by Nikki Sloane
But Greg felt compelled to correct him. “Ex-girlfriend. You two were broken up before Cassidy and I got together.”
The statement seemed to knock Preston sideways. His eyes went enormous, then narrowed down to slits. “Together?”
Greg shifted, moving subtly in front of me like a shield. “We were going to tell you.”
Preston sneered. “I should have known. I should have fucking expected it. You don’t care about me, Greg.”
It’d taken him more than a year of living with his father before he’d come around to calling him Dad, and the step backward now was painful. The name was sharp and cutting. Greg reacted as if he’d been shoved, and Preston looked pleased the verbal blow had landed.
“You do whatever the fuck you want,” he continued. He stood taller, full of righteousness. “Always have, and always will.”
I pressed my hand harder to my chest, holding the coat in place, but more to try to stop the pain in my heart. Whether or not he was right, or whether it was fair, he’d probably always feel that way, no matter what his father did to try to make up for it.
Greg’s tone was defensive. “That’s not true.”
“You’re so goddamn selfish.”
“I used to be, yeah,” Greg said. “I screwed up with you and your mom. There’s not a day that goes by where I don’t wish I could change what I did.”
As far as I knew, they’d never talked about it, and I held my breath, wanting to fade into the background.
Preston’s expression turned sour. “Bullshit, and I don’t want to hear it.”
“Yeah? Too fucking bad, because you’re going to. Cassidy and I didn’t plan on this happening, it just . . . did. You’ve got to understand, we didn’t do this to intentionally hurt you.”
It was painful to watch the two most important men in my life fighting, and know I was the cause. All of Greg’s hard work to make it right with his son, all undone in the blink of an eye. I dropped my gaze down to my feet as I struggled to rein in my emotions.
“I’m sorry you found out like this.” Greg’s voice brimmed with remorse. “Preston, I care about you so much—”
His son’s humorless laugh cut through the room. “Yeah, if that were true, you wouldn’t have fucked her.” It was like I wasn’t there, wasn’t in the room. All of his focus was locked onto his father. “You knew how much she meant to me.”
“Do I?” Greg’s posture changed abruptly, shifting from defense to offense. “If she meant so much, then why the hell did I find you and that naked girl in the hot tub the week after you came home from school?”
Both men were acutely aware of my presence when I gasped.
That was the only sound for a long moment. Time seemed to stand still, other than the dancing shadows on the walls from the candlelight. My body went numb, my mind empty. A survival instinct kicked in, refusing to accept the statement so I could spare myself the pain.
My voice was a ghost. “What?”
The week after you came home from school. Which meant not only had Preston cheated on me, but Greg knew about it . . . and he hadn’t told me.
I didn’t know where to focus or what to do. Sensation slowly returned to my body as awareness sank in, but I felt out of sorts. Like all my organs had turned upside-down.
Preston’s gaze hesitantly floated my direction. At least it was nice to see a different emotion splashed on his face instead of anger. He didn’t seem as tall or indignant when he looked guilty as sin. His words were hollow. “It was one time. I made a mistake.”
I couldn’t be here. I had to flee before I broke into a million pieces. The betrayal from the Lowe men was too much. I couldn’t deal. I tottered backward on the heels, needing immediate distance. How the fuck was I going to get to my clothes in Greg’s room? It was a million miles away, and even though they’d both seen me naked, now they felt like—
Strangers.
The hurt painted on my face made Preston angry all over again, but not with me. No, he blamed his father for revealing the stunning information. He shot daggers at Greg, like it was all his father’s fault and not his own.
Classic fucking Preston.
He didn’t care about me or my feelings—only that his father had gotten him in trouble. Meanwhile, Greg was the opposite. Concern streaked his expression as he reached out for me.
I stared at his hand, unwilling to move toward it or away. How could he keep this enormous secret from me?
“Seriously?” Preston snapped, staring incredulously at his father’s outstretched hand. Maybe it looked like Greg had chosen me over his own son, and Preston wasn’t about to have it. He made a noise of frustration and took off, his heavy feet pounding on the hardwood as he stomped to the top of the stairs and went down them.
“Preston.” Greg took a step toward his son, stopped, and cast a glance at me over his shoulder. “Don’t go, Cassidy. Please? Will you wait for me in my room?”
I couldn’t force an answer from my lungs, but he must have thought I’d agreed because he nodded and hurried toward the stairs.
One slow step at a time, I lumbered my way into Greg’s bedroom and dropped his gray suitcoat onto the bed. Only I’d done it mindlessly, too close to the edge, and it slipped off, spilling onto the floor in a heap. I couldn’t find the strength to care about fixing it.
The straps holding the shoes to my ankles were undone, followed by the garters. I peeled the thigh-high stockings down my legs one at a time, all while trying not to think about what had just happened. The swing from guilt, to anger, to hurt was a rollercoaster I’d been locked into, even as I’d begged to get off.
I dressed slowly. Gone was the feeling of being a bombshell or a sex kitten. I was a stupid twenty-year-old girl. A naïve and trusting fool. How long should I wait here in this empty bedroom for Greg to return?
The garter belt and stockings were tossed into the open pink box. I’d left the bra and panties out in the living room, so they were lost to me now. I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if I sat still enough, I’d turn to unfeeling stone.
I didn’t know and didn’t care to know the details about what Preston had done with someone else. If it was true and it had been one time and a mistake as he’d said, it didn’t matter. I’d done everything to try to hold onto him. Given him everything. Even as his girlfriend, I still wasn’t his top choice.
It was impossible, sitting alone in the dark bedroom, to not feel worthless.
“Cassidy.”
Greg’s deep voice snapped me from my thoughts. I focused my gaze on him as he stood before me, and my heart sank further in my chest. The lines around his eyes were deeper. He combed a hand through his unruly hair and had a hard time meeting my gaze.
I already knew what was about to happen, but I fought against it. I pushed to my feet and crossed my arms over my chest to prevent myself from touching him. If I grabbed him, it’d only be harder to let go.
He said nothing. He shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths, like breathing was difficult for him.
I couldn’t wait another second. “Well?”
“He told me I was going to have to make a choice.” Finally, he dragged his gaze up and connected it to mine. His eyes were full of sadness.
“Him or me,” I whispered.
Preston was forcing his father to choose which relationship to end, and I couldn’t see any outcome where I would win. Even if Greg chose me for some insane reason, I knew I couldn’t allow it. My bottom lip quivered, but I refused to let any other emotion show.
Greg wasn’t going to pick me. No matter how shitty and immature Preston was acting, of course he’d win. Greg would sacrifice me for a chance with his son every time, and in my rational mind, I understood that.
But my heart? That was a different story.
Greg wasn’t fairing much better than I was. “He says he’ll quit school and move back in with his mom if we keep seeing each other.”
The first stage of grief—denial—washed through me. “He’ll
get past it.” The words tasted bitter coming out of my mouth. “Like you said, he never cared about me.”
“That’s not what I said.”
I shifted on my bare feet and gave him a hard look. “He didn’t care enough to stay faithful. And not enough to tell me the truth, either.” Stage two—anger—came on strong, and power filled my voice. My eyes burned with hot tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried.” His voice lacked his usual confidence. “I warned you that you could do better.”
His answer only made me madder. “Not good enough.”
Greg’s lips pushed into a resigned frown. “Remind me what your reasons were for not telling Preston about the first time we kissed.”
I froze. I’d told him nothing good could come from him knowing. It’d only cause him pain. “That was different,” I said quickly. It was unconvincing, even to me.
“The day I caught him, I hated him a little. I wanted you so badly, but you were with him . . . and then he ran around on you. It was cruel to both of us.”
“And yet, you didn’t say a word.” More than a month after he’d caught Preston, I’d still been his girlfriend, oblivious.
Frustration tightened Greg’s posture. “What was I supposed to say? There was no upside to telling you.”
There wasn’t. He’d applied the same rules to me I’d used for Preston, giving me a taste of my own medicine, and God—I hated it.
“I get why you’re upset, but I was in an impossible situation,” he said. “I still am. I don’t like what he’s done, or this ultimatum he’s given me, but the fact is he’s still my son.”
“I know.” My voice was as broken as I was inside. “Maybe he’ll change his mind.”
I don’t know why I said it, because I didn’t believe it. Preston was outstanding at holding grudges. Panic poured into my stomach. It weighed me down and pulled me away, even when I wanted to stay put. I sensed the end coming like an out-of-control train approaching but fought to hold my ground.
The tense silence in the room grew thick and stifling.
Finally, Greg let out a long breath. “I don’t know what to do.”
I clenched my teeth together until muscles along my jaw ached. Was he saying this for my benefit? “Please,” I bit off. “We both know what has to happen.”
He frowned. And then he had the nerve to look confused.
My emotions were a mess and untrustworthy, but a tiny part of me wondered if this was an act. He was much too smart to not see the obvious answer, and yet it became increasingly clear I was going to have to say it out loud. Like he was forcing me to make this decision and be the one to end it. I sucked in a deep breath to muster up the courage. “We can’t see each other anymore.”
He blinked and delivered the statement the same way I imagined he told families how their loved ones were gone. Utterly emotionless. “All right.”
I thought I’d braced myself, but his quick acceptance stung so much worse than I was ready for. I pressed a hand to my stomach, keeping myself from doubling over.
“Well,” I snapped, “you could at least pretend that wasn’t easy.”
Heartbreak flashed through Greg’s dark eyes. “It wasn’t. It isn’t. I care about you so much and I—”
I shook my head. “Yeah? Did you even fight him?” I already knew the answer was no, because in his quest to win his son’s forgiveness, he had been a pushover. “Or did Preston immediately get his way, just like he always does with you?”
It wasn’t a nice thing to say, but I wasn’t feeling nice at that moment, and it was true. Greg knew it too, but his posture went stiff. “I know you’re upset,” he said flatly. “Believe me when I tell you this is the last thing I want, but I don’t have a choice.”
But he did, and my anger spilled over, running past the point of control. It brewed into a storm and my whole body began to shake. “Right. Because you made me make it for you.”
A whiny, patronizing voice whispered in my head. “Poor Cassidy Shepard. Her dad walks out, mom’s too busy, her boyfriend strays—even the new one won’t stick around.”
I let out a desperate cry, choking off a sob. “God, just once, I wish I could be someone’s first choice.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but . . . didn’t. He didn’t argue my accusation or defend what he’d done. There was no fight in him for me. No struggle over losing what we’d had, and suddenly I felt like there was nothing left between us.
Greg must have seen the realization flit through me, because he reached out, attempting to hold me.
“Don’t!” I blurted, stumbling backward. The memory of the last time we’d tried to say goodbye seared unwelcomed through my mind.
My refusal wounded him, but he nodded slowly, dropping his arms to hang at his sides. “I’ll drive you home.”
“No.” I didn’t want to be around him another second. I could barely look at him. Preston looked a lot like his father, and in my stress, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my anger compartmentalized. It bled from one Lowe to the other. “I’ll walk to Lilith’s.”
He sighed. “I can drive you.”
“No.” I was firm this time. “We can’t see each other anymore, and I’d like to start right now.”
I pushed past him, snatched the pair of heels up off the carpet, and strode on my bare feet into the kitchen, where I grabbed my purse. He followed me, making some statements about it being late and dark out, but I ignored him. I went back through the living room and into the entryway, propelling myself forward.
It will be easier, I told myself, when you are out of this house. Away from him. Outside, where you can breathe again.
“You know I don’t want this,” he said when I opened the front door and stood at the threshold.
I gave him a cool look. “I guess the only one who gets what they want is the spoiled boy downstairs.”
“I’m sorry,” Greg said when I stepped onto the front porch and walked out into the night, my bare feet moving across the concrete walkway.
I didn’t respond. Didn’t say goodbye, or even acknowledge him.
Maybe he was sorry. Maybe one day he’d think he’d made a mistake. A new one he’d been forced into to try to undo the one he’d made with Preston years ago. But that didn’t make any of this easier.
I walked away from the Lowe house for the last time, alone and crying under the moonless sky.
THIRTY-ONE
LILITH TOLD ME it would get easier, but it didn’t.
At least, not the following week. After the break-up with Preston, it hadn’t been that hard to quit him cold turkey. But Greg? I couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering what he was doing, and if he was missing me. Was he doing anything to try to change his son’s mind?
And if he was able to get Preston to budge, what then? We felt . . . over. Greg and I hadn’t spoken since that night. He’d sent me one text a little after I’d left his house.
Greg: Did you make it to your friend’s? Are you okay?
When my phone had chimed, I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, my back against Lilith’s couch and my grimy feet tucked under me.
Cassidy: Yes.
Cassidy: You were right. My 20th birthday was the worst.
I regretted sending it later, after I’d calmed down. I hadn’t meant to be mean. Preston had put Greg in an impossible situation, and he’d had to bear most of the anger I should have directed at Preston.
My mother picked up on my sullen mood, and I finally told her Preston and I had broken up. I didn’t tell her when it had happened—I let her assume it was recent and the reason I was mopey.
I counted down the days until I’d be back at school, in a new environment where I hoped I’d be magically free from my thoughts about the surgeon with dark eyes and great hands.
I only had three more days to go when the universe decided to be downright vicious. I’d just downed two ibuprofens for my killer headache when my mom asked me to go to the store. We ne
eded fixings for dinner, she’d said.
I was shopping in the bread aisle when I saw him.
Greg stood in the bustling produce area hovered over tomatoes, a plastic bag held in one hand as he examined the bin. Nearby, a woman clearly wanted to get to the onions, which he was blocking, but she hesitated in asking him to move. Too polite or shy, or maybe too taken with him. His long fingers selected the tomato he was looking for, slipped it into the bag, and then he turned.
My stomach hurt, seeing him again.
He noticed the woman waiting, said something, and pushed his cart quickly out of her way. As he tossed what seemed to be an apology to her, he gave a sheepish smile. Just that flash of a smile lit up his face.
The pain in my belly was a band, low and tight across my hips.
Had he sensed my gaze on him?
Greg’s head lifted, and his attention turned my way. And as he recognized me, standing wooden with a package of hamburger buns in my hands, his posture went alert. I had to move. Warning signs flashed in my body, telling me to get the fuck out of there before I broke down. No one wanted a blubbering twenty-year-old girl in the bread aisle, trying to hide sobs between loaves and baguettes.
My stomach churned the whole time I stood in the checkout lane. I was sweaty and nauseated, anxious to be done and back home. But when I returned, the feeling didn’t subside, not even after dinner. I cursed myself for letting the near run-in get to me like this.
It was stupid. My overreaction, my feelings. I hadn’t even been in love with Greg. Why was I acting like I had?
“I don’t feel well,” I said to my mom soon after we’d finished the dishes. “I’m going to bed.”
She looked concerned. “You need anything?”
Just to stop thinking about him. “No, I’m fine. Goodnight.”