by M. H. Soars
It doesn’t mean the media leaves us alone. Paparazzi surge in droves, they all want to snap a picture of Oliver and me together. It’s unnerving and intrusive as hell, but Oliver doesn’t seem one bit bothered by it. Well, that used to be his life when he was part of Boys Future. He says I’ll get used to it. I seriously doubt it. One thing he’s right about is with all the attention, it will be harder for someone to do me harm. I guess that’s one way to see the glass half full.
Today, I’m nervous for several reasons. I’m going to see Derek’s mentor, the brain surgery guru he recommended. I asked him to be present during the appointment, even though I’m risking Oliver getting mad as hell at me when he finds out. That alone would be enough to give me jitters, but I’m mostly nervous because I’ll have to lie to Oliver one last time. I’m sure I’ll be followed and I wonder what stories the gossip magazines will concoct.
Wreck of the Day also has a beach concert later tonight. Another televised event and I always get extra butterflies in my stomach before a performance.
Oliver brings me breakfast in bed, scrambled eggs and bacon with toast plus a big cup of coffee. I would be all over that, but the smell of food brings bile to mouth. I push the tray aside.
“What’s wrong, sugar?” he asks.
I throw my legs to the side of the bed and stand up. The room begins to spin and I have to brace my hand against the wall to remain upright.
“My stomach feels queasy.”
“Maybe it was the lasagna you ate last night.” He watches me closely.
“Maybe.” I let go of the wall and with baby steps, I manage to walk around the bed toward the bathroom.
Oliver moves to my side and places a hand on my lower back. “You look ghastly. Are you going to throw up?”
“Jeez, thanks, babe. No, I’m not going to hurl. I just need a shower.”
Oliver gives me an impish smile. “Want some company?”
I give him a droll look. “You just told me I look ghastly.”
“Sugar, you know I would want you even if you were covered in blisters.”
I give him a light shove. “Yew. Thanks for the visual. I think I’ll manage showering on my own right now.”
He laughs and walks back to the bed to retrieve the forgotten breakfast tray. “I’ll bring this back to the kitchen and make you some tea.”
“Don’t throw my coffee away!”
Oliver widens his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
When I called Derek last week, one thing he insisted I do, was to call my mother and tell her what was going on. He knows why we don’t speak much these days, but he said I needed a family member with me at the appointment. It would be good to show Dr. Laurent I have a support system. I would rather have Karen with me, but I don’t voice that out loud.
So here I am, on my way to Littleton to speak with my mother. When I called her yesterday, so last minute, I was hoping she wouldn’t be around. But it turns out, today is her day off. The first thing that catches my attention when I park the brand new Range Rover Oliver gave me to replace the wrecked one, is the for sale sign in front of my old home. That ignites a myriad of feelings in me. I’m glad that Mom is finally ready to move on, but I’m also mad it took her so long. It’s awful that one bad memory is able to trump all the good ones we made in that house. But that’s how life is. Awful things have the tendency to cling to you much longer than they should no matter how hard you try to break free.
Mom is expecting me in the kitchen, the place where we used to hang out to talk about our day. She’s sitting in her usual spot at the faded blue kitchen table with a mug of coffee in front of her.
“I just brewed some,” she says as a way of greeting.
I walk to the cupboard and grab a cup, filling it to the brim. I can never have too much caffeine. I sit across from Mom, but I don’t make eye contact, choosing to sip my drink instead. After a moment of silence on my part, she starts, “I listened to your song the other day on the radio, the duet. It’s beautiful.”
“Thanks. Yeah, the band is doing alright.”
Mom frowns. “I’d say you’re doing more than alright. So, are you still together with the good looking blond, the famous singer?”
“Yup. We live together now.”
“Oh.” I notice the sudden change in her demeanor, an underlying hurt. She’s upset that I didn’t tell her about moving in with Oliver.
“Mom, I’m not here to talk about my relationship or the band.”
“Is it your father? Is he bothering you?”
I shake my head. I can’t tell Mom that I suspect Daddy Dearest is trying to get rid of me. I don’t know what she would do.
“No. It’s about my health.”
“Your health? Honey, you’re scaring me. Are you sick?”
I nod. It’s the only thing I’m capable of doing right now with the lump lodged inside my throat. Every time I think too long about this stupid clot and what it means, I get choked up.
“I discovered I have a blood clot in my brain. A residual of the attack most likely.”
The color drains from my mother’s face. “When did you find out?”
“A few months ago.”
“A few months ago! And you’re only telling me now?”
“I didn’t want to tell anyone!” There are tears in my mother’s eyes now and I feel my own eyes fill with them. “The doctor said I could have surgery, but I was too afraid to go through with it. So I didn’t pursue it.”
“You made that decision without telling me?”
“It was my decision to make. I don’t want to fight with you about this. I’m here because I’ve reconsidered and I have an appointment with one of the best neurosurgeons in the country in a few hours. I would like you to come with me.”
“Of course I’ll come with you.” Mom reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m sorry I haven’t been the mother you deserve, Saylor. So very sorry.”
“Me, too, Mom. Me, too. I want us to have a fresh start. I want you back in my life.”
I didn’t know that those words were the truth until I said them. I’ve missed my mother so much, but I pushed the feeling aside so I could go on living, so I could try to function.
“There’s nothing in the world I want more.” She stands up and walks around the table to give me a fierce hug. I hide my face against the flat of her stomach and let the tears run freely.
“I’m scared, Mom.”
“Me, too. We’ll get through this together. You won’t have to be alone anymore.”
I don’t have the heart to tell her I was never alone. I had my friends, Liv’s family, and now I have Oliver.
Thirty-Five
OLIVER
I pace back and forth in the backstage section of the Off-Summer Sessions Festival in Manhattan Beach. It’s a newish music festival—it’s only on its second year—but it has gathered a following already, with people coming all over the place for it.
“Where is she?” I turn to Allan.
“Relax, boss. She’s stuck in traffic, she will be here.”
I glance at the rest of the band. They are all present, ready for Wreck of the Day’s concert. It’s another televised performance. Saylor has yet to show her face. I glance at my phone and bring the browser screen up again. I don’t fucking know why I keep staring at those blurry pictures of Saylor and Derek. They were taken earlier, in front of a big building I don’t recognize. She’s hugging him in some of them.
I grip the device tighter as jealousy runs freely through my veins. What the fuck is she doing with that arsehole again? I get alerted every time there’s a new article online about the band, and this one came in an hour ago. The website where these pictures surfaced is a lesser-known gossip site, but I’m sure others will pick up the story soon. The headline is too juicy for them to pass up.
Has Saylor Carter found a new beau? Does Oliver Best know? Wreck of the Day lead singer caught cheating on the British heartthrob.
I d
idn’t read the article itself, just scrolled down the page to see the pictures.
My brain knows Saylor is not cheating on me, but I can’t help the feeling of betrayal just the same.
She arrives ten minutes before the band is supposed to go live, with her bodyguard in tow. Her make-up and hair are done, and she’s wearing one of the outfits Monni selected for concerts. At least, she got that covered. We lock gazes and I don’t hide my displeasure.
“I’m sorry,” she says out of breath.
“Did you run here?” Remi chimes in before I have the chance to make a remark.
“Just from where the Uber driver dropped us off. It was a couple of blocks away. Traffic is insane.”
“If you had arrived here on time, that wouldn’t have been an issue,” I say through clenched teeth.
“I already said I’m sorry. I had shit to do.” She furrows her eyebrows and walks around me.
It’s better if she stays away from me. I’m mad as hell and keeping my mouth shut until we’re back home will be a fucking ordeal.
I watch as Tabatha gives Saylor hell for arriving so late. She’s a little less subtle than me, gesturing wildly with her hands. Saylor takes the tongue lashing without saying a word, before she uses her phone to type a message. Tabatha looks at her own phone in turn and her angry expression changes significantly. She looks up again and says, “For real?”
Saylor nods and the band’s bassist hugs her. What the fuck is going on? That little exchange is enough to snap the already stretched thin line that is my patience. I take a step toward the duo, but someone from the event announces it is time for the band to hop on stage. I grind my teeth and resign myself to wait until the concert is over. I’m expected to sing the duet with Saylor half way through the show and I should get my head straight. One thing is sure, there won’t be an impromptu kiss on stage tonight.
SAYLOR
I had to tell Tabatha about the doctor’s appointment otherwise she would chew my head off. I couldn’t let her go up on stage thinking I didn’t care about the band. Oliver, unfortunately, will have to wait until we get home.
Despite knowing it won’t be an easy conversation, my heart feels ten times lighter. Derek’s mentor, Dr. Laurent, broke down every argument I had against surgery. He’s confident he can perform a successful procedure with minimum invasion. His confidence and kind manner were key to setting my mind at rest.
I ignore the queasiness in my belly as I take my place in front of the mic. It’s just pre-concert jitters. I’m taken aback by the wild roar from the audience when I greet them. I dreamed thousands times about this moment, but I couldn’t have imagined what it would feel like to be up on stage, to be on the receiving end of such high voltage energy. There are catcalls and whistles, and I even spot in the crowd a fan made sign that reads, “Forget the boy band dude. Marry me, Blue.”
I giggle and glance to the side of the stage, where Oliver is. His jaw is locked tight and he has his arms crossed in front of his chest. My smile fades. I can’t believe he’s that mad because I was late.
We start the show, singing the first single we released. Oliver will come up after the fourth song for our duet.
It’s when I’m half way through the third song that my vision turns blurry and everything begins to spin. I mess up a bridge in my guitar solo but I don’t think the audience noticed. I know Tabatha did because she leaves her designated spot on the stage and walks to me. She tries to pretend it’s all part of the show, but I can read concern in her gaze. I force a smile, even though there are dark spots in my vision.
I manage to finish the song without any more slip ups, but I turn and signal to the band that I need a minute. We have scheduled pauses during our performance, but not until much later. I walk to where Sticks is behind her drums and grab one of the bottled waters that are tucked away, hidden from view. My hands are shaking and I can’t open the cap.
I feel Tabatha’s hand on my shoulder. “Blue, what’s the matter?”
I put the heel of my hand against my forehead. “It’s a dizzy spell. It will pass.”
“Do we need to stop?”
I’m about to say no, when I feel my consciousness slipping away. I’m able to grab Tabatha’s arm right before I fall into darkness.
Thirty-Six
SAYLOR
I don’t know how long I was out for. When I come to, I’m on the backseat of a moving car and confused as hell. I can’t concentrate on anything. My vision is hazy at best. It’s only when I feel the soft brush of fingers against my cheek that my eyes are able to focus. Oliver’s worried face is in my line of vision. His jaw is set hard and his eyes have a panicked glint in them that makes my heart fold in on itself. The pressure on my chest is too much to ignore, but I can’t give into the urge to cry. Not right now. That time will come, sooner than I anticipated it seems.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“Where do you think? To the bloody hospital of course.”
“Ollie, I’m fine.” I try to sit up, but Oliver’s arm over my middle keeps me firm on the horizontal.
“Don’t tell me you’re fine. You fainted in the middle of the concert.”
“Oh my God. Was the crowd mad?”
“Fuck the crowd. Sugar, you scared me to death.”
I close my eyes for a moment and rub the spot between my eyebrows. “What a fiasco.”
“Don’t worry about that right now. Allan will take care of everything.”
“Please take me home, Ollie. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”
He opens his mouth to argue but I interrupt him before he can, “I don’t want to deal with the media right now.”
I can practically see the wheels in his head turning as a myriad of conflicting emotions flash in his eyes. In the end, I win and he tells the driver to take us home. Once there, Oliver helps me up the stairs. Not that I can’t walk on my own, but I need his touch right now, before I drop the truth bomb on our relationship. My heart is constricted in pain, gripped by fear. Knowing what I know about his past, I’m terrified of how he will react.
We head to our bedroom and I sit on the edge of the bed. Oliver begins to pace in front of me, his movements tense and jerky.
“You said you were one hundred percent well. Who’s the fucking doctor who examined you? I want his head.”
Shit. Derek. What am I going to do about him? I can’t let him take the fall for my mess.
Sudden nausea hits me and I jump off the bed, making a beeline for the bathroom barely making in time. I hug the toilet bowl as I empty everything that is in my stomach. I’m dry heaving when I feel Oliver’s presence behind me.
“Are you pregnant?”
His question comes out of nowhere and I’m too shocked to answer. It didn’t sound like an angry accusation, though. Oliver takes my silence as affirmation. He drops his gaze to the floor and runs a hand through his hair.
“Fuck. Everything makes sense now. You’re pregnant. That’s what you told Tabatha earlier.”
“Ollie…” I stand up on shaky legs.
He breaches the distance between us, grabbing my arms to hold me steady. “Sugar, why didn’t you tell me?”
I’m overrun by a cowardice spell and pull back, walking to the sink to wash out my mouth.
“Did you think I would bail on you like your father bailed on your mother?”
I shake my head as I fight the tears that are already forming in my eyes. I splash my face with cold water for all the good that it does. I only manage to smear the heavy coat of mascara on my eyelashes. I reach for a tissue and clean the mess, a tactic to gain more time.
Oliver stops behind me and touches my shoulders. “Saylor. I love you. I never thought I would feel this way about anyone. Ever. You owned me the first moment I saw you.”
Our gazes connect via the mirror’s reflection and my heart overflows at the same time it breaks. How is it even possible? I turn so I can face him.
“Please, let me explain,” I start t
o say, but Oliver talks over me.
“You don’t have to worry. You won’t have to go through this alone.” He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and looks tenderly into my eyes. My heart shatters into a million pieces. And now I have to shatter his.
A lonely tear manages to escape one of my eyes and rolls down my cheek. Oliver kisses it away. “Don’t cry, sugar.”
“I’m not pregnant,” I whisper.
He pulls back to stare at my face, frowning. “You aren’t?” His tone of voice is disbelieving.
“Oliver, I’m dying.” I force the words out before they get lodged in my throat.
He blinks a couple of times as if he can’t quite comprehend what I’m saying. “What?”
“I have a blood clot in my brain.”
There’s a moment of unbearable silence as Oliver stares at me, frozen. It’s worse than any shouting match we’ve had in the past. It’s oppressive, it destroys me. His pale face turns ashen and he swallows hard. “When did you find out?”
I take a deep breath and stare at my feet. “A few months ago.”
“A few months ago?” he says through clenched teeth. “Did you know that back in Hawaii?”
“Yes,” I whisper and dare to raise my gaze again.
I thought I had seen Oliver broken before when I found him drowning his sorrows over the death of his brother. But it doesn’t compare to the devastation I read in his eyes now.
“You should have told me. I deserved to know.” He puts more distance between us as if he can’t stand our proximity now.
“We weren’t meant to last. We’re supposed to be done after Hawaii.”
“I love you!” He takes a step forward and stops suddenly. “I loved you then and I love you now. I deserved to know.” He chokes up and brings a closed fist to his mouth before looking away. His entire frame is shaking.