“No. I don't have a manager, and the guys are probably still sleeping. And I know my publicist is busy at the moment.” He grabbed my thighs and wrapped them around his waist. His arousal grew by the second.
“You're an—”
Weston's hands gripped my ribs. “Say ass and I'll tickle.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” I laughed and threw my hands up in defeat. My laughter was cut short yet again when his phone rang.
“What the fuck.” He groaned and threw the covers off our bodies. Crawling across the bed, he slid his finger across the phone before picking it up. “Hello?” Though it was faint I could hear a female on the other side of the phone. “Chelsea, calm down. I'm not understanding you.”
I pulled the sheet over my body, feeling ashamed for what we had just done. Subconsciously, I was shielding my heart from what was about to happen. The female spoke again and in mere seconds Weston’s face changed. Frown lines creased on his forehead. This wasn't good. I sat up, my mind running a mile a minute, imagining everything that might be said on the other side of that phone call.
“Okay, I'll be right there.” His head dropped. “Chelsea, it's going to be okay, I promise. We’ll get through this.”
My heart tightened in my chest.
It was too late.
I bit the inside of my lip and kept my emotions in check as Weston said goodbye. He laid his phone on the bed, his head still low as he ran his fingers through his hair. Each second felt like an hour. Weston nodded his head as if he was talking to himself, then he met my gaze. His eyes glistened with unshed tears.
“Hey . . . “ I rushed to his side, my hand on his shoulder. “What happened?”
“Chelsea is pregnant.” His voice was weak. “And she's bleeding.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Oh, Weston…”
“What if I did this? What if leaving her caused her too much stress?”
I swallowed my own pain. “It's going to be okay.”
“I have to go to her.”
At that moment, I knew I would never tell him about Lyra. She would be my secret. He was getting a fresh start with Chelsea and I couldn't stop that from happening. “Go.” I prayed that my tears wouldn't fall.
“Em…” He cupped my cheek with his hand.
I shook my head slightly. “Don't say anything. We both know this thing with us would never work. We’ve been doomed from the start.” We both knew Weston would do the right thing and stay by Chelsea's side. Any hope of us being together was just that—hope.
“I'm sorry.” He brought his forehead to mine.
“Me, too.”
Weston kissed my lips once more, then moved off the bed and towards the bathroom. By the time he came out of the bathroom I was gone; it was easier that way.
I pulled out my cell phone as I waited for the valet attendant to bring my car around and sent Weston a text message.
Me: you'll be a great dad x.
46
WESTON
I had Emilia.
I could feel her coming back to me.
Jeremy was out of the picture, and she was mine.
With our legs tangled together as we made love, I could feel her becoming mine again. I knew every part of her body, and she knew mine. She was a beautiful sexual woman, and I took my time devouring her body. I planned on spending the rest of my life right where we were.
And then Chelsea called.
One simple phone call could change your life.
It was a phone call from Paulie that said we had a record deal.
A phone call from my mother when she told me my brother had died.
A phone call from Axel when he found a lifeless Harry on the floor of our two-bedroom flat.
One phone call could change everything.
I glanced at the screen, and Chelsea's name greeted me. I sighed and answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Wes…” Her voice was shaky on the other side of the phone. “I’m sorry to bother you… I didn’t know if I should call, but I need to talk to you. It’s important…” She sobbed into the phone before she began to speak again.
“I took a pregnancy test three weeks ago, and it came out positive. I was waiting for the right opportunity to tell you, but I know you had a lot going on with your last show. I'm pregnant, Weston, but I'm also bleeding. I’m afraid I’m losing the baby.”
My heart sank. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” I closed my eyes, hoping that this was all a nightmare.
“Wes, I’m at my place. Please hurry…”
“Chelsea, It’s going to be okay, I promise.”
My hand scratched the back of my head as I tried to gather my thoughts. Emilia covered herself with a blanket and looked up at me, her eyes filled with concern. How the hell was I going to explain this to her? I hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed.
“Hey.” Emilia’s small hand gripped my shoulder. “What happened?”
The guilt was more than I could bear. “Chelsea’s pregnant, and she’s bleeding.”
“Oh, Weston…” Her grip lessened around on my shoulder.
“What if I did this? What if leaving her caused her too much stress?”
“It’s going to be okay.” Her sweet voice seemed distant.
“I have to go to her.”
“Go.”
I turned back and looked at her. The happiness that filled her eyes a few moments earlier had disappeared. “Em…” I said, cupping her face. Our eyes spoke the words we couldn’t say to one another.
“Don’t say anything. We both know this would never work. We’ve been doomed from the start.” Her voice cracked, and I knew she was on the verge of tears.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered and pressed her forehead to mine.
“Me too,” she said softly.
I kissed her lips one last time.
When I stepped out of the shower, Emilia was gone.
Emilia: you’ll be a great dad x.
“Fuck!” I threw my phone on the bed. I’d had her. Even though it was for a short period of time, I’d had her.
But Chelsea needed me.
My child that she carried needed me.
Within forty minutes, I was pulling up to Chelsea's condo. I slammed my car into park and rushed up the stairs. She pulled the door back before I even knocked. Her nose was red, and her cheeks were stained with tears. The moment she saw me, her knees buckled and she began to sob.
“It's okay.” I gathered her in my arms. “It's going to be okay. I'm here.” I hoped that my words soothed her.
When Chelsea's cries stopped, I lifted her chin up to me. “What did the doctor say?”
“He said it's common but to monitor it.” Her lower lips quivered. “If I feel any sharp pains or cramps, I’m supposed to go into the office. But right now it's just a waiting game. I'm so sorry, Wes. I didn't mean to tell you like this.”
I shook my head gently and pressed my lips to hers. “Let's get you to bed and keep you off your feet. I don't want you to stress.”
I held Chelsea, her head pressed to my chest as I brushed her hair back. We laid in her bed, the TV on mute as she slept in my arms. I was with her, but my mind was elsewhere. My mind was with Emilia.
It was always with Emilia.
I shook my head and sighed. Right now the only thing that mattered was making sure Chelsea was okay. I reached for the remote, turned the television off, and hugged Chelsea tighter.
Closing my eyes, I hoped that sleep would silence the voices in my head.
I was in a deep sleep when Chelsea shifted in the bed. “Weston. Weston!” she cried.
My eyes flung open. “What is it?”
“I'm bleeding again. I think we need to go to an emergency room.” Her words radiated fear through my body.
Jumping off the bed, I slid my T-shirt over my head, slipped on my shoes, and grabbed my car keys. “Let's go.”
Chelsea was eleven weeks pregnant when she miscarried our child. According to the sonogram, there was no hea
rtbeat. I held Chelsea's hand as she cried. The doctor had given us some time to process. I didn't know what to feel or what to say to her. I had found out I was going to be a dad less than ten hours ago, and the universe was already taking it away for me.
Chelsea covered her eyes and cried softly. “I'm so sorry.”
“Hey.” I kissed her lips. “This wasn't your fault.” I brushed my hand through her hair.
“Maybe if I would've known sooner I could've done something…”
“You can't blame yourself, Chelsea.”
She nodded slowly and sighed. “I guess it all worked out for you.” I could see the anger building in her green eyes. “You needed space, and me having a child would’ve complicated things. Now you have your out.”
“Don't say that.” I shook my head. I was hurt by this, too. “It's not fair.”
“Just go, Weston.” She turned over on the bed so her back was facing me. “I really just want to be alone.”
“Chel—”
“Go!”
She needed her space, as did I. The image of the blank screen on the sonogram machine haunted me and there wasn’t anything we could do about it.
47
EMILIA
Jeremy was still living with his brother.
He’d show up sporadically to pick up his bills and pack fresh clothes, but I never saw him. I knew he had been home because I’d pop into his place, sit on his couch and relive moments we had shared there. Sometimes Lyra and I would lie on his bed and watch television so I could feel him close. She would ask where Jeremy was and when he was coming home. I would say that he was on a business trip but that he still loved her very much.
Though he wouldn't speak to me, every other day when we got home there would be a new voicemail from Jeremy solely directed towards Lyra. He’d tell her that he missed her, ask how school was, and even read her a bedtime story. My heart ached. I thought I was alone when Leslie left and I was pregnant with Lyra, but this was a new low. My heart was broken into two pieces, one for each man.
It was mid-December and SoCal PR was closing for the holiday season. I’d still have to be active for any crisis that arose, but I was free to take a vacation. I didn’t want to wallow in a lonely house, so I booked tickets for Lyra and me to Brazil. I was taking her home to meet my aunt.
The plane ride to Brazil was long but well worth it. For the first few days we sat at her kitchen table, drank coffee and caught up on our lives. I never mentioned Jeremy nor Weston, and for all she knew, Lyra was a one-night stand that led to me having a child.
I woke up Christmas morning with Lyra wrapped in my arms. I had expected to feel sadness for being alone on Christmas Day, but I knew that as long as I had Lyra I would never be alone. I hopped out of bed and decided I would make breakfast for my aunt and uncle. Lyra helped by whipping up the eggs. When my aunt walked into the kitchen, her small frame body came up behind me and embraced me.
“Feliz Natal minha filha. Que Deus te proteja e que ele enche a sua vida com amor.” Merry Christmas, my daughter. May God protect you and fill your life with love.
“Merry Christmas!” Lyra shouted as she ran towards us. Her little arms wrapped around my legs.
My aunt clucked at me and slightly shook her head. “I can't believe you never taught her Portuguese.”
Lyra and I spent Christmas in the heart of Rio and then we rang in the New Year on the beach of Copacabana. As the fireworks lit the midnight sky, I promised myself that the New Year would be different. The lying had to stop.
After a week in the sun and eating more salgadinhos then I could count, Lyra and I were headed back home. I led us through the airport and toward check-in. The monitor showed my LAX flight and then a flight to Chicago right under it. My mind began to spin.
I paid a hefty amount in fees, but it was worth the price to hop on the plane to Chicago. It was December and Lyra and I hadn't packed for the frigid Chicago winter, so I stopped by a terminal shop and spent a weekly salary on new clothes.
I desperately needed an old friend, and a fresh start that didn't consist of lying.
The car ride from O'Hare Airport to Leslie’s downtown brownstone apartment took nearly two and a half hours—talk about traffic! I walked up the few flights of steps with my suitcase in one hand and Lyra in the other and rang the doorbell to my friend’s apartment. I was showing up unannounced, so I didn't know if she would even be home. I rang the doorbell again and waited. Lyra looked up at me, her little nose scrunched in confusion.
“We'll just wait a few more minutes. If no one answers, we'll go to a hotel and get hot chocolate.”
I should have called.
I should have warned Leslie I was coming.
As I turned to go back down the stairs, the door pulled back. A groggy Leslie stood at the threshold. “Can I help you?” she questioned.
“Hi,” I tried to sound hopeful.
Leslie’s face changed when she realized that I was standing on her doorstep. Her eyes grew wide as she looked down at Lyra whose hands gripped mine like a vice. “Oh, my God … You kept her.”
“Can we not do that here?” I nodded toward Lyra.
“Oh! Of course. Come on in. I'm sorry, I was sleeping. I didn't expect you,” Leslie rambled.
“Don't be sorry. I'm the one who showed up unannounced.”
She led us inside and closed the door behind her. Her arms opened and I immediately hugged her. It was a hug I desperately needed from a dear friend. Lyra tugged at my side. “This is mommy's best friend.” I looked at Leslie. “Les, this is Lyra.”
Leslie crouched down until she was eye level with Lyra. “It's so nice to finally meet you. Can I have a hug?”
Lyra looked up at me and I smiled. She then turned to Leslie and wrapped her little arms around her neck. Leslie cradled Lyra as she held on. Leslie looked up at me and mouthed, You gave her the name he picked? I slowly nodded. Leslie pulled away. “You must be tired, little one. That flight from Los Angeles is really long.”
“Actually, we’re coming from Brazil. We spent the holidays there and decided to do a last-minute stop here before heading back home.”
“Oh, my goodness! You girls must be exhausted. Come on. Can I get you something to drink, eat? Lyra, would you like some juice?” Leslie ushered us to the couch. She quickly made a fresh pot of coffee and brought out juice and cookies for Lyra.
Lyra lay on the couch, her eyes slowly closing as she watched cartoons while we sat at Leslie's round dining room table. The coffee mug warmed my hands and my head hung low. I was unable to meet Leslie's questioning gaze.
She broke the awkward silence. “Emilia, what are you doing?”
It was a question I had asked myself for a very long time. Tears merged in my eyes as I stared down at my black coffee. “The day I went into labor, I met Jeremy. I was four weeks early. I was going to call you, but it all happened so fast. I'd planned on giving her up, but the nurse lay her on my chest and I knew I couldn't. She had these big gray eyes and I fell in love with her instantly. Jeremy stayed with me through the whole delivery. He's been with me since day one. He pulled me out of a dark hole, but the day he asked me to marry him happened to be the same day Weston walked into my office and became a client.”
“But Lyra?” She shook her head slowly. “Why didn't you tell me about her? Or tell Weston?”
“I was selfish. I wanted to keep her all to myself. But now Jeremy knows because Weston wrote a song about her and my whole life is falling apart!”
“What?”
I fixed my gaze on Leslie. “I think we're going to need something stronger than coffee.”
The bottle of tequila sat in the center of the table, and an empty shot glass rested between my fingers as I told Leslie everything that had happened from the beginning. I explained to her how Jeremy made me fall in love with him, and how hard it was to have Lyra but how Jeremy made it easier. I admitted to falling in love with Weston the second he walked in my door, and I confessed that the love
I shared with Weston could never be replaced by anything else. I took my third shot of tequila when I told Leslie I had slept with Weston again, and Leslie took a shot when I told her Chelsea was now pregnant and Weston still didn’t know about Lyra.
“No offense, chica,” Leslie rose from the table to get more lime wedges, “but this sounds like a Jerry Springer show.”
I threw my head back and laughed for the first time in a long time. Leslie was right—this was right out of a tabloid talk show. Leslie returned from the kitchen with a cutting board and a new lime in her hand. “What are you going to do, though? Are you going to tell Weston about Lyra? Are you going to call Jeremy and tell him to come back home?”
“That's why I’m here. I need your help.”
“Jeremy is waiting for you, and Weston is still Lyra’s dad. Running to Brazil or to Chicago isn't going to change that. We're adults now—we have to stand up for our actions.”
“I don't like being a grown-up,” I complained, pouring myself another shot of tequila.
After a few moments, Leslie spoke. “I'm sorry for blaming you for Harry’s death.”
My eyes were soaked with tears. “I'm sorry, too.”
“The things I said to you … I didn't … I was going through a really hard time, Em.”
I shook my head. “I'm the one who's sorry. I lied to you about Lyra, and I pushed you away. Apparently it's this thing I do—I lie to the ones I love.” Leslie rose from her chair and walked over to me. Drunk as skunks, we held each other as we continued to apologize.
We switched from tequila to water, and Leslie ordered take-out for dinner. We were picking at the Pad Thai container when Leslie had a brilliant idea—or so she thought it was a brilliant idea.
“I have the most brilliant idea. I have the next two weeks off work, so why don't I go back to LA with you?”
“You have the next two weeks off? Why?”
“Because my company sucks and vacation days are based on seniority. I'm still the newbie around there, so I can't take any time off around the holidays, and I figured the first two weeks of the year would be best since it leaves everyone else to do the crappy work of the new fiscal year.”
Love Letter Duet: The Encore Edition Page 27