by Ashley Gee
I resist the urge to shove him away when Jake stumbles past me. This is my wedding, after all, it wouldn’t look good if I got into a fistfight during the reception with a guy drunk off his ass. He can be as pissed off as he wants to be, I’m the one who just married the girl he wants.
But something about his last words leave me cold. Misery loves company, and he has enough of it to drag us both to the bottom of the ocean.
Thirty-Five
I’m alone with Amelia in the dressing room. She is the only addition to the proceedings that I insisted on. Giselle hung around long enough to insist that I change into the pale blue dress she left hanging over the door. My bridesmaids are long gone — apparently, whatever she bribed them with wasn’t enough to get more than the ceremony.
“I can’t believe you’re married,” Amelia says as she collapses into a plush chair.
Giselle wouldn’t let her be a bridesmaid if she wore a homemade dress and her parents wouldn’t let her out in public in anything as scandalous as silk and chiffon. I’d seen the Makepeace’s in the last row of seats during the ceremony, dressed like they were ready for a barn-raising. Getting married made me slightly less of a Godless jezebel in their eyes, which is probably the only reason they allowed Amelia to attend in the first place.
She managed to slip away from her parents’ watchful eye when they struck up a conversation with Father Mackerly about mortal sin. Perfectly appropriate conversation for a wedding.
There hasn’t been anyone else that I can tell the entire truth. Grandpa’s dementia has gotten so bad the he barely knows what day it is, and Zion has already been transported to his diversion program, which won’t let me so much as contact him for the first year. I’ve had to sit here with only the voice in my head to remind me I’m not going completely insane.
“It’s all fake.”
Amelia’s eyes widen into saucers as I tell the whole sordid story. Her mouth falls open when I mention the part about Vin and I eloping to wine country and playing house together for the last few weeks. Since she’s homeschooled, Amelia wouldn’t have seen firsthand the things that went on at Deception High, even if she heard of them. When the story is done, I put into the words the one thing that I never have before.
“I think I might love him.”
She just shakes her head, fanning herself as if suddenly overheated. “Do you think he feels the same way?”
“Vin has never been this nice to me, but I keep telling myself it’s just so I’ll keep my end of the deal.”
“Except the marriage has been legal for weeks, and he still moved you into his house,” she points out. “He definitely didn’t have to do that or buy you a new wardrobe. Stuff like that isn’t what you do when you’re keeping it strictly business.”
“If you say so,” I murmur, even though my heart sings.
“I saw that kiss he just laid on you. Vin Cortland has got it bad.” Amelia picks up a lip gloss and dabs it on her lips then makes a puckering kiss at the dressing table mirror.
I want to believe her so badly that I can barely stand it.
My gaze moves to the tall window, where I can barely make out waves crashing outside in the growing darkness. The reception will go on well into the night if Giselle has anything to say about it, but I’m already looking forward to what will come after.
If my first wedding night was good, I can only hope the second will be even better.
There is a loud banging on the locked door.
Amelia looks amused when I turn to stare at her with wide eyes. “I think I know who that is.”
But when she gets up to open the door, it isn’t Vin who bursts into the room.
Jake freezes in the doorway when he catches sight of me.
I didn’t even realize he had been invited.
When I open my mouth to asks what the hell he wants, he blurts out a question before I have the chance.
“Are you pregnant?”
“What the hell?" I’m not sure if I should be offended at his concern or not. “That isn’t the only reason people get married, you know.”
“I heard him talking about it with that other sociopath he hangs out with, Iain or whatever his name is. Vin was practically bragging about how he was going to trick you into getting pregnant by poking holes in condoms. All so he could get his inheritance.” The words are slurred but clear as Jake leans against the wall for support. His eyes are bleary as he stares across the room at me. It doesn’t take a field sobriety test for me to know he is moments from collapsing in a drunken stupor. “Please tell me that you haven’t fucked him yet.”
Anger rises in me as I stare at him. This guy hasn’t spoken to me in weeks, and now he shows up to ruin my wedding. “Which time? Vin and I have been screwing since sophomore year.”
“You bitch.” His expression turns furious. “So you’ll put out for Cortland, but not for me? I always knew you were a little slut.”
The words slam into me with enough force that it robs me of breath. But Amelia doesn’t suffer the same frozen reaction. She leaps up and hustles Jake out of the room, sending him stumbling in the corridor before she slams the door shut.
“Jealousy sure does strange things to people.” Amelia turns back to me with her eyebrows raised. “You mind telling me what that was all about?”
“No idea.” My voice is breezy, even as I feel a stab of pain in the pit of my stomach. “Jake was drunk.”
But I have condoms in my purse that I grabbed from Vin’s bedroom. I didn’t have any idea where the night would lead us, and I wanted to be prepared.
That’s almost laughable if what Jake said is true.
While Amelia frantically asks what I’m doing, I rifle through my bag for the condoms. I hold one up to the light and squint at it. In the very center of the outlined circle is a tiny hole in the foil, only visible when it catches in the light.
A hole that is the exact size and shape of a safety pin.
Amelia’s face is pinched with worry. “When was the last time you had your period?”
My periods have never been regular. Thank stress, intermittent starvation, or just plain old body chemistry, but I’m not in the habit of bothering to keep track of them. I’ve gone months in between before, so the delay isn’t something I would normally worry about. “I’m not sure, but that doesn’t mean anything.”
She bites her lip. “There’s a drug store right down the street. I can be back in five minutes.”
“No, really…”
But Amelia is already heading resolutely for the door. “Five minutes, okay. Don’t move.”
It actually takes seven for her to get back. I know that because I find myself counting every second as I stare at the floral-patterned wall. The pregnancy test comes in a little box that should rip apart easily under my fingers, but I struggle to get it open because my hands are shaking.
Amelia waits in the other room while I hover over the toilet to pee on the little stick.
It only takes another minute or so for my fate to be sealed.
Two little pink lines waver in my vision as I struggle not to pass out.
The bathroom door bangs open and crashes against the far wall. I don’t need to look up to see who it is. His presence sucks all of the air out of the room until I find it impossible to breathe.
“Why am I pregnant?”
The expression on his face is all the confirmation I need of his guilt. He doesn’t seem surprised as he stares down at me.
Just resigned.
Amelia peers at me over his shoulder, expression puggish like she is more than willing to manhandle him out of the room if necessary.
Vin doesn’t so much as glance back at her. “Because I needed to be sure that I would get what I want.”
I wrack my brain for an explanation for this that makes the glittering future I imagined still even remotely possible. But the only one that makes sense to me is the one in which Vin Cortland is a selfish piece of shit who has been playing me this entire time.
“And that’s all that has ever mattered to you, isn’t it? Getting what you want. My feelings have never been on the radar.” I feel a sensation like my body is dropping over a cliff. The ground is rushing up to meet me, but there won’t be any waking up from this nightmare just before I hit the ground. “You could have chosen anyone for this. Why would you do this to me?”
“It had to be you,” he admits. “I can’t inherit anything unless I marry a daughter from a Founding family. You were my only option. And you have to be pregnant within a year, or my inheritance disappears.” He sees the look on my face, and more words rush out. “That’s how it started, but this has all become so much more than that. I was only doing what I thought I had to do. I’ve never lied to you about anything else.”
Vin has always hated me. It would take a complete moron to think he was capable of feeling anything else where I’m concerned. It was only a matter of time before we went right back to being enemies.
I muster all of the bravado that I don’t feel. “What if I had just gotten rid of it?”
“You wouldn’t do that.” Vin reaches out to stroke my cheek, and I pull away before he can touch me. If I let him touch me, then I might let him convince me that he hasn’t been laughing at my naivety for the last two months. “You would do yourself in before you harmed an innocent baby.”
The sense of despair that washes over me is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. Darkness creeps in on the edges of my vision, a tide threatening to pull me out to sea. Even when I realized that my mother had no intention of ever coming back or that the first time Grandpa forgot my name wouldn’t be the last, nothing compared to this.
Staring into Vin’s pinched face, I realize that I still love him. Desperately.
And he will only ever see me as a means to an end.
I would rather die than feel this way for even one more minute.
“It was my mother who tried to kill you when we were kids. She always put this medicine in your tea, but I didn’t think anything of it until the day you collapsed. I never said anything until now, because I wanted to protect her. I should have learned my lesson about protecting people who don’t give a shit about me.”
Vin must see something change in my eyes, some indication of the direction of my thoughts. He grabs for me, but I dodge around him as Amelia lets out a cry of alarm.
The door to the bridal suite is open, so there isn’t anything to slow my headlong rush into the hallway. My bare feet pound against the hardwood, painful enough to slow me down under any other circumstances. But right now, I run like the hounds of hell are chasing me. I have no idea where I’m going, just that it has to be somewhere far away from here.
Impending darkness is the shadow dogging my every step.
Dark clouds swirl on the horizon. A distant storm rapidly approaches the shore. The crash of ocean waves is louder than ever as I walk down the deserted beach. I’ve spent my whole life with the world on mute, and now I’m hearing it all for the first time.
Silence has been my only defense against the world’s cruelty for so long that the noise is more than I can bear.
My whole life has been driving toward this moment, forcing me closer and closer to the edge of the cliff until I don’t have any choice but to jump.
I’ve never really felt like I belonged anywhere, certainly not here where I’ve never been more than the town trash. Even my family is only bits and pieces with no glue holding it together. My own mother couldn’t bear to stay with me, not for any longer than she had to. Dementia has freed my grandfather of his bad memories and saved him from the pain of missing me. My brother is gone, and he won’t be coming back.
No one left will miss me if I’m gone, at least not for long.
Shocking cold hits my toes as I step into the surf, a bitter mismatch for the warmth in the air. The water here is always frigid. It takes a brave soul to step into it without protection and hope to make it back out.
I’ve never been anything close to brave.
The idea of being done with all of it brings a surprising lightness to my step, a stark contrast to the crushing despair that has always been my constant companion. In death, there won’t be fear or pain.
There won’t be anything at all.
I’ve always feared the ocean, a strange thing for someone who was born in spitting distance of the water. Growing up, trips to the beach were more frequent than visits to the grocery store. I’d never understood how anyone could look at the infinite water, the waves crashing hard enough to break bone, and see anything but death.
Just more evidence I was never meant to survive in this world.
As a kid, my mom used to tell me stories of people being washed out to sea by the tides, unable to make their way back to the shore. Even the strongest swimmers eventually grow exhausted fighting the undercurrent. She described in detail the lashing waves during a storm that could tear apart fishing boats in a matter of minutes and suck the pieces down to the bottom, too deep to be recovered.
Darkest ocean is the final frontier, harder to reach than walking on the moon.
I’ve dreamed about what it might be like to give my body over to the sea. I’d called them nightmares until I realized that the real nightmare began the moment I opened my eyes.
Water churns around my ankles like the phantom hands of death, so cold it burns my skin. I take another step forward and the frigid surf splashes against my knees, weighing me down as water seeps into the long train of my dress.
Some girls gently pack their wedding dresses away like priceless antiques — mine will be a death shroud.
I shiver at the creeping chill, knowing it will only get worse. The most excruciating moment will come when the water rises to my chest, just above the level of my heart.
It’s always the heart that can least take the cold.
My hand drifts down to touch the still flat plane of my belly. I imagine a touch of heat there, the tiniest spark of life, but it isn’t enough to call me back. And I refuse to bring anyone else into this world who might experience the same pain I have.
A voice echoes through the distant canyon, familiar even over the sound of crashing waves that is so loud it’s nearly deafening.
It’s too late.
It has always been too late, even from the very beginning.
I force myself further into the water, because I’m running out of time. If my nerves give out now, I won’t get this chance again. Padded restraints and the double locking doors of a psychiatric ward are all that await me. My supposed husband would rather leave me somewhere to rot than lose his meal ticket. I’ll never be out of someone else’s sight again.
This is my only opportunity.
“Don’t do this, Zaya. Please!”
Vin is already on the beach, but far enough away that I can’t make out his face under the night sky. The only light out here is from a full moon hiding behind dark clouds. I don’t need to be close to know it’s him. No one else would stride down the sand of a public beach like he owns the entire world.
I turn away to face the endless black of a dark horizon. There may be distant lights from our small town behind me, but I can no longer see them. All I have to do is take a few final steps into oblivion, and it will all be over. I wade further into the water, licking cold creeping up my thighs and then my waist, forcing myself to take painful steps forward even as my heart pounds in my chest.
“Zaya,” he calls again, voice sounding more desperate than I’ve ever heard it.
He can’t see me in the dark, might even walk right past and never know, as long as I don’t say a word. But that doesn’t stop him from shouting his promises into the wind, begging me to give him another chance to prove himself.
Vin has never broken a promise to me, because I’ve never expected him to make any.
I don’t want to believe it’s possible for him to change. Belief requires hope. And hope forces you to pick yourself up so life can kick you right back down again.
; I don’t have the strength left to hope.
Eventually, he’ll go away and I can finish this.
Except I underestimate both his vision and the flash of my off-white dress against the dark water. His feet slap on the shallow water as he starts toward me, but he still isn’t close enough to reach me in time. I just have to force myself to move fast enough.
He shouts my name, screams it, until his throat sounds like it is going hoarse.
Soon he’ll be on top of me, grabbing me, forcing me out of the water and back to the shore. If I’m going to choose, then it has to be right now. The time for indecision has long passed.
I have to make a choice.
Stay and fight, give him the chance to build me up so he can tear me down all over again.
Or let it all just float away with the tide, taking a lifetime of pain away with it.
I have to decide.
Thirty-Six
I pushed too hard and for way too long. There isn’t any excuse except that I’m the biggest asshole who has ever lived.
Not to say that I haven’t had my reasons for it. But it’s hard to make the past matter when you’re confronted with the reality of your future.
In the beginning, I convinced myself that keeping secrets would be the best thing for both of us. The less she knew, the easier it would be for me to control her. But I didn’t understand what I stood to lose.
And now I’ve lost everything.
Waves crash around me with destructive force. The wind is so howling that it steals my voice and carries it away to the sky. I pray that I’m not too late, even though I don’t deserve to have any prayers answered at this point.
I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anything.
But I’ve never been one to worry too much about what I deserve. I’ve always taken what I want when I want it, regardless of the consequences. There isn’t any reason to change my ways now, not when it means I have the chance to save her.
I’m going to save her.
From herself. From me. From the world, if I have to.