This was it, the end of the line. All the secrets I’d carefully kept—my quickie marriage, my painful hospital stay, my fake football player boyfriend—Billy was about to find out. Game over. As soon as Billy knew about Warren and me, I’d spill the rest. Billy would give me that silent look and I’d fold like a cheap suit.
Warren’s jaw ticked. I shut my eyes and waited to hear Warren’s confession. Actually, Billy, Addy and I are married. We’ve been married for three years and I’m too much of a bastard to sign the divorce papers. Also, we’ve had sex, lots of really hot, steamy sex. If you hadn’t interrupted us the other night on my bus, we probably would’ve had some more sex. Scratch that, we wouldn’t have had sex, but Warren would probably say something like that, just to get under Billy’s skin.
Plop. I felt something land on my stomach. I opened my eyes. A cellphone rested right on top of my belly button. “There’s my cell phone, Addy,” Warren said, his mouth flat, unimpressed. “Go ahead and give your man a call.”
Dammit, Warren must’ve known I was lying. It was probably Jett’s hickey comment that did me in. Warren waited, his silence calling my bluff. I picked up the cell phone, handling it like it might burn me. I slid the unlock button. “Code?” I asked when the screen prompted me.
“Zero eight one four,” Warren replied.
August fourteenth, our wedding anniversary. What was Warren thinking? The screen lit up and on the background there was a picture of me. We had been in Prague. I’d found a beautiful glass ring to buy and modeled it for Warren as he snapped the picture. It was before we were married. I’d slipped the ring on my wedding finger as a joke and Warren had removed it with his mouth. “Better keep that finger free, baby.”
Why would he have this picture? Why, if I meant nothing to him like he’d intimated in Rome, would he keep a photo of me and relive that moment every time he looked at his phone?
My eyes fluttered to Warren’s. His cheeks were flushed under his tan. He looked away, jaw clenching.
“It’s late, I don’t want to wake Gabe.” My excuse sounded feeble.
Warren’s glare turned on me full force. “Make the fucking call, Addy.” If Warren had a hate list, Billy would be number one and Gabe would be number two. Warren had never understood my close relationship with Gabe. He’d even tried forbidding me from contacting him. That hadn’t gone well. I’d told Warren where he could stick it, complete with a lovely hand gesture.
I dialed as if my fingers were on fire. Don’t answer, don’t answer, I mentally pleaded. Two rings and Gabe picked up. “Yeah?” On my end, silence. I couldn’t make my voice work. “Hello?” he prompted.
“Gabe?” His name came out of me as a squeak.
“Yeah, who’s this?” His voice was loud on the other line. So loud, I was sure everyone in the room could hear it. Deftly, I clicked the volume down.
“It’s me. Addy.”
“Addy? What’s the matter? You sound funny.”
“I know. I… I got into some trouble at the concert tonight. I went into the crowd and got a little roughed up.”
“Are you okay? Do you need me to come up?” He was fully alert now.
“I’m fine. No need to come up.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?”
I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure of anything anymore. But I couldn’t tell Gabe that, not here, not now. “I’m okay. How are Pete and Mel?”
I could hear the smile in his voice. “They’re good. They miss you.”
“Tell him about family dinner,” Billy chimed in.
“What’s that?” Gabe asked.
“Billy wants to get together with you and your parents when the tour comes to Portland.” I played with the sheet on the bed. Warren was sitting back down, his foot tapping a furious beat. His mulish face reminded me of a cranky toddler. It was very likely Warren had never outgrown his terrible twos.
Gabe chuckled. “That should be interesting.”
“Give him the date.” Billy inserted himself into the conversation again.
“What does he want now?” asked Gabe.
“He wants me to tell you the dates we’ll be in Portland.”
“Flower, tell her the date,” Billy hollered to Daisy.
Daisy took out her phone and scrolled through it. “It’s the twenty-fourth and the twenty-fifth.”
“Did you hear that, little bird? It’s the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth,” Billy repeated.
Ugh. I didn’t get super annoyed with my father often, but sometimes he could be like a chigger under my skin. Plus, my drugs were wearing off and my throat was starting to ache again. “Do you want to talk to him?” I held the phone out to Billy.
Billy stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Of course not, little bird. You’re doing a fine job.”
“Then keep your mouth shut.”
Billy put his hand to his chest, a mortally wounded expression on his face. “You speak like that to me? Your own father?”
I ignored him. Shifting in the bed, I turned away from broody Warren and the room. “I better go,” I said into the phone to Gabe. “He’s just going to get worse if I stay on the phone.”
“Jesus, he’s like a kid sometimes,” Gabe said.
“I know. I’ll see you when we come to Portland?”
“Of course. I’m looking forward to it. Love you, Ads.”
His sentiment was much harder to deflect on the phone. And the truth was I did love Gabe. Just not in the same way he loved me. “Love you, too.” It was wrong to say it. I felt awful. Those words ignited a spark of hope in Gabe. But the truth was, no matter how badly I wanted Gabe to be the one, he wasn’t. I turned back around and held out the phone to Warren. “Thanks,” I said.
He took it from me. And by the look on his face—the anger, the hurt, the betrayal—I knew Warren had heard every last word of my conversation with Gabe. I refused to feel bad.