by Ruby Rowe
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“All right. I’ll answer it, but then you have to answer one of mine.”
“OK.”
“Aspen and I have been trying to have kids for years.”
“Oh”–I look at my lap–“and that made you cheat how?”
“Our infertility issues were starting to cause problems in our marriage. A fucking calendar was dictating my sex life, I was shooting my load into a cup in a sterile office, and she was in tears every month when she discovered she wasn’t pregnant–again.”
I hear his exhale over the air conditioning. “One night I was drunk at a party, one of the many I’m expected to attend each year. Aspen wasn’t with me, and a woman who didn’t remind me of my failures was trying her damndest to get me to fuck her.
“For once, I just wanted to have sex for the satisfaction of having it. No expectations. A fun, giggling woman looking for a good time with a guy she thought was a catch. In that moment, I didn’t have to be perfect, yet the woman with me thought I was.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Anyway, my reasoning didn’t make it right, and I’ll go to my grave regretting it. I spend every day trying to make it up to Aspen, and one of the reasons she’s so bubbly right now is because it finally happened.
“She’s pregnant, and I’m terrified something will go wrong, and we’ll be back to where we were before, month after month–in a constant state of disappointment.”
“It’s wonderful news that she’s pregnant.”
“Maybe.” He looks over at me with a pleading gaze, his blue eyes reminding me of Ellis’s. “Look, please don’t share this with anyone. Aspen told her parents, but you’re the only other person who knows. I haven’t even told Greyson yet. I guess I’m worried I’ll have to take it back.”
“I won’t tell, but I’m sure Greyson would be there for you.”
“Yeah, he would. That leads me to my question.”
I look back down at my lap. “What’s that?”
“Without taking into account what happened with the money, or any other stupid shit Greyson’s done, do you love my brother enough to spend the rest of your life with him?”
“That’s an easy question to answer; yes, I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else.”
“Then forgive him for this fuck up. He had no choice but to choose you or the money. It was a decision he was forced to make, and it was fucking wrong that our grandfather put him in that position.”
“I don’t know all the details, but I think you two are forgetting the amount of money we’re talking about here.”
“No, I think you don’t understand the net worth of our family. Yes, I agree that for most people on the planet, it’s a shit-ton of money, but if you consider the amount Greyson already has, what he’ll make from working, along with the inheritance he’ll receive once our parents die, what he gave up is miniscule.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I can’t fathom that.”
“I know, but in our world, it is fathomable, and if you want to spend your life with my brother, you’ll at least try to wrap your mind around it.”
Biting my lip, I look out the passenger window.
“I’m not worth it.”
“He thinks you are. I hope you won’t be pissed at him, but before the wedding this morning, he shared with me a little about your past. My brother always wants to talk about the shit eating at him.
“Anyway, he said you told him that ending up with him was worth every bit of the abuse you suffered. He can’t wrap his mind around that. He doesn’t see how he’s worth it, and he worries about keeping you happy.
“What I’m trying to say is the way you think he’s worth the abuse you endured doesn’t seem all that different than the way he thinks you’re worth more than the money he forfeited.”
I look at Lawrence, and his eyes shift between mine and the road.
“I guess that’s one way of looking at it.”
“If you love my brother, then it’s the only way.” He pulls into the parking garage below the penthouse, and it’s the perfect time to conclude our intense conversation.
“I didn’t think you were a man of this many words.”
“I’m not, so don’t get used to it.” He smiles, and the way it reminds me of Greyson’s handsome face creates a pain in my chest. “Aspen only forgave me because of the talk Greyson had with her. I owed him one, but I meant every word, Sasha. Forgive my brother.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Greyson
“Hey, I figured you’d be hiding out in your room,” Lawrence says as he pulls out a chair to sit beside me under the tent.
“I needed to talk to Whitney. I know she’s a bitch, but even she deserves someone better than Sebastian. I had to tell her what he’s capable of.”
“Did she believe you?”
“Fuck no. I guess she’ll find out the hard way.” I watch everyone dancing, but I feel a mile removed from the fun. The kids have gone home, minus Liam. He’s in the house with his grandparents, and the adults are partying.
After finishing off my drink, I look at Lawrence.
“Well, was Sasha OK? Did she say anything?”
“You can thank me later.”
“Is she forgiving me?” I ask urgently.
“I think so.”
“Then I’m heading to the penthouse.” I start to get up, but my brother grabs my arm.
“No, you’re not. First, your glazed-over eyes tell me you’ve had too much to drink, and second, you’re going to give her the space she asked for.”
I sit back down. “I have to be sure she understands.”
“I already explained it, so you’re going to keep your ass here tonight and talk to her tomorrow.
“You told me this morning that you’re supposed to stop being overprotective and let her make her own decisions. If that’s true, then you need to let her make this decision.”
I growl. “Women make me crazy.”
“Same here, but we can’t seem to live without them. I have something to tell you.”
“What’s that?”
Lawrence taps his fingers on the table in time with the music. He’s staring at someone, so I look in the same direction and see Aspen talking with our parents.
“Aspen’s pregnant.”
“Really? That’s great news.”
“Yeah, it is. She wants to tell everyone, but I’ve stopped her. She’s only ten weeks, and I’m still worried something could go wrong.”
“Do Mom and Dad know?”
“No, but I should probably tell them.”
“I think you should, and be excited, bro. It’s great news.”
“I am excited. OK, I’ll go over there, but you have to promise me you won’t talk to Sasha tonight.”
“Fine. I’ll give her space.”
Sasha
“Misty, it’s Sasha.”
“Sasha? Wow, where the hell have you been, girl?”
“I’ve been trying to stay clean. How are you?”
“I’m fine, but I’ve been a little pissed at you. Rusty told me you were living the good life with your sister in some mansion.”
“Not exactly. Rusty’s still in jail, right?”
“Yeah. His cousin told me he’s getting years this time.”
“I wondered if you’d like to catch up.”
“I guess I can forgive you, but you better stay in touch from now on.”
“I will. Could you pick me up? I’ll give you gas money.”
“Sure.”
“There’s a gas station near where I live. I’ll text you the address, and you can meet me there.”
“What? Are you afraid for me to know where you live?”
“No, I want to get out of here before my boyfriend shows up, and I can’t park my car in your complex. No offense, but the vehicle’s too nice.”
“Well, in that case, you’re probably right. I’ll be there, chick.”
Ending the call
, I will myself off the sofa where I’ve been crying for almost an hour. I text her the information and stride to the bedroom to pack a couple of outfits.
I shove stuff into a travel bag and remove my bridesmaid’s dress before changing into a yellow tank top and denim shorts.
I pull out all the bobby pins from my updo and finger my hair until the waves aren’t so tousled. Staring into my dresser mirror, I sigh, feeling so much better in my comfortable clothing. I feel more like myself.
Going through the motions, I prepare to leave. I lay my car keys on the kitchen island and pull my phone from my pocket to text Greyson.
Me: I’m going to stay with a friend in my old neighborhood. I need to feel how my past is wrong for me and your world is right. I’m sure you can’t make sense of this, but only I can decide if I’m worthy of a life with you. It’s my decision to make. I promise I’ll be careful, and I love you.
Greyson: No, Sasha, don’t go there! Please!
Me: Reread my first message. If you want our relationship to last, you’ll give me space.
My tears fall to my cheeks, and wiping them away does little good. More follow behind, the salt from my pain stinging my eyes. Every part of my being is raw enough to feel it.
I understand why Greyson didn’t tell me the truth, but it doesn’t change the fact that he should have.
More damage was done by keeping it a secret: I felt betrayed, he ruined a special day for us, and I was forced to fight off Sebastian.
As much as I need to trust Greyson, he should trust me, too, meaning he should believe it’s safe to tell me the truth. If I get upset and walk away, he has to believe I’ll come back so we can work through the messiness of life together.
I’m hoping I have the courage to prove that to him, and the final test will be if he can meet me halfway.
Wiping my eyes, I pick up my bag and leave the penthouse. I walk to the gas station, and with my tote and purse hanging over my shoulder, I have disturbing memories of times I had to walk home after running off for weeks at a time, staying in hellholes with lowlifes and druggies.
Maybe this was a stupid idea, but it’s the only way I believe Greyson and I can move forward.
I purchase candy and a soft drink in the gas station, and to ease some of my guilt over bailing on Misty months ago, I buy her a carton of cigarettes.
Waiting out front, I watch her roll up in the same junk Mazda two-door. I smile at her and walk around the front of the car. As I open the passenger door, I notice the way the white paint is chipping off of it.
Once inside, I suck in a breath, and the stale scent of cigarette smoke is pungent to my nose and a trigger for my memory. I loaded the bullets by calling Misty, and I pulled the trigger when I got inside this car. God, this already feels wrong.
“Girl, you look incredible,” she says. “It’s great to see you.” Her sunken hazel eyes are as wide as they’ll grow, and I don’t recall her looking this … empty. Did I look that hollow when Greyson found me? “Well, are you going to say something?”
“I–I’m sorry. Thank you, and it’s great to see you, too.” I lean over and hug her.
“Damn, you even smell good. I see you packed a bag. Are you returning home?”
My stomach tightens as I glance down at my stuff.
“No, only a visit.”
“Well, wherever you’ve been, the place has been good to you.” She picks up a strand of my hair. “Healthy hair and skin... You’ve put on the right amount of weight.”
She points a finger at me. “You’ve had a rich man in your life.” Grabbing hold of a piece of her own dark brown hair, she rubs her fingers over the dry ends.
“Yeah, I have a boyfriend. He’s intense but in a good way. We have some things to figure out, so I thought I should get away for a day or two.”
“Cool.”
“Oh, I have something for you.” I reach in the grocery bag and pull out her cigarettes. “Will you forgive me for not calling?”
“Of course. You know you’re my favorite girl, and damn, a whole carton. I feel special.”
“Let’s grab some food and take it back to your place.”
“OK, but my new boyfriend is living with me, so I hope you don’t mind that he’ll be there.”
“Oh, are you sure you have space for me?”
“The spare room is free, but I’m storing a lot of shit in there.”
“That’s OK.”
Misty and I hit a drive-thru and head to the apartment complex I swore I’d never go back to. The anxiety bubbles in my veins, but it’s more of a simmer than a full-boil, and I believe it’s because I’ve been mentally preparing myself on the ride.
My heart pounds in my chest as we approach her apartment, and the smell of the burgers and fries in my lap, along with car fumes, make me want to puke.
Leaning my head back against the seat, I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and talk myself off the cliff.
“Here, I’ll take the food bags, and you can carry your things.” Having lost my appetite, I hand over the bags without hesitation. We walk inside her apartment, and I smell weed in an instant.
As my nerves get the best of me, my stomach churns, and I’m tempted to call Greyson to come get me.
He’d comfort me by smothering me with attention, and it would be so easy to become addicted to that, too. It’s one of the reasons I’m here and why I refuse to call him.
“Carter, get your damn feet off the coffee table. We have to eat there,” Misty says to her boyfriend. I’m guessing this is him. He takes a hit off his green bong, surveying my body in the process.
“Who the hell are you?” he asks as he removes his boots, one foot at a time, off an old wooden table in front of him.
“I told you before I left. She’s my friend Sasha, so be nice. She’s staying the night.”
Smirking, he leans back against the couch.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I won’t let you feel like the third wheel.”
“Carter, really? You’re going to hit on my friend?”
“What can I say? She looks pretty damn fine.”
Sick of all the bullshit from the day, I plant a hand on my hip.
“I already had a man get grabby with me today, and my knee had good aim as it connected with his balls, so if you’re smart, you’ll stop now.”
“Damn, you need to relax. Want a hit?” He holds the bong out toward me.
“I’ll pass.”
“She bought you food, so eat up,” Misty says before she hands him a burger and sits next to him on their dingy light blue couch.
“Perfect timing. I’m hungry, so thank you.” He tucks a strand of his chin-length brown hair behind his ear.
He’s about my age, covered in tats, and his clothes are tattered, too, but his outer appearance doesn’t mean he’s evil like my ex.
No, evil can even hide in a clean-cut, handsome, and wealthy man like Sebastian. Those attributes don’t equal kindness.
“Sit down, Sasha. We don’t bite. You act like you’ve never been here before.” I set my tote bag and purse on the floor and take a seat in their recliner.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day. I was in a wedding, and I’m tired. Why don’t you fill me in on all I’ve missed?”
Nodding, Misty chews up the French fries she shoved in her mouth and takes a swig of her beer. She begins rattling off gossip about people I’ve met or have hung out with in the complex, and it sounds like nothing has changed but me.
***
Two hours have passed since I began chatting with Misty and Carter. She gets out a baggie of coke, and I guess our visit is feeling like old times to her. Or, she can’t wait another minute for the high. I’d guess it’s the latter.
Seeing her make neat lines of the white powder ignites a strong urge inside me to do the same.
I thought by not touching their alcohol and pot, I had a good handle on my recovery, but eyeing the coke is testing my restraint.
My mouth waters and pulse races,
and although the pleasure center of my brain is begging for the drug, my heart and mind tell me otherwise.
“If you don’t mind, I’m going to crash.”
“Oh, sure. Let me do this line first, and I’ll show you where the spare bedroom is.” Misty leans over with a rolled-up dollar bill at her nose, so I get up and walk to the kitchen to get a drink of water. I can’t watch this.
I find a glass in the cabinet, and as I fill it with tap water, I look around the small, dirty kitchen. Even if you don’t have a nice, new house, or new belongings, you can keep the old clean, but I recall how I felt when I was using, and I can’t judge Misty.
Cleaning was the last thing on my mind. Most of the time, I was depressed and lethargic. If I did get a rush from the high, it didn’t last.
I recall not understanding how Camilla had so much energy, but she wasn’t using, and she wasn’t distracted by the thoughts of how she’d get her next high.
Not to mention, she had to do everything she could to keep us from starving since I was no help at all.
God, I was an ass of a sister. I tear up as my past smacks me in the face. I deserve to wallow in regret and guilt, but that will get me nowhere except back into the other room with powder up my nose.
I take a drink of the water and brush tears from my cheeks. I hate how I’m feeling, which is lonely and sad.
I want to be blanketed by Greyson’s embrace, but I came here to face my demons. I was dragged out against my will the last time, so I need the chance to leave on my own.
“Ready?” Misty asks. With my back to her, I take another drink.
“Sure. Let me grab my things.” I don’t make eye contact as I walk into the living room. I pick up my bags and follow her down the short hallway.
There’s a bathroom and bedroom on the right, but she leads me to the room on the left.
She wasn’t kidding. There’s barely enough space to walk around the mattress, which is sitting on the carpet without a frame. Junk and piles of clothes are stacked everywhere.
“Uh, I can’t remember who slept on the bed last, so let me at least find you a clean sheet.”