CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Over the next two days, Sky made countless trips between Meg’s cottage and his log cabin. He refused when she offered to help transport her belongings. “It’s easier if I do it myself. I’d rather you just stay at the cabin and unpack.”
Whenever he was out of Meg’s sight, he checked his phone. Why haven’t I heard yet about the paternity test? I’ve got a bad feeling about this. The results should have been back by now.
After he finished the last run of boxes, Sky switched from using his Tahoe to his pick-up truck so he could move her furniture. He was surprised to find Meg in the front seat when he returned to the truck after off-loading some of her things into the barn.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking a ride with you. Helping you with my move.”
“I can do this myself.”
Meg rolled her eyes. “You can lift my sofa yourself?”
“Well, I’m not gonna let you help me lift it.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not a delicate flower, you know. I’m strong. I lift heavy patients all day at work, so I can certainly help you move my stuff.”
He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. When he glanced at the screen, he recognized the area code for Las Vegas. Shit. This can only mean one thing. And I’m not gonna take this phone call in front of Meg.
“I’m just picking up a few more things. I’ll get some of the guys to help me with the heavier furniture later this week. Just get yourself unpacked.” He wiped some sweat from his forehead. “It’s getting hot out anyway. When I get back we can take a dip in the pool.”
Meg’s stomach dropped. “Are you okay? You asked me yesterday if I had second thoughts about moving in, but I never asked if you had second thoughts.”
Sky looked away from her and out the driver’s side window. “No. No second thoughts. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Look at me.” She rubbed his thigh, and whispered, “Sky…”
He turned towards her, but was unable to meet her eyes. “I just want to get this over with, so we can have a day to relax, okay? I need some space.”
Meg held her hands up as if to surrender. “Sure. Do what you need to do. I’ll keep unpacking, and when you get back we’ll relax. I’ll make something nice, but simple, for dinner.” She hopped out of the pick-up, and said, “Thanks for your help, Sky. I’ll see you later.”
Sky watched Meg slam the door of the cabin shut before pulling out his phone. He stared at the phone number of the missed call and debated listening to the voice mail. His finger hovered over the screen, but he could not bring himself to play the message. “I’ve gotta get out of here,” he said aloud.
He put the truck in gear and turned the radio up as he drove down the driveway. As he headed into Nashville, he steered the truck towards The Gulch, instead of Meg’s cottage in Hillsboro Village. Dad is right, as much as I hate to admit it. I’m a chicken shit, and too scared to learn the truth.
He grabbed a seat at the Whiskey Kitchen bar, and gave his order to the bartender. “I’ll have my usual, Jack Daniels Single Barrel. And make it a double,” he said.
When the drink was placed in front of him, he drained the glass, and ordered another one. Yeah, I’m a real chicken shit, he thought as he pulled out his phone and stared at the screen. I can’t. I can’t do this. His stomach rumbled, and he realized he hadn’t eaten lunch. “Can I get a menu over here?” he asked the bartender.
After he placed his order, a few fans appeared and tried to get his autograph or a photo with him, but he wasn’t in the mood to engage with them. He posed for a few pictures and gave some autographs, but when his pulled pork sandwich was placed on the bar in front of him, he said, “Thanks, everyone, but I’m just trying to have a bite to eat. Can I get a little space?”
He wolfed down the sandwich and fries, and ordered another drink. He took out his phone and stared again at the Las Vegas phone number when in his peripheral vision he noticed a leggy blond slide onto the bar stool next to him and motion for the bartender.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said, before turning towards Sky. “I know a man drowning his sorrows when I see one. Trouble with the girlfriend?”
Sky’s head snapped up as he tried to focus on the woman speaking with him. “Larissa?”
“Well, I’m not your girlfriend, although I wouldn’t mind filling the vacancy, if there is one. I meant the brunette you were with at the ACM awards. Remember?”
He furrowed his brows. “Yeah. Lots of water under the bridge since then.”
“So you’re not together anymore?” she asked, as she ran her hand over his thigh. “Guess she couldn’t take the heat of the spotlight.”
“No, it’s not that. Meg’s fine. It’s me.”
She removed her hand from his thigh. “Oh. I thought…”
“You thought wrong. In fact, she just moved in with me. We’re living together now.”
Larissa’s face fell. “I’m sorry. You always come here when you’re on the prowl, and I thought...well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.”
“I’ve just got a lot on my mind, and I needed a drink.” He poured the whiskey down his throat and shook his head, before motioning to the bartender for another round.
“What’s on your mind? Want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
She sighed. “Well, I’m not going to let you drink alone.” She raised her glass in a toast. “To both our upcoming album releases.”
Sky raised his glass. “I’ll drink to that,” he said, as he took a deep sip.
“So, how come we’ve never written a song together? You write with a lot of up and coming artists. I’d like that chance one day.”
“Yeah, maybe one day. Got a lot on my plate over the next few months, though, between the tour and cutting the new album.”
They continued talking about their careers. Larissa rattled on about how difficult it was for her latest song to get any airplay, but Sky tuned her out as the drinks caught up with him. The room began to spin, and he had difficulty keeping his eyes open.
He tried to order another drink, but the bartender refused to serve him. “Why the hell not?” he asked, in a loud, slurred voice.
“Sorry, Sky, but you’re cut off.” The bartender poured him a cup of coffee and placed the tab in front of him.
“You’re not driving, I hope,” Larissa said.
“Yeah, I am. Or I was. I’m gonna have to call Paul and have him drive me home. Jesus, I’m a mess. Thank God there are no fans or press here.”
Larissa looked around the bar. There were saw plenty of fans staring at them, but she chose not to contradict him. “Why don’t you call your girlfriend to pick you up?”
He slurred his words. “She said she was gonna make me a nice dinner tonight.” He looked at his watch, and had trouble focusing on the dial. “Damn, I didn’t realize the time. She’s gonna be pissed off.”
The sound of the shade being drawn and the sudden bright light woke Sky. He covered his eyes with his hands to block out the sun’s rays. His head was pounding, his mouth was bone-dry, and the distinct odor of vomit clung to him.
He groaned as he sat up and pulled the covers off his body. He realized he was still wearing his clothes from the previous day, and shook his head. “Shit,” he mumbled.
When he opened his eyes, he saw Meg standing at the foot of the bed. Her arms were crossed against her chest, and she was wearing a set of white scrubs. He looked away, not wanting to see the rage he was sure she was feeling.
She threw bottles of water and aspirin at him. They bounced off his body, and landed on the bed with a soft thud.
“How could you do this to me?” she asked.
He picked up the bottle of aspirin, shook two tablets out, and placed them in his mouth, before washing them down with some water. “I’m sorry about last night. I’m not even sure what happened…”
She tossed his phone at him. “Maybe you should take a look at Instagram, or Twitter. Or maybe that new gossip site, Trashville. Then again, you might want to call your new girlfriend, Larissa Townsend, and ask her what happened.” She began to walk out of the bedroom.
“Wait! Meg, baby, where are you going?”
“To the hospital. They’re short a nurse today on the unit, and asked if I could come in.”
“But we were going to have a day to relax together today.”
Meg stopped and turned to face him. “Yeah, well, we were going to have a nice dinner together last night too. But that didn’t happen.” She turned and stalked out of the room.
A moment later he heard the slamming of the log cabin’s front door. “Shit,” he muttered, as he heaved himself out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. He recoiled when he saw the toilet and the floor around it covered in vomit. “Jesus Christ, what in the hell did I do?”
He cleaned the bathroom before showering. As he shaved, he looked at himself in the mirror, and shook his head. “You’ve really screwed up this time.”
Back in the bedroom, his cell phone lay on the bed where it landed after Meg threw it at him. He regarded it as though it was radioactive, remembering the voicemail that was waiting for him. “Man up, Sky,” he said aloud. He reached for the phone and tapped the screen to listen to the voicemail, and the instructions to call back to get the paternity test results.
His fingers shook, and he said a silent prayer, as he punched in the numbers. “This is William Skyler Johnson,” he said, after the phone was answered at the other end of the line. “I received a message to call about the results of a paternity test.”
The call was transferred, and he again identified himself. He held his breath, and as he listened to the results he collapsed to the floor. Tears streamed down his face as he prayed, “Thank you, God. Thank you, Jesus.” He knelt and bowed his head. “Dear Lord, I promised the night of Jack and Becky’s wedding that, if I wasn’t the father of Mallory’s baby, I would be the kind of man Meg deserves, and I meant it. I know I screwed up last night,” he said, glancing at his phone and wondering what the gossip rags were saying about him. “But I promised that I would never lie or cheat on Meg, and I meant it.” With a catch in his voice, he added, “Please God, help me be the man she deserves. Please help me make it up to her.”
When he finally picked himself up from the floor, he went into the den. He opened his laptop, and went to the Trashville website. Bile rose in his throat as he scrolled through the photos from the previous night. He thought he would be sick at the sight of Larissa’s hand on his thigh, and the photos of him obviously intoxicated and unable to walk on his own. “Jesus Christ, what have I done?” He scrolled back through the photos, and said aloud, “And will Meg ever be able to forgive me?”
He debated going to find her at the hospital, but knew that a public confrontation was not the answer. Instead, he picked up the phone.
“Paul, I need your help.”
Throughout the remainder of the day, Sky and Paul moved the rest of Meg’s possessions into the barn for storage. He enlisted Fiona to help re-arrange the closets in the master bedroom, moving all his clothes into the smaller of the two closets, and leaving Meg the larger one.
“I don’t know if she’d want us to unpack her things,” he said, looking at the empty closet.
Fiona agreed. “If she wants help, she can always call me.”
A florist delivered bouquets of blush-colored gerbera daisies while Sky showered and Fiona prepared a roast chicken dinner. “This will be done when the oven timer goes off. You just have to turn the oven down to keep it warm until Meg gets home.” She picked up her purse and began walking towards the front door, then stopped and turned around. “Have you thought about what you’re going to say?”
He ran his hands through his hair. “Yeah, I rehearsed it in the shower. I hope she can forgive me.”
“I hope so too.” She kissed Sky on the cheek. “Good luck.”
After Fiona left, Sky paced back and forth. He checked the oven timer and clock, and his stomach churned as the minutes ticked closer to Meg’s arrival at home. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He stared at the bottle in his hands, shook his head, and put it back in the refrigerator. If I’m drinking when she comes home, she’ll have a fit. It’ll be all over.
He checked his phone, and his stomach sank when he saw that there were no texts or voice mail messages from Meg. “God, I hope that she actually does come home,” he said aloud.
When the oven timer went off half an hour later, there was still no sign of Meg. She should have been home fifteen minutes ago. He consulted Fiona’s instructions, and turned the temperature down enough to not dry out the chicken, but still keep it warm. He stirred the gravy, checked on the baked potatoes, and removed the broccoli from the heat. What am I supposed to do now?
He wandered aimlessly around the living room, and was beginning to lose hope that Meg would come home, when he saw headlights in the driveway. He looked out the window to confirm it was her, but resisted the urge to run out to greet her. Instead, he positioned himself behind the island in the kitchen, stirring the gravy and removing the chicken from the oven. He could barely breathe as he heard the front door open.
“Welcome home, baby. Dinner is ready, if you’re hungry.” She looks exhausted, he thought.
“I just need a couple of minutes. You can start without me, if you want,” she said, before disappearing into the bedroom.
When Meg emerged from the bedroom ten minutes later, her face was scrubbed clean, and she was wearing a camisole and yoga pants. Without makeup, the dark circles under her eyes were even more evident. She collapsed onto a chair at the dining room table, and allowed Sky to serve her.
Sky’s stomach churned as he watched Meg eat in silence. She won’t even look at me. Do I say something? Or let her eat in peace? He decided to not bring up the previous night until she finished eating.
“Are you done?”
“Yeah.” She pushed her plate out of the way, and buried her head in her hands.
This isn’t the reaction I was expecting, Sky thought as Meg remained hunched over and silent. I expected anger, sarcasm, maybe even rage. But not silence. I don’t know which is worse. He stood and cleared the table, stacking the dishes in the dishwasher while mugs of herbal tea steeped on the countertop.
When he finished in the kitchen, he turned around and found Meg seated on the sofa in the living room. An afghan was draped over her, her eyes were closed, and she was hugging her knees to her chest.
“Here, baby,” Sky said as he handed her a mug of tea.
“Thanks.” She took a deep sip, before placing the mug on a side table.
“Can I sit with you?”
“Sure.”
Sky joined her on the sofa, and watched as she remained curled up in a ball. “Meg, would you look at me?”
She opened her eyes and looked in his direction, but remained silent.
“I want to apologize for last night.” He swallowed hard, before continuing, “Nothing excuses my behavior, but I do want to explain, as best I can, what happened.”
She stared at him. “I’m listening.”
“Before I left here yesterday afternoon, when you were in my truck, I got a phone call. It was from a Las Vegas area code. I knew it was about the paternity test, but I was too afraid to answer the call, especially in front of you. I’m a coward, a real chicken shit coward. That’s why I didn’t want you to come with me. I didn’t want to learn the results in front of you, just in case it was bad news. So I decided to go to Whiskey Kitchen for one drink, to fortify myself with some liquid courage. Only one drink turned into, well, many drinks.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I noticed.”
There’s the anger and sarcasm I was expecting. “I’m sorry, Meg. It wasn’t what I wanted to have happen. I couldn’t bring myself to listen to the voice mail, and didn’t know how to deal with it…”
Meg cut him off. “So you thought getting piss-ass drunk in public was a good way to deal with it?”
Sky hung his head and ran his hands through his hair. “I got way out of control. I barely remember Larissa being there, and have no recollection of getting home. Paul told me today that I called him for a ride.”
“Did he tell you that you threw up on him as he carried you inside?”
His mouth hung open, but no words came out. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “No, he didn’t.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, well, he can’t exactly tell his boss that he’s an asshole, can he?”
“No, but you can tell me that.”
“I just did.”
And just like that, she hits me with a sucker punch to the gut. “Yeah.” He looked away, and tried to collect his thoughts. “Meg, I’m so sorry for all that I put you through last night. But I know that saying I’m sorry will never be enough, so I’m also going to promise you that what happened last night will never happen again.”
“Getting passed-out drunk? Throwing up? Letting other women come on to you? Embarrassing the hell out of me?”
“All of the above. I can’t promise that I’ll never drink again, but getting so hammered that I black out…yeah, I promise that I’ll never do that again.”
“Do you have any idea what my day was like? Co-workers came up to me to say how sorry they were to hear that we were over, especially since they know we just moved in together. Random people whispered and pointed at me. It went on all day long. Even my family, who like you and know better than to believe the tabloid gossip, all either called or texted me to ask if we broke up.”
“Meg…”
She cut him off again. “Jesus Christ, Sky, it would be easy to dismiss the gossip if there weren’t multiple photos out there of Larissa’s hand on your thigh, and your arm around her shoulders when you were leaving the bar.”
“I don’t even remember leaving,” he mumbled. “I really don’t know what to say, other than that I’m sorry I hurt you, baby. I really do love you.”
A deep sigh escaped her lips. “You say that, but you’ve sure got a funny way of showing it.”
He flinched. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m so sorry I hurt you. Come here, baby. Please.” He patted the space next to him on the sofa.
Meg hesitated, before peeling the afghan off and crawling across the sofa. She allowed him to pull her close, and in spite of her anger, felt warmth spread throughout her body as he wrapped his arms around her and stroked her hair.
Silence settled over the room. It was comfortable, like an old, soft blanket, and for a long time the only sound in the room was their breathing.
Finally, Sky spoke. “Mrs. B came over today, and rearranged the closets in our bedroom so that you’d be able to finish unpacking. I kept the smaller closet, and left you the larger one. Also, Paul and I finished moving the rest of your furniture today. It’s in the barn, if you want to take a look.”
“Thanks. I’ll take a look tomorrow.” She squirmed as anxiety welled up inside her. “Did you ever…”
Reading her mind, Sky shifted in his seat and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I returned the call I received yesterday, and got the paternity test results.”
Meg wriggled out of his arms, sat up straight, and stared directly into his eyes. “And?”
“I’m not the father of Mallory’s baby.”