I wiped the sweat forming around my hairline. "I wasn't obsessed with him."
He rolled his eyes and rubbed a hand over the dark stubble against his cheeks. "Whatever, Gabby. You were too damn blind to see the signs. You ignored my warnings. Why couldn't you trust me?" He drew his hands out and his face fell. He'd wanted me to trust him enough to take his word, but my idiot ass didn't. Now I was stuck with a broken heart and a broken friendship.
I kicked at the ground. "I did trust you, but you can bet your ass I don't anymore."
"What the fuck?" he shouted. "You don't trust me now?" A harsh laugh escaped his throat. "I didn't do shit except try to help your ungrateful ass."
A lump wedged itself into the center of my throat. In less than twenty-four hours, I'd lost two people I thought truly cared about me but didn't. "You were trying to help me by not telling me he was engaged?”
"I wanted to, believe me I did; I just didn't know how. You were so damn set on him being this good person, and every single time I tried to convince you otherwise, you'd get all defensive and shitty," he said, his face drooping.
"I would've listened pretty damn well if you'd told me he was putting a damn ring on someone else's finger."
He grunted. "Yeah, right. You say that now, but you would've told me I was lying."
I was getting more pissed by the second. "You know what? You're an asshole just like them. You're just like every other Douglas out there!" I held out my arms, gesturing to the street.
"That's where you're wrong, sunshine. You're the one turning into them, not me." Heat flushed through my body as his words seared through me.
"Go fuck yourself," I yelled, charging toward him. He let out a loud yelp when my palms pressed against his chest and pushed him back into the water. I twisted around on my heels, grabbing my car keys before storming to my car and speeding out of the driveway.
My hair blew with the wind as Adele blared from my car's speakers. I steered my car while wiping the trickles of tears falling down my face. I continued to drive for hours until reaching the old park my mom used to take me to play when I was younger, before she married Kenneth and my life did a one-eighty. I slouched down onto an old, rickety bench and stared at the warm colors of the sunset, watching the ducks glide across the water and children running around playing.
I knew it was too late when I got home. I'd waited until I knew Asher would be gone for his flight before I came back. It was a shitty thing to do, but I was still pissed at him. He could've stopped me from putting myself in that situation with Dalton. He could've stopped my heart from getting smashed into a thousand pieces. He could've stopped the painful feeling in my chest that felt like my insides were swelling up inside me.
I parked my car into my spot in the garage, noticing most of the lights in the house were out before heading up to my bedroom. I dragged each foot up stair by stair restlessly before reaching my bedroom and flipping on the light. I headed straight to my closet, grabbing a pair of pajamas before deciding to take a hot bath. "You missed Asher leave," the soft voice said behind me, and I grinded my teeth. I halted, turning around and looking at her. "He waited until the last minute, and you never showed, Gabby. You also turned off your cell phone. What is going on with you?"
I tossed my pajamas back onto the top of my dresser and slumped down onto my bed. "Nothing, we just got into an argument and I needed time to cool down." I shrugged my shoulders and avoided looking up at her. "I guess I just lost track of time."
"He's on his flight now, but you need to call him tonight and apologize." I nodded, knowing I'd eventually apologize to Asher but there was no way that was happening tonight. I'd planned on keeping my phone off and taking a hot bath where I could plot my escape from everyone.
"Now, get some sleep. You look exhausted," she added.
I whipped my head up and opened my mouth before she left. "Do you ever feel bad about what you did?" I asked suddenly.
Her eyebrows drew together. "Bad about what?" she asked.
"You know, having an affair with Kenneth and being the other woman." I couldn't believe I was actually going to have this conversation with her.
She walked forward, erasing the distance between us before sitting down on my bed. Her skinny hand gently patted my leg. "I'm not proud of the situation we got ourselves into, but I would never take it back."
"But he had a wife," I pointed out, my voice wavering. I didn't understand how she didn't feel guilty. I hadn't even known Dalton's fiancée and I felt bad for her; my mom had attended dinners and planned Kenneth's office design with his wife.
Her eyes averted down, and she played with a button on her leopard-print pajama top. "You're right, but he also was unhappy with her." I cringed, my lower lip curling. I hated when people used that bullshit excuse. If they weren't happy, they needed to get a divorce; it was that simple.
"So, not being happy justifies you being able to cheat? You're not with the one who makes your heart skip a beat anymore, so you have an affair?" I asked, growing more agitated. "How could you inflict that pain on another woman?" I hated that she was trying to justify the fact that she'd stolen another woman's husband, but not as much as I hated myself in that moment. I was the other woman to Dalton's fiancée. I was my mother. "Don't you hate people calling you a home-wrecker? Didn't you think about all the damage it would cause?"
She nodded and I noticed her eyes grow glossy. "It hurts, but their insults aren't worth me being unhappy. Their vindictiveness doesn't change my feelings for Kenneth or his feelings for me. That's all that matters." Her posture picked up, and she paused to examine me. "Why all of a sudden are you asking me about this?"
I pressed my hair back with both hands and shrugged. "No reason. Just curious." She kissed me on my forehead and left me alone to dwell in my sorrows. She'd fought for Kenneth, for their love, and she'd won. I was doing that with Dalton, but I wasn't going to compete for his love like my mom had so many times.
"What are you doing in here?" Dalton asked, stepping into the space of my cubicle. I'd kept my phone off the remainder of the weekend and hid out in my room.
"Working," I answered, keeping my attention on the computer screen in front of me. I'd decided not to work in his office that morning; I wanted nothing to do with him. I'd contemplated quitting but I couldn't let them know they'd won; that they'd broken me. I wasn't contributing to Wilson's happiness of my demise from the company. "I figured you need some alone time to plan your wedding."
"Gabby, please," he begged, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. He looked sleep-deprived. Good, I wanted him to lose sleep, not be able to eat and feel like shit from the way he'd treated me.
I swiveled my chair around to narrow my eyes at him. "Please, what? You think begging is going to work?" I huffed. "You want me to put on my scarlet letter and walk around here being your happy little mistress? Not happening; find some other schmuck because that girl isn’t me.”
"Please, just talk to me," he said, reaching for my hand, but I backed up, the wheels on my chair rolling back.
I pointed my finger at him. "Don't touch me. You'll never touch me again."
He circled my chair around and bent down so our faces were inches apart. "You have to talk to me sometime. You have to let me explain."
"Explain what? You had a brain lapse and forgot you were engaged while we were having sex?"
"I'm not leaving here until you hear me out," he said, his eyes searing into mine, and I wanted to slap them off his face.
I noticed a few questioning looks coming from people around me. One girl was even leaning up over her cubicle, eavesdropping. "Fine, I'll talk to you after work." I needed to get him out of there.
He tapped on the armrests of my chair. "I'll be waiting by your car." I gulped. He lifted himself up. "And Gabby?" I looked up at him, getting ready to leave. "I love you."
Those three words burnt like fire through my brain. "No, you don't," I whispered, turning my back to him.
"I'll prove it to y
ou," he added before leaving. There was no way I could concentrate on work after that conversation, so I pulled out my drawer and finally turned on my cell phone. A notice popped up, letting me know I had forty-five text messages and ten voicemails. I scrolled down the text messages; the majority of them were from Dalton, then Asher, and a few were from Cora, Lane and Daisy.
I ignored the ones from Dalton and Asher, opening my friends’ messages.
CORA: Hey, babe, just wanting to make sure you were okay! I called your casa & your mom said you were sleeping. Call me when you get a chance, and keep that head up if you go into work! XOXO
I hit the reply button.
ME: At work now. I'll fill you in when I get off & come over.
"Can I give you some advice?" a feminine voice asked, and I jumped in my chair to find Summer standing behind me, one hip bumped out with her hand placed on it. Her blonde hair was ironed straight, and she was displaying another tight dress.
"Sure," I grumbled. I wasn't in the mood to argue with her.
"Don't do it."
My head flinched back slightly. "I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. "Be a mistress. Don't do it. Dalton's getting married, but from the looks of it, he wants you, too." Great, even Summer knew Dalton was getting married; I needed to join the office-gossip monthly newsletter. "It's actually pretty miserable. I've been with Wilson for three years." I gasped, my eyes bulging at her confession.
I swallowed. "You and Wilson?"
She nodded. Now that I thought about it, it made sense. The girl got away with painting her nails on the clock. "Not once have we ever been able to share a holiday. No Christmases, no Valentine's Day, nothing. Sure, you'll get to exchange presents and stuff, but not until days, or weeks, later. You can't even go out to dinner or have a date in a public place." She bit out a laugh. "Your relationship will consist of late-night rendezvous in an office or hotel suite."
I stayed silent, still shocked at her revelation. Wilson was such a fucking hypocrite; all of these years, he'd been giving my mom and Kenneth shit when he was doing the same exact thing. Did all the Douglas men have mistresses? Was it a requirement to be accepted into the family?
"So, why not end it?" I finally asked. Summer was a gorgeous girl; I doubted she'd have any trouble finding a new man.
She sighed and I noticed her bottom lip shiver. Shit, I hoped she wasn't about to cry. "Because I stupidly fell in love with him. It's too late for me, but I wanted to tell you before it's the same way. Run before you get all sucked up in him and fall in love." She blinked a few times, and I knew from experience she was fighting back the tears. She blew out a breath. "Anyways, I'm supposed to tell you that you need to go to the boardroom."
I gave her a weak smile. "Thanks, girl." I appreciated her trying to help me. She had never told Wilson about walking in on Dalton and me; I knew it. As bitchy as she was sometimes, she was a girl's girl at heart.
The only problem with her warning was that it was too late.
I'd already been sucked in and fell in love with Dalton.
My steps were slow on my way to the boardroom. My chest felt weighted as my mind ran through the different ideas of what I was being summoned for. There was nobody in that office I wanted to talk to. My clammy hand wrapped around the door handle and I shut my eyes, taking in a deep breath before pushing the door open and walking in.
I found only one person sitting in the room. One person I wanted absolutely nothing to do with. My eyes flashed to each corner of the room, praying someone else was going to pop out of a corner and come to my rescue, but got nothing. I was on my own.
"Hello, Gabrielle," the penetrating voice greeted. He was dressed in a full black suit, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed. An expensive shoe was dangling as he swung his foot back and forth.
I gripped my hands together. "Hi," I mumbled. "Why am I here?"
His arm shot out, gesturing to the chair across from him. I stayed put while waiting for his answer; I wasn't going to get comfortable because I wasn't planning on conversing with him long. He chuckled at my reluctance at an attempt to lighten the tense mood. It didn't work.
"I wanted to ask you a few questions," he replied.
"So start asking," I bit out. I wasn't in the mood to answer any questions that asshole had for me, but I just needed to get it over with so I could get back to my cubicle.
I jumped at the sound of him clearing his throat. Why was I so jumpy all of a sudden? "Do you know who your father is?" I stumbled backwards, shocked at his words, and my back landed against the wood door.
"I couldn’t care less who he is," I responded, regaining control of myself. When I'd been younger, I was always asking my mom questions about why I didn't have a dad like all the other kids in school. Eventually, that curiosity morphed into anger then indifference. I didn't care that I didn't have a dad. I quit wishing on that star a long damn time ago. I hated a man I didn't even know.
His knee began to bounce. "That's unfortunate."
"No, not really."
"Your mother never told you anything about him?"
"Other than the fact he was an asshole who abandoned us when she told him she was pregnant, no, not really," I threw back, my voice getting harsher by the second. I'd had a rough few days, and talking about my bastard father wasn't the hug I needed.
My entire body tensed as John rose up from his chair. I tried to take another step back but my back smacked into the wall. "I'm your father, Gabby," he said.
My world stopped, my stomach fluttered and I felt a sudden itch tear at my throat. The next thing I knew, I was bursting out in laughter. "Funny, did Wilson put you up to this?" I could see Wilson messing with the father-less girl for his daily excitement.
His hand stuffed into the pocket of his pants. "I'm being serious."
My laughing stopped and my mind suddenly began to race. "You're a liar," I accused. He had to be lying. There was no way he was telling the truth.
He shook his head, his eyes blazing straight into mine. "I'm not lying."
I shoved my hands against the door to help me balance myself. "You're a goddamn liar." His words burned into my brain. I'm your father. The life I always knew was shattered into pieces.
He took a step closer, and my hand shot out, begging him to not come any closer. His feet halted. "Your birthday is November twenty-fourth. You were born at twelve fifty-eight in the morning-"
"You could've found that information out anywhere. Those are public records," I said, cutting him off. I glanced down at my hands and suddenly noticed they were shaking. Is this what it felt like when you found out your entire life was a lie? That the one person you trusted had betrayed you? I cringed as my head began to pound against my skull.
He swallowed a lump in his throat. "Your grandmother's name was Tilda," he continued to my horror. "Although you've never met her, because she was an alcoholic and your mom had to practically raise herself. You were six pounds, four ounces. You were born two weeks early. You were-"
"Please, stop," I whispered, refusing to look at him while I internally screamed ‘no’ a million times over and over again. My chest hitched as images of the party flashed through my mind and how my mom had reacted around him. She’d blocked him from seeing me because she was nervous he’d know who I was.
Holy fucking shit.
I was John's daughter.
This was not happening.
"You also have a birth mark on the bottom of your left foot. The same place as your mom's."
Fire swirled into my stomach. "I said stop!" I seethed. "You aren't my father. You are nothing to me! We might share the same blood but you're not my father. You left me with nothing! You didn't want me. You abandoned me!"
He winced at my jabs. "I understand this is shocking news and it probably hurts."
"You know nothing about what hurts me!" I cried out. "You know absolutely nothing about me!"
My knees fell l
imp, and I stumbled forward to help myself from falling down. I needed to get out of there. "I want to change that," he said, trying to grab my arm and stop me from leaving.
I swatted his hands away from me and stuck my finger in his face. "Stay the hell away from me!"
A sympathetic look crossed his face. "I won't come any closer. I just want us to talk."
"I don't want to talk to you!" My voice rose. "If you come near me again, I swear to God, I’ll scream bloody murder.
I jumped as the door burst open, smacking against the wall as Dalton barreled into the room, a murderous rage in his eyes. "What the fuck are you doing to her?" he yelled, his face flaming.
John walked backwards. "This conversation doesn't involve you," he answered Dalton.
"Anything regarding Gabby involves me." I wanted to kill both men in the room, rip their heads off and never see them again; they'd done nothing but hurt me. Dalton had manipulated me into falling in love with him only to tear my heart into pieces. He was the spider and I was the fly. John was the reason my heart was so fragile because I'd grown up without a dad to protect and love me. Dear God, I was now a girl with daddy issues.
Dalton grabbed my head in his hands. "What did he do to you, baby?" Dalton asked, looking over at me. He tried to grab my trembling hands in his, but I crouched from under him and tears began to stream down my face.
"He's my father!" I spat out, signaling to John, and Dalton's eyes practically bulged out of his head. "Congratulations, you both are the biggest fucking assholes on the face of this planet!" My body bumped into Dalton's side as I dashed out of the room.
I hit the hallway and noticed the large crowd staring at me; their faces let me know they'd heard me screaming. I wasn't ever showing my face at that place again so I didn't care. My chin stayed pointed up as I walked down the hallway and snagged my bag roughly to leave. I wiped my clammy fingers against my cheek, swiping away tears violently. Dalton was on my heels the entire time, not saying a word, just walking behind me and following me into the elevator.
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