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Sundays are for Hangovers by J.D. Hollyfield, K Webster (17)

 

Thursdays are for Breakups—You Know What? Fuck that.

 

She knows.

Goddammit, she knows.

Well, half of it. Some of it. Part of it. Definitely not all of it.

But what she doesn’t know is that most of it is bullshit. Her meddling father is an idiot if he thinks he can weave lies and half-truths mixed into my actual past in an effort to run me off.

You know what? Fuck that.

Fuck him.

Fuck the forces trying to drive Lilith and me apart.

Unlike last time where I let her go, this time I’ll be damned if I let the girl get away. Slamming the door behind me, I trot after her. When I get to her door, it’s locked. She was too upset to hide the key, so I lift the gnome and steal it. I let myself inside and close the door behind me.

Every light is on, but it’s quiet.

Too quiet.

Quietly, I walk down her hallway and prowl to her bedroom. When I cross over her threshold, my heart sinks. My sweet, beautiful Lilith. Crying. Her body shakes as she sobs face down on her bed. An ache forms in my chest and I know I’ll do anything to fix it. To fix her. To fucking fix us. Anything.

I just need to make her listen.

Kicking off my shoes along the way, I walk over to the bed. When the mattress moves with my weight, she stiffens.

“Leave,” she chokes out.

“No.”

I climb on top of her and rest my weight on her, my nose nuzzling in her hair. She cries and I simply hold her, pressing kisses to her skull. We don’t fight or scream or argue. I just nonverbally try to communicate how much I love her until she’s ready to listen to what I have to say.

“She’s nobody to me,” I say after a while.

Her body tenses. “So you’ve said.”

“The stuff you told me outside earlier, only part of it was true, Lilith.”

All of it was horrible,” she whispers.

Wincing, I close my eyes. It’s now or never. “When I was twenty, I accidentally set fire to my grandma’s house. I was high on enough prescription drugs to keep a horse tranquilized. Passed out with a cigarette in my hand and caught my childhood home on fire.” I let out a heavy sigh. “Grandma was at work. By the time I awoke, flames had engulfed half of my room. I was so fucked up, I could barely get out of my room, much less try to stop it. From the neighbor’s driveway, I watched all of our memories burn to the ground.”

The flames. The smoke. The sirens.

Nothing compares to the loud, ugly sobs that came from my grandma.

And still yet, she loved me. My grandma advocated for me.

“I was arrested on suspicion of arson since I was under the influence, but the fire marshal later determined the fire was set by a cigarette and deemed it an accident,” I reveal softly. My fingers run along the outside of her arm. Goose bumps rise at my touch. “Grandma obviously didn’t press charges and helped bail me out of a shit-ton of trouble, but she was adamant I sought treatment after that. I got cleaned up and vowed I’d never be so reckless with my life again. Reckless means hurting those around you. I’d been spiraling, Lilith. The fire and subsequent forced rehab is what made me stop spinning. Finally, I had the wakeup call I needed.”

She’s quiet and not forcing me out of her house, so I continue.

“Every time I go to Grandma’s new place, I’m overcome with guilt. No amount of time can pass where I don’t hear those gut-wrenching sobs playing over and over again in my head. Photos of me as a baby. Memories of my deceased parents and grandfather. Every single memory she and I ever had was gone.” I inhale her hair and rub my thumb across her arm. “But I would never hurt my grandma on purpose.”

“I don’t see how this has anything to do with her. The nobody,” she bites out, her voice cold.

Lifting up, I push Lilith onto her back and then pin her again with my body. I need to see her pretty brown eyes and pouty lips. Tonight, her eyes are bloodshot and her nose is pink from crying. It breaks my fucking heart seeing her like this.

“After the fire, I was so overcome with grief and self-loathing that I took a different path. I got into college and busted my ass with my studies while working part-time. Gave every extra penny to Grandma in an effort to help her out. Eventually, I got my finance degree. I worked many jobs throughout the years and then I was able to work for a bank. Despite my past, they hired me because my work history proved I was really good at what I do.” I run my fingers along her jaw and furl my eyes together. “I have an obsessive personality.”

“No, not you,” she says dryly, a small sliver of the usual Lilith shining through.

I hold onto that tiny bit of hope and smile. “When I put my mind to something, I put one hundred percent of my focus on it. Drugs back in the day. Education when I straightened my shit up. Terrorizing the hot neighbor last year. Then, loving her.”

Tears shine in her eyes and she looks away. “And the nobody?”

Guilt surges through me, but I come out with it. “I was so dead set on proving to everyone I was a decent human being I started dating Presley. Someone smart and pretty and influential. I met her at a bank function. She was the daughter of one of the investors. We hit it off because she was everything I wanted to be. She was…so put together.” Flashes of Presley with her sleek blond hair and plastic smile fill my head.

“Great, wonderful. She was so amazing,” Lilith snaps. “Then what?”

I bite back a smile at her jealousy, even now. “I did everything to make her happy. She was—or so I thought—the key to this ultimate happiness. I was just sure I’d marry her and we’d live happily ever after. That Grandma would finally be proud of the man I’d become.” I frown and close my eyes. “That maybe she’d forgive me.”

“Your grandma loves you,” she whispers.

I blink my eyes open. “But I ruined her life.”

Her palm strokes along my cheek and I lean into her touch. For a moment, we savor the peaceful pause. Then, she slaps me hard enough to startle me to bring me back to our argument. “And then?”

“I obsessed and obsessed like you know I do. Presley said I made her uncomfortable to be around. That I was too anal.” I clench my jaw. “I just wanted everything to be perfect.” Letting out a heavy sigh, I say, “But it wasn’t perfect. My life was always missing something.”

“Money,” she blurts out.

“What? No.” I run my thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “You, Lilith.”

“Because I have money.”

“I don’t give a fuck about your money,” I growl. “My life was missing you. In my hunt for perfection, I realized it wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted, what led me to all the shit I’d done in the past, was the desire to be happy. Always reaching and never grasping. Then one day, I had you. This beautiful, sweet, vibrant hell cat in my arms.” I run my fingers through her hair. “I just wanted to pull you into my arms and never let go. Once I realized perfection was bullshit but happiness was real, I knew I had that chance at it with you. I finally felt I had a life worth living.”

“Why was she here?” she asks, her bottom lip quivering.

“To tell me she was pregnant.”

“You asshole!” she screeches, wiggling in my arms.

Grabbing her wrists, I press them into the mattress and lean my forehead against hers. “Not my baby, Lilith. Some guy. She broke up with me ages ago and was seeing one of her father’s friends. He knocked her up and apparently decided his marriage to his wife was more important than dropping everything to take care of his mistress. I think she thought maybe we’d rekindle what we had.”

“But…” she urges me on.

“But I didn’t give in because I’m no longer her perfect fiancé. I’m Lilith Hamilton’s imperfect sonofabitch boyfriend who makes her cry on the regular, but desperately wishes she wouldn’t.” I press my lips to hers and she doesn’t try to get away. “I’m yours, Lil. Fucked up and flawed. My past sucks. I’ve made a bunch of mistakes I’m embarrassed of. I just wanted to push them away and focus on my future. To focus on me and you because, baby, we aren’t ugly. Together we’re something pretty fucking amazing.”

I tangle my fingers in her hair and kiss her deeply. Her tongue is tentative at first, but then she kisses me back as though she needs me as much as I need her. We make out like a couple of teenagers until we’re panting and I’m hard as a fucking rock.

“So I’m just some rando you got hot for? You didn’t seek me out like Daddy says because of my money?” she asks, her brows furling together.

“Just some rando I wanted to hate but then wanted to fuck,” I say with a crooked grin.

She laughs and it’s the cutest sound ever. “I think that was supposed to be a compliment, Wonka. You really are imperfect.”

Smirking, I agree, “Most definitely.”

“I just wish you had told me,” she says finally, letting out a ragged breath.

“I’m ashamed of my past,” I admit. “What guy wants to admit to the woman he loves that he was a major fuck-up who made a bunch of horrible mistakes?”

“Loves?” She quirks up a brow in question.

“I love you, Lilith. I know it’s early and irrational and probably another mistake on my laundry list of shit I do wrong, but I don’t care. You’re inside of me. I couldn’t get you out if I tried.”

“It’s not a mistake,” she murmurs. “I love you too. Even if you are a big idiot who should have just told me in the first place.”

“I’m sorry. I just can’t lose you. You mean too much to me.”

“You’re forgiven. And tomorrow, I’m going to tell Daddy to stop trying to invade my life. I’m a grown woman who can make her own”—she smirks at me—“mistakes.”

I kiss her mouth before sliding off her. She lets out a squeal when I grab her thigh and drag her off the bed.

“Will!” she cries out when I hoist her over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you home.”

One week later…

 

I can’t stop thinking about the information I dug up on the computer earlier this morning and ponder what I should do with it. Maybe I don’t do anything at all. He certainly doesn’t deserve it. It’s probably nothing. And yet…I can’t ignore it.

Blame my obsessive personality.

Blame my confrontational nature.

Blame the powers that be who are dangling this in front of my face and luring me into the devil’s den.

“He’ll be with you in a moment,” the receptionist says.

I’ve long gone over my lunch hour waiting on this prick, but now I’m fully invested. No backing out now. Finally, he emerges from his office and a man follows him out.

Tall. Arrogant. Regal.

But behind all that shit is Lilith’s father.

And I need to do this.

“Mr. Grant,” he says coldly. Then he smirks as he gestures to the man behind him. “Meet Lance Peterson.”

Lance.

The Lance.

I size him up for a moment. Take in his comb-over and small stain on his tie. I note his size in comparison to mine. Shorter and less fit. After a moment, I realize he is not a threat to me. “Your reputation precedes you,” I tell him.

He smiles, all bright and shiny veneers in his mouth. Money may not be able to buy you a steady hand at lunch or more hair, but it can sure buy you a fancy smile. “Good to meet you,” he says as he extends his hand.

Feminine yet extremely hairy hand, I might add.

I accept his offering and when he squeezes me hard, a known power play done between rivaling businessmen, I politely crush him in my grip. His face turns red and he quickly jerks his hand away.

“I’ll see you and your parents later for dinner,” Bart tells him before waving him away. “Please, do come in.”

I follow the man into his expansive office and take the offered seat. When he sits at his desk, he steeples his fingers and glares at me.

“Enough with the pretenses, William,” he snarls. “Why are you here? To gloat that you somehow conned my Lilith into believing your lies?”

Shaking my head, I bite back the angry words I want to say to him. “Everything I told her was the truth. I love Lilith. And because I love her, I’m here today to talk.”

“You’ll never be a Lance Peterson, so you may as well not try. I’m not here to make peace,” he grumbles.

God, he’s fucking impossible.

With a huff, I pull out the folded papers from my pocket and toss them at him. “Here. Read those.”

He narrows his eyes at me but picks up the papers as if they carry the plague. Then, he unfolds them and begins reading. With each second that passes, his face turns redder and redder. “What is the meaning of this?” he demands.

“Like I told you at dinner that night, I make it my business to dig too, Mr. Hamilton. And after that night, I just couldn’t let it go. It’s my future legacy after all,” I taunt, enjoying the way his vein in his neck bulges. “But all that aside, it needs to be addressed. You have the information right there. Now follow those leads.”

“Get out,” he hisses.

“I do this for a living,” I remind him.

“Get the hell out of my office or I’ll send security after you.”

Rising, I hold my palms up. “Maybe if you take five minutes from trying to ruin your daughter’s life, you could take a nice clear look at your own.” The papers crumple in his fist and I shrug. “Suit yourself, old man. Do what you want with it but do hear what I have to say,” I tell him lowly. “Lilith is my girlfriend. I fucking love her. And there’s not a goddamned thing you can do about it. So stay the hell out of our lives.”

Fuck, that felt good.

“You’ll pay for this, Grant!” he bellows after me. “Just wait! Lilith will eventually leave you high and dry. It’s what she does. And Lance Peterson will be waiting with open arms. Mark my words, son.”

I let him know exactly what I think about his words…

I flip off the great Bart Hamilton.

Fuck, that felt really good.