Shouldn't Want You (Cataclysm Book 2)

by Jerica MacMillan

  I want to hunt down that reporter and beat his face in. Then find the person in charge of the newspaper and do the same to him.

  And Ava …

  I rub a shaky hand over my mouth.

  I can’t even decide what to do about Ava. Confront her? Ask her if any of it’s true? How much of it? I can’t reconcile the woman I’ve come to know with this person they’ve portrayed. But I know she went to school in Massachusetts. And now that I think about it, she’s never said anything about graduating, just that she’s done with school. If this is why …

  Once again Marcus’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “She hasn’t said anything about being pregnant?”

  I shake my head, unable to speak.

  He tugs the paper away from me, leaving it in the middle of the table. “It might be a lie.” He gestures at the pictures. “The story. Who knows where they got the pregnancy test from? There’s no proof it’s actually hers at all. Post a picture, say the maid got it from the trash can. Anyone can do that.”

  “You think so?” I can’t keep the hope out of my voice. Because I don’t want to believe a single word I just read.

  I don’t want to think that Ava has been using me like Eli’s mom did. I thought what we had—what we have—is real. It was real for me. If she was really just after my money, then this is far worse than what Nikki did.

  Marcus shrugs. “You know her better than me. But I don’t get the sense that Ava is a …” he tilts his head to look at the paper again, “… a ‘gold-digging opportunist.’ That’s what they call her in the article. Has she ever asked you for anything?”

  “No.” My voice is croaky, so I clear my throat and try again, clinging to the possibility Marcus has raised. “No. She always tries to pay for her own shit. It’s just over the last few weeks where she’s stopped getting weird about ordering room service in our room and adding it to my tab. Even still, she tries to order the less expensive things. And she keeps snacks in the room for herself so she doesn’t have to use room service any more than necessary. In fact, she still pays for her own food with her money when she’s out with Eli instead of using the credit card I gave her to pay for his meals as well as hers.”

  “She asked you to buy her any clothes?”

  I shake my head. “No. She bought some new clothes before the tour started, but she used her own money. I don’t think she’s even gone shopping since we left LA.”

  Sitting back in his chair, Marcus picks up his coffee again. “See? She’s not a gold digger. We both know that gold diggers don’t blink about running up anything and everything they want on your credit card.”

  I nod, mulling that over. My eyes land on the picture of the other guy, my gut churning as I imagine her with someone else. Even if it was before me. I know she was hurt before. Is that the asshole who did it? How much of this story is based in truth? “What about the rest?”

  Marcus’s dark eyes study my face as he swallows his coffee. “I don’t know.”

  Chapter Forty

  Ava

  Kendra and I don’t talk much while Eli bounces around in the blow up castles and obstacle courses. Between the noise of all the blowers keeping the bouncy houses inflated and having to keep getting up and down to help Eli in and out of the bigger ones, there’s not much opportunity. Which is fine. I’d rather be alone with my thoughts anyway.

  I’ve managed to stash crackers in the room and eat them when Danny’s not paying attention. When my stomach gets empty, I get really queasy. Taking care of a toddler provides the perfect cover for having easy to digest snacks with me. Tossing in a few extra packs of bunny crackers and granola bars for me doesn’t catch anyone’s attention.

  Since I’m ostensibly still recovering from a stomach bug, Danny hasn’t batted an eye at my preference for oatmeal or toast instead of the omelette I normally get. The smell of eggs still makes me want to puke, but since he and Eli usually eat before me, I can munch a few crackers before I come out and it settles my stomach enough to stand the remaining smells of breakfast and coffee.

  At least it’s worked the last couple of days.

  Hopefully I can keep this up for a few more weeks. But I’ll have to figure out a doctor visit soon. I want to make sure this little one is staying put for the long haul.

  The question is, how can I manage to get to the doctor without Danny finding out why?

  I’d like to make sure everything’s going to be fine before I tell him anything. The end of the first trimester is only a few weeks away—and with it a significant decrease in the risk of miscarriage. If I can make it until then, I’ll tell him everything.

  Maybe I’ll just wait to go to the doctor until week twelve after I tell Danny. Then we can go to the doctor together.

  My mouth twists at the domestic fantasy of him coming with me to doctor appointments, excited to hear his baby’s heartbeat, lounging on the couch with him watching TV, his hand protectively curled around my growing belly while Eli plays on the floor in front of us.

  What are the odds that could ever be my life?

  Danny hasn’t even told me he loves me.

  Not that that means anything. Grayson did, and look how that turned out?

  After an hour, our time’s up and Kendra and I gather up Eli. She grabs the diaper bag and puts on her shoes while I help Eli with his shoes and pull on my own.

  “Want a sticker?” the teenaged girl behind the counter asks Eli.

  His face brightens from the surly pout at having to leave. “Sticker?”

  She nods and holds out a sticker sheet of superheroes for Eli to choose. He points at a Captain America one, and she peels it off and hands it to him.

  He presses it onto his shirt and beams at her, shoving his arms into his jacket before heading outside to the waiting car. Kendra’s silent on the ride back to the hotel, which is unusual for her. But Eli is talking nonstop, so I don’t get the chance to ask her if anything’s wrong.

  “Danny’s still in our room,” she says when we reach our floor.

  “Oh, okay. Do you want to come hang with us until the guys are done? Or …?”

  She shakes her head and gives me a tight smile. “Why don’t you come with me? I think they’re just talking and not working. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you guys hanging out.”

  “Alright.”

  But when we follow Kendra into her suite, something’s off. Marcus is staring at me past Kendra, who he greets with a hug and a quick kiss. “How was the bouncing?”

  “So. Much. Fun!” Eli bounces around in illustration, which should earn a laugh from everyone, but only provokes a series of pained smiles.

  Marcus holds out his hand for a high five from Eli. “Awesome.”

  Eli smacks his hand, oblivious to the weird tension in the room.

  I look at Danny, and he’s just sitting at the table staring at me, his face stricken.

  I look from him to Marcus and Kendra. “What’s going on?”

  Marcus looks at Danny and nods, then crouches down to talk to Eli. “Hey, wanna go see something?”

  “Yeah!” Eli reaches for Marcus, who picks him up, and leading Kendra by the hand, they head for the door. Kendra gives me an anguished look that I don’t understand, and then they’re out the door, leaving Danny and I alone in their suite.

  As soon as the door closes, before I can even repeat my question, Danny gestures to a newspaper that’s open on the table. “Is it true?” he croaks.

  I step closer to see what he’s talking about. “Is what true?”

  “The story. Is any of it true? Or are they just making up lies about you to sell papers?” There’s a raw edge to his voice, and a note of desperate hope on the last question.

  With extreme trepidation, I force myself to look at the paper spread across the table. At the pictures. Of one of me next to a snap of a positive pregnancy test. Grayson. Danny. Cataclysm. The words swirl together, but I get the gist. Gold digger. Whore. Grasping opportunist, out to trap men with sex and babies for my own f
inancial gain.

  My hand covering my mouth is the only thing keeping me from screaming. From throwing up the paltry crackers and toast I’ve eaten today. My gut churns, and I suck in air past my hand, hoping I can keep everything in, blinking hard to keep the tears at bay.

  “Are you pregnant?” he whispers. “Is that why you’ve been puking? It’s morning sickness, isn’t it?”

  I meet his eyes, taking in the flat blue that usually sparks with warmth and lust when we’re together. Now there’s nothing. Like he’s closing me out already.

  Tears slip down my face, and I nod, taking my hand away from my mouth. I didn’t want to tell him yet, but I can’t lie in the face of this. “Yes.” It’s barely a whisper.

  His fist clenches and the muscle in his jaw ticks. He looks like he wants to hit something. He laughs, low and ugly, shaking his head and running his hands through his hair. “Fuck. I must be cursed,” he mutters.

  It’s the same thing. The same thing all over again. A new life, which should be a source of joy and celebration, instead causing my own life to crash down around my ears.

  I step back, moving toward the door. I’m not going to listen to him tell me I’m stupid or accuse me of trying to trap him. Call me a gold digger. I’ll figure it out. That’s what I’ve told myself all along, hoping it wouldn’t end up coming true. But now the fantasy of a happy Danny, of domestic bliss, of life as a family with him and Eli and our baby, is officially ripped away. There’s no denying the look in his eyes, the tick of his jaw, those damning words.

  “Don’t worry,” I manage to croak out, walking backward until I can reach the door handle behind me. “I don’t expect anything from you. I’ll have the baby on my own. We won’t bother you. Ever.”

  Turning as fast as I can on trembling legs, I wrangle the door open, needing to escape before the shakes overtake me completely.

  Danny’s voice calls my name just as the door shuts, but I don’t turn back. Don’t wait to see if he’ll come after me. Tears blurring my vision, I move blindly down the hall, heading for the elevator, punching the button over and over, praying it gets here quickly. I can’t manage the stairs like this. Not from the twelfth floor. Not when I’m seconds away from collapsing and sobbing until I’m an empty shell of a woman.

  The doors slide open seconds later, thank God, and Blaire steps off. She grips my shoulders, not letting me into the elevator. “Ava, what’s wrong? What happened?”

  I shake my head. “I have to go. I have to go.”

  Something dark comes over her expression, and at first I think she’s mad at me. But she gives my arms a squeeze. “Then go. But don’t go far. I’ll call you later. Answer your phone, okay? I’ve got you.”

  I don’t know what she means. She’s probably seen the article, though. Everyone has.

  That explains why my parents have called twice this morning and only left vague voicemails telling me to call back. But I was busy with Eli and put it off.

  Oh God. I crumple to the floor of the elevator, my face in my hands as another wave of shame and despair washes over me. My parents know everything. They’ve seen the article.

  Everyone knows.

  I thought my life was over after Grayson, but I was wrong. So wrong.

  Because this time my entire world just exploded on a Tuesday morning in the middle of nowhere.

  I have to find somewhere to hide. Regroup. And figure out how to survive the blast.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Danny

  I jerk my head up at the banging on the door, hoping, praying, that maybe Ava came back.

  I expected her to scream at me, deny it, tell me she’s pregnant but none of the rest of it is true. But she just left. Told me she’d have the baby and raise it herself.

  The look on her face when she said she didn’t want anything from me …

  My heart shattered into a million pieces, the shards threading through my veins and inflicting more damage.

  More thoughts slice through me—another child out there, not knowing who I am. Eli not knowing his brother or sister. Ava on her own, struggling to get by.

  Holding my breath, I yank the door open, Ava’s name on my lips.

  But Blaire shoves me hard in the chest, pushing me back and following me in, pushing me again. I stumble back, letting her vent her anger on me. I don’t even know what she’s mad about, but after letting Ava leave like that, I deserve whatever she wants to dish out.

  “What the fuck, Danny?”

  I spread my hands, waiting for her to try to hit me next. “What? What’s your problem?”

  “What’s my problem? What’s your problem, you … you … big stupid man!” She spits the word man like it’s the filthiest insult she can think of.

  Sighing, I take two steps back and drop into the chair I’ve been sitting in for over an hour trying to decide what part of the tabloid story is a lie. Or if all of it is. Trying to convince myself that all of it is.

  But she came in and confirmed that she was pregnant.

  And she didn’t tell me.

  From the look on her face, from what she said, she hadn’t planned on telling me.

  Would she have?

  When?

  And why was she waiting?

  But she left. Said she didn’t want anything from me. My chest squeezes as the image of her saying those words resurfaces.

  Blaire snaps her fingers in front of my face, and I jerk my head up to look at her. “Are you even listening to me?”

  I’m dimly aware that Blaire’s been yelling at me, but I have no idea what she’s been saying. I shake my head. “Sorry. I’m kinda going through something right now.”

  She scrunches up her face, raises her hands and curls them into fists before unleashing a wordless shriek of frustration. “Listen. To. Me.” She holds her thumb and forefinger a quarter of an inch apart and shoves it in front of my face. “You are this. Close. To losing Ava. What the fuck is wrong with you?” She looks past me to the table. “Did you just confront her with this trash? Oh my god!” She curls her hand into a fist again, and I brace myself for her to punch me in the jaw.

  She doesn’t. Nostrils flaring, she grabs the tabloid and throws it as hard as she can. It doesn’t go far, since it’s a pile of loose newsprint, and it flutters all around us. Her chest heaving, she takes several deep breaths, straightens her spine, and visibly tries to calm herself. In a deadly quiet voice that’s even scarier than her yelling, she continues. “You’re doing the same thing that happened to her before. What. The fuck. Is wrong with you?”

  I straighten, puzzling through what Blaire just said. “What are you talking about? What happened to her before?”

  She throws up her hands. “She didn’t tell you?” Spearing her finger at me, she spits out, “You two need to work out your shit. But you won’t get the chance if you don’t get off your ass and go after her. She was sobbing and just saying she has to go. She’s running. Go. Get. Her. Fix. This.”

  I spread my hands, sagging back in the chair again. “She doesn’t want me. She said she’d have the baby on her own and never bother me.”

  Blaire props her hands on her hips and stares up at the ceiling like she’s praying for patience. “You are the dumbest man to ever walk the earth.” Her gaze shifts to the newspaper, and she presses her lips together like she’s reconsidering her statement. “Yeah. The dumbest. He’s the biggest douchecanoe. Don’t give him a run for his money.”

  “Who?”

  Now she reaches out and smacks me upside the head, her signature move when we’re not falling in line fast enough. It’s not designed to hurt, just get us to pay attention when we’re too caught up in our own shit. “The other guy. The asshole who hurt her before. Keep up!” Then she’s grabbing my arm and yanking me out of the chair. “Go! Get her. I told her I’d call her and that she needed to answer. I’ll find out where she is and text you. You need to tell her that you want this baby and that you’re in love with her and that you don’t give a shit ab
out some shitty fucking paper that makes money off printing lies and half truths. Tell her you know she’s not some slutty gold digger.” She pulls me close and locks eyes with me. “Because we both know she’s not. She’s amazing and you love her. Even if you haven’t admitted it to yourself yet, you know it’s the truth. Tell her all that.” She pushes me again, turning me toward the door, not angry now, just urgent. “Go!”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Ava

  I wander down the street, my arms wrapped around myself. It’s chilly now that it’s late October. Businesses have pumpkins and leaves painted in their windows and cutesy fall and Halloween-themed decorations.

  I’d been trying to figure out if and how I might take Eli trick-or-treating next week. I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.

  There’s a small hotel a few blocks over, and I head inside, finding the restroom first so I can blow my nose and try to calm down. My face is a red, blotchy mess after sobbing on the floor of the elevator for several minutes before it started moving. I’d never hit a button, so someone must’ve called it.

  Fresh waves of tears are still leaking out every so often. I need a safe place to sit and sob in peace before I call my parents, confess everything, and see if they’ll still acknowledge me as their daughter. If so, maybe I’ll go home. At least for a while. If not …

  One thing at a time.

  With a nod to my still-puffy reflection, I figure this is as good as it’s going to get. At least people are less likely to recognize me if I’m red-faced and tear-stained. If anyone even recognizes me.

  Passing my emergency credit card to the woman at the front desk, I book a room for the night. It’s just a regular room, not as fancy as the suites I’ve grown used to, but still way more than I’d like to spend. But I don’t have the mental resources to find a cheaper place right now. For one night, it’ll do.