“I don’t know where to start.”
“Start with why you left the man of your dreams broken in a heap on the floor.”
Pain shoots through my chest at her words. I hate that I’ve hurt him. I know how much this will be killing him.
This is all my fault – if I could take his pain as my own, I would, but unfortunately that’s not the way the world works. People like me and Ryan... good people, we don’t win. We just get ruined by the Jacobs of the world.
“I didn’t have a choice,” I reply.
I don’t know what to tell her. Jacob didn’t give me instructions on how to handle my friends. I don’t know if I’m meant to tell her the nonsense public version of events, the one where we had some time apart, but couldn’t cope without the other... the one where our unborn baby brought us back together... or if I’m meant to tell her the truth and swear her to secrecy.
“Darcy Shearer, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on right this minute, I’m going to get Mark and his friends to come over to that palace and take you out of there, and if you think security cameras and guards will stop them, you’d be wrong.”
Part of me wants to let her do it – because I know damn well she isn’t kidding, and much like Liam Neeson’s character in Taken, Mark and his ex-Secret Service buddies all have a ‘particular set of skills’. But I know damn well that won’t last. I’m not going to go into hiding with this baby. If Jacob wanted to find me and bring me back again, he would. So, I’m stuck here.
The least I can do is be honest with my best friends. I know they won’t talk – not when they know what’s at stake. So that’s exactly what I do. I spill everything... every last detail to Steph.
I’m bawling again by the time I’m done.
I didn’t know I could cry this much.
“Oh, D...” I can’t be sure, but I think she’s crying too. “I could kill that cunt.”
I snort a laugh. I hate that word, it’s not one I approve of, but in this particular situation I think it’s fitting.
I sniff. “I don’t think Mark and his friends would approve of you doing that.”
I’m not actually sure that’s true. I get the feeling Mark has lived through a lot of things that would keep people up at night, but the last thing I need is Steph getting any outrageous ideas. She’s already obsessed with murder documentaries; I hate to think what tips she might have picked up.
“What are you going to do? He can’t just leave you locked up in a gilded cage.”
“He can and he will. I guess I just have to wait it out. Maybe one day when he’s taken control of the business, he might let me go. I’m sure he’s only doing this for his father’s approval. He wants the CEO role more than anything, and Conrad is all about appearances.”
“He does realise this is real life, right? This isn’t some movie where you can keep women as slaves.”
“I’m not sure he cares.”
“You could go to the media,” she suggests after a few beats.
I don’t have the heart to tell her that she’s not likely to come up with any lifesaving scenario that I haven’t already thought of, because I’ve thought of them all and still managed to come up empty.
“He’d just take me to court,” I reply.
“You know, there’s nothing to say they’d side with him. You’re the mother – and no one can debate that... that baby is going to be coming out of your hoo-hah.”
“The best I could hope for is joint custody. That means leaving my baby alone with a man who I’m willing to bet doesn’t actually want anything to do with him or her. I’m not doing that, Steph. Where this baby goes, I go. Even if that means being miserable for the rest of my life.”
She’s quiet for a long time. I can just hear her moving around quietly.
“I still say we off him,” she finally says.
I laugh. It’s all I can do. I’m afraid if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry, and God knows I’ve done enough of that already.
“Jesus, is it like this everywhere you go?” Freya demands as she glares out the window at the photographer that followed us all the way from the car to the door of the restaurant.
It’s not always like this at all. Jacob and I only used to get photographed at public events or parties, but ever since I moved back into his apartment two weeks ago, I’ve had cameras hot on my heels every time I’ve walked out the door.
It’s ridiculous. I know damn well that Jacob is behind this – in fact, I’d be surprised if he isn’t paying these photographers out of his own pocket. At the very least, he or his minions are tipping them off.
Images of me and my noticeably expanding bump have graced the pages of four of the most popular gossip columns this past week alone.
I don’t know why anyone gives a shit. I’m a nobody, and Jacob sits behind a desk all day. I bet if he were ugly, no one would care less. Unfortunately, he’s far from ugly – on the outside at least – and the women of this city are eating this shit up.
Apparently, people go nuts for a ‘second chance love story’.
The idea makes me want to puke. I just hope like hell that Ryan isn’t seeing any of this garbage.
“Don’t get me wrong, D, I like being the centre of attention, but that shit is too much, even for me.” Steph flips her hair over her shoulder before sending the middle finger to the woman with the giant camera who will no doubt sit and wait for us to come back out.
“I told you we should have got food delivered to the apartment,” I mumble as we slide into a booth, as far away from the front window as possible.
“We shouldn’t have to,” Freya argues. “Does she just wait around all day, waiting for you to do something?”
“Her or someone else. The other day I was craving bagels and when I came out onto the street there were five of them just sitting around. I went back inside. Still haven’t had my bagel.” I pout. It’s about the only thing I’ve actually been excited to eat.
“You look like you haven’t had anything. Are you gaining weight? I swear you look thinner in the face.”
I shrug. “I eat when I remember. I’m not really hungry most of the time... I forget. I’m sorting it out.”
I know that it’s not good, but it’s true. My appetite has virtually disappeared these past couple of weeks to the point where I can go an entire day without eating and not even notice.
Thankfully, I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and she knocked some much-needed sense into me. My baby can’t grow without the nourishment I provide. I know this, but I’ve fallen so deep into this depressive hole, that I’m not sure it had really registered until I heard someone say it out loud.
I set two-hourly reminders to eat in my phone’s calendar as soon as I got out of the appointment.
I have to admit, I do feel better today than I have in days.
Steph and Freya exchange a look. “I’m ordering you two of everything,” Steph tells me, her tone leaving no room for argument. Not that I’d bother. I don’t care anymore.
I’ll eat if they tell me to eat. I’ll do what they tell me I should do. It’s no different with Jacob. I’m basically a trained monkey at this point.
“Did you get a dress?” Freya asks me softly, her hand landing gently on my arm.
I shake my head. “I can’t find anything suitable to fit over this bump, and I don’t have enough time to get something made.”
“What do you need a dress for?” Steph questions.
“Jacob wants me to go to the business awards ceremony with him.”
“Have you tried that little store we went to last summer?” Freya asks at the same time that Steph says, “Tell him to shove it up his arse.”
That gets a small smile out of me. My two best friends are polar opposites sometimes.
Freya ignores Steph and carries on, “I’ll take you there after this, the saleswoman is the best. She always knows what looks best on someone’s body type.”
I nod.
I can
’t think of anything worse than attending this awards ceremony with Jacob, but I know I’ll do it. He’ll make my life hell if I don’t.
I’m entirely at his mercy and he knows it.
“Darcy.”
I’m pulled from my thoughts by Freya shaking my arm and saying my name for what I’m guessing isn’t the first time.
“Mmm?”
“She wants to know if you’d like a drink?” She points at the waitress standing next to me, whose presence I hadn’t even noticed.
I’d kill for a huge glass of wine right now, but of course, I’m in no state to be indulging. “Just water for me, thanks.”
The waitress disappears again, and I see Steph and Freya exchange glances again. They’re having one of those ‘no words’ conversations, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the subject is. Me. They’re worried about me.
I don’t blame them.
I’m worried about me too.
20
Ryan
There’s a knock at the door. I consider just yelling out, “fuck off.” But I know I shouldn’t.
It’s not the world’s fault my life is a train wreck.
I get up from the couch, dodging the empty pizza boxes and bottles of Coke. This house is a fucking mess. I’m a fucking mess. I haven’t showered in two days. I don’t know when I last put on deodorant or ate something that wasn’t predominantly made of cheese.
Whoever is on the other side of my door is in for a treat.
There’s another knock as I reach it. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I mutter as I swing it open.
It’s just some young kid. I scowl at him. “Yeah?”
“Mr. Steele?” he questions.
“Depends on who’s asking.”
He shifts his weight nervously from one of his feet to the other. “I ah, I’m Kenny, I work at Automotive Plus… did no one let you know your vehicle had arrived?”
I hear blood whooshing in my ears.
Fuck.
I completely forgot about it. I haven’t checked my emails all week either, so somebody probably did let me know, but I’ve been in no state to comprehend anything.
It’s only then that I notice the brand new, shiny, black sedan parked in my driveway.
The car I bought for Darcy.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I feel my heart crack open a fraction wider.
Kenny clears his throat, no doubt trying to get my attention so he can do his job and then get the fuck out of here – away from the crazy, stinky man in front of him.
I can’t pull my eyes off the car.
She should be here. I should be showing her what I got for her and our baby to get around in. We should be happy, celebrating this new thing in our lives.
But we’re not.
“So here are the keys,” the poor bastard states.
I finally look back to him, my arm coming up robotically to take the two sets of keys he drops into my palm.
“I need you to sign here, please.”
He holds out a clipboard.
I glance at his face again. I remember him now. I chewed his ear off about Darcy and the baby and everything that was going so great in my life.
The irony.
Now he probably thinks I’ve got them chopped in pieces in a chest freezer in the basement. I’m probably giving off some serial killer vibes right now.
I take the pen from him and scrawl my signature on the line.
“I’m meant to show you around the vehicle.”
He glances behind him, and I follow his line of sight to where, who I assume is his colleague, is waiting in another vehicle.
“I won’t tell if you won’t,” I deadpan.
He chuckles, nervous.
I feel bad for the kid. He’s probably waiting for me to hit him with a chloroform-covered rag.
“Thanks,” I say as he unclips my copy of the paperwork and hands it to me.
He nods, then scarpers like a cat on a hot tin roof, hightailing it across my front lawn and into the waiting car without so much as a backwards glance.
I step backwards, being careful not to let my eyes meet the vehicle that will never have the woman of my dreams behind the wheel.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do with it now.
I can’t sell it. It’s hers. It’s in her name, and even if it wasn’t – it just wouldn’t feel right to part with it. But I can’t keep it here either, looking at it every day will just depress me further.
I shut the door and drop the keys and papers to the floor.
I need to take a shower. I need some sleep.
I amble down the hallway, heading for the bedroom, when I stop.
I don’t know why I do it, but I stop outside the closed door of the nursery. Rebel shut the door to this room the day Darcy left me, but she may as well not have bothered. It’s not as though I could forget what lies behind it. I could bleach my retinas and I’d still see this room in my mind.
I turn the handle and let the door slowly swing open.
It’s exactly as we left it. Perfect.
I swallow deeply and cross the threshold into the room.
This is torture. She should be here with me. They should be here with me.
I shouldn’t have let her leave, certainly not with him.
I should have fought. I should have done more.
I reach the cot and run my fingers over the bars. My baby was meant to sleep here one day.
The thought breaks me – sends me to my knees.
I haven’t once cried. In fact, I can’t recall ever crying since I was a little kid, but I’m crying now. Tears are streaming down my face and my chest feels like it has a gaping hole in the middle of it, right where my heart used to be. Because the reality is, she took that with her the day she packed up and walked out.
She took the most important part of me with her, and I know I’ll never get it back. Life will go on, but I’ll never recover – I’ll never be the same.
I’m startled by a loud, guttural noise. It takes me a minute to realise it’s come from my own mouth. Sobs are racking my body, shaking me to the core. My head feels light, like I’m spinning… I can’t get enough oxygen.
“Breathe.”
My eyes snap up, and I find Rebel crouching in front of me.
I haven’t got the faintest idea where the hell she came from or how long she’s been there, but her voice is probably one of the only ones that could reach me right now.
“Breathe,” she says again.
I try to suck in more air, but it feels like I’m choking on it.
“Easy,” she warns.
I try again, and more successfully this time.
“That’s it. Nice and steady. In and out.”
I don’t know how long we stay there like that. Her encouraging me, her hand never leaving my shoulder.
She stays with me until my breaths are regular and my heart rate is steady.
I sigh heavily.
She rocks back and sits down on her butt next to me. “You wanna talk about it?” she asks after minutes of silence stretch on.
I don’t, but I don’t see how it can make it any worse at this point, so I do.
“Her car arrived today.”
She nods. “It’s a pretty sweet ride.”
“I’m losing my mind without her, Rebel.”
She doesn’t say anything, just leans her head on my shoulder in a show of support.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I say after we’ve been quiet a while.
“I came to tell you that we won. Best new business is us, Ry, we did it.”
She holds up her phone and shows me a news article, naming us as the overall winner of one of the most competitive categories. This city’s most prestigious business award.
I feel something other than pain for the first time in far too long.
“I’m sorry we missed it.”
I didn’t attend – obviously I wasn’t up to it, and Rebel refused to go
without me. I feel awful now; I wish I’d had the strength.
“I’m glad we didn’t go,” she replies.
“Why?” I question, my voice hoarse.
“She was there, Ry, with him. I saw photos.”
And just like that, the little bit of pride and joy I felt over our win is washed away.
She was there… with him.
“I want to see.”
“She looks like shit.”
“Show me,” I demand.
“I’m not sure that’s a –”
“Show me,” I repeat.
She sighs heavily, but does as I ask, scrolling through her phone before tapping on something and then turning the screen in my direction.
It’s Jacob and Darcy alright. He’s wearing a suit, and Darcy is at his side, wearing a floor-length, dark blue dress that shows off her killer figure and growing bump.
Rebel was wrong, she’s utterly breathtaking, but she looks thin – frail, and her eyes are holding so much pain it physically hurts my chest.
I run my finger over the screen, and Rebel leans her head on my shoulder once more. I rest my head on top of hers and we sit there, together, leaning against the empty cot, her keeping me from falling apart as I stare at the image of the woman I love with the man I hate.
“That’s it. I can’t fucking take this moping around shit anymore. We need to figure this out and it needs to be now, I’m too pretty for prison and I’ve contemplated offing you at least three times this morning alone.” Rebel points her finger at me menacingly as she storms through the door to our shared office and slams the door shut behind her.
I’ve been waiting for this outburst from her, and honestly, given the absolute sack of shit I’ve been, I deserved it much sooner, doesn’t mean I’m going to take it lying down.
It’s been nearly two weeks since the day she found me at home, breaking, and I don’t know that I’m any better now than I was then. I don’t give a fuck about showering, I am off the couch and have expanded my diet to include Chinese takeout, but I’m not okay – I’ve just gotten slightly better at pretending I am.
“I thought you’d be dancing in the street,” I snap back at her. “You never liked Darcy anyway, I assumed you’d be the first one lined up to say, ‘I told you so’.”
The First Rule: A Standalone Second Chance Romance Page 15