by Portia Moore
“This morning was rough. I wanted to apologize again for everything that happened,” she says, and I look at her curiously. What exactly happened this morning? She lets out a soft sigh and hugs herself.
“This is still new to me, and confusing at times, and I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt any of you,” her voice breaks, and I don’t know what I’ve just walked into.
“It’s hard dealing with this sometimes. It hurts me when you hurt—or when any of you hurt. I just want everyone to be happy, and I don’t know how to do that and am trying so hard.” She covers her face with her hands, and I wrap my arms around her and kiss her head.
“You’re not mad at me anymore?” Her voice sounds childlike.
“No, I’m not.” I feel her relaxed body become stiff in my arms, and she leans back to look up at me.
“Collin?” She asks with a guess in her voice, and I nod. Her chin drops to her chest. I release her from my embrace.
“You’re disappointed?” She looks up at me—she’s smiling but there are tears in her eyes.
“None of you disappoint me.” She’s exasperated and walks to the other side of the room to collapse onto the couch.
“Nothing ever gets settled or fixed. When it’s a problem to solve, you run away—not you but—you know what I mean.” She laughs, but it’s mirthless.
“What happened?” I ask as I sit beside her. She sniffs and looks at me curiously.
“I thought you know everything that happens?”
“Yeah, I thought I did.”
She finally sits up and wipes her eyes. “Cal came back and he didn’t let me know it was him. Chris was upset that I couldn’t tell them apart so now he’s mad at me. I’m so annoyed with Cal for not telling me and now… you’re here, and I’m sure I’ll get blamed for that too,” she says.
This is why they have to go. This isn’t a happily married woman—this is a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. When I was here she was never like this—she was happy, productive, and loved. They’re both too selfish to deserve her, and to deserve this life. I hook my arm around her and she rests her head on my shoulder then curls her body into mine. This is what they’re supposed to do—bring peace—but all they bring is the war. And it’s why they should be extinct.
“Everything is going to work out fine,” I promise her.
“No it’s not! You guys hate each other.” She laughs miserably. “And I’m stuck in the middle of this.” I take her face in my hands and turn her towards me, her big hazel eyes full of sadness and uncertainty.
“I promise you… things are about to get a lot better.”
“You mean the gallery opening?” she asks.
“No, I mean we’re going to be integrating,” I tell her and her eyes go wide.
“What?” Her eyes crinkle in disbelief or maybe confusion.
“We’ve all agreed. We want what’s best for you and Caylen.”
“I-I don’t know what to say.” She’s so stunned that she begins to pace the floor.
“I thought that it took years, that you all had to agree…and this morning Chris was just furious at Cal and now you all agreed to be one?” she asks skeptically.
“I explained to them what this is doing to you. We talked it over, and we don’t want to be a hindrance to your happiness. We want Caylen to grow up with a normal father and for you to have a normal husband.” I watch her brows draw together. “I thought you’d be happy,” I ask a little shocked. She gives me a small smile.
“It sounds good, but I want you all to know that I don’t care about normal. I’ve never been ashamed or embarrassed of you, and I never will be. I’m just tired of the fighting—of being the bad guy.” Her sadness takes over her beautiful features.
“There won’t be any more,” I promise her. “I know this is a lot to take in, especially before your opening, but I have to say it’s an honor for me to be here for it. I’m so happy to see you be the woman you were always capable of being. We never wanted to hold you back.”
“You didn’t hold me back.” She gives a slight shake of her head, but we both know the truth.
“I’m still a little in shock over what you just told me that I can’t even think about the opening right now. How will this integration work? When is this supposed to happen? I-I’m just...” she sounds more bewildered than relieved. I tilt my head and look at her, studying her reaction.
“This is what you want, isn’t it?” I ask her, and for a moment her face goes blank.
“It’s never been about what I want,” she mutters. I feel my skin heat up, and I walk to her but she doesn’t look at me.
“I’ve never asked you but… if you had to choo.—” Her furious glare makes me stop mid-sentence.
“Really, Collin?” she asks in disbelief. “You of all people should know… I thought that you got it,” her voice is strained, and I immediately regret asking.
“I’m sorry. I know. I do understand.” I tell her. I did understand once upon a time. It seems so long ago, and now I feel like I don’t understand anything. I do feel that she owes us some sort of an answer. If she had to choose, why wouldn’t it be me? I bought her this gallery. I’m the most stable one. I’m not as weak as Chris and not hot-tempered and unreliable like Cal. It should be me. She’s right, there isn’t a question because the answer doesn’t matter.
It will be me.
Chapter Thirteen
Lauren
“That goes over there.” Hillary directs the sea of workers we hired to set up for the event. My stomach is in knots. Not only is it tied in knots, but it feels queasy as if I were tied to a roller coaster. It’s the morning of my gallery opening, and it doesn’t feel like how I thought it would. I thought I would be excited and elated but instead I feel panicked and on edge.
“Lauren, don’t you have a hair and makeup appointment,” Angela asks me knocking me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, but I thought I should be here helping out and being more hands-on…” I say mechanically.
“Hon, we’ve got this. Everything is going to go beautifully,” she reassures me with smile. The last two days have been a blur. I’ve thrown myself into work preparing everything for today, but what Collin said about integrating is at the forefront of my mind regardless of how much I try to ignore it. Something is different. Even Helen agrees though she won’t say much about it. The only thing that she did reveal was that Collin hasn’t exactly been his usual self. He seems more emotional, a little more human and it’s not bad, but I had grown to be comforted by his fair, unbiased nature. In the beginning, his motives were never for him, but for all of them as a whole. I’ve started to get the distinct feeling that this is no longer the case, and if that’s changed, I have to question everything that he’s said and done. With him being the most knowledgeable of them all, it’s a very scary place for him to be in if he’s not thinking clearly. I’m worried, and it’s not the kind that hits you at once when you think something bad is going to happen, but the silent kind that kills you in your sleep. The kind where people wonder why a perfectly healthy twenty-something-year-old suffered a stroke or heart attack.
“Lauren Scott.” I turn around toward the deep voice, and it’s accompanied with blond hair, swoon worthy eyes and a smile that had to have been aided by years of braces.
“You’re…” I trail off trying to place the familiar face.
“Ian Hudson,” he says extending his hand.
“Of course you are, I’m so sorry. Things are super hectic right now,” I apologize. This is the guy Hillary fawned over about his face, but his photography work is what is phenomenal.
“I’m so honored that you are allowing me to feature your work.” He’s beautiful but in a rugged sort of way, rough around the edges, no polish. Tall and broad, more like a mechanic than a photographer. He sort of looks like Thor, Hillary is going to love that. She has a huge crush on Chris Helmsworth, I can’t worry about what a messy triangle that could be.
Hopef
ully he’s married.
“No problem, it looks like it’s in good hands here,” he says with an easy shrug surveying the chaos.
“It will be, I promise. Everything will all come together tonight.”
“No worries. If Mike trusts you, I trust you.” He smiles warmly. It’s a smile I’m sure would cause butterflies to any other woman, but all I want to do is pass it off to someone else. Fantastic eyes and stomach-clenching smiles is why my brain is such a mess right now.
“Lauren, can you check on this and make sure that the playlist is okay? The DJ’s assistant wants your final approval,” Angela says as she hands me a list.
“I can see you’re busy. I just wanted to introduce myself since we were in the area. I’ll see you tonight,” he says with an easy unoffended smile.
“Thank you again. Yes, we’ll talk more tonight,” I say gluing my eyes on the list. When two hands cover my eyes, I try to hide a groan and plaster on a fake smile. I have so much work to do that right now, I wish I had a magic genie to grant me three wishes to make everything perfect if not just bearable. I turn around, and it’s Raven smiling widely at me. I fall into her big hug.
“I thought you weren’t coming in until later?” I ask her surprised.
“I wasn’t, but I figured you might need some help.” Her eyes survey me and her brows immediately knit together. “Are you okay?”
“Just nervous about tonight.” It’s a half-truth that I hope she accepts.
“Honey, I already see it coming together. It’s going to be a great night for you.”
“Raven, can you please make Lauren get out of here so she can get ready for tonight? We have this all under control,” Hillary says through clenched teeth.
“I really should get to my appointments,” I try to muster up some enthusiasm.
“Yes, you need to get out of here, I will step in, and whatever they need me to do I’m available."
“Okay. I’m going.” I grip the strap of my purse and maneuver my way through the sea of busy people working together to make my opening night perfect. When I reach outside, I let out a sigh of relief to get some alone time.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I’m surprised when I look up and see Dexter Jr. sitting inside a matte black Rolls Royce.
“Hi,” I say trying to keep the iciness out of my voice. He and I have been on the edge of cordial for awhile. We haven’t been friendly since I found out he lied to me about Cal.
“You’re a little early for the party.” I assumed that he and Helen were coming, but I am surprised to see him here so early. Looking at Dexter reminds me of the secrets and lies that have been tethered to my life.
“Where are you heading? Would you like a ride?” he asks, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“No thanks.” I turn and begin to walk away from him.
“I think we should talk Lauren,” he calls after me, the smugness erased from his tone.
“What on earth would we have to talk about?”
“Your husband.”
“Right… what would you tell me that Helen hasn’t?” I dare him.
“Helen is bound by certain ethical restrictions. I am not.”
I bite my lip. What could possibly go wrong from talking to Dexter? It’s not like this situation could get any worse. His driver comes around and opens the door for me before I’m even able to touch the handle.
“Thank you.” I get in and he closes the door behind me. I take in the softness of the leather, the decadence of the finishes—this car whispers wealth.
“First time in a Rolls?” he asks, and the awe must be written all over my face.
“So what do you want to talk about?” I ignore his question and get straight to the point.
“I know I was never exactly forthcoming with you, but please know, it was never because of who you are but because of who I am, and what was asked of me.”
“Did you know that he was your brother?” I ask bluntly. His answer to this question will let me know if this is a waste of my time and if he’s only here to ease his own conscience or if he is ready to be more honest with me.
“Not at first. But I am a Crestfield and the lengths my father encouraged me to go made me begin to wonder.”
“When did you find out?” I ask him as he pours himself a glass of brown liquid.
“Right before your wedding.” He brings the glass to his lips.
I let out a deep breath. “Why am I here, Dexter? You must have something important to tell me.”
“Has Cal talked to you about that night?”
“What night?” I ask confused.
“The night when he went to visit his relative from long ago.”
“No. After everything happened he was really broken up about it, and then Collin took over.”
His face sets into one of deep thought. “Actually no. Cal came back briefly a few days ago. I thought he was Chris, and he may have said something about it, but I was too intoxicated to remember what or if it happened at all.” I admit. “Why? Is it something important?” I ask him curiously.
“It could be very important,” he says more to himself than me. “I couldn’t be helpful to you initially because Cal had sworn me to secrecy,” he begins. “Now I’m not bound by that promise. One of my pharmacists disclosed that Collin requested Naltrexonel and Xanax,” he explains, and I feel my face scrunch up.
“I’m sorry, what is that?”
“Naltrexonel is usually given to those who are trying to overcome a drug addiction, but we found that it suppresses emotional urges, and combined with Xanax—”
“He doesn’t want to feel anything?” I ask him confused.
“As you know, switching occurs due to triggers. Collin usually doesn’t respond to those things because he’s the one who isn’t supposed to be affected by that, but things seem to have changed. Xanax can have different side effects including impaired memory. We think by him mixing them he believes─”
“He believes what?”
“We think that he may be trying to create a permanent block, similar to what we were once developing for Cal,” he explains, and my heart has started to race.
“But Collin’s supposed to be…” I let out a long sigh. “I made him this way,” I say feeling guilt gripping my entire body.
“No, he is who he is. If anything you’re what’s keeping them together.”
I don’t believe it though. “So what do I do? What do we do?” I am hoping that someone will give me the answer to all of this.
“If you confront him about it, he’ll explain. Or admit his intentions and if need be—we have him committed.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask in shock.
“He can’t self-prescribe medication, Lauren. It’s dangerous, and we’re not aware of how it would affect him.” He states plainly. “Helen and I will be at your party tonight. If you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary—if he seems to be a danger to himself or anyone else—we’ll have to act tonight. I hate to tell you this on your big night,” he says sounding genuine.
“No, it’s fine. I would rather know than be left in the dark.”
“Where were you heading?” he asks.
“Home.” The little voice in my head says my life is going to hell in a hand basket.
When I get home and open the door, I’m surprised to hear children playing. I’m even more stunned when I see Mr. and Mrs. Scott sitting on our couch watching television and a little blonde girl playing with Caylen and her toys.
“Hi Lauren,” he says, and the biggest headache of my life joins my already nauseous stomach.
“Hi, you’re pretty,” the little girl giggles, and when my senses kick back in, I realize that this must be Willa seeing as she looks just like Lisa.
“Thank you, so are you.” I give her a forced smile. Mr. Scott’s eyes land on mine, and I see such a huge difference from when I saw him last. His eyes are bright and full of life, his beard and hair trimmed and no longer wild. He doesn’t look like
he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, or like a man who unleashed a terrible secret on his family. He looks happy, and a part of me is glad, while the other part is wondering what he is doing here.
“Chris wanted me to come,” he explains reading my expression.
“Chris wanted you to come?”
“He called me last night, and said he wanted us to be here for your opening.” They both look at me bewildered. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Last night?” I ask confused.
“Yes, is everything okay?” Mrs. Scott approaches me looking concerned.
“No. Chris hasn’t been here for about four days…”
“What do you mean, Lauren?” Mrs. Scott asks.
“Hey sweetie, would you like to see all the cool stuff Caylen has in her room?” I ask Willa, and she smiles and nods.
“Come on Caylen,” she says happily before taking off and Caylen bobbles behind her.
I sit down and begin to explain to them what’s happened—with Cal taking over from Chris and not telling me and Collin, and the new myriad of issues and possible medication abuse—and when I’m done tears are flowing down my face, and Mrs. Scott is rocking me in her arms.
“Oh honey, you’ve been dealing with all of this yourself?”
“We’ve got to do something. This is something we should be handling not the Crestfields,” Mr. Scott says, that old tone of authority back in his voice.
“I should cancel the show.” I grab my phone to call Hillary.
“No. No, you shouldn’t. You’ve worked so hard for this. Your deserve this.” Mrs. Scott squeezes my hand giving me a soft smile.
“We will all have to watch him. Someone will be here with you around the clock,” Mr. Scott says. “We’ll also tell Aidan to help out.”
“I just don’t understand why Collin would tell you to come here. Do you think it could have been Chris briefly?” I ask more to myself than them.