by Maria Carter
Now Eric was confused. His anger dissipated. This was a puzzle he wasn't sure he could—or wanted to—solve. Why would his brother want to see Tom? They were complete opposites. Bommer was a man's man and Tom was...not. Tom liked designer labels and manicures. Bommer's wardrobe consisted of four pairs of jeans and nine t-shirts. There was nothing they could possibly have bonded over.
"Are you...going fishing or something?"
"No."
Bommer's hand shook around his beer. Eric was scared. He knew he was about to hear something he didn't want to. Bommer looked at his younger brother.
"I like him, Eric."
Eric tossed out one last lifEricne before dealing with the issue at hand. "You like him? Like..."
"I'm gay."
"Shit." Eric turned away.
The TV still droned in the background, but otherwise it was deathly silent. This was Vanessa's fault. If she'd never shown up...He whirled back around.
"Shit!" he repeated. "She just walked right in here and fucked up everything, didn't she? In one week. It must be some kind of record."
Bommer half-stood, anger in his eyes. "Is that what you think? The explanation's that easy? She brought some guy down here from New York and he flipped me?"
Eric tried to be calm. "Last I checked, you liked girls. Those two were here for all of one week and now both our lives are upside down."
Bommer sat again. Eric joined him, arms folded across his chest.
"Last I checked, that's what love is supposed to do to you."
"Now it's love? Now you love him?"
Bommer's cheeks flushed, and he continued without responding to Eric's inquisition. "Vanessa didn't fuck anything up for me, Eric. And neither did Tom. He didn't make me gay. All those women...I was just trying to feel normal. Tom's the reason I can finally be honest. He's so... unapologetic."
His eyes got a faraway look for a moment, like he was thinking about him right now. Like he really was in love. Eric didn't know what to do. He couldn't help his reaction. This would take getting used to. Then Bommer recovered, and he was the person his brother had always known again.
"Look, Eric, I'm sorry about Vanessa. I really am. But don't go adding this to the pile of shit you already blame her for. This is me. Finally."
"Fine." Eric didn't know what else to say.
"I'm leaving tonight. Thought you might need the weekend to think about things. To get used to it."
"Who else knows?"
"Nobody yet. Except...well...never mind. I've gotta get going. I'm...well, I'm not sorry, exactly. But I know this isn't easy for you. I hope this doesn't change much between us." Bommer stood, ready to show himself out.
"We're brothers," Eric said.
It wasn't the most eloquent demonstration of support, but Bommer seemed to understand. He smiled and patted his brother on the back.
"See you later, Eric."
Eric heard the front door close. Bommer was right. He would need time to digest this. He ran his hands over his face and sat at the table for a long time. It was something he'd always known, deep down. Bommer's friends seemed to sleep on his couch a little more often than was probably normal. But now he couldn't ignore it. And down here, in Virginia...it would be hard for his brother. It was easiest to blame Vanessa, but Bommer was right. It wasn't her fault. Maybe he should even be grateful, if meeting Tom made Bommer happier.
But he just couldn't get there. Not yet. He'd surprised himself with his own intensity when he thought Bommer was trying to move in on Vanessa. It was undeniable proof he wasn't over her.
Eric lifted the beer to his lips again and took a long sip.
Goe was great for a while. He really was. But by their second week of cohabitation, he'd begun working late and joking about Vanessa's weight gain. He barely acknowledged the baby in private, but in public he couldn't get enough of her stomach and discussing future fatherhood.
Still, most days, Vanessa was happy. She could deal with his annoying tendencies or ignore them. Most days, she could justify leaving Virginia.
But not today.
Vanessa stepped into her OB-GYN's reception room after her appointment. She'd stopped wearing heels because they hurt her feet. ModEricng and dancing—for money, at least—were out of the question. She'd booked one maternity shoot, but she wasn't pregnant enough for most of them. At the moment, the majority of her income came from tutoring Ms. Janine's students, and that didn't add up to as much as she'd like.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked the receptionist, attempting a smile.
"$210."
She handed over the money Goe left that morning. He'd also left a note saying he would be late to the appointment. "Late" became absent. She was upset, more upset than she could have anticipated.
Vanessa hailed a cab and gave the driver Goe's address. Her hand rested easily on her stomach. The doctor said her body was so slim to begin with, any change would seem drastic. She was right. Her stomach seemed to jut out against the knit fabric of her sweater dress, looking more like what Vanessa had expected to see at four or five months.
She tucked her short hair behind her ears and gazed out the window. An image of Eric flashed in her mind along with the knowledge he wouldn't have missed something this important for the world. Family was everything to him.
She squashed the painful thought quickly. She'd made her choice. This wasn't his baby. There was no turning back.
Vanessa glanced down at her phone. She had a voicemail from her mother. Tom had called briefly a week before to tell her about an upcoming gig she might be able to book. He hadn't realized she was showing. She hadn't seen him since the café. Her life was so together on the outside, so in shambles on the inside. Vanessa struggled to keep tears from falling. As a distraction, she listened to her mother's voicemail.
"Hi, honey! I know you had your appointment today. What are we having? Your father and I are dying to know! Call me!"
Vanessa deleted the message. She'd call her mother later, when she was feEricng better. The cab stopped. Vanessa handed the driver his money and went up to Goe's large apartment. It looked the same as it had before she left—beige décor with her own addition of floral and feminine accents.
Nothing had changed except, in the bedroom, most of her bags remained packed. She told Goe she was just too tired to make much of a dent in the pile of luggage. She handed herself the same excuse, but she knew it was because she lacked faith in him. She lacked faith in them.
Vanessa sank down on the edge of the king-sized bed. She was tired and angry. Her friends and her purpose seemed out of reach. Right now, her only interests were pajamas, ice cream, and Bravo. But when she reached in one of the bags to pull out flannel pants and a tank top, her camera flew out with them.
She stared at the object. She hadn't gone through the pictures since that day with Julia, and she wasn't sure she wanted to look at them now—but her hand reached out almost of its own accord. She turned it on.
Then she was back in Virginia. Julia was laughing. Vanessa was happy. Tom's face appeared once or twice because he could only keep himself away from the lens of a camera for so long. Even his ever-smug expression held a hint of pure elation.
Tears trailed down Vanessa's cheeks before she realized they'd formed. She found the last picture, the one of a brokenhearted Eric she hadn't known existed, and her silent crying became sobbing.
She shouldn't have looked. She was already angry, emotional, hormonal. She missed Virginia. She missed Julia. She missed Eric.
Vanessa was watching TV in her pajamas when Goe came home. She chewed her manicured thumbnail lightly, staring at the overdramatic reality show without really watching it, feEricng so emotionally drained, so incredibly disappointed in the man that was supposed to be standing by her.
"Where were you?" she asked flatly.
"I told you, Vanessa. I had to work late." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him toss his jacket onto a chair. He loosened his tie and leaned in to give her a kiss on
the cheek. "You know I would have been there if I could."
Vanessa caught a whiff of something not entirely masculine. Her stomach turned. She gripped the fabric of her tank top where it hugged her stomach and finally looked him in the eye.
"Did you tell them you needed to leave because you were finding out the sex of your baby?"
"Of course. But they needed me."
He smiled charmingly. It just annoyed her.
"I needed you."
Goe seemed surprised. "I'm here now. Don't you think you're being a little unreasonable?"
Anger boiled in Vanessa's veins, making her too hot to think clearly, let alone speak. Her patience was gone. Between Goe's hurtful, aloof attitude and the pictures—the tangible reminder of all she'd had and lost in Virginia—she was letting her attitude grow increasingly reckless. It would push him away even more, the opposite of what she'd thought she wanted. But at this point, she didn't care.
He hadn't changed. She was finally realizing the perfect family she'd wanted so desperately to create would never happen. Goe was too selfish, too egotistical. He'd only ever care about how having this baby could benefit him and his precious image.
She couldn't go back to Eric. She couldn't have him again. But he'd given her a taste of how love and family were supposed to be, and she knew it should be more than this.
"So who was she?"
"Who was who?"
"The girl you were with tonight."
"I told you—"
"You're lying. I'm not stupid."
Goe's eyes darkened. He towered over the couch, over Vanessa. "Are you complaining? I put a roof over your head. I'm paying for everything. You should be thanking me."
Vanessa's face flushed with anger. She stood, fists balled, refusing to let Goe intimidate her. "I should be thanking you for cheating on me? Or for neglecting the kid before it's even born?"
"You should thank me for taking care of you. Nobody else would. Not in your state. Just because I'd rather have sex with a skinny model than a fat one doesn't negate the fact I'm being pretty damn good to you."
"Let me remind you that a month ago you were taking me to fancy restaurants and telling me you loved me!"
"I need you with me." Goe shrugged. "You're the mother of my child. My parents like you. You're pretty. Call it love; call it what you want."
Vanessa shook her head. She was so hurt and frustrated she could barely see straight, but there was no point in arguing; there was no point in trying to change him. He was a lost cause. She needed to cut and run.
"I'm not going to thank you for treating me like shit, Goe. You might need me, but I don't need you. I just got this stupid idea in my head that I could make a happy ending for us. For all of us. But you're the same unfaithful, chauvinistic son of a bitch you were two months ago. I'm done."
Vanessa turned on her heel and headed for the bedroom. Goe tried to grab her arm, tried to stop her, but she evaded his grasp. When she slammed the door shut, he stopped it with his foot and flung it back open. She didn't care what he did. She wasn't scared, and she didn't want to hear what he had to say. She threw the few belongings she had unpacked into her bags. She ignored Goe, keeping her back to him. He didn't say or do anything. Not for a while.
"What the hell is this?" he asked finally.
It wasn't a question Vanessa had been expecting. His voice was low and angry. A shiver ran down her spine. She turned slowly to look at him. He held her camera, displaying the photo of Eric. Once again, her heart was crushed by that image of him—smiling half-heartedly for the sake of his daughter, still so attractive, so hurt and so in love with her. She looked away. The memories were too painful.
"Who is this?" Goe demanded.
"No one," she answered. She didn't owe him an explanation.
Goe's next move shouldn't have shocked Vanessa, but it did. He threw the camera hard, narrowly missing her head and taking a chunk out of the wall behind her. Vanessa had put the night Goe hit her out of her mind, just for the sake of being able to look him in the eye every day. With that violent motion, fear returned with a vengeance. She stood frozen where she was, packing far from her mind, escape at the forefront. Goe's fury made him even more intimidating.
"Do you see what I have to do to get your fucking attention?"
Vanessa didn't answer. She just watched him, wary, waiting for his next move. He continued speaking.
"You've been sleeping with some redneck from Virginia? Some fucking trailer trash asshole who probably doesn't know his ABC's?"
"You and I weren't together, Goe," she reminded him quietly.
"You slumming slut."
"Slumming? Slumming?" Vanessa couldn't keep herself from pointing out his infuriating hypocrisy. "Eric might wear jeans and t-shirts and drive a big truck, but you're the one who beat your pregnant girlfriend."
Goe seemed taken aback. Vanessa's fists were tight. She shouldn't have said it. She knew she shouldn't have said it. But she had to, in defense of Eric and in the hopes of making Goe remember what he'd done—and realize he was dangerously close to doing it again. Her only chance of escape was through the door he blocked. She needed him to repent, to do the right thing, to step aside.
Instead, his own fists clenched and a vein throbbed in his neck. She hadn't brought him back to reality at all; she'd only allowed him to get better acquainted with his inner monster. Her stomach dropped. She should have just left. She shouldn't have bothered packing. But it was too late now. She was trapped. She'd never wanted to feel this terror again, but here she was. And it was her own damn fault. Vanessa made one last pale-faced attempt to get through to him.
"Goe," she whispered. "Please. Let me leave."
A humorless laugh escaped his lips. "Now you want something from me?"
Vanessa made a break for the open door, but Goe caught her easily, his grip tight and painful on her arms. He kicked the door closed and dragged her to the bed. Vanessa couldn't move her limbs properly. She was too scared. Her body was shaking, but she went for the door again. Goe locked it and forced her back.
He pinned her to the mattress by her wrists and straddled her body. Something hard and sharp dug into her back.
"Goe," she gasped, struggling beneath him. "Let me go."
"You're not leaving. You're not embarrassing me again."
Panicked tears blurred Vanessa's vision as she struggled beneath him, kicking and thrashing, doing anything she could to break away. What did he want with her? He couldn't hold her down like this forever. Then she felt his knee in her stomach and it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She stopped fighting immediately.
"Don't." she begged, half-heartedly twisting her wrists in his grasp.
A sick grin twisted Goe's lips. Vanessa shrank away from the pressure on her stomach. It wasn't enough to do harm. Not yet. But if she gave him any reason dig in further, she might not have a baby at all. He stared at her for a long time. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to breathe. She didn't know if he wanted to hit her, rape her, imprison her, torture her, or just put the fear of God into her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, trying to say what she thought he wanted to hear.
"You're lying. I'm not stupid," he mocked.
This wouldn't end well. Vanessa was suddenly aware, again, of the uncomfortable object beneath her. What was it? Then she remembered. Her keys. The pepper spray.
"You're hurting me," she said.
"That's the idea."
"It's not the baby's fault. This isn't the baby's fault."
Goe paused, but he didn't release her.
"You haven't left a mark," Vanessa continued. "We can...we can pretend this never happened. I can't prove it, and...I understand. I shouldn't have said what I did. I was angry. You're right. You've been good to me. I'm sorry."
Goe considered her. Then he released her, roughly, lifting his knee but shoving her down on the bed again, giving her a shake, letting her know who was boss. He turned away, collecting himself or trying to uncover
whatever sanity remained in his damaged mind.
He didn't find it.
He whirled back around, the look in his eyes telling Vanessa he was ready to truly harm her. But she had what she needed. She raised the canister, aimed, and fired. Goe cried out and covered his face as the harsh spray burned his eyes. Vanessa shoved him aside and ran for her life.
Chapter Nineteen
Almost there.
Tom viewed the text message and smiled. Bommer had landed at JFK, which meant he was just ten minutes from Tom's apartment. Tom straightened his sports jacket and took out a bottle of wine and two glasses. He lit a scented candle on the mantle of his faux fireplace. He was nervous, excited. He hadn't seen Bommer in over a month. He hadn't seen anyone in over a month. Much as he hated to admit it, he may have found a monogamous relationship. Or, rather, a monogamous relationship had found him. It was unexpected but welcome. He couldn't be happier.
Well, that wasn't entirely true. He'd be happier if his best friend wasn't out of her mind and willingly dating a man reminiscent of Ike Turner.
He was so disappointed. No sooner had she convinced him of her love for Eric than she was ditching the Virginian to get back with that pustule of a life form. She was confused. He got that. But confusion and stupidity were two very different things, and he just couldn't support her decision.
But he wasn't worrying about that tonight. A knock sounded on the door. Tom quickly checked his reflection in the dark TV, took a deep breath, and opened the door.
It wasn't Bommer on the other side, as he'd been expecting. It was Vanessa—barefoot, wearing pajamas, and looking like hell. He knew exactly why she was there, and he was angry. She would show up with this when he was supposed to be having a romantic evening with Bommer. She'd made the stupidest decision of her life, and now he had to pay for it.
Still, he couldn't bring himself to turn her away. She'd been crying, and her round stomach was painfully obvious in the tank top she wore, reminding him it wasn't just one person he'd be sending back out into the night. He stepped aside and gave a dramatic sweep of his arm, inviting her in and closing the door behind her.