicly is if I let myself feel ashamed. If I don’t let that happen, then the power is with me.
I press send and let out a big sigh. I don’t know if he’ll read that email, or if he’ll ever respond. I feel like he wants nothing to do with me. But at the end of the day, all I can do is be honest with him, and see how he reacts.
As I close my laptop, my phone starts ringing. I see my sister’s name pop up, and I take a deep breath. I’ve ignored her calls for long enough. Maybe writing that email has made me realize that I need to face my problems head-on.
So for the first time since we left Vegas, I answer the call.
“Hey, Nadine.”
“Oh, look who finally decided to answer her phone,” she says. I can imagine the look of disgust on her face, and I swallow back a biting comment.
“Nadine, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ruined your wedding. It was never, ever my intention to do it.”
She pauses for a moment as I hold my breath.
“Well, after you left, we managed to recover. We moved inside, and thank goodness we had two wedding cakes.”
Of course she had two wedding cakes.
“That’s good.”
There’s an awkward pause. I’m not sure what she wants from me. I can keep apologizing for the rest of my life, but I know that there was damage done on the weekend that might never be repaired. I never thought I wanted my family’s approval, but every time they turn their backs to me, it still stings. At this point, it’s wearing me down and I just want it to be over.
Finally, she speaks.
“I got an interesting phone call the other day,” she says. There’s a certain malicious glee to her voice. “Wasn’t I surprised that you went and got married the day you ruined my wedding!”
“I thought you just said I hadn’t ruined it.” I can’t help myself, snark is just part of my nature.
Nadine snorts. “Sounds like your new husband has made an enemy. I wouldn’t want to be on Hannah Montague’s wrong side, that’s for sure. Last year, I heard her maid didn’t clean her bathroom mirror properly, and Hannah got her deported!” Nadine laughs, and my stomach turns.
“That’s not funny, that’s horrifying. She probably ruined that woman’s life.”
“Well, she should have done her job properly.”
Anger flares in my chest. My hands start to shake and I take a deep, calming breath.
“Is there a reason you’re calling me?”
“I just wanted you to know that Hannah called, and I told her everything. She said she’d ruin you and Andrew, and I said go ahead. You deserve it, little sister. Goodbye.”
The phone clicks and I sit in shock. As much as I try to convince myself that I don’t care, or that I won’t be ashamed unless I let myself, the thought of opening up my past to the whole world makes me feel like throwing up. I blink back some tears and open my laptop again.
I forward the original anonymous email to Andrew, and I tell him that my sister confirmed that she talked to Hannah.
“I don’t think this is going to go away just because we’re not together.” I write, and then I press send before I chicken out.
Then, I let myself cry.
35
Andrew
Reading Meg’s emails is tough. I want to stop, but I keep going back to it with a sort of sick fascination. When I get to the surprisingly short list of names, my eyes widen. One name in particular makes my heart thump.
Xavier Thomas, also known as the head coach for the New York Giants.
I read the email over and over and over until I can’t think straight anymore. Coach Thomas had a sugar baby? And that sugar baby was Meghan?!
I pace up and down my hallway as I try to get my head to think in a straight line. My thoughts bounce around my skull with no order or organization, and I find it harder and harder to figure out what I want to do.
When my email dings again, I see Meg’s name pop up and I take a deep breath. Then, I read the email that she got yesterday.
My heart sinks. It’s definitely from Hannah. I don’t even need Meg’s confirmation, I know from the tone of the email that my ex-girlfriend wrote it.
I read Meghan’s comments - I don’t think this is going to go away just because we’re not together. After everything I’ve learned about her over the past 24 hours, that line hurts more than anything. She doesn’t think we’re together. I mean, why would she? We didn’t exactly leave things on good terms. But the thought of losing Meghan makes my whole body feel weak.
I don’t want to give up so easily.
I grab my keys and jump in the car. My heart thumps as I rev the engine. Everything seems to be happening in slow motion. The garage door opens at a glacial pace. The gate at the end of the driveway swings open with the urgency of sap running down a tree. Pedestrians cross in front of me, with a whole long line of little children trailing behind them for an eternity. I take a deep breath to try to quell the frustration that threatens to make me explode.
Finally, I’m on the road. I weave through cars and drive twenty miles over the speed limit. It’s not until I get to Coach Thomas’s house that I slow down and realize what I’m about to do.
I ring the doorbell with a trembling finger, ready to raise hell. The door swings open to reveal Marjorie Thomas, and I hesitate.
“Andrew!” She exclaims. “Is Xavier expecting you?”
“Uh, not exactly,” I say. I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Is he home?”
“Come on in,” she smiles. If there was ever a team mom, Marjorie would be it. Everyone loves her and being here feels like I’m disrespecting that.
Still, I have to find out the truth.
Marjorie leads me down a long hallway lined with pictures of their happy family. I try not to look at them. Finally, she points me to a study.
“Wait in here, hon,” she says. “I’ll get Xavier for you.”
Thanks,” I say, and the door closes behind me. I stand stiffly on the thick Persian rug, staring at the tall bookcases full of leather-bound books. Does Coach ever read any of these? My eyes drift to a team photo, and then to a picture of Xavier in his playing years.
The man’s entire life is displayed in this room, and I feel like I’m about to poke holes in his whole identity.
I turn when the door opens. Coach looks at me with a slight frown, gesturing to one of the tall wing-back chairs.
“Andrew,” he says. “Sit, please. To what do I owe the honor? Is everything okay?”
“Well…” I take a deep breath. Now that I’m here, I don’t know where to start. He sits down on the other tall leather chair, looking at me expectantly
. I know that he won’t speak first—I’ve known him long enough to know that he’d win any staring contest.
So, I have no choice.
“Do you know the name Meghan Ainsworth?”
A flicker passes over his face, and then it becomes still. He clears his throat.
“No,” he lies. “Why?”
I sigh. “Cut the bullshit, Coach. I know you know her.”
He glances at the door and then back at me. “Watch your tone, son.”
“Sorry.” I take a deep breath. “Look, I… I married her.”
“You what?”
“She’s my wife. I recently found out about her… past.”
Coach Thomas shifts in his chair. He clears his throat, and then stares at me harder.
“What exactly are you asking me, Andrew?”
I break down. Just like with my mother, I open up to the only father figure in my life. I tell him everything—my shoulder, the wedding, the doves, Vegas, the family reunion. At first, my voice is halting, but it gets stronger. After I tell him about the past week, I tell him about Hannah.
That’s when my voice starts to break. Coach’s face softens, and he takes a deep breath.
“I thought I loved her,” I finally say. “I didn’t realize that all she wanted was to move up the social ladder.” I start laughing, shaking my head. “Lord knows why she thought I would help with that.”
I look at my coach, my eyebrows raised expectantly. He stares at me for a few moments.
“That’s quite the story.”
“I don’t know what to do. Look, if you were with Meg before, I don’t care. I just… I need help to make this go away. I don’t want to lose my place on the team, I don’t want to embarrass you, I don’t want to cause more scandals after what happened last year with Elijah. If this gets out, they could find out about you, too, and…”
Coach shifts in his seat.
“And…” I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose her.”
Mr. Right: The Complete Fake Engagement Series Page 48