But I couldn’t afford a hospital bill. I’d never be able to pay the damn thing off. Not without Graham’s help.
It was Saturday morning and the small cafe across town was bustling with life. They had this soothing decaffeinated tea made especially for women who were going through pregnancy issues. It was supposed to help with the nausea enough to help me eat something, and it did. Every chance I could get, I would drive the thirty minutes from my apartment to this place, drink two cups of their tea, and have a small bowl of fruit. Holding down that fruit was the highlight of every single day, and there were moments when I cried into my tea simply because of how relieved I was to eat something.
Then, I heard it.
I heard his voice.
“A large coffee with a shot of espresso and one of those cinnamon rolls, please.”
I looked up from my book and stared at him. There he was, in all his splendor, with his strong shoulders and his tailored suit and his large hands that had picked me up as if I was nothing. My eyes raked down his form, studying the whole of him and taking him in. I had missed him, more than I was willing to admit to myself. But he was clearly lying to me. He was clearly not very busy. This cafe was an easy twenty minutes from his work, and I felt hot tears of anger rising to my eyes. I finished off the fruit as I watched him, silently begging him to turn and see me. To lock his eyes with mine and explain to me why the hell he was dodging me so badly.
But instead, he grabbed his things and headed out the door.
I chugged the rest of my tea, grabbed my book, and left. I walked out and saw him get into a car, then I rushed to mine and began to follow him. I pulled out behind him in traffic, not really knowing what the hell I was doing. But I followed him turn for turn, trying to stay as inconspicuous as possible.
And my heart thundered in my ears when the car he was in turned and headed further out of the city.
I followed it, trying to stay a few cars back. I was crazy. I knew I was. There was a battle raging in my mind, telling me to go home. That I had options. That if Graham wanted to see me, he would. He could. But my rolling nausea and the bags pulling at my eyes reminded me of the secret my body was harboring. The secret my body was growing. He had a right to know what was going on, but more than that… I had a right to look him in the eye and ask him what in the world was going on with him.
He had a right to know I was pregnant, but I had a right to choose how to tell him.
The car pulled into a driveway that sank back into the trees. I passed the driveway and slowed down, trying to see through the thick foliage. I kept traveling down the road and went to turn around, whipping a U-turn in the middle of the road. And when I did, the most spectacular sight came into view.
A beautiful house on top of a luscious, green hill.
I had to pull over and gawk. It was so grand and so beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. I cursed my pregnancy hormones for making me so emotional, but it was gorgeous. The sun was shining down onto the house as if the house itself was a beacon of safety. A haven for those who were hurting and lonely to come and seek rest within its walls. I felt a peace drape over me as I pulled from the side of the road, then I turned up the driveway and started for the house.
This was it.
This was Graham’s home.
I parked my car as my hands began to sweat. My nerves were getting the best of me and everything was telling me to turn and run. But I couldn’t. I had to stand strong. I was going to be a mother and being strong was required of me. Strength was something I had to grow into because abortion wasn’t an option for me and mothers needed to be strong for their children. So I drew in a deep breath, grabbed my purse, then headed for the front door.
I didn’t see the car anywhere, and for a moment I questioned myself. Did the driveway lead somewhere else? Had I been mistaken in where the car had turned into? Maybe there was another driveway I missed? I walked up the decadent porch and stood in front of the massive double doors. I reached for the knocker and slammed it against the door, listening as the sound echoed out into the home.
I could only imagine the expanse of the house inside.
I heard footsteps approaching the door before it ripped itself open. I was face to face with the man who had been dodging me ever since he got home. And now, I was no longer convinced he had been on a business trip in the first place. Maybe the business trip was his way of avoiding me in the first place. Maybe he had been in town all this time and that was his excuse to not see me.
Had he found someone else? Was this thing between us over? Either way, it didn’t change why I was here.
I lost myself in his piercing eyes before a sound caught my ear.
“Daddy? Who’s that?”
My eyes fell to the floor as a small body pushed beside him. There was a little girl, no more than five, probably, with bouncing black curls and piercing blue eyes. I looked up at Graham as his face fell, then the sound of spit bubbles caught my ear. I crouched down a bit and saw more children come into view. Two identical toddler boys, to be exact.
Children.
That was what Graham had been hiding. What he had been withholding from me all of these weeks.
The man had a fucking family.
I looked back up into Graham’s eyes as tears crested mine. He was a fake. A phony. A good for nothing liar. The woman in the restaurant had been right about him. Everything she yelled at him that night had been true. He was low. The lowest of the low. He probably had a wife in there, waiting on his every beck and call while he dropped his standards for some poor old woman like myself.
The side woman.
I was nothing more than the side woman.
“Libby? What are you doing here?” Graham asked.
His question hit me like a ton of bricks. My vision began to blur with my tears as I stumbled back onto the porch. I tripped going down the stairs as my legs carried me as quickly as they could, and I could hear the little girl calling out after me. The rug had been ripped out from underneath me. The hope I felt seeing him in that cafe had been decimated by the bomb that had just dropped. I ripped open my car as Graham yelled my name, calling to me from his porch while his kids surrounded his legs.
Kids.
He had multiple kids already.
This was a huge mistake. Coming here had been a huge mistake. Sleeping with him had been a mistake and dating him had been an even bigger mistake. How in the hell had I convinced myself that a man like him could’ve ever settled for a woman like me? I had no prospects. No money. I had no home to invite him into that I could be proud of our accomplishments with my life I could talk to him about. I had nothing while he had everything. A beautiful home. A company he ran. An accomplished career and a family to love. He was everything and I was nothing… and those two things never mixed.
Ever.
“Libby! Stop!”
I raced down the driveway and left Graham in my rearview mirror. I was never coming back. I had no idea what I was going to do with this child, but I knew what I was going to do immediately.
I was going to go home, delete that dating profile, block Graham’s number, and move on.
Because it was all I could. I had no other choice.
Graham Alexander had left me with no other choices.
I raced back into town as I tried choking back the vomit rising up my throat. I couldn’t do this. Not now. I weaved in and out of traffic, trying to keep my nerves at bay as my hands shook. I was white-knuckling the steering wheel and trying to speed as much as I could without getting caught. My head was pounding, and my stomach was sick with fury. I wanted to get into a long, hot shower and wash all of this shit off my skin. I could smell him. I could still feel his lips on my neck. I could feel how his hands gripped my hips and how his muscles molded perfectly to my body.
I had to wash him from my skin if I was ever going to move forward.
I skidded into a parking space and slammed out of my car. The bile was creeping up my throat as I ran u
p the steps to my apartment. I threw my door open, not bothering to close it as I dashed for my bathroom. Then I fell to my knees and started spewing up everything from the cafe.
I gripped the toilet as my stomach contracted. Was this what dying felt like? Because it felt like I was slowly wasting away. My throat burned and my eyes were dripping with tears. I was trying to cry and heave at the same time and I kept choking myself. I coughed and spit. My body was rebelling against every decision I had just made. My hands fell to my sides as I rested my cheek against the cold seat of the toilet, my chest panting for air.
I felt disgusting.
Useless.
Alone.
I felt my eyes fluttering closed. My body was sinking to the linoleum floor of my bathroom as the darkness started to drape over me. It had been almost a month since I’d gotten a decent amount of sleep. If it wasn’t the raging headache or the stress from work, it was the nausea. And it was finally catching up to my body. I slowly slid from the toilet seat and dropped to the floor, propping my cheek against my arm and allowing my eyes to close.
But before my body was able to drift off to sleep, I heard the toilet flush.
Then I felt a pair of arms wrapping around my body.
Then I heard that voice again. That husky, ethereal voice that never ceased to make my skin crawl.
“On the count of three, I’m going to lift you, okay? One… two… three.”
Then… I was floating.
Just like I always did when I was in his arms.
Fifteen
Graham
“Kids, you guys stay here.”
“Daddy? Who’s that?”
“Just stay here, guys.”
Seeing the horror on Libby’s face was what I was trying to avoid. I rushed out onto the porch, hoping she would stop when I called after her. It wasn’t what it looked like. I knew what she was thinking. I tried very hard to keep my sex life separated from my home life. My kids were my world, especially once their mother started taking a turn for the worst. I ran down the porch, trying to keep my kids back in the house as I yelled for her.
“Libby! Wait!”
She skidded out of the driveway and I yanked my phone from my pocket. I called my nanny that had left only moments before and told her to turn back around. I needed her to come stay with the kids so I could take care of something important.
Because Libby was important.
I ran back into the house and got the kids playing in their rooms. They wouldn’t stop asking me who the crying lady was, and it made my heart ache. I’d never meant to hurt Libby, but I made myself a promise long ago to keep my kids away from my personal life. I was a very busy man with needs that needed tending to, and I wasn’t afraid to reach out and fulfill them. What I didn’t want was a revolving door of women who wanted to act like they enjoyed my children to save face for me.
“Mr. Alexander? I’m back.”
“Thank fuck. I’m sorry, Melinda, but I have to go,” I said.
“What should I tell the kids?” she asked.
“Tell them I’ll be home for dinner!”
I grabbed my suit coat and barreled out the door. I fished my keys out of my pocket as the garage door opened. I was going to need my fastest car. I wasn’t letting Libby get away. I knew I had a lot of explaining to do, but now that she knew I had children it would be easier than lying to her. I had been absent ever since my business trip and very unavailable for her once I got back, but that wasn’t because I was ignoring her.
It was because my children had needed me.
I raced down the road, weaving in and out of traffic. I had to get to her. I had to explain to Libby what was going on once and for all so I didn’t lose her. With any other woman in any other situation, I would’ve let it go. But something in my gut didn’t want to with her. Watching the way her face fell and the sadness behind her eyes was too much to bear. It was too much at the wedding, and it was too much now. Something inside of me wanted to protect her. Something inside of me wanted to keep her happy.
And she was hurting because of me.
I pulled into her apartment complex and looked up to her apartment. I didn’t know what was going on, but I could tell her door was wide open. I slammed the car door behind me and shoved my keys into my pocket, then took the stairs three at a time to get to her. I could hear her crying and choking even from outside the apartment, and I barreled in as I whipped my head around in all directions.
“Libby! Where are you?”
I heard her coughing and I followed the sound. I walked into her bedroom and I could smell the stench coming from her bathroom. I walked in and saw her slumping onto the grimy floor of her apartment, her arms cradling the toilet as her stomach continued to jump with sickness. I walked over and flushed the toilet, ridding her apartment of the foul smell.
Then I bent down to pick her up.
“On the count of three, I’m going to lift you, okay? One… two… three.”
I lifted Libby into the air and she sighed. Her body instinctively curled into me even though her weak touch tried to push me away. I walked her out of her bathroom and laid her down in her bed, then reached for a tissue so I could clean her mouth off. I smoothed her sweaty hair back from her head as her eyes fluttered open and closed, her body fighting between sleep and staying away. I could see the pain in her face. I could feel her hands shaking from the exertion of her vomiting. I bit down onto my tongue, cursing myself for being such as idiotic asshole.
“Take a nap,” I said. “I’ll be here when you get up.”
Libby drifted off to sleep and I took it upon myself to clean up. I went and shut her apartment door, removed my suit coat, then proceeded to clean her bathroom. I didn’t want her smelling anything like that once she woke up because I wanted her to focus on talking to me. I picked up a few things around her apartment and started her small little dishwasher, then I heard her shifting around in bed.
“Graham?” she asked.
“I’m right here,” I said as I strode back to her room. “I’m right here, Libby.”
She looked up at me with reddened eyes and my heart sank to my toes. I did that to her. I made her feel this way. I reached for her hand to try and take it, but she moved it away. In fact, she shifted her entire body away from me, electing to lay on the other side of the bed I was sitting on.
“What are you doing here?” Libby asked.
“I owe you some answers,” I said.
“A few, yes,” she said. “But there’s something I have to tell you, too.”
“Let me go first, please?”
Libby opened her mouth to protest but nodded before she curled up tighter in bed.
“The woman in Boka, remember her?” I asked.
“How could I forget? She threw wine in your face,” she said.
“That woman was my ex. She’s the mother of my children.”
“The three children I saw in your home,” she said.
“Yes. We… we were never married, but we were engaged. We had some serious issues we were always trying to work through.”
I sighed as I hunched over and put my head in my hands.
“What happened between you two?” Libby asked.
“We were together for four years,” I said. “We had our daughter not too far into the relationship, and I decided to stick by her because I didn’t want her doing it alone. I wanted her to know I was there if she needed me. But after she had our daughter, postpartum depression kicked in.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“We dealt with it the first time around, and things were going okay. She was on medication that was helping and a lot of the big, glaring problems faded. But then she got pregnant with the twin boys, and things spiraled. She wasn’t sure if she could do more children and I told her I’d always be there to help. She didn’t believe me, so I proposed to try and get her not to worry about it.”
“Probably not the smartest idea,” she said.
“It wasn’t.
She was ecstatic, but things quickly changed. She had the boys and her depression got worse. I tried to get her help, to get her to change medications, but she wasn’t having it. She turned to alcohol to help cope and was doing all sorts of things when she was drunk. Purchasing cars and taking out credit card after credit card. I came home one day to an entire team of people putting in an in-ground pool, a hot tub, and a steam sauna while she was passed out on the couch.”
“Holy crap,” she said breathlessly.
“I told her she needed to get help. I hired a nanny to help with the kids, but she took it as an invitation to keep drinking. We had fight after fight about it, and the kids were paying the price for it. I rescinded the engagement because I told her I wasn’t marrying the person she had turned into and she accused me of trying to manipulate her into something she wasn’t. She stormed out and I changed the locks on the house, then took her to court for custody of the kids. She hardly even fought me.”
“You mentioned something about a restraining order at lunch that day. Why do you have that against her?”
“A few days after the judge awarded me custody of the kids, she broke into the house and tried to take our sons. She was beyond intoxicated and stumbling around everywhere. She really hurt herself and it ended with three traumatized kids and a trip to the hospital. I had my lawyer take one out on her before she left the hospital four days later.”
I felt the bed shift and I looked up from my hands. Libby was sitting beside me on the bed, her hand rubbing my back. Here was this woman, whose heart I had hurt so much it made her sick, and she was consoling me. I was here to answer her questions, yet she was the one pouring her heart out for me.
It was unimaginable, the patience Libby had.
“I’ve moved three separate times with the kids, and every time we move she finds us and it’s horrible for everyone. That’s why I don’t tell anyone about them. I’m paranoid that I’ll tell someone about them and they’ll, you know… know her or something.”
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