by T. K. Leigh
“I—”
“How long have you known who I was?” I demand, my nostrils flaring, jaw clenched.
“Nora, please…” He steps toward me, hands clasped together.
I shoot up my hand, stopping him from getting any closer. “How. Long?” I ask, my words coming out like bullets.
His expression falls, shoulders drooping. He doesn’t have to utter a single syllable for me to know I won’t like the response.
“Tucumcari,” he answers, his voice lacking all the confidence and swagger it had the first time he spoke to me. Then again, it wasn’t the first time he spoke to me. That was six years ago. He was the mysterious hero who rescued me, who begged me to stay with him, to not succumb to unconsciousness.
But he’s not a hero. Not anymore.
He’s certainly not my hero.
My stomach churns, acid burning my throat. I search his eyes, hoping to find some sign that this is just a cruel joke. But I can’t stand to peer into them anymore. Those blue eyes I once thought were my salvation are now nothing more than a reminder of the biggest mistake of my life.
“If I’d known earlier, I never would have initiated anything with you. Creed tried to warn me, but I refused to listen. Refused to allow him to tell me anything he found out about you. All my life, every single woman I’ve dated or was interested in had to be approved. For once, I wanted to learn about someone from them, not because of some background check. When you told me about Hunter, I still didn’t think anything of it. But after that night in Tucumcari, there was this nagging voice in my head, so I decided to Google you and the car accident. To my absolute horror, I learned you were the woman I pulled from that wreck, which Creed confirmed. You have to believe me when I say I had no idea who you were until then.”
“How can I believe you when you’ve kept this from me all along?” I choke out. “When every touch was a goddamn lie?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
“Truth?” I lean into him, my eyes on fire. “Truth? Now you’re interested in telling me the truth when this entire time, you had no problem fucking me, knowing you’re the reason I lost everything? Everything, Anderson. Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to not only lose the man I planned to spend my life with, but our baby, too?”
My blood heats in my veins, adrenaline coursing through me. I’ve tried to keep calm, to not completely lose control, but that time has passed. This man needs to know exactly what he’s done, what his negligence destroyed.
“To have to carry that baby for two long weeks after the doctors told me the fetus didn’t have a heartbeat? And that’s what they called her at the hospital. She was no longer a baby. No longer Ember. No longer a person. She was a fetus. Then to endure over twenty hours of labor with no one at my side, knowing when it was all over I’d go home empty-handed. Do you have any idea how much that fucked with my mind?”
“I can’t even begin to imagine,” he says, cautiously stepping toward me, testing the waters. “And that’s why I knew I had to come clean and tell you the truth. Because you deserve to know.” He pauses, drawing in a shaky breath. “Because I love you enough to lose you, Nora.”
“You have—” I snap my mouth shut, his statement finally registering. “What did you say?” I hiss.
He shows no reaction to my demeanor, remaining calm. “I love you.”
I squeeze my eyes closed, swiping away the tears falling down my cheeks. An excruciating ache settles in my chest, a vice squeezing every last ounce of life out of my heart. A part of me had hoped he loved me, that we would find a way to make it work, but I never imagined that love would come like this, wrapped up with lies and sugarcoated in deception.
“And you think that’s supposed to make me forgive you?”
“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t deserve it. But you deserve to feel loved. That’s all.”
I part my lips, struggling to come up with any response. But I can’t. Can’t bear to be in this man’s presence any longer.
I spin on my heels, dashing off the plane and into the cool October evening air before Anderson can stop me. As if anticipating this turn of events, Creed stands beside a dark SUV and quickly opens the rear passenger door when he sees me. A motion from the airplane catches my attention, and I look up to see Anderson standing in the doorway holding my purse and laptop bag, which I’d left on the plane.
Creed is quick to retrieve them. My resolve momentarily cracks when I see the streaks of tears on Anderson’s face, making me second-guess whether I did the right thing. But how could this not be the right thing? That man took Hunter and Ember from me. And he knew about it, yet kept it to himself.
“Would you like these with you?” Creed asks in a strained voice as he approaches the idling SUV once more. “Your suitcase is already in the back.”
Nodding, I take the small bags from him and turn forward, buckling my seat belt. I can only imagine what the driver they hired to take me home must think. I imagine they paid him a substantial tip to keep to himself.
Creed’s about to close the door when he stops. He reaches into his suit jacket and pulls out a handkerchief. I almost turn it down when I notice the royal insignia on it, but don’t. I take it as a reminder of what can happen when you put your heart on the line. When you allow yourself to become vulnerable, to be taken advantage of.
“For what it’s worth, Nora,” Creed begins, his tone lacking the serious quality I’d heard last evening and all throughout the flight. He sounds…friendly. “Anders didn’t know until a few days ago. When you first…got together, he was unaware he’d caused that wreck. I told him. Disobeyed orders to do so, but I realized he deserved the truth. Just like he realized you deserved the truth.”
“How is that possible?” I lean closer, my voice low so no one can overhear. “How could he not know he killed two innocent people?”
Creed steals a worried glance at the driver, then schools his expression, turning back into Crown Prince Gabriel’s chief protection officer. “I’m not at liberty to say, ma’am.”
“Then I’m not at liberty to forgive him.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Nora
The television screen flickers as I gorge on ice cream, sneering at Meg Ryan. How could she forgive Tom Hanks so fucking easily? He lied to her about who he was. Manipulated her into thinking he was just some guy she met online, not someone she already knew. Someone who destroyed her career, caused her bookstore to shutter its doors. I once loved You’ve Got Mail.
Now it hits too close to home.
Just as I’m about to shout at Meg Ryan’s character to leave the bastard and find someone who won’t deceive her, the door to my apartment flings open. I dart my eyes toward the foyer, Chloe, Evie, and Izzy filing in, each of them wearing a costume. Is it already Halloween? How is that possible?
I glance at my phone. October 31st. I’ve wallowed in misery for two long weeks. I can only imagine what my mother would say about this. It’s probably a good thing I’ve ignored her phone calls. Otherwise, she would have been on the first flight from Miami to psychoanalyze every aspect of my life and tell me it’s my fault Hunter was killed in that crash. My fault Anderson drove recklessly that night. My fault he lied to me.
“Oh, my god! Is that a…rom com?” Chloe asks, her voice heavy with disgust.
“And ice cream?” Izzy adds.
Evie sniffs like a dog. “And when’s the last time you showered?” She meets Chloe’s and Izzy’s eyes. “I told you it might be too late. Look.” She drops her voice to a whisper. “She’s reached the Meg Ryan stage. There may be no saving her.”
“But we have to try,” Chloe says, turning her attention to me and tossing a shopping bag at me. “Put this on. We’re going out. It’s Halloween.”
“I’m not in the mood.”
I shove another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, chasing it with wine straight from the bottle, to my friends’ absolute horror. Evie covers her open mouth. Chloe scrunches h
er nose. And Izzy makes a fake gagging sound.
“What?” I lift the ice cream carton and wine bottle. “Red wine and dark chocolate go great together.”
The girls all share another look, then rush toward me simultaneously.
“This is much worse than I thought.” Evie pries the ice cream and wine from my hands.
“At least her hair isn’t a rat’s nest.” Izzy yanks my locks free from the ponytail holder.
“I’ve dealt with worse,” Chloe states with authority as she grabs my arms and pulls me off the couch. “Go shower and get ready. You’ve had more than enough time to get over your not-so-Prince Charming.”
“Ooh,” Evie squeals. “I like that one. I’ve been calling him Prince Prick.”
“Prince Asswipe for me,” Izzy adds.
I try to fight my smile, but can’t.
When I’d returned home a mess, struggling to come to terms with Anderson’s lies and the fact he’s the reason I lost everything, they’ve been at my side every step of the way, not once questioning whether I made the right decision. Not asking what I thought Creed could have meant when he mentioned there was an explanation for Anderson having lost control of the car. Not ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the extravagant bouquets of flowers he sent every day, each one containing a note about yet another one of his favorite moments on the road.
The first time I heard you laugh at the pool in Springfield.
The way you rested your bare feet on the dashboard of the Wrangler.
The look of awe on your face when we saw the Grand Canyon.
Instead, they’ve done everything they can to help me forget Anderson.
But it’s been impossible. The fact he’s a public figure doesn’t help, which is why I’ve avoided all social media and the news, not wanting to stumble across any mention of him, even if by accident. The last thing I need is a reminder of the biggest mistake of my life. Of the man who destroyed everything.
“Thanks, girls. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’d risk reaching the Nicholas Sparks level of post-breakup depression,” Chloe states. “And I’m sorry. Even my professional abilities can’t bring you back if you’ve gone down The Notebook rabbit hole.”
I burst out laughing, the sound feeling foreign after so long. Reaching into the bag, I pull out the costume they chose for me. “The Queen of Hearts?” Although this dress is much sexier than anything I’ve ever seen depicted in any of the remakes of Alice in Wonderland.
“I figure it’s fitting.” Chloe beams as she gestures to Evie and Izzy. “We’ve all chosen costumes that are a good representation of who we are.”
I take in her Harley Quinn costume, the ends of her blonde pigtails dyed red and blue, respectively. When I see her t-shirt says “Daddy’s Little Monster”, I can’t help but shake my head in amusement. From the stories she’s told me of her childhood, it’s not far from the truth.
“Okay. I get Harley Quinn and the nurse.” I nod at Izzy’s chosen costume, although this version is a lot more risqué than the scrubs I’ve seen her wear. “But a hooker?” I squint at Evie, who’s dressed as Vivian from Pretty Woman, but as prostitute Viv, complete with thigh-high black boots and a cheap blonde wig covering her red hair. “I’m surprised Julian let you leave the house dressed like that.”
“I promised I’d keep on the boots and wig when I got home later.” She winks, licking her lips.
“Did I miss your stint as a prostitute?”
“No, but even you have to admit the way I met Julian was a lot like how Vivian met Edward. We also made a business arrangement, but ended up falling for each other.”
She doesn’t have to utter a word for me to know what she’s thinking. That her story isn’t that different from mine and Anderson’s, either. We had an agreement to drive to Los Angeles together on Route 66, then walk away. And just like Julian and Evie, we fell for each other. But that’s where the similarities end. She didn’t learn Julian was responsible for destroying her life.
“Enough stalling. Go get ready,” Chloe orders. “Under no circumstances are we going to allow you to continue to wallow and become every romantic comedy cliché out there.”
“But I like being a cliché,” I whine, then add, “I like knowing I’m not alone.”
Chloe drapes her arm along my shoulders and pulls me into her slim body. “And you’re not.”
“You have us.” Evie joins us, Izzy right behind her.
“Lean on us,” Izzy encourages, then steals a glance at the television. “Not on Meg Ryan.”
We erupt in a fit of giggles at the ridiculousness of this situation. That’s the mark of a true friend. They don’t kick you when you’re down. Don’t whisper behind your back about your broken heart. They lift you up. And these women have always lifted me up, no matter the weight.
Strobe lights flicker around me, sweat beading on my neck and brow as I move with the hypnotic beat of the club music. Over the past few hours, I’ve danced away my heartache with my three best girls. I’ve tried not to focus on the diamond adorning each of their ring fingers. I never thought much of them before. But that was when I still wore Jeremy’s ring, despite the fact it was given in a drunken haze.
Now I find myself back to square one, wondering if I’ll ever find the same happiness I had with Hunter.
And with Anderson.
I clutch the silver chain around my neck where Hunter’s engagement ring dangles. I almost sold it when I first returned home. Every time I looked at it, I was reminded of Anderson and his deception. But this is the last piece of Hunter I have left. Anderson stole every other memory. I refuse to let him steal this, too.
“Break?” Chloe shouts over the music after the DJ transitions from Michael Jackson’s “Thriller” to a more modern tune.
“Yes!” I shout back, and we all squeeze our way through the crowded dance floor and toward the VIP section. After smiling at the bouncer manning the rope, we’re permitted access, thanks to Izzy’s rockstar fiancé, Asher, who was not only able to get us into this exclusive club, but also a table in the VIP area.
My feet screaming, I’m about to collapse into our booth when Evie grabs my forearm. “Come to the bathroom with me. I’ll help you reapply your makeup.”
I don’t have a chance to protest as she drags me through the VIP section and toward the private ladies’ room. It’s probably not a bad thing. I have been drinking all night. And sweating under those bright lights. I can only imagine what the makeup Evie painstakingly applied looks like right now.
And when we step into the bathroom, my reflection staring back at me from the mirror, I see it’s worse than I thought. The red hearts painted on both my cheeks are smudged, and the red heart in the center of my lips needs a little help.
“Let’s pee, then I’ll get you all fixed up.”
I nod, and we both go about our business. Once we’ve washed our hands, Evie drags me toward the vanity area in the bathroom and sits me down in one of the cushioned stools before lowering herself onto the one beside me. I open my clutch, removing the costume makeup she’d used on me earlier, and allow her to get to work.
Several moments pass as she works on cleaning up my cheeks, the only sound that of the occasional toilet flushing and the muted chorus of “Monster Mash”.
“So, how are you holding up?” Evie asks nonchalantly as she outlines a heart.
“Fine,” I answer, ignoring her insinuation. “Just a little hot.”
She pinches her lips. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you know it. I’ll ask again.” She lowers her voice, her eyes filled with sincerity. “How are you?”
I swallow hard, trying my best to keep my emotions in check, as I’ve done these past few weeks. I shouldn’t even give Anderson a moment’s thought. Yet I can’t stop thinking about what Creed told me before closing the SUV door. That Anderson didn’t know the truth of that night until that week. I want to believe him. But at the same time, I don’t.
“I
’m so fucking confused,” I blurt out, the words leaving me like a tidal wave, fast and cathartic.
Evie takes my hand in hers and squeezes. “Your brain tells you that you should be angry he lied to you, deceived you.”
I nod. “But my heart wants to overlook all that and only remember the good stuff.”
“Exactly,” Evie says, knowing all too well what I’m feeling. She’s probably the only one who can even begin to comprehend the mixed-up emotions plaguing me every hour of the day. The constant push and pull. The tumultuous game of tug-of-war being waged in my heart. After all, she went through something similar with Julian, although the secret he kept didn’t come remotely close to being this earth-shattering.
“I should just forget him.”
“You should. That’s what all reason tells you to do.” She touches my chin, tilting my head to the opposite side so she can fix up my other cheek. “But you can’t forget someone who still owns a piece of your heart.”
Does Anderson still own a piece of my heart? I’ve tried to convince myself he didn’t, that he didn’t deserve to even be a thought. But he’s still on my mind. His kisses still tingle on my lips. And his hold still maintains a grip on my heart, no matter what I do to free myself.
“How did you forgive Julian after he lied to you about who he was?”
She meets my eyes. “I finally realized the truth.”
“The truth?”
“Yes, Nora. The truth. I was like you. For weeks, I only focused on the lie. On the deception. I thought it tainted everything. I was convinced our entire relationship was based on that lie. Nothing else. I was so blinded by it that I ignored what had been glaring at me from the beginning.”
“And what’s that?”
“That he saved me.”
I straighten. “Saved you?”
“Maybe not like Anderson saved you, but Julian saved me, nonetheless. He saved me from myself. Taught me what true love feels like. And there’s no question in my mind that Anderson loves you.”