Making my way back outside, I catch my mom and Travis laughing, and I'm stopped dead in my tracks. Watching him laugh sends a chill from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head and even down to the tips my fingers. I’ve missed that laugh.
My mom calls me over and I'm broken from my trance. After I snap out of it, I bustle over to the table. Travis grins slyly at me. Shit, he must have seen me staring at him. After sitting, I take a sip of wine, and it immediately helps to control the fluttering.
"Are you staying at home, Ames?" my mom asks.
"No, I stayed at The Clift last night." I shrug. "I don't know where I'm going to stay while I get my life back together. I just know that I don't want to be at the house another day. It's Rich's house and I don't want to be there."
"Don't stay in a hotel, honey. Come stay with me. I could use some company, and the house is certainly big enough for the both of us," my mom intercepts.
"I couldn't do that to you, Mom. I'll find a place to stay."
"Really, Ames. I could use you here with me. I'd love for you to stay here with me."
I'm quickly reminded about my mom being so sick—that she has only a matter of time left. I swallow hard at the thought and force a smile, nodding. While trying to push the thought out of my head, I reach for my phone to look at the time and notice that it's still powered off. I turn it on and my phone chimes, listing that I have four voicemails. "He won't leave me alone. And he got Sarah pregnant," I blurt out before I can even stop the words from forming. Oh, the wine has certainly started to take an effect on me. Damn it, Amy.
"Sarah, Laura's sister?" Travis says, in shock.
"Yeah. Can you believe that?"
"Goodness," my mom responds, shaking her head with disappointment. "I’m so sorry you have to deal with that."
I raise my eyebrows and shrug. "Just think, I was the one to get her a job at his firm a couple of years back."
"I thought he fired her though?" my mom questions.
"I―well, I thought he did too. I don't even know if he did. I don't know if he recently got with her, or what. The text messages that I found from last year were with someone named Olivia, so I don't know," I say, shrugging. Travis and my mom both shake their heads. "But you want to hear something funny?" I say, laughing nervously, "I got a picture of them in the act last night."
"That would make good marketing material for his business," Travis quips, wide eyed. We all laugh. I could listen to his laugh all day, all night, and into tomorrow. I can't help but stare at him as he laughs. My phone dings, taking me back to the moment. I look down to see a text from Laura: Sorry
I text back: We need to talk
She responds: I know
I text: Tomorrow
I place the phone down, and take another sip of wine. We spend the next couple hours chatting, catching up, and enjoying the music. My mom announces that she's starting to feel tired and could use some rest.
"I should go anyway," Travis responds, and a sense of disappointment comes over me. Why am I feeling like this?
"You’re going to stay here tonight, right?" my mom pleads.
"Sure. I do need to go get my things from the hotel though."
"Okay. I'll get you the spare key, in case I'm in bed when you return." My mom stands from her chair and starts clearing the table.
"Go inside, I can take care of this," I advise, taking the glasses out of her hands.
"Yeah, Mom, go get your rest," Travis says. Did he call her mom? I'm frozen for a minute, trying to let the words sink in, making sure I heard correctly. I did hear correctly. He grabs some of the dishes that remain on the table, and our arms briefly brush as he passes me on his way into the kitchen. It's like a shock of electricity surges through my body, and my breath hiccups.
We clear the remaining dishes in silence, and stack them in the sink. Travis turns the water on. "No, Travis, don't do that. I can wash them," I say, shaking my head.
"I can help you," he responds, turning the water back off.
"I can do it when I get back. I don't think I'll be sleeping much tonight anyway. It appears that I have a lot of reading to catch up on," I say, motioning to the stack of files. He nods hesitantly.
We stand a moment longer, gazing at each other. Come on lungs wake up. He looks away. "Okay, well I'm going to get going."
"Yeah. I―I have to go get my things at the hotel so I'll walk out with you."
Walking outside, it's gotten dark and the lights from the porch illuminate the path to the driveway. We stand by my car, and it feels like he doesn't want to walk away. My heart doesn't either. Come on, heart, we can do this. "So I'll call you on Monday so we can meet again to finish up the details about the case?"
He shuffles from one foot to the other, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "Well, we won't need to meet about the case anymore. My brother confessed today."
"What?"
"The detective called me on my way here to tell me that Brian confessed to killing them both. He admitted that he acted alone, so I’m no longer a suspect."
"Why? I mean, why would he have killed his own parents?"
"Meth. Drugs have turned Brian into someone other than my brother over the years," he says with disappointment in his voice. "I know he's my brother, but he's better off behind bars," he adds, his head lowered.
"I'm so sorry, Travis," I say, not really knowing how else to respond.
He raises his head and shrugs. "Thanks."
"All right. Well, I guess…good night." I’m no longer able to look at him so sad―and well, so sexy―much longer before I start to melt into the driveway.
"Will you be okay?" he asks, with concern in his eyes. I nod and offer a smile. “Good night, Amy." He hesitates and then turns in the direction of his car.
I pick my heart up off the ground, and it rides shotgun all the way to the hotel.
Chapter Nine
Monday
April 22, 2013
8:23 a.m.
I spent the weekend looking over the papers my mom gave me. I had her answer some questions that she was able to, but there is still so much that is left unknown. I have to realize that some of it may always remain a mystery. The one thing I wish I could understand is why my dad felt the need to do that to me— or for me, like my mom claims. He almost lost his daughter when I attempted suicide over it, and he made me stay with a man for seven years who evidently didn't really love me. For what? Because I was the one child of his that decided to follow in his footsteps and study law? Or, because I was his baby girl that he always wanted to protect? None of it makes sense to me, and I'm having a hard time coming to terms with it. My mom told me how close she's gotten with Travis over the last year. He's been visiting her a lot since she told him about the truth, even bringing Amanda by to see her. She glows when she speaks about him. It's evident that she adores him—it's like she's speaking about one of her own children. She also admitted that she knew he was the one leaving me the sunflowers. She said that he talks about me often. I can't hold back the smile when I think about that.
I also spoke with Laura on Saturday, and she confessed that she knew about her sister and Rich, but she only found out last Friday when her sister was in hysterics, telling her that she was pregnant. Sarah says that it wasn't planned and Rich was angry when she told him. He tried convincing her to get an abortion, claiming that it would ruin him. Laura said that she called Rich on Saturday morning, demanding that he tell me about the affair, but he told her that he didn't care what she wanted. He said that he wasn't going to tell me anything because it was going to ruin his career. And then he hung up on her. As soon as she told me, the phone call that I overheard on Saturday made sense—it was Laura he was speaking to. Laura was confused as to why he would claim it would ruin his career until I told her about everything that my mom uncovered. She's angry with her sister, feeling like she not only betrayed me but also Laura since we've been best friends our whole lives. I've had a lot of time to think and try to
process everything this weekend. I’m certain that I need to get out of the house, I need to move on. The funny thing is that all the anger I felt days ago has seemed to subside. I want to focus my attention on my mom since the time we've spent together this weekend has confirmed that she's very sick. I'm so grateful that she had the strength to tell me about it all. She needs me right now, and she doesn't need a broken me, so I’m going to be strong not only for me but for her.
I’m driving to the house to get the things that I’ll need for now, and I'll return later to get the rest. But there's not much in the house that is solely mine. I know that Rich won't be there since he leaves for work so early in the morning.
On my way, I phone Julie at the office. "Good morning, Julie. Can you let Matthew know that the Littletons will be in today? Tell him that I won't be in, but he has all the information he needs to meet with them by himself. I don't have anything else on my schedule today, do I?"
"No, that was all you had. Is everything all right, Amy?"
"Yes. I'm moving today."
"Oh."
I pull into the driveway and I’m shocked his car is here. Damn it. What is he still doing home? I put the car in reverse and back out. I'll have to return later. Seconds later, my phone dings.
It's a text message from Rich: I saw you pull up, can we please talk?
Shit. He must have been waiting for me, knowing that I’d go by while he was at work. I contemplate driving and not responding, but I really want to get this over with. I circle around the neighborhood and drive back to the house. Rich is sitting on the stairs when I pull into the driveway. I take a deep breath and get out of the car. “You can do this, Amy. Go in and get your things,” my inner voice confidently advises.
I walk up the pathway and ascend the front stairs. "I'm here to get my things," I say, walking past him, looking away.
"Can we please talk first? I need to explain."
"I don't care to listen to you Rich. I've made up my mind."
He tugs my arm in his direction. "Please, Amy. I know you don't want to stay, but I need to explain myself."
"Explain what? I don't care to listen to you try to justify your actions," I respond, pulling my arm out of his hand, feeling disgusted that he touched me.
"Amy, give me a few minutes. I promise to let you do what you want afterward."
I take in an exasperated breath. "Fine. Talk."
"Can you sit down? Come on, Amy." I slump down on the stair below him, looking away and not saying a word. "When we met I instantly fell in love with you."
I roll my eyes. "I don't―" I attempt to say before he cuts me off.
"Please, hear me out," he says with desperation in his voice. "I fell in love with you. I thought what we had was going to last a lifetime. You are strong-willed, determined, and so smart. I fell in love with it all. Over the years, our careers became more demanding but we worked hard at making our relationship work. I feel like we did a pretty good job at it. It wasn't until about two years ago that your dad approached me with an investment plan. He wanted to make a substantial investment in my company. It sounded great until he presented me with some stipulations. He wanted to invest in my company so that I could expand into the European market. He claimed to have connections there. One of the conditions stated that I could never leave you or I'd lose it all. At first, it was all confusing and I couldn't see myself agreeing to it. I was surprised that he was even suggesting it. But then, I got to thinking that I was going to be with you forever anyway so what harm would there be in it. It took a while, but I finally agreed to it and he even had me sign a contract. He connected me with some businessmen in Europe, and things started to develop and grow. I tried to put the thought of the contract behind me, but instead I started to lose respect for your dad. I couldn't look at him the same way as I once did. And, I started feeling guilty for agreeing to this deal behind your back. Subconsciously, I began distancing myself from you. I wanted to tell you about it, but your dad was sick and I knew you didn't have much longer with him. I couldn't get myself to tell you that your dad had proposed all that right before he died. That seemed too cruel." He huffs before hesitating.
"The more time I started spending at work, it drew me to Olivia. I didn't mean for it to happen. On Valentine’s Day I was out with Olivia at Alexander’s and your dad happened to show up to pick up dinner. He saw me with Olivia and he demanded that I tell you about it, or that I leave you and he would break all the connections I had in Europe as result." He shakes his head with an expression of shame on his face. "I broke up with Olivia. I even fired her because I couldn't stand seeing her every day, while not being able to be with her. I couldn't see my business losing all of that. I’m not proud of it, Amy. I got so wrapped up in the success that the connections in Europe brought to my company."
I remain quiet, looking down at my hands. I also remain emotionless. If he’s looking for someone to feel bad for him, he better look elsewhere.
"After your dad died, Olivia started texting me more and more. I agreed to see her, and things started back up. I’m not trying to make excuses, but I fell in love with her." My heart takes a nose dive straight down to my toes. Did he say he loves Olivia? Wasn't he just with Sarah? He's a bigger scum than I thought he could ever be.
Unable to hold back any longer, I look him square in the eyes. "So let me get this straight; you have a serious relationship for seven years with me, you claim to love Olivia, but you’re screwing Sarah?"
"Olivia is Sarah," he says. "Her name is Sarah Olivia Watson. I call her Olivia." I clench my teeth.
"I don't think I want to hear anything more, Rich," I say, pushing myself up from the stairs. "I'm going to get my things and I'll be on my way."
"I've already moved my stuff out."
"Why are you moving out? This is your house, you paid for it. I'm certainly not going to stay."
"This house isn't mine. Your dad bought this house for us―well, really, for you."
"I thought you bought this house?" I question, confused.
"No. This house was part of the deal. This house, that car―" he says waving in the direction of my new Lamborghini. "All of it is from your dad," he adds, before pressing his lips together and nodding slightly while lowering his head. "Now that you're leaving me, I'm left with nothing. Everything, including my business, goes to you. Your dad's buddy, Joseph, has the contract with all the details." Whoa. That's a lot to swallow. None of the papers I read over mentioned that the house or his company would be mine if he were to ever leave me.
I push open the front door and Rich stands, turning around in my direction. "I'm really sorry, Amy. I never wanted to hurt you. Having too much fortune has ruined me. I’m so sorry."
I raise my eyebrows, tighten my lips, and shrug. Then I turn and close the door behind me.
• • • •
While walking around the house, the words that Rich spoke replay in my head. All of the furniture is still here and everything is still in its place, just as I left it on Thursday. Looking into the office, I notice Rich's desk is completely bare. I walk upstairs and our bedroom appears to be untouched, except that the TracFone is no longer on Rich's pillow. I open the door to Rich's closet to find it empty. Leaning against the door jamb, I gaze in, remaining without emotion. I’m completely out of feeling for what happened, for everything that Rich told me, for the fact that my live-in boyfriend of seven years has left, and for the thought that my dad initiated all of it. What am I to do now? This house is mine, but it doesn't feel like home right now.
I snatch a few suitcases from the hallway closet. Regardless of what I choose to do, I’m going to stay with my mom for now. She needs me and, frankly,I need her. I return to the bedroom and lay the suitcases on the bed. The house feels so quiet—so somber. I place my iPhone into the docking station and play some music. I turn it up loud, attempting to drown out the silence, and I start packing clothes from my drawers into the suitcases.
I walk to my closet, and remove
suits and dresses from the hangers. When I bend down to grab a few pairs of shoes, I see a large box stashed on the floor in the back of my closet. Remembering what I have in the box, I pull it out and sit cross-legged on the floor.
I open it up and start taking out the photo albums, yearbooks, and scrapbooks. While looking through the albums, memories of high school flood me and times with Travis consume me. Tears form and fall from my eyes with every page that I turn. This was the time of my life that I was most happy, and these pictures prove it. Photos of me and my friends acting silly, of me and Travis on our hiking trips, of me and my family at my birthday parties, and of me and Travis at our prom. In every picture,I was so happy—we were so happy.
I reach in to the bottom of the box and take out a shoebox. Not remembering what’s inside, I open it and I'm taken aback. Inside the box lies dried up sunflowers. How could I not have thought that the sunflowers placed on my car could have been from Travis? He knew they were my favorite, so he’d given me sunflowers often.
My hands start shaking and my chest feels tight. Bending my legs to my chest and hugging them, I lay my head on my knees and cry. I cry for what I once had, for how happy I once was, and because it was all torn away from me without my own doing.
I'm startled when I feel a hand on my arm. Looking up, I see Travis bent down next to me. His eyes are glazed over with tears. Hesitantly, he kneels on the floor and wraps his arms around me. I don't pull back. Instead, I rest my head on his shoulder and we both cry. Realizing that he needs consoling as much I do, I remove my arms from around my legs and reach around his shoulders, pulling him closer. I let out a heavy sigh of relief. It feels good to be in his arms. I've missed this—so much so that I try to think about how I could have gone so long without it. He smells sweet, his arms around me feel amazing, and the sound of his breathing helps to calm me. We remain in this position long after we both have stopped crying.
Eventually, I pull my head off of his shoulder. "Hi,” I acknowledge.
Deception Page 9