“Just stay here,” Christian said. “There’s twin beds in Camp’s room and you can crash. You’ll feel better in the morning after you’ve eaten eggs and had some bacon. You look like you need meat.” He gave me a grin.
It was such a silly thing to say that it made me feel better. He wasn’t going to make this any more awkward than it already was and I appreciated that. I also thought I should protest staying there, but I was feeling so physically spent I couldn’t even bring myself to be polite and demure. “Thanks, Christian. You can be a really nice guy, you know that?”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” He cleared his throat. “If you had any idea of the dirty thoughts running through my head right now, that is not the word you’d use.”
“Oh!” For whatever reason I glanced down at his crotch again. He had a hard-on. I whipped my head back up. “Where is Camp’s room?”
He smirked. “Down the hall. I’ll sleep on the couch. You’ll be safe in the baby’s room, don’t worry.”
He led me to the last room at the end of the dark hallway. He put his finger to his lips to indicate I should be quiet before he turned the knob and pushed the door open. I stepped inside behind him, grateful for the nightlight plugged into an outlet on the wall. I could see the crib and the outline of his son. Camp was breathing lightly and it was a sweet, reassuring sound. Christian pulled back the comforter on a twin bed and gestured for me to lie down. I did, exhausted, head spinning more than I would like. He leaned over and tucked me in. Like he actually pulled the comforter into place over my body and brushed my hair back off my face.
I shivered at the unexpected touch.
Then he whispered in my ear, “Sweet dreams, princess.”
It shouldn’t have aroused me, but it did. What the hell was wrong with me? I have never thought of myself as an awkward person, but he made me feel like a virgin at a prison rodeo. Jumpy and terrified. Yet excited.
Christian disappeared back into the hallway, the door softly closing behind him. I texted Bradley and Sophie, letting them know I wasn’t coming home because I drank too much wine with Kennedy. Then I placed my phone down on the floor and sighed, staring up at the ceiling of the small room, listening to Camp and his soft baby breathing. The texts Bradley had sent to those girls crowded my thoughts, made my stomach churn. I didn’t regret coming over here, but I knew now I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t cheat on Bradley even if the purpose was to be better in bed to jerk him around. I’m not wired that way and I already felt guilty just over a kiss, which I had enjoyed.
I wouldn’t feel good about revenge sex. Evening the score. Saying that hey, Bradley screwed some girls, so I could screw Christian and that would be that. Clean slate. I’m far too emotional, wanting what was clearly a fantasy. Sophie had always told me I tried to fit the world into my perception of reality, and she was probably right.
It made me realize I didn’t know anything about my relationship or even myself.
That was the most gut-wrenching thought of all.
* * *
—
Alcohol and exhaustion can knock out even the most determined insomniac. I would have sworn I wouldn’t sleep, fretting endlessly over my impending marriage and Bradley’s cheating, and even thoughts of Christian shirtless, but I did. I woke up in Camp’s room with a start, disoriented for a minute, unavailable to identify what I was hearing and where I was. Then I realized that Camp was quietly babbling to himself in a combination of English and baby language. It had a sweet, singsong quality to it.
Rolling onto my side to test my head for a hangover, I was pleased there was no evidence of a headache. I had slept in my dress, which was probably wrinkled beyond belief, and in my makeup, which meant I was bound to have a zit pop up in the next day or two. I didn’t think I could tumble much lower than this. Camp rolled onto his stomach, his diaper rustling, and went onto his knees. Then he spotted me. He hauled himself up with the railings and stared at me.
“Hi,” he said, waving.
That little voice warmed my heart. “Hi. I’m Bella,” I said.
“Up,” he demanded, lifting his arms out to me.
“Okay, I can do that.” I had no idea what time it was, but I couldn’t resist that little face. He had sleepy eyes and pink-stained cheeks. So I stood up and went over to him with a smile. “Come here, baby.”
The fact that he did without hesitation warmed my heart. I lifted his small, warm body into my arms. He was heavy with sleep and collapsed willingly against my chest. “Good morning,” I whispered, kissing the top of his downy head. There really is nothing like the guileless trust of a small child. I wasn’t sure exactly how old Camp was, but I would guess around eighteen months. And that horrible, icky girl who had given birth to him had left him. I wasn’t sure how anyone could do that. It went against everything inside me and it made me feel protective of this little guy.
The door opened and Christian was there, wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts. So now he put a shirt on? It seemed a little delayed, but I was just grateful I didn’t have to deal with more bare chest.
His short hair was sticking up. “Good morning,” he said, scratching his arm. “Sorry if Camp woke you up.”
“It’s fine,” I said, and I meant it. I moved toward him since Camp had spotted his father and gave a hearty “Dada!”
“Hi, buddy.” Christian made a funny face for his son. “How are you feeling?” he asked me.
“Fine.” It was a basic answer. Not necessarily a lie but not the full truth. I had too many emotions to even unravel them. “Do you want Dada?” I asked Camp, rubbing his back and smiling down at him.
When I looked up to hand Camp over to Christian, he was giving me an odd, intense look. “What?” I asked, the smile falling off my face.
“Nothing,” he said shortly. “Do you want coffee?”
I did, but I thought it might be smarter to go to a coffee shop. I had overstayed my welcome as it was. “No, thanks. I have brunch plans today.” My bridal brunch. Something I had been looking forward to for months and now wanted to bail on. I was going to have to smile and be fakey-fake in front of the eight women who meant the most to me in the world. “Thanks for everything, Christian, seriously.” I passed his son over to him. “I came storming in here like a crazy woman and you handled it well.”
“I think I got you drunk, actually,” he said with a grin. But then his expression sobered. “I’m not here to tell you what to do, Bella. And I’m the last person on the planet to give advice.”
I tensed up, waiting for him to tell me that I deserved more than Bradley was offering or that I needed to remember my self-worth. But he just turned and moved down the hall. What the hell? I stood there, feeling baffled.
“That’s it?” I demanded, following him. “That’s all you’re going to say?”
* * *
—
I stopped walking at Bella’s confused and disgusted tone. Oh yeah. Here was the princess part of her personality. I hadn’t given her what she wanted and she didn’t like that. But she had no idea what she was doing to me. Showing up at my house, being vulnerable, making me dig deep and do the right thing by rejecting her sexual requests. Holding my son like a natural, which pissed me off.
She looked like a mother with Camp.
Yet Ali, who had given birth to him, couldn’t be bothered.
I had told her the truth. She really didn’t want my advice on how to live her life because I was fucking mine up every chance I got.
“What do you want me to say?” I asked, giving her a smirk. She didn’t seem to understand that she was doing herself no favors by hanging around me. I had wanted to revenge fuck her. Now I just wanted her to leave because I found myself liking her, and that was really damn stupid. It was one thing to hook up with a girl who was engaged and who liked to get her nasty on the side. But everything was wrong about the situa
tion with Bella. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
That seemed to fluster her. “I don’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t know. Never mind.” She actually pushed past me and went into the living room. She started cleaning up the doughnuts and the wine from the night before. She closed the doughnut box and took the empty wine bottle to the kitchen.
“You don’t have to do that,” I told her. “I can take care of it.” I put Camp into his highchair and went to get him some milk from the fridge. I really just wanted Bella to get the fuck out of my mother’s house because it was messing with my head. I didn’t need this complication in my life. My boring, average, jacked-up life.
“It’s the least I can do.” She actually took a sponge and washed the wineglasses and carefully set them in the dish rack. She wiped her hands on a dish towel.
The problem with Bella was that she was both beautiful and sweet. She was a decent human being who appeared to genuinely like children, mine included, and that was all really fucking attractive. Yet she was unavailable, and this kind of unavailable was the kind you really can’t touch. Hands off.
That pissed me off.
I went over to her and took the dish towel from her hand. “Thanks again for bailing me out. And good luck with your marriage. Or calling off your wedding, whatever you decide.” I had a feeling she might go through with the wedding. She seemed the type to be concerned about not appearing selfish. In my opinion dumping that guy’s ass wouldn’t be selfish, it would be pure survival, but who the hell am I to talk about what’s right and wrong?
“So this is goodbye?” She gave me a small smile. “That’s your polite dismissal.”
I nodded, because there was no point in not being honest. “Unless you find yourself single. Then give me a call and I’ll show you what sex is really about. I’ll fuck you so good you won’t even remember your name, let alone his.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, okay then. Sounds good,” she said. “Thanks. Take care.”
Then she bolted. In the living room she grabbed her purse off the table and went out the front door without a glance back. The door slammed shut. I went over to the coffee table, grabbed a jelly doughnut, and bit it. I tore a piece off, went back into the kitchen, and handed it to Camp. “Here you go, buddy. Pretty girl left us some tasty treats.”
I found a sippy cup in the cupboard then poured his milk, taking another bite of the doughnut and trying not to regret letting her go.
Which I already was.
So I did the only logical thing I could.
I pulled out my phone and texted a brunette who was always up for a good time, with no strings attached.
Bella was likely going to marry her cheating fiancé and I was going to raise my son, work hard, and stick to women who just wanted a fun fuck.
End of story.
“Mo!” Camp screamed, holding out his hand for another piece of doughnut.
“Yeah,” I told him. “I want more too.”
More of everything.
* * *
—
“Get it together,” my mother hissed at me from behind a pomegranate mimosa by the window I was blindly staring out of. “Everyone knows something is wrong.”
I turned from the view of the water, sprawling out before me with picture-perfect perfection. I felt numb. Like my entire body had been cryogenically frozen. My thoughts had dulled, slowed to a sluggish muddy river, and I couldn’t seem to focus on anything in particular. I had been smiling and saying the right things to my guests and giving squeals of excitement on cue, but there was nothing behind it. No genuine emotion. All I could think was that it was all a lie. My entire relationship was a lie.
“Bradley is cheating on me,” I murmured under my breath. “I just found out last night, I’m sorry.”
“Is that what this is all about?” She looked taken aback. “Oh good Lord, Bella, you should know by now monogamy is a myth.”
I was so shocked I was speechless. “What are you talking about? No. No, I don’t know that.”
She looked at me like I was being childish. “Just please pull it together and be the hostess I know you can be.”
“Sure,” I said. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t screaming. I was just…empty.
But I turned and I smiled. Bridal Barbie. Calm. Cool. Numb.
When Bradley showed up at the end of the brunch to give me a ride home as planned, I smiled at him because that felt normal. I was pretending everything was normal, that this was all the way it was supposed to be, not some colossal joke like it actually felt. I must have looked crazy. Certifiable.
He brushed my cheek with his lips and murmured in my ear, “What the fuck, you look insane. Pull it together.”
Pull it together.
The same thing my mother had said.
I stared into the dark brown eyes of the man I thought I had known and loved and something inside me broke. It was as if his words had wrapped around me, squeezed and grabbed my insides, and tossed them onto the floor.
And when you throw something that is frozen it either remains solid or it shatters.
I shattered.
But only on the inside.
On the outside, I stayed the same.
Chapter 5
The problem when you shatter is you’re so busy trying to pick up the pieces you don’t deal with the reason you broke in the first place.
That Sunday I tried to be me. The usual me. The happy, bridal me. I tried not to pull away when Bradley moved to kiss me. I tried not to cry. I tried not to snap at my mother when she felt the need to overshare that my father had been cheating on her for years and it was fine with her. I tried not to blame myself for being inadequate.
At home that night my mother must have told my father to talk to me because he knocked on my bedroom door, something he never did. “Bel, it’s your father. Let me in.”
I had thrown Bradley out, telling him I didn’t want to see his face for the rest of the night. “Where am I supposed to sleep?” he had asked, looking bewildered.
“The guest room. I don’t know.” I didn’t care. He could sleep on the goddamn deck for all I cared.
“Dad, can this wait?” I was crying, trying to figure out how to call off my wedding. Did I tell Bradley, then just call the wedding planner and let her bail me out of the mess? That seemed the best course of action, but I didn’t want to dump Bradley with my parents and Sophie in the house. It was a private pain I didn’t want to share.
But there’s nothing private about the pain of learning your whole relationship is a lie six days before your wedding. Everyone was going to know. There was no way around it.
“No, it can’t. I need to talk to you now.”
God. I groaned and peeled myself off the bed. I cracked the door open and peeked through. “What?”
For a second I thought he was going to push his way inside. My dad was a commanding man. Intelligent, cunning, confident. He owned his life and demanded a certain deference. I had spent my whole life trying to please him, but for the most part, he found me uninteresting. He respected Sophie’s brains. He was pleased I was attractive, but otherwise, he readily dismissed me. It wasn’t that he was cruel or didn’t love me. He just loved me in a very removed sort of way.
He had dark eyes, the result of some Italian genes somewhere in our family ancestry. They weren’t concerned as they studied me. They were determined. “You’re marrying Bradley,” he told me with no preamble. “And I don’t want to hear anything else, do you understand me?”
My gut clenched. “Dad…” I heard the pleading in my voice and I hated it. “I can’t.”
He sighed. “Can you open the door? I can only see a sliver of your face.”
I did, reluctantly.
And he did the most extraordinary thing. He reached out and pulled me into a big bear hug. My father wasn’t
a hugger. He had not wrapped his arms around me since I had gotten too big to pick up and carry around.
“Everyone makes mistakes,” he murmured in my ear. “Give Bradley a second chance. He’s downstairs crying.”
Now I was crying too. My head was on his firm chest. I wanted comfort, and yet his words felt like anything but. It felt like he was siding with Bradley. I pulled back, disheartened. “How am I supposed to trust him?”
“He’ll earn it back. But don’t throw away your whole beautiful future because he had a moment of weakness. You’ll regret it forever, I know you will. This is what you want.”
I nodded, because I realized he wouldn’t leave my doorway until I agreed with him. That’s how he was. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to turn myself inside out, scrub off all these nasty feelings, and put myself back together clean and whole. As if none of this had ever happened. As if it was a bad dream.
It felt like a nightmare.
“Good girl.” He gave me a smile.
“Don’t send Bradley up here,” I said, panic rising in me. “I don’t want to talk to him. He can sleep in the guest room.”
“Whatever you need to do. A few days to pull yourself together won’t hurt him. He does owe you that.”
But nothing else? There it was again. The implication that I needed to do something to improve myself or fix the situation. The buck-up, get-over-it attitude. An assumption that I was wildly overreacting.
I was so hurt. Devastated, really. I felt destroyed by Bradley and then insulted by my parents. No one seemed to actually care about my feelings. I slammed the door shut without another word, confused as hell.
Needing air, I stepped out onto my balcony, then immediately returned. I didn’t like the sound of the ocean. It felt lonely to me. I sat on my bed and stared at my gorgeous engagement ring from Tiffany. Round cut, with a halo of diamonds, 2.5 karats. Classic and timeless.
The Breakup Page 6