My head raises to meet her gaze. “How am I supposed to do that to Louis?”
“Would you be able to go into a life, a marriage, with him knowing that you have absolutely no feelings for the father of your child?”
I want to break down in sobs because no, I cannot. I wish I could rid my brain of any memory of Vance Morley. To forget that I kissed him not once, but twice, while wearing another man’s ring.
So I just shake my head.
Stef holds my hand again, squeezing because she knows how tough the next stage in my life will be.
“Then, again, I say, you have your answer.”
* * *
Walking into my flat, that death march music plays in blaring, obnoxious swells in my brain.
With every step, I feel the weight on my shoulders come down heavier, the tears in my chest drowning my heart. I don’t want to go in there, don’t want to have to face the terrible decisions I’ve made.
In talking with Stef, though, in seeing just how plain and simple the answers are, I know I have to do this.
I have to walk into the flat we share, and tell Louis, my fiancé, that I’m not going to marry him.
And that explanation has to come with owning up to the worst truth of them all; that I cheated on him. That I kissed another man, twice, knowing full well what I was doing. I can blame lust and my history with Vance blinding me, but I was aware of the disaster I was creating. Blimey, the second time, I gave him permission.
This is it, I think as my hand rests on the knob to our front door. I’m about to destroy everything I hold sacred behind this door.
If I’m being honest, I already did that the first time I let Vance Morley crowd my space. When I admitted, silently to myself, that I still love him, too.
I push my key into the door and enter my flat, feeling guilty that I waited until Mason was in bed but also knowing I couldn’t do this with my child in the room. I could have waited, sat Louis down later, but the moment I knew I was going to break this off, there was no way I could keep it off my face when he saw me.
“Hey, love, glad you’re home. Little bugger went down after three books, but I’ve got wine poured so we can both relax.”
My average, wonderful, compassionate fiancé walks into the room holding the stems, dark red wine jiggling in the bulbs atop them.
“I cheated on you.” The words drop like anvils on my heart.
Louis’s head tilts slowly, his eyes blinking and the smile that just graced his lips slides right off.
“What?” His voice is all kinds of cautious, as if he expects me to tell him I’m just joking.
As if, in just a second, I’ll double over with laughter and yell, “Got ya!”
But I can’t do that. Because it isn’t true.
“I cheated. I kissed someone else. Twice.”
I hadn’t known if I was going to lead with this. If I could just walk in here and sit him down, explain that I couldn’t go through with our wedding or marriage because of my own feelings. Part of me wanted to spare him the pain of my traitorous actions. But, in the end, I knew it wouldn’t be fair. He needed the entire story, to know the damage I’d done.
And in a way, I needed to admit to it. Because carrying that secret around with me for just a few days was eating me alive. I still felt like shite, but at least it wasn’t devouring me from the inside.
Calmly, so calmly that I think he might fly off the handle after he cracks, Louis puts the wineglasses down. He stands up straight, pinches the bridge of his nose, and then nods his head.
“Okay. Okay. Who?” His voice is hurt, but almost hopeful, as if he’s looking for a way through this.
Oh, Louis. Sweet, kind Louis. He’s going to try to fix this.
So, I have to be the one to ruin it. For both of us. I do not want to marry him, and he shouldn’t have to live with my behavior for the rest of his life. We’re not a match, and I have to show him that.
“With Mason’s father.”
Now, he blows out a breath, an angry huff that guts me. “Jesus fucking Christ. Really, Lara? The guy who hasn’t been here one bloody day of Mason’s life? That’s who you fell into the gutter with? Bloody … fuck!”
The volume of his words ticks up a couple of notches, and I want to tell him to quiet down because of the boy sleeping in the next room, but I fear it will only make this worse.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen …” I try to explain.
“When? When did he get into town? Or has he always been here? Christ, I’m never even allowed to bring him up, so how would I know? Has he been smirking at me across the downtown streets for years, laughing at the man trying to marry the woman who actually loves him instead?”
“No, never, I would never do that to you—” Reason and rational speech evade me.
This isn’t what I thought it would be. I’m not sure what I was expecting, who can when they break up with someone, but Louis has always been the level-headed one. He’s the one who calms me down, who talks in a quiet voice when Mason is upset. I realize now that he won’t be that for us anymore, that he isn’t even on our team from this point on. We’re opponents, and he has no loyalty to reason with me anymore.
“No, you’d just cheat on me with the bloke who up and left you as a pregnant teenager,” he spits, and I realize also that I’ve never seen the nasty side of Louis.
Snot and tears clog my throat, choke me and blind me, so I reach out to touch his hands. “I’m so sorry, Louis. I-I never meant for this—”
He tears his hands away, and I feel the heartbreak rolling off of him in waves. “It’s always been him, hasn’t it?”
I want to smack myself. Or possibly perform a lobotomy to forget Vance Morley ever existed. That would solve all of this, and it would present Louis as the only option; I could love him without hesitation.
But would I? Even if I never met Vance, wouldn’t it feel as if there was a love greater than the one I had, just waiting for me to discover it? Just like Mum said she wished she’d waited? I suppose it would. And since I discovered that love before Louis, it … has always been Vance.
“Yes,” I whisper, horrifying myself.
Louis shakes his head. “I … I don’t even know what to say. I’m livid, at you. I’m livid at myself.”
Tears spill from my eyes. “This is my fault. Blame me, I did this.”
“Oh, believe me, I do. I’ve given you all of me, I’ve taken care of your child as if he’s my own. We’ve built this life together, and I thought if I nudged us along, you’d catch up. Apparently, I am a bloody idiot. But, an idiot who knew better. I’ve seen it on your face for years, that you’d never love me like you love him.”
Throwing Mason in my face is low, but I deserve it. Part of me wants to fire back, to know if he ever really loved Mason like his own. But I know better. I welcome the insults and shame; I deserve them.
“I’m sorry. I truly am.” I wipe at my eyes. “You should have this.”
With a tug, I remove the ring he gave me from my finger and hold it in my palm for him to take.
“When I gave this to you, I thought we’d be together forever. You did this, Lara. I want you to know when Mason wakes up and I’m not here, when he comes home from school next week and I’m not here, you will have to explain why. When our wedding date rolls around, and you feel that guilt in your heart, know that you did this.”
Louis snatches the ring from my hand, marches to the door, grabs his keys and coat, and then he’s gone.
In less than five minutes, I successfully drove away the only father my son has ever known.
I slump to the floor, sobbing into my hands.
18
Vance
While Lara sorts her shite out at home, I need to get my house in order.
And the first item on the agenda is telling my parents that they have a grandchild. One who has lived not ten minutes from them for the last year and a half.
Still, as I wait for my parents to arrive home from t
heir holiday in Switzerland, I can’t help but wonder what Lara is doing. What is she thinking? Has she called off her wedding, left her fiancé? Is she working through it, choosing to stay with him?
The thought of that almost obliterates my heart.
I know I’m pushing her, that I’m driving her to her limits. I’m being selfish and ornery, demanding and immovable.
But I’ve never known another way. Something inside me demands precision in the way I live, and apparently, the way I love. If I want it, I won’t stop until I achieve it.
And this is the love of my life I’m talking about. The son that I helped bring into this world. If I don’t fight tooth and nail for them, if I accept no as an answer when it comes to the most vital people in my life, what good is living?
There aren’t enough people in this world who go after what they want unapologetically. We all tiptoe around each other, careful not to tread on feet or offend. And by doing that, we settle for second best. We settle for unhappiness or sometimes even straight out misery.
I’m not willing to do that.
I’m a bloody git for breaking up with Lara, for holding a torch for two years and never telling her. If I have even an icicles chance in hell to get her back, I’m going after it with all the might and energy I have.
When Mum and Dad walk through the door, weekend satchels in hand from their holiday, Harlow and I will be waiting for them in the sitting room.
It’s the most formal room in the house, and also the one closest to the door. In the twenty-four hours since Lara left after bringing Mason to visit, Harlow and I have gone over and over what I’ll say to our parents. The past two weeks have contained the most amount of talking I’ve done in years, and I’m conversationally exhausted. But, I know I can’t be done having discussions just yet.
“Stop tapping your foot, you look mental,” Harlow chides.
I send her a glare. “Do you know how uncomfortable I am?”
My skin feels too tight, has felt that way since I stepped back into town. While I am a definitive, laser-focused kind of man, expressing my emotions is something I simply care little for. I care so little for it that I’d rather bungee jump off a bridge instead of have a deep talk, and heights make me rather wonky.
“I couldn’t tell in the least,” Harlow responds sarcastically.
The sound of a key scraping into a lock comes from the front door, and then Mum and Dad are walking through it.
“How was your trip?” My sister jumps off the settee.
I think she’s trying to butter them up before I lead them off a cliff they definitely will not want to go over, and I silently thank her for it by sending an appreciative glance her way. She tips her head, almost a you’re welcome.
“Well, what do we owe this nice welcoming committee to?” Mum beams as she sets her bags down.
“We just wanted to make sure you had a wonderful holiday,” Harlow answers.
“It was splendid. We hiked some of the Alps, and I brought home some delicious Swiss coffee,” Dad tells us.
I mostly look like my father, a raven-haired man who is now graying at the temple. But still, my old man has that eagle-eyed sharpness about him, the introverted intellect he passed down to me. He’s lightened up some since we’ve gotten older, but he still has his singular interests, physical exercise and good coffee being two of them.
Mum is softer, more outgoing like Harlow, and a natural blond. They met when they were eight, and began dating at the age of sixteen. Brighton born and bred, my parents have never considered living anywhere else. They’re good people, with good attitudes and work ethics, who raised their children to be morally appropriate. I’ve always tried to live up to their standards, which is why this conversation is going to be so difficult.
“Can you come sit with us in the living room?” I ask, trying to sound kind.
I think the effect is more along the lines of the Beast asking Belle to have dinner with him in his ballroom, because my family looks at me like I’ve nearly lost my head.
“Sure, darling,” Mum says, her eyes curious and shocked at the same time.
We move into the parlor, and I take a seat on the sofa across from my parents, who sit on the same one.
I look to Harlow, willing her to talk first. But she stands firm, crossing her arms over her chest where she sits on the arm of my parent’s sofa.
“A year and a half ago, Lara Logan had a baby,” I begin, trying to wade slowly into this mad house.
Dad nods matter-of-factly. “We know. Your Mum bumped into hers at the market a few times.”
“Never seen the little lad, but I bet he’s beautiful. Lara always was so pretty,” Mum gushes.
“Hmm, I wondered if you’d seen him,” Harlow throws in.
We’re both thinking the same thing; if my parents had seen Mason, they’d have known instantly that he’s a Morley.
“I only met him a few months ago. I …” I don’t know where I should begin, where this story makes sense to begin telling.
“Okay …?” My mother waves her hand, rolling it at the wrist as if telling me to speed this up.
“I’m rather hungry, Vance,” Dad puts in, and I realize they’re probably both knackered from the trip.
Best to just come out with it, then. “I am the father of her child. My child. Mason, her son, is … well, he’s my son. I have a son.”
I swear, you could hear a bloody pin drop for at least two minutes in the Morley household.
When Mum has sobered enough to pick her jaw up off the floor, she shrieks, “What!”
“I didn’t even know you two were … involved,” Dad mutters, and with the faraway look glazing over his eyes, I know he’s trying to internally piece this all together.
“We dated for about two years, from the time we were seventeen until about nineteen,” I supply.
“We still lived in the house across the street! You’re telling me you were dating Lara Logan, and no one knew about it?” Mum looks flabbergasted.
I shrug sheepishly. “I’ve never been one to publicly acknowledge my love life.”
“No, you just appear in magazines with a new model every other week. Vance Morley, I raised you better. You never once brought that girl over for dinner. What does she think of us?” Mum scolds me.
Of course, ignore the fact that I just told you you have a grandchild and begin riding my arse about manners and etiquette.
“You kept this from us?” Dad grunts, as if it’s inconceivable.
“I didn’t know, Dad. I didn’t know he even existed until mere weeks ago.”
“How old is he now?” Mum asks another random question.
Their brains must be in overdrive. I know mine was when I found out about Mason.
“He’s one and a half. His birthday is in April,” I tell them.
“So Lara … she has hidden him from us? We live in the same town, we lived across the street!” Mum has become incensed. “I have a grandson, that I never knew about? I … I don’t—”
Andddd now she’s crying. Openly sobbing, and slumps over onto Dad’s shoulder so hard that he has to bring his arms around her body to calm her.
“Oh, Mum.” Harlow comes around the other side to comfort her, and tries shushing our mother into just semi-dramatic crying.
I sit on my sofa across the coffee table, feeling like an arsehole. If I hadn’t been a prick to Lara, if I’d gotten over my need to segment every part of my life, then maybe we would have stayed together. Maybe I would have known the moment she did that we were pregnant. I could have let my parents know their grandson from the moment he entered the world.
None of that happened, and now, here we are.
“Can we meet him?” Dad suddenly looks up, as if this thought just occurred to him.
And another wave of guilt crashes over me, because I can’t promise them that. “Lara and I are still working everything out. I want so much for you to meet him, he’s incredible. It … it’s just going to take some time.”
Way to be the worst son in the world, mate. Harlow glares at me because I probably could have sugarcoated that a bit more for their sake, but it’s just never been my strong suit. White lying, omitting to spare someone’s feelings, I never understood that.
“I’ll just have to call her mother,” Mum says, sitting up straight and wiping her tears in a self-righteous motion.
“Oh, no, Mum, please you don’t have to—”
She cuts me off. “There is a little boy running around with our genes, in the same town as us. Of course, I need to see him.”
I just brought a storm of hellfire down on my head, and I’d only been meaning to comfort and soothe.
This is exactly why I never talk things out.
19
Lara
The day following Louis’s departure, it rains cats and dogs.
Driving, windy sheets of icy rain smash against every building, piece of pavement, roadway, and, seemingly, my heart.
Just because I decided to end things, to be the one to call it off, doesn’t mean I’m not devastated. I spent the last two and a half years with the man, formed a strong partnership and a compatible kind of love. Louis was my friend, confidant, and comfort through many a hard time. He was a father to Mason, and half of the household income.
This breakup, it isn’t just a boyfriend leaving. It isn’t an ill-fitting partner exiting a relationship, or a bastard getting his due finally. No, the end of our relationship is much more like a divorce. We shared tangible, important things, there will need to be a dividing of assets.
And the most damaging part of the split, emotionally, is going to be separating the me I was with Louis, from who I am now. Extracting him from my heart will gut me, because I did it to myself but I also know how much I still care for him.
The doorbell rings, pulling me out of my self-pity.
“Daddy!” Mason jumps up from the floor, where every toy he owns is strewn about the carpet.
The Mighty Anchor: Rogue Academy, Book Three Page 10