Scarred: Sins and Secrets Series of Duets

by Willow Winters

  I miss you. I can't stand this.

  Please just take it all back.

  Chapter 26

  Kat

  * * *

  Leave me,

  Control me,

  Make me wait in vain.

  You think you own my heart,

  You think you can play this game.

  I should resist,

  I should hate you,

  I should leave you in the past.

  You gambled with my heart,

  But you knew my love would last.

  At what point did this become my life?

  I’ve been asking myself that question all morning. I’ve showered, I’ve eaten and cleaned most of the townhouse. But my mind is fuzzy with disbelief.

  I gently shake my head at the thought and then hail a taxi just outside our townhouse. The winter weather has lightened up some, and I almost feel like I could wear a light jacket and not this heavy wool coat. Maybe I’ve just gotten used to the cold.

  If an author submitted my story to me as a manuscript, I’d tell them it’s too unbelievable. What’s that quote from Mark Twain? Something about how truth is stranger than fiction because fiction needs to make sense.

  “Where to, miss?” the cabbie asks me as I sit in the back seat and close the door.

  “Saks on Fifth, please,” I say confidently although my nerves creep up. Evan would kill me if he knew what I was doing. But it’s not going to stop me. I need this.

  There are only two things I’m certain of.

  I can’t afford to let Evan leave me again or else I’ll truly lose my mind.

  And I’m not going to stay out of this like Evan wants.

  The car moves forward, taking me away from the empty townhouse. He’s gone off to meet with Mason and tell him what we agreed on. He’s staying with me, committing to me and our baby. And he promised to make an effort to move past this. I’ll listen to what he tells me to do, but every night he comes back to me. No more secrets and hiding. I have to help him not let the fear of might happen ruin what we have in the present.

  I’m still pissed that Mason knew when I didn’t. It’s a second knife in my back, but I let it slide simply because it’s not his ring on my finger.

  Instead I focus on the real target here. Samantha Lapour. I’m not over her being with him when we were separated. The hate and jealousy … it’s still there.

  She loves Fifth Avenue. What rich woman doesn’t?

  I remember her bragging about her apartment above Saks when I first met her. She was so happy to keep it even though they were happily married.

  That should’ve been my first clue.

  The cabbie stops before I’m ready and it’s only then that the weight of what I’m doing makes my stomach churn.

  “Thank you,” I tell the cabbie and pay him, slipping out and onto the curb to avoid the traffic.

  My heart beats faster and faster as I make my way through the throngs of people and into the apartment foyer, disappearing from the crowd and readying myself to knock on her door on the fourteenth floor. Her favorite number, as she so joyfully bragged to me once.

  I don’t know the address though. There are only so many up here, so if at first I don’t succeed, I’ll simply try again.

  My legs are shaky as I climb the stairs; I should have taken the elevator.

  “Good evening,” a woman’s voice says and I have to raise my gaze to watch an older woman with short white hair and a small Pomeranian in her arms close the door to 1401. There are only two other apartments on this floor, the one I’m sure Samantha told me about.

  But that was years ago …

  “How are you?” I greet the woman as if I’m supposed to be here and slowly open up my purse. I’m sure it looks like I’m getting a key out or maybe my phone to call a friend.

  She simply smiles and carries on her way, not even answering the question. I hesitate, looking between the two doors and wondering which one I should knock on first.

  This is crazy.

  My heart races and a mix of adrenaline and anxiety make me question why I’m even here.

  And the real answer, the absolute truth hisses in the back of my head.

  She was with him. In his house.

  Two confident strides and I knock, one, two, three times on 1402. I don’t breathe until I take a small step back and wait.

  Silence. No response. The confidence threatens to leave, but the moment I take a step to the right, to knock on the only other option, the door opens.

  In red silk pajamas and her hair in curlers, she looks so much different from any other time I’ve seen her. Samantha wasn’t expecting company, that’s for sure.

  The look on her face is irritation at first and then she recognizes me.

  “Oh, hello,” she says as she stands up straighter. “Kat.”

  I have to clear my throat before I can answer her. “Samantha,” I greet her in the same stiff way. “I’m sorry to come over with no notice, I was just hoping I could talk to you.”

  I clutch my purse with both hands. “It’s about Evan.”

  She crosses her arms, instantly looking as though she’s on the defensive and I’m quick to add, “I’m worried about him. About the loss of his father and how he’s handling it.” The words are the truth and the emotion that comes with them is genuine. But I just want an in so I can feel this bitch out.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” she says tightly, still looking me up and down and considering what to do.

  “I know you’ve spent a little time with him and I was just hoping you could tell me how he is.”

  She nearly flinches and then has to take a moment before she can answer. As if she has no idea how he’s doing. Or maybe she’s shocked that I know she’s seen him, but it’s all over the papers, so why wouldn’t I know?

  Evan’s told me one side of this story, but there are always three sides … sometimes even more. And in this case, I’ll stay away from James, but I’m sure Samantha will have a thing or two to say.

  Although she may not tell me shit.

  Either way, now that I know what’s going on and that she’s played a part in this, I needed to come here. Face to face, without Evan to influence anything. I need this for me.

  “Did you guys talk at all?” I ask her. My throat tightens as I add, “He doesn’t talk to me at all anymore.”

  “Oh God,” Samantha says and then tells me, “We didn’t talk about his father. I’m sorry.” She struggles to figure out her words. “I’m sure it’s difficult and I understand you two are going through something, but I assure you that I’d like to stay out of it.”

  She starts to close the door in my face, but I’m quicker.

  My palm smacks against the door and I tell her, “I just need someone to talk to. Please! If you could just let me in.”

  My heart beats as I wait, the door remaining right where it is, only slightly cracked. She opens it slowly, pursing her lips and looking more irked than anything else. As she lets go of the frame, it opens from my weight and she nods her head, letting me in.

  “What is it that you want?” she asks as she walks with her back to me inside of the apartment. I close the front door myself and take the place in.

  It’s a fucking disaster.

  I almost ask her if she was robbed, but looking to my left, at a cluttered kitchen I can easily spot three small bags of white powder. And I’m ashamed to say I come to my own conclusions. Right next to them is a colorful bag of pills. A mix of what could be Adderall and pain meds.

  She turns with a smirk on her lips. “Like the place?” she asks sarcastically. “My prick of an ex made sure to sell all my shit when I went out of town.”

  “Oh my God,” I say, the words coming out in a whisper of disbelief. There’s only a sofa in the living room, a sleek gray contemporary sectional. I imagine it would look beautiful if the living room itself wasn’t vacant of any other piece of furniture. She settles down onto one end and I take the other.

 
; Glancing up at the chandelier I tell her, “I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was beautiful … ” my voice trails off and she doesn’t say anything.

  “You could go to the cops,” I offer her and she laughs with ridicule.

  “He’s got them all, sweetheart. I’m barely surviving.”

  “I am so sorry,” I say, at a loss for words and feeling so much more uncomfortable than I anticipated. I even feel bad for her to some degree.

  “Divorce isn’t always a bad thing, love,” she says and then takes in my expression. “I’m sorry for you two though, I really am.”

  It’s hard to judge her tone, so I’m not sure how to take it.

  “I actually had something to ask you about your husband,” I say as Samantha reaches for a pack of cigarettes and takes one out.

  She lights it and then asks, “What’s that?”

  There’s a glint in her eyes and her back stiffens slightly.

  “Evan doesn’t like him much,” I tell her, gauging her reaction and she lets out a small laugh that’s accompanied with smoke.

  “I don’t much like the asshole either.”

  “Can’t blame you,” I say as I set my purse down beside me and feign a casualness I don’t feel.

  “He told me he thinks James is trying to kill him.” I hold her gaze as I say, “I think he’s paranoid.”

  Samantha takes a long pull of her cigarette, ignoring the question until I tell her.

  “I was hoping that if I talked to you, you could tell me the truth. Evan’s just being crazy, isn’t he?” I say with my heart racing.

  Every nerve is on edge in my body. There’s something about how she looks at me. As if she’s wondering what to do with me.

  I don’t trust it, and I don’t trust her.

  “Evan told you what now?” she asks.

  “Evan told me that James tried to kill him, thinking he’d do coke left out for him.”

  “Did he?” she says so condescendingly. “I’m surprised, because from what he told me, he didn’t want you to know.”

  I hate her in this moment. I hate the straight expression of disinterest.

  I hate that Evan was with her when he should have been with me.

  I hate that she knew he was keeping secrets.

  “It was a mistake on his part,” I tell her, my fingers tensing as I grip onto my purse harder. Her expression changes slightly, but only slightly with a raised brow and the hint of a smirk. Amusement. I fucking hate her.

  “Maybe it was a mistake to come here. I thought you’d know or maybe get a sense of how Evan’s doing since you were with him.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she tells me as she puts out the cigarette into a mug that’s sitting on her furnace.

  “My apologies then,” I say, shrugging it off. I stand up, readying myself to leave, but I can’t keep my mouth shut. I can’t not say something to this lying bitch.

  “One quick question … did you enjoy fucking my husband?” I ask her and she lets out a condescending laugh.

  “He tells you lots of things, doesn’t he?” she says with a smirk on her face.

  “He used to. It’s more for curiosity’s sake,” I say, turning slightly toward the door so she can see I’m on my way out.

  “It was years ago and I can assure you it must not have been memorable.”

  “Well I suppose that’s a win for me then,” I say with a smile and make my way to her front door, looking over my shoulder once again at the poor state of this woman’s home.

  “I wish you well,” I tell her as I leave, opening and closing the door myself. And I’m more than happy to never see that bitch again.

  If Evan thinks for one minute he’s going to see her again, for any reason, he’s fucking wrong.

  Chapter 27

  Evan

  * * *

  Kisses tell a tale,

  The touch so raw and sweet.

  Eyes closed and heart open,

  When our lips will meet.

  I’m meant to feel your desire,

  And fall victim to your taste.

  Kisses tell a tale indeed,

  There is no time to waste.

  * * *

  “What’d you do today?” Kat asks me as I turn the stove on, listening to the clicks before the gas lights.

  “Not much,” I answer her as I look over my shoulder. Just hunting down the identity of a drug dealer. I grind my teeth at the thought, wishing it weren’t true.

  “What do you think you want to do?” Kat asks me as I pour olive oil into the pan. Chicken marsala for dinner. My throat goes dry as I remember how Pops taught me how to cook it; it was one of his favorites.

  “Like do for work?” I ask her and put the chicken in the pan. The sizzle is perfect.

  She shrugs and then hops up on the counter, setting her ass down and letting her feet dangle. “I know you have some investments.”

  “Some is putting it lightly,” I tell her. “If you’re worried about money, don’t be. We’ll be fine.” I haven’t checked in a week or two on some of the stocks, but the savings account is more than enough. We’ve been here so long, both of us working and not doing much of anything else. The money just piled up.

  “I’m not really worried about money, it’s more about what you’re going to do with yourself.”

  I flip the breasts over and pick up the pan, making sure to spread the oil before setting it back down. Just how Ma used to do.

  “We have the baby,” I tell her and walk over, standing between her legs with my hands at her hips. “That’s all I’ve been thinking about for now.”

  “The baby won’t be here for a while,” she tells me and threads her fingers through my hair. I love it when she does this. When she loves on me. I missed this. “I’m worried about you,” she tells me and I back away slightly, but she keeps me there, tightening her legs around me.

  “Don’t be upset,” she says and I find it hard not to be.

  “I’m fine,” I tell her and even I know it’s a lie.

  “You just lost your father, and … ”

  “Stop worrying about me,” I tell her.

  “You scared me last night with the night terror. And the ones you’ve had before,” she adds. I shouldn’t have told her.

  “It’ll be over soon,” I reassure her and get back to cooking. It’s quiet for a moment, but that doesn’t last long. Kat’s not the best at giving up on what she wants.

  “But what do you want to do?” she asks me. At least she dropped the subject about Pops and the nightmares.

  I look back at her, wiping my hands with the kitchen towel and then tossing it on to the countertop.

  “I’m not worried about keeping myself busy,” I tell her.

  She purses her lips and nods, but she doesn’t seem convinced.

  “I’m going to be fine,” I say and stir the sauce before layering it onto the cooked chicken.

  “You know what I’m going to do?” I ask her and ignore the pit in my stomach about everything going on. I just focus on after all this shit is over.

  “I’m going to move us out of here,” I say and she rolls her eyes.

  “For the love of God, hire a moving company this time,” she says with exasperation and I give her the laugh she’s after.

  “I’m going to find a house you love and help you make it ours.” I tap the tongs on the side of the pan as I pull it off the burner and then walk back to her. “I’m going to set up our baby’s room and make it perfect.”

  She likes that. She starts swaying on the counter like she’s giddy at the thought.

  “I’m going to make sure the two of you have nothing to worry about and that the three of us are happy and healthy and all that good shit.”

  She lets out a small laugh and wraps her arms around my shoulders.

  “I love you, babe,” I tell her and she leans in for a small kiss.

  “I love you too, and I just hate seeing you anything other than happy.”

  “I’l
l be better when this is over with,” I tell her. She kisses me soft and sweet, and it feels right. She’s a balm to my soul, but it doesn’t take the pain away.

  “I’m worried for you,” she whispers against my lips.

  I brush my nose against hers. “It’s not supposed to work that way,” I tell her.

  Her green eyes peek up at me through her thick lashes and she says, “Yeah it is. Don’t you know that by now?”

  Chapter 28

  Kat

  * * *

  I want us back,

  The way we used to be.

  Accept what’s done is done,

  And move on with me.

  Just hold my hand and walk in strides,

  The path is clear to see.

  Just hold my hand, it’s yours to take,

  You were meant to be with me.

  “I thought we were just going to order out,” Evan says from across the table. The silverware clinks in his hand as he picks up the white cloth napkin and lays it over his lap.

  The Savinga Grill has always been one of my favorite restaurants since I first discovered it years ago. Exposed dark red brick, raw wood beams and high ceilings. It’s rustic, it’s cozy, and it’s only a cab away.

  That’s what I told Evan to get him here when he asked where I wanted to go. Just a cab away.

  I shrug and say, “I just wanted to go out.”

  “It makes me nervous,” he says.

  I lay my hand on the table, palm up and wait for him to take it. “Mason said you need to be seen.”

  “Me, not us.” He emphasizes the word us.

  “It’s part of us moving forward together.” The smile on my lips is small but it’s still there. “I won’t let someone keep me from you or us from our lives.”

  His lips twitch with a response, but instead he doesn’t say anything.

  “We tried this your way, now we try it mine,” I tell him and my words come out hard.

  “And your way is to go out in public?” he asks me.