Bug

by Hunter, Ellie R.

  “Sweetheart, why don’t you tell your parents the plans for our wedding.”

  And I did. I told them about the simple white and cream colour theme. I told them about the food menu and the options for the five-tier cake. I did everything Huxley expected of me, and it felt like I was talking to strangers. I don’t know my own parents anymore, and strangely, I’m fine with it.

  “Allison will be able to right her position in town.”

  Everyone agrees, and we eat our food in the most uncomfortable silence I’ve ever experienced.

  “I was thinking, I’d like to take Allison away this weekend. It’s been a busy couple of weeks, and we should spend time alone before the big day. It would be a good opportunity for you both to get to know Tobias.”

  Side-eyeing him, I try to convey that I’m not happy with such plans, yet he flat-out ignores me and shovels a forkful of chicken into his mouth.

  “We’d love to have him,” Mom coos, choking on her joy.

  It’s strange, but I feel no connection to them anymore. They don’t recognise me because they don’t know me anymore, and vice versa.

  “Then it’s settled.”

  “What about Trenton?” I ask.

  “He spends every other weekend with the Dwyer’s.”

  He always has an answer for everything. Bastard.

  There are so many wood panelled walls, it’s like we’ve gone back to the seventies. Of course everyone in the courthouse knows who Huxley is, and he knows them.

  Dash is clicking away on his phone with one hand and holding his briefcase in the other as he stands around by the grand staircase.

  He lifts his chin at Hux, barely registering my presence.

  “The paperwork is ready. It only needs both your signatures and to be filed.”

  Both our signatures? For the sake of keeping up appearances and making sure people see I’m in my right frame of mind, my hand sits snugly in Huxley’s, which makes it easier to get him to stop.

  “What do I need to sign?”

  “A number of things. Most importantly, we’ll be changing our son’s surname. He’ll be a Bailey-Vaughan before he gets out of school.”

  In the courtroom, the judge is talking with two men I’ve never met before, and Huxley quietly explains that they’re our witnesses.

  “Judge Cooper, gentlemen.”

  Huxley makes the introductions and again, I’m seated and quickly ignored.

  File after file is shoved in front of me, and I sign at every spot Dash points to. Huxley signs after I do, and the papers are pushed to the side to allow the ink to dry.

  “We wouldn’t need to do this if you had told me you were having my baby and stayed where you belonged.”

  “But I didn’t.”

  Yet another stack of papers which need three of my signatures are pushed in front of me. I go to read them, when Huxley nudges my arm and pointedly stares at the pen. I swipe the ink across the papers, and then Dash takes the file and places it with the others.

  “If anything else is needed, I’ll let you know.”

  Once Huxley is satisfied the witnesses have signed what they need to, he winds his arm around my waist and pulls me close to him as I stand.

  “Now we’re that much closer to being a proper family.”

  The front doors are opened for us when we return from the courthouse, and the silence of the house makes me sad. It’s such a shame this place has never known real happiness.

  “You can amuse yourself this afternoon. I have work to do.”

  Amuse myself? Why, thank you for your permission, dick. His shoes tap annoyingly against the tiled floor, heading for his office.

  “What about the boys? Can I pick them up from school?” I call out after him.

  He’ll pay for me having to ask like this. I keep that in mind while I wait for him to stop and turn to face me.

  “Perhaps tomorrow. I want you close to me today.”

  Close to him? He walks off down the hall and into his office. Oh yeah, we’re real close right now.

  A breeze floats in before Miguel closes the door, but my blood is already at a boiling point.

  “Excuse me,” I call out before he slinks back into the shadows. “Where did Mr. Bailey-Vaughan have my belongings kept when they arrived?”

  “Down in the basement, Ms. Miller.”

  I’ve never been down in the basement here at the Bailey mansion before, and I don’t doubt that it’s as cold and morbid as the rest of the house.

  I wouldn’t be surprised if I found the bat cave down there, but instead of it being there for good, it’s where Huxley plots his reign of terror.

  It takes me five minutes before I find the door down to the basement, and my boxes are in plain sight when I step down onto the cold, concrete floor.

  There are so many boxes stacked on top of the other. When he said he had everything packed up, he wasn’t kidding. Literally everything is here.

  On closer inspection, each box is marked, and the one with the photo albums inside is at the bottom. Unloading the ones piled on top, I scoot the bottom box across to a dusty old chair and sit down.

  I need to see Conner’s face before Huxley takes everything from me. I find the album I’m seeking easily enough and settle down in the chair. Huxley won’t be happy that I’m getting dust all over my fifteen-hundred-dollar dress, but I don’t care.

  Two years ago, we went camping. Conner hated it, but Tobias and I had the time of our lives. It was a time in my life I felt truly safe and free. We were in the middle of nowhere, and no one was around for miles. It was the three of us, and it was perfect. I took as many photos as I could to capture every moment of my version of paradise.

  Sliding one photo out from behind the film, I smile down at Conner sitting around the fire he built, next to Tobias as they look up at the stars.

  Their faces, completely unaware I was holding the camera, are so peaceful. It’s my favourite.

  “You should thank me for letting you keep those.”

  I jump at the voice and look up to find Huxley standing at the bottom of the stairs. He saunters over and picks at one of the boxes. His jacket is gone, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. It’s these small things that remind me he’s part human. They’re the things that throw me off balance because I don’t know this side of him.

  “Leave me alone, and don’t touch my things.”

  “I sign over half of my life to you, and I can’t touch a few ratty boxes? You’re not playing fair, Bug.”

  I inhale deeply. This is worse than dealing with Tobias when he was going through his tantrum phase.

  Plastering a smile on my face, it actually hurts to keep it in place and nod to the empty chair next to me.

  “Fine. Join me, please.”

  A slight narrowing of his eyes gives me such joy, my fake smile becomes real.

  He sits beside me and leans in close. I put my favourite photo back into place and flip to the next page.

  There are photos I’ll never let him see, but there are some I do want him to see, so he can witness how happy our lives were without him.

  “I want to see his baby pictures.”

  “They’re in another album.”

  For once, he waits patiently while I retrieve the small wallet of pictures. It takes everything I have to sit back down next to him and hand over the photographs.

  He flips through the three photos, and then a second time, and then a third time.

  “Is this all you have?”

  I wasn’t prepared at all at his birth. The nurse took pity on me and snapped the photos so I had something to hold onto. They’re my most prized possessions in the whole world.

  “Trenton has countless albums of baby pictures. Kayleigh had a photographer follow him about for the first three years of his life to capture everything.”

  “I wasn’t made of money, and it sounds like Kayleigh took advantage of the benefits you had to offer.”

  He looks at me and softens.
/>   “I didn’t mean to offend, but I can easily remind you that you would have had everything if you had come back. You’d certainly have more than three baby pictures.”

  “That’s what you never understood. I didn’t need everything. I’ve always been happy with a small slice. It’s why we’ll always be different, and it’s why we will never be happy together.”

  He slides one of the pictures out from its sleeve and holds it up to scrutinise it further.

  “You were glowing after having him. Look at you, even after pushing my son out, you’re perfect.”

  I cast my eyes over the picture and struggle to see what he sees. My hair is matted to my head from sweat. Exhaustion hangs heavily over my eyes, and my cheeks are like red balloons. I look like I’ve just pushed a tiny human into the world. Not perfect.

  “Kayleigh was in a state after having Trenton. She got sick and had to stay in the hospital longer than he did.”

  “What was wrong with her?”

  “She kept bleeding.” He shrugs. “Rose’s job description changed, and she became Trenton’s full-time nanny. He was already settled before she came back from the hospital.”

  I still can’t believe my old best friend fell for Huxley, but a pang of sadness creeps over me for her. She took the life I ran from, and while I don’t feel a hundred percent sorry for her, I do feel a little sad. What was she playing at building a life with him?

  “How did you support yourselves?” he asks.

  “I sold the earrings and two rings I took with me. The cash lasted a few months, and then I got a job.”

  “You what? Who looked after our son?”

  “I didn’t have a tribe of nannies, but there are such people who babysit and nurseries you pay.”

  His disgust returns. I snatch the photograph from him and slide it back into its wallet.

  “I hate you for making him live that kind of life, but I love that you raised him into the boy he is now. You’ve done well with him, Allison.”

  My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. This can’t be right. Huxley is praising me? Maybe Hell has finally frozen over.

  The past

  The sun is shining and the day is warm. Regina will be pleased that the weather cooperated for her big day. It’s Teddy Day in Bailey Cove, a day celebrated by the town after the founder, Regina’s Great-Great-Great-Great Grandfather, Theodore ‘Teddy’ Bailey.

  Everyone shows up every year and enjoys the festivities. This year is the first year I’ve been roped into helping, mainly because I’m dating her son. We have to keep up appearances apparently. Not that her son takes any notice. He’s currently dipping his finger in each jar of jelly, even though I’ve secured all the lids.

  “I don’t want you working a stall,” he grunts, kicking his feet up on one of the crates.

  “Your mother insisted,” I remind him.

  “Since when do you care what my mother wants?”

  “Since she owns the town and asked so nicely.”

  Plus, it wouldn’t hurt if the mother of my boyfriend doesn’t hate me and look at me like I’m dirt on her designer shoe.

  “What if I asked you nicely to come and spend the day at the beach with us? I don’t want to be alone all day.”

  “You won’t be alone.” I laugh and make sure the table is arranged nicely.

  It must have the Regina stamp of approval. I want it to be perfect.

  “Don’t laugh at me.”

  The chill of his voice penetrates through the warmth from the sun, and I turn around. His face has darkened over, leaving me feeling confused once again by his mood.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t leave yet. I said I would help out. It means a lot to her.”

  He jumps up to his feet and walks off toward the beach without so much as a goodbye or a kiss. I’m glad he’s gone. I can’t deal with him when he’s being ridiculous.

  The morning is slow, and I’m grateful when it picks up after lunch. I sell out in less than three hours, and Regina is happy when I hand over the cash tin full of coins and bills. I’m roped into setting down my stall before I’m allowed to leave. It’s important to me that Regina is happy with my work. She’s a hard woman to please, and as I spend so much time at her house, it’s nice not to be scowled at all the time. I head for the shore, and as the sun begins to set and the day loses its light, it’s easy to spot the fire someone’s lit on the beach off in the distance.

  This being the Bailey-Vaughan’s private part of the beach, I can guess Huxley is still here, especially when I walk by his jeep.

  Sliding out of my wedges, I pick them up and walk barefoot across the warm sand. Huxley sits alone, staring into the firepit, holding a bottle of beer. He doesn’t usually drink, and for some reason, my stomach drops seeing that he is today.

  I drop my sandals on the sand and perch myself on his lap. Usually his hand would slide around my ass and settle on my hip and make himself comfortable. But I get nothing from him, and when I look at him, he refuses to look back at me.

  “Are you still sulking?” I ask.

  “Are you still here?” he snaps back. “In fact, why did you come? These aren’t your friends. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know these people. They certainly wouldn’t give you the time of day.”

  Conversations around us come to a stop, everyone wanting to hear our fight. This couldn’t be any more embarrassing unless I was naked as well.

  “Why are you being so mean? I helped your mother. It’s not like I could refuse her,” I whisper back at him.

  “No, but you could refuse me? Nice,” he mutters, taking a long swig from his bottle of beer.

  “What’s wrong with you today?”

  I lean down to pick up my shoes when he tips me over and I fall on the sand. Low chuckles, and one loud laugh intensifies my embarrassment, and I meet Ryder’s eyes as I stand. He sits across the firepit from us and I look away. He can go to Hell alongside his friend.

  Huxley is right, these people aren’t my friends. Hell, they’re barely his friends. They’re only around for the good times he can financially provide.

  Humiliation burns through me as the chuckles grow louder behind my back as I walk to the cars. Huxley grunts somewhere in the crowd, and the laughter stops like the puppies they are to him as their master.

  “Come back, Bug. I didn’t mean it, I’m sorry,” he calls out, sounding annoyed.

  I ignore him and carry on walking. I’m not turning around and facing everyone after that display.

  “Where are you going?” he asks, coming up beside me.

  He moves in front of me and blocks my every attempt to walk away.

  “I’m going home.”

  “I didn’t say you could leave.”

  “That’s funny, I don’t need your permission.”

  Who does he think he is?

  “You’re really going to leave me a second time today?”

  “What are you talking about? I haven’t left you at all. Why would I stay when you’re hell-bent on humiliating me in front of your friends?”

  I shove my hands against his chest and he stumbles back, allowing me space to walk around him.

  “Stay,” he calls out after me.

  Ignoring him, I continue walking and wish I was already off this sand. It makes stomping off a lot less effective.

  “Fine, leave me again,” he hollers. “I’ll have Kallie keep me company. I’m done being alone.”

  I automatically come to a stop. Why would he say that, and why is he being so cruel today?

  “Come back, Bug,” he calls out slowly.

  I’m afraid if I turn around and walk back to him, he’ll see how much he’s upset me, and that would be too much.

  “You know, you came into my life and wanted me. I was quite happy the way I was. If this is how you treat people you like, I don’t want any part of you. Go and find Kallie. I wish her all the best with you, she’s going to need it.”

  Instead of crying, or letting the anger rise t
oo much, I count every step it takes before I’m off the beach and back on solid ground. I slide my feet into my wedges and force myself not to scrape my keys alongside Huxley’s jeep. Christ. What is he doing to me? I’ve never felt this level of rage before, and I’ve never fantasised about keying someone’s car.

  Huxley drove me to the town square this morning, leaving my car at his house. I have no way of getting home. If I call my dad, he’ll groan on and on about Huxley, and I don’t want to cry in front of him. Damn, I don’t want to cry at all. But with Huxley comes tears. They’re a package deal.

  I got as much sleep last night as I did the night I caught a sick bug from my little cousin three Christmas’s ago, and I spent twelve hours hovering over the toilet emptying my stomach.

  I hear the bell ring from where I sit in my car in the school parking lot, and my eyes sweep over the lot for Huxley’s car. He’s not here yet. It’s unusual for him to be late, unless Kallie did keep him company after I left last night and they’re both skipping classes today.

  Acid burns in my throat, and jealousy rips through me. I’ll never admit it to him or anyone else, but I lost sleep last night imagining him with her. She’s a lot prettier than I am, and she’s from Huxley’s wealthy world. She fits him better than I ever have.

  Wondering what school will be like post-Huxley, I make my way inside after most of the students have disappeared and head for my first class.

  Kallie sits at the back, and a rush of relief surges through me knowing she isn’t with him right now.

  She doesn’t look at me as I take my seat. She gives nothing away about what she got up to last night.

  The class drags on, and I can’t concentrate on anything Ms. Graves is saying. I’m glad when she sets us to read the last two chapters of A Tale of Two Cities. I’ve already read it and know what happens. It gives me the last half of class to dwell without being called out on it.

  The bell rings and I take my time putting my books away. I have as much energy as a snail today, and I don’t care if I’m late to my next class. I should, but I don’t.