Three Days Later

 

“You hate it?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that,” my mom says with guilty haste as Chloe hides behind her mocha Frappuccino.

“Then why do you look like you’re going to throw up your Caesar salad?”

Standing in front of the changing room mirror, I peer at my reflection, tilting my head from side to side to examine my black dress. She’s right. I look like I’m ready to attend a funeral. But the endless shopping bags sitting at my feet seem to have a common theme—everything is black.

I suppose it’s fitting as it matches my mood.

It’s been three days since I last saw London, and although he’s checked in, I haven’t really had much of a chance to speak to him. He said Emily’s fever has finally broken, but she’s still not any better, so she’s in the hospital for observation.

Her seizures, he explained, are a medical mystery because they can’t seem to pinpoint what exactly is wrong. She’s been to endless doctors, but none of them have an answer. It was on the tip of my tongue to suggest that this mystery could, of course, be solved if they could study her biology and that of her parents. But seeing as her father is a colossal dickhead, they’re stuck with half answers.

The need to see Lincoln just deepens every day.

I desperately wanted to see London to offer my support, but I knew that wasn’t an option. Belle was no doubt with him, which is how it’s supposed to be. But regardless of knowing all this, I still wanted to curl under the covers and eat a gallon of ice cream.

Martha has been on Lincoln watch, but to no avail. Just…where is he? It’s been several days. He can’t stay hidden away, but neither can I.

“How about I see if they have that beautiful white dress that was in the window in your size?” suggests Chloe. She doesn’t wait for a reply, leaving me and my mom alone to talk.

Mom knows the basics, but she doesn’t seem too upset that I haven’t been able to see London. When I arrived home from my date at nine at night in a cab, she was hopeful I’d come to my senses, but when I explained the situation, she and my father didn’t hide their disappointment.

I know this is going to take time, but some days, I feel as though I’m banging my head against a brick wall.

“You’re right.” I run my hands over the little black dress. “I could use another color.” Closing the curtain behind me, I begin to undress but not before I quietly hunt through my bag to check my cell.

London hasn’t called or sent a text, but that’s no surprise, seeing as they usually frown upon using your cell in a hospital. “What do you feel like for dinner?” I call out as I begin to undress.

“I’m not sure, sweetie. We just had lunch.” She’s right, but when I’m stressed, I eat.

“I’m thinking Mexican. Do you remember when I was a kid, you used to make that bean salad thing? What was it called?” I ask as I slide the dress onto the hanger, oblivious to my surroundings.

She’s deathly silent, but I figure she’s trying to remember the name.

The thought of her spicy rice salad and amazing enchiladas has my stomach growling loudly. I know I just ate, but nothing is wrong with planning ahead. Just because the rest of my life doesn’t have any structure doesn’t mean my meals have to follow the same pattern.

Once I’m dressed, I gather my shopping bags and rip the red velvet curtain open, not looking where I’m going. “Wasn’t it called…holy mother of god!” I stop dead in my tracks, my mouth hinged wide open, my eyes the size of saucers.

If my hands weren’t filled full, I would be scrubbing at my eyeballs, hoping to erase the image of Lucifer herself as she stands before me.

Time comes to a standstill when I turn to look at my mom. She looks exactly how I feel, but I suppose Kayla Sinclair is renowned for eliciting this hollow response from people.

Here she is, London’s mom, feet away, looking regal and imposing, and here I am, in baggy sweats, a top knot, and a white T-shirt splashed with marinara sauce from the spaghetti I had at lunch.

I’ve dreamed of this day often—the day I told Kayla Sinclair what I thought of her once and for all. But now that the day has arrived, I’m left with a mouth full of nothing. Zilch. Nada.

She is the only person in this world who still makes me feel like an outsider, nothing but white trash, and by the way she looks down her upturned nose at me, I see that her opinion hasn’t changed. She curls her red painted pout, but nothing is welcoming about the gesture.

“Dear lord, I didn’t realize they had a charity day today.” Her voice is exactly how I remember—cold, calculating, and cruel.

My mom instantly retreats because Kayla still gets to her too.

If she wasn’t such a gigantic bitch, I would say she was pretty. She looks terrific, and I’m certain she is a vampire—that would explain her bloodsucking attitude—as she hasn’t aged a day since I last saw her. The memory of that day rushes back, and I take a steadying breath.

“You’re just one in a long line of many, a warm body for the night, and if I know my son, he slummed it with you to remind you…you’re a Brooks, and he’s a Sinclair. Don’t you ever forget it.”

That’s what she said to me when I attempted to act civil, but she doesn’t have a decent bone in her body. I’ll never forget how small she made me feel.

She is wearing an Armani navy pantsuit; I know the style all too well. A gold coiled belt hangs loosely around her thin waist, and flashy matching stilettos complete the outfit.

Her silky blonde hair is pulled back into an elaborate chignon and fastened with a jeweled clip. Her makeup highlights the iciness to her blue eyes. They would be stunning if not for the fact they’d strike you dead with a look alone.

She is bronzed, toned, and dashing with no visible flaws. But within, she is a landmine of ugliness just waiting to explode. When she whips her cold eyes my mom’s way, I know we’re about to witness that cruelty firsthand.

“I hardly recognized you, Delores. Time hasn’t been kind to you.”

I blink once, stunned. It takes a lot to shock me these days, but I can’t even jump in with a quick response because I feel like my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth.

However, when she turns her cheek with military precision and directs her cruel glower my way, I know she’s only just begun. “London told me you were back,” she reveals, not a flicker of emotion behind her words. “However, he failed to mention that you came back, if possible, in worse condition than when you left. He must feel sorry for you. He was always bringing home strays.” She examines me from head to toe, visibly appalled by my appearance.

I suddenly feel three feet tall.

“How dare you, Kayla. You haven’t changed,” spits my mother while I leave crescent moons in my palms as I bunch my fists.

“I’ve changed for the better,” she arrogantly counters. “The same can’t be said for you. You did me a favor. Bobby Ferris was nothing but a pretty face, and he’s not even that anymore, so I hope it was worth it.”

Kayla has no problem airing her dirty laundry for all to hear. It makes her feel superior, but underneath her mask, I can see it—tiny cracks threatening to give her away. She uses her wealth as an excuse to see herself as better than others, but she’s not. In the end, we all die. It’s what we do when we’re alive that makes the difference.

Just like right now.

My mother’s pain is my undoing, and I stop hiding in the shadows. This woman is nothing but smoke and mirrors. Remembering my roots and who I am, I let go of the fear because Kayla Sinclair is nobody.

Just as she’s about to engage in another onslaught, I step forward and begin a slow clap. Chloe has returned with the dress, which hangs limply in her hand. Two jaded store clerks tidy the shelves because it’s most likely just another day in Tinseltown. Everyone can seem to co-exist, bar Kayla. It’s time she learned her place.

When I’ve got her attention, I sigh with one final clap. “Isn’t it exhausting?” I ask, ensuring my gaze never wavers from Kayla’s.

She straightens her steel rod spine. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I tsk her. “Let’s not play games. You talk big, but you can’t even look at my mom without wishing you had her life.”

My mom grabs my bicep gently to draw me back and not start a war. But I shrug from her hold. “All these fancy jewels, they’re nothing but a smokescreen to hide behind. You’re miserable. You’ve been miserable since someone you always saw as your lesser took something away from you that wasn’t even yours.”

She flinches but crosses her arms to demonstrate strength. I’m not fooled. “I love your son, and guess what? He loves me. I know what you did…you nasty bitch.” There is so much venom behind my words, I almost scare myself. Almost.

“But we’re not kids anymore. None of us are. You holding onto this grudge is fucking sad. Get over it, Kayla. Move on. I’m going to be in your son’s life whether you like it or not. And I can assure you, this time”—I step forward, pinning her to the spot where she stands—“I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

If looks could kill, I’d be smoldering where I stand.

“If you ever insult me or my family again, I will make sure it’s the last thing you do because I grew up and made something of my life. I deal with people like you all the time. You don’t scare me…I feel sorry for you.”

She wets her lips as she swallows.

I’ve struck a nerve, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say the glistening blue to Kayla’s eyes are unshed tears, but that’s impossible.

Ensuring she knows I mean every word I just said, I scowl at her because this is a warning. Next time, I won’t be so nice.

She’s left speechless, which means my job here is done.

I go to turn but am stopped mid spin when Kayla reveals we haven’t even begun. “I could say the same thing about you…I feel sorry that you believe London could ever love you. You left him. I never did. Never forget that. Another person who never left was Belle…the mother of his child.”

Slow breaths escape me as I measure my breathing. She’s doing this to bait me, and it’s working.

“That poor girl. Such a sickly little thing. Thank goodness they have one another because there is no greater bond than the one with your child. London may say he loves you, hell, he may even believe it to be true, but if push came to shove, he would never choose you over his family.”

My mother casts her eyes downward as Kayla’s claims are reflective of hers. But she’s wrong. They both are.

“I would never ask him to choose.”

Her confidence inflates as she examines her freshly polished nails. “You may not, but do you think Belle or his daughter wouldn’t? London is weak. He’s just like his father. It only took a few feeble threats to convince him to stay away from you. If he really loved you like you claim he does, and that your love is undying, then why didn’t he try harder to find you? Why didn’t he tell me to go to hell? Because, in the end, you weren’t worth the hassle.”

My boldness withers as I state, “He was just a kid. He thought he was doing the right thing.”

She laughs at my naïve claims. “That may be true, but when he became an adult, he had responsibilities…to his daughter and Belle. He chose them, Holland, so really, you wouldn’t have to ask him to choose because there isn’t a choice to be made.”

A single tear scores my flesh, but I stand tall, unbending.

Kayla has hit a nerve, and she knows it. She knows that Belle and London share something that I don’t—they have history. He may claim to have never loved her, but she knows him; she has ten years’ worth of knowledge that I don’t.

Three days ago was our first date, and although I’ve known him since I can remember, in some ways, he is a stranger. I’m just getting to know who he is.

I suddenly feel sick.

Am I fooling myself? Did I really come here, thinking after ten years apart, we could rekindle our spark, start afresh, and then live happily ever after?

As Kayla gives me the same look she did when I turned up on her doorstep, I feel it, the same insecurity which plagued me every single day of my life. People like me don’t get a happily ever after. This town is unforgiving, and somehow, it always seems to remind you of where you belong.

And I don’t belong here.

“Oh, darling, don’t cry,” Kayla patronizes with a winner’s grin. “You tried, but you failed. I suppose you get that tenacity from your father.”

“I can’t believe I once called you my best friend,” my mom spits, but it’s too late. “Come on, Holland, let’s go.” She loops her arm through mine as I stand motionless, angry tears slashing down my cheeks. I’m prepared to kill Kayla with my bare hands.

But the fact my mother hasn’t denied any of Kayla’s claims has me believing she sees them as truth. She believes London would never choose me—she’s expressed as much.

I’m so angry with myself for allowing her to get under my skin again, but with the walls closing in on me, I have no other choice but to break free from my mother’s hold and run out of the store.

I continue running, tears burning my vision as her words char away my resolve.

“Because, in the end, you weren’t worth the hassle.”

I burst out the door, only coming to a stop when I’m away from the mall. A few shoppers look at me as I can only imagine what I look like, cursing and crying loudly. But let this town judge; it’s all it’s ever done anyway.

I suddenly miss New York.

My cell chimes from my back pocket and although every part of me is telling me to ignore it, I can’t because I have no doubt it’s my mom, asking where I am. Not wanting to worry her further because that’s all I seem to do, I breathlessly answer without looking at who the caller is.

It’s not my mom.

“Princess?”

Oh, god.

The moment I hear London’s voice, I cover my mouth to mute my whimpers. But he’s not fooled.

“What’s wrong? Is everything all right?”

No, everything is not all right, and him calling just adds to the shitstorm.

“Talk to me. What’s the matter?”

Taking steady breaths in and out, I suck up my tears because crying isn’t going to accomplish a damn thing. With a wavering sniffle, I do the only thing I can do in this situation, and that’s be honest.

“Ho-how’s Emily?”

He’s quiet, his heavy exhalations exposing his concerns. “She’s doing better. The doctors think she can come home tomorrow.”

“That’s such gr-great news,” I fumble, biting my cheek to stop this overpowering breakdown.

“Holland, tell me what’s going on.” Whenever he uses my name, I know things are about to get serious.

With nothing left to lose, I look into the blue sky and wish I could get lost in its vastness and not be found for a while. “I saw your mom.”

Silence.

“What did she say?”

I laugh, but it’s filled with bitterness and contempt. “What didn’t she say?”

“Where are you?”

It’s just like London to swoop on in and save me, but Kayla’s cruel words have crapped all over his loyalty.

“I’m at the mall. I’m here with my mom and Chloe.”

“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”

“No, don’t,” I say, my voice laden with exhaustion. “Your mom might see us together and claim you’re only here because you have nothing better to do.”

“What?” he snarls, his anger almost smiting me through the phone.

“Yup, I had a lovely talk with her. She made it very clear she is unconvinced by our relationship.”

“I couldn’t give a fuck what she thinks,” he barks. The sound of his feet pounding heavily along the flooring alerts me to the fact he’s on the run. “And neither should you.”

He’s right, but I can’t shake what she said from my brain. “I know, but she made some valid points.” My confession feels like acid burning up my throat. “She said it only took a few weak threats to keep you away from me. And the reason you didn’t try harder to defy her was because I wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“Oh my fuck,” he snarls, his anger red raw. “She is a fucking piece of work. You don’t believe her, do you?”

Toeing over a small rock in front of me to distract myself from crying, I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I…I don’t know.”

London hisses in a pained breath. “Princess, stop it. She’s just messing with your head. It’s what she does best.”

He’s speaking from experience, but what she said, it’s a new kind of torture.

I want to believe him, I do. “She said that, for whatever reason, if you had to choose, Belle and Emily would always come first. I told her I would never, never ask that of you,” I explain, needing him to know. “But she pointed out that even as an adult, you didn’t come looking for me because you had a responsibility to your family. So, in a way, there would never be a choice to be made. And I understand that, they’re your family—”

“You’re my family,” he stresses, his desperation threatening to unleash a new river of tears. “Just please stay put. I’m coming.”

“No, please don’t.” My lower lip trembles as I curse history and how it has the uncanny ability to repeat itself. “I need time—”

“No, fuck time!” he furiously interrupts, his pace quickening as I hear paging in the background. “We’ve had enough time. I am done.”

“Done?” I’m almost afraid to ask.

“Yes, fucking done with this! Bring your parents to my house. I’ll make sure mine are there. We are doing this once and for all.”

“Wh-what?” I stumble not only over my words but my feet as well. I use the brick wall to support me from tripping over.

But London’s truck engine roars to life, hinting this conversation is also done…for now.

“Sweetie, there really is no need to take us out for dinner. After today, all I want is to get some takeout and have a night in.” I squirm in my seat, unable to make eye contact with my mom as she looks unknowingly over her shoulder at me.

It’s because of today that I’m sitting in the back of my parents’ car, reminding myself why I’m doing this—for the greater good.

“Your mother is right, Holland.” My dad clenches the steering wheel, hard eyes on the road. “So help me god, if I ever see Kayla, she will regret speaking to my girls that way.”

I refrain from saying that he’ll get his wish soon enough. I’m certain my mom can smell the deceit pouring off me, but she smiles and turns back around.

I had to lure my parents here on the falsehood that I had promised Chloe we’d all go out for dinner. After today, I said it was the perfect way to take my mind off things. I felt like a complete asshole for lying, but what other choice did I have?

They won’t come willingly, so here’s hoping I can lead a horse to water…

Sighing, I rub my temples because after this is over with, I’m going to sleep for a week. I have no idea what I’m walking into; based on London’s tone the last time I talked to him, things are about to get messy.

When London’s modern apartment complex in Santa Monica comes into view, I rub my sweaty palms down my dress. I had the good sense to change because the next time I come face to face with Kayla, I’m going to be prepared.

“Just park the car here, Dad.” I point up ahead to a row of parking spots just outside the front entrance where London told me to. He does but leaves the engine running.

Unsnapping my belt, I gather all my strength and put my game face on. “Come in.” When my dad turns to look at me, clearly confused, I remember why I’m here. “Knowing Chloe, she won’t be ready. I don’t want you waiting out here.” My smile is strained, but I hope he reads it as just my frayed nerves after today.

When there is silence, I claw my thighs through the thin material of my dress. If he refuses, I don’t know what I’ll do. My heart is racing, and a light sheen of perspiration gathers at the small of my back. This can’t fail.

“Oh, she’s right.” When my mom unfastens her seat belt, I unclench my fists and steady my breathing. “Chloe will probably be waiting for us to tell her which handbag we like better.” One down, one to go.

My father watches me closely; it’s apparent he senses something is amiss. I blame my suspicious nature on him.

My mom reaches over him and switches off the car. “For Pete’s sake, Bobby, do you really want to look like some creep, sitting in an idling car?”

Her feistiness has me smiling, which is exactly what I need to employ my courtroom smarts and slip on my perfect poker face. “She’s right, Dad. This is how every serial killer book starts.” A small smile tugs at his mouth.

I step out of the car, internally crossing my fingers that my parents do as well. They do.

Exhaling lightly, I lead the way to the entrance. London gave me the number to punch into the keypad to enter. Once I do, I hold the glass door open for them. “This is a lovely complex,” my mom says as we step into the bright, contemporary foyer.

I nod, too afraid to speak.

We catch the elevator to the fifth floor, and when the door opens and I’m greeted with the ocean views straight to the west and all the way up the Malibu coastline, I can’t shake the nostalgia of when I first saw it. I didn’t know what I was in for—kind of like now.

As we walk the glassed hallway, my mother and father chat about the wonderful view. I allow them this moment of grace because when I arrive at door 515, I know there won’t be many of them for a while.

Measuring my breaths, I brace my knuckles against the door and knock twice.

Here we go. Please, let this work.

When the door opens and London stands before me, tears instantly prick my eyes. I’m so happy to see him that this seems to be the only response I have. My parents, however, don’t share my sentiment.

“What the hell?”

London and I lock eyes, and for a fraction in time, the turmoil settles into the background, surrounding me with nothing but his warmth. When he skims his fingers down my cheek, I instinctively lean into his touch.

“I missed you,” he confesses, uncaring my dad is about to explode.

“I missed you, too. Are they here?” He nods, before stepping from the doorway to permit us entry. My father, sadly, has other ideas.

“What is this? Holland, why is he here?” His confusion tears out my heart because I never wanted it to come to this.

I peer up at London from under my lashes, afraid.

“I’m here, Mr. Ferris, because this is my home. I asked Holland to bring you here.” London is my voice because mine has suddenly gone into hiding.

“What on earth for?” he snaps, before adding, “You know what? It doesn’t matter. We’re not staying. Come on, Dee.”

“No!” I spin so quickly, the world blurs before me. “Please stay. For me. I’m sorry I lied to you, but…”

“That’s all you seem to be doing lately,” he says while I flinch, saddened.

“That’s not true,” I argue, beseeching my father to listen. He’s so fucking stubborn. But I know that look. I see it every time I look in the mirror. “I’ve told you everything, but you haven’t wanted to listen. So please, listen now.”

He has his arm around my mom, and just like always, he’s shielding her from harm. In a way, he and London aren’t so different after all. “Holland, is this some sort of an ambush?” my mother asks, visibly distressed.

Oh god, I need to pull my shit together, but I can barely speak.

London stands by my side, reaching for my hand. I glance down at the connection, and it gives me the strength I need. “This isn’t Holland’s doing, it’s mine. My parents are inside.”

He’s just given them a heads-up, but my father doesn’t appreciate the sentiment. “There is no way I am stepping foot inside your home.”

This is just going from bad to worse.

But London is just as stubborn as my dad. “I understand, but I want you to know that I love your daughter. I always have.” My love for this man is immeasurable. I squeeze his fingers and smile. “I stayed away from her because I thought I was keeping her safe, but I wasn’t. What I should have done is what I’m going to do now.

“You can kick my ass again once this is done, but I ask that now, you be the bigger man here. My parents are certainly not, but I’m desperate, Mr. Ferris. I can’t stand to see Holland hurt, and after today, this needs to end. I am going to be in your daughter’s life whether you like it or not. I’m sorry I’m not who you would choose for her, but when it comes to love, there isn’t a choice to make—it chooses you.”

He looks down at me, his stormy eyes poignant. “And I choose Holland. Always.”

I have no hope of keeping the tears at bay. He is saying this because after what his mom said, he wants me to know that she’s wrong. That I was right all along—this is forever.

“And I choose you, London,” I whisper, salty tears slipping over my parted lips.

“And that makes me the luckiest son of a bitch alive,” he counters, brushing away my sadness with the back of his hand.

“Please,” I beg my parents, my hopeful gaze pinging from one to the other.

My father is unmoved as he looks at London with nothing but contempt and at me with nothing but disappointment. But my mom, our forever peacemaker, looks down at my hand joined with London’s and sighs.

“Okay.” And the world has hope once again.

“Dee!” My dad turns to her, horrified.

My mom shakes her head, gently shrugging from my father’s arms. “He’s right, Bobby. It’s time we ended this. And besides, Kayla had no right to speak to Holland that way. It’s evident she knows nothing.”

A strangled sob catches in my throat because she has acknowledged London’s and my relationship as just that. She has accepted that this is real.

“You’re right, Ms. Brooks, she doesn’t.” London needs to stop talking because I’m seconds away from climbing him like a tree. He recognizes the look and smirks. “Please, come in.”

He steps aside, offering the olive branch, and my mom takes it.

When she enters his home, she pulls back her shoulders and stands proud. She displays nothing but sheer strength—an invincible woman who won’t allow the ghosts of the past to haunt her anymore.

My father is stuck between a rock and a hard place, but he won’t allow his wife to go into battle alone. Their devotion has never faltered after all these years, and it’s time Kayla lets this vendetta go. I can only hope when she sees them together, sees that their love is real, she will understand that what London said is true—love chooses you.

He follows her, making sure to eyeball London on the way in. London blows out a silent breath, probably thankful he’s still standing as he closes the door.

We stand, waiting for him to show us the way because, to keep Kayla here, he may have resorted to tying her down. The image leaves me grinning.

He leads us into his beautiful home, and it’s evident my parents are impressed with what they see. The floor-to-ceiling windows make the space bright and cozy. The painting on the far wall in the living room catches my eye once again as I will never forget that sycamore tree flourishing beneath that star-filled sky.

However, all beauty is long forgotten when London’s parents rise slowly from where they sit on the white leather couch.

“Bobby?”

My father’s name passing through Kayla Sinclair’s coral painted lips has me gnashing my teeth. She has no right to speak it, and she especially has no right to look at him the way that she is. But I rein in my anger.

My mom steps beside my father protectively. “Hello, Ralphie.”

London’s father clears his throat as he adjusts the collar on his polo. He is clearly nervous. “Hello, Dee. Bobby.” He nods at my dad, who nods firmly back.

I stand on the sidelines, biting my thumbnail as I watch this unfold. This is so fucking awkward to watch, but I suppose it’s better than seeing a catfight.

Kayla doesn’t even seem to acknowledge anyone else’s presence but my dad’s, and I can’t help but note how different their coupling is. My parents are huddled close, providing support to the other, while London’s parents barely seem to notice the other is standing in the same room.

Kayla commences a slow walk toward my father, eyes wide and mouth parted. I’ve not seen this look on her face before. She looks…almost giddy.

The last time they saw one another, I believe, was when London and I got arrested. Harsh words were spoken, but now, the sunshine has somehow shone a different light on my father. “That’s far enough.” It’s my mom who bursts her bubble, and I refrain from bursting into an amen!

Kayla is jolted to a stop, her happiness soon disappearing. “You owe my daughter an apology. What you said to her today was clearly untrue. London’s loyalty to Holland is more than evident.”

A warmth spreads from head to toe, followed by a trace of cinnamon which whets my appetite. I know without looking that London stands beside me.

“London’s loyalty should be to his family…but I suppose”—Kayla’s lips twist into a sinister grin—“she is the reason London was born in the first place.”

“Kayla, that is enough!” my father shouts, which has me drawing my eyebrows together in confusion.

But she is not deterred. “On the contrary, Bobby, I’m just getting started.”

I don’t know why, but a sheet of panic passes over me. My father suddenly pales. Oh, fuck. What’s going on?

“I’ve kept our secret for long enough, don’t you think?” Kayla smugly says, arching a challenging brow.

“What secret? Bobby, what’s she talking about?” my mom asks, turning to look at him, beseeching him to tell her what’s going on. In response, he sighs as he runs a hand down his exhausted face.

I barely move, too transfixed by the scene in front of me. London’s shallow breaths hint at his utter entrancement as well.

“Oh, Dee, you were always so innocent, so naïve. No wonder Bobby was able to fool you the way he did,” Kayla belittles, smirking a full toothed smile. “I’ve always wondered if you told her.”

“Told me what?” my mother all but yells.

My dad takes a steadying breath while I remind myself to do the same. “Dee…”

But it appears Kayla has to have the last word as she cuts off my father. “I really like him, Dee, and I think he likes me too,” Kayla says in an alien voice because it’s sweet and adolescent. I understand why a moment later. “Do you remember when I said that to you the night of Bobby’s party?”

My mom nods slowly while my father cups the back of his neck as he peers up at the ceiling. Seeking divine intervention maybe?

“Well, the reason I thought that was because the moment your back was turned, he showed me just how much he really did like me. Isn’t that right, Bobby?”

This is the moment my dad tells Kayla Sinclair to go back to the hole she crawled out of, but he doesn’t. Instead, he peers down at my mom and breaks both our hearts. “I’m so sorry, Dee. I wanted to tell you, but it didn’t mean anything to me.”

“What didn’t mean anything to you?” she asks while I suddenly feel sick. Is Kayla implying that she got to my dad first? That she slept with him on the same night my mom did? The night both London and I were conceived.

No, this can’t be true because if that were true…I look up at London who appears to have just connected the dots also.

His confession pains him. “Kayla and I…fooled around the night of the party, but…”

“What?” my mother gasps while I cover my mouth to hold back my vomit.

“She kissed me,” he continues in a rushed breath. “And I kissed her back. I didn’t think you were interested. I was an idiot.” He tugs at his hair in frustration.

“Kissing isn’t the only thing we did,” Kayla declares with triumph. Ralphie stands quiet, unmoved by Kayla’s revelation. But I suppose he always knew he was second pick.

“Bobby, why didn’t you tell me? When I came into your room, I asked about Kayla, and your words were, ‘I like her, but…she’s not you,’” my mom says, shaking her head, enraged. “How could you say that to me after what you did with her? I should have questioned myself because you admitted to liking her.”

Time-out. What exactly did he do?

“Yes, Bobby, how could you? You liked me enough when I was down on my knees before you,” Kayla states boldly while I’m moments away from losing my lunch. London’s lip curls in disgust as he takes a small step backward. “I recall you telling me just how much you liked me, and that you wanted to see where things were headed. Or did you just say that to get into my pants?”

“That was my error of judgment,” he says, finally meeting Kayla’s cold stare.

This is like a game of emotional ping pong as London and I switch attention between our parents.

“And so was your decision.” Kayla arrogantly strolls toward my stunned parents. This is her day. “You only stayed with Dee because she was pregnant with your child, which is ironic, considering my son, who you hate the most in the world, is in the same predicament as you. Who knew you had more in common than you thought.”

“That’s untrue! I love Dee. I always have,” my father passionately claims. “Don’t listen to her lies, Dee.”

I can’t stand this a second longer. I need to know. “Dad, did you sleep…with her?”

My father turns to me, embarrassed and ashamed. I will never look at him in the same light. My hero, the man who can do no wrong in my eyes, has just shattered that illusion forever.

Kayla’s attention flicks my way as though she’s only just realized we are here. “That would be poetic justice, but no. I would never have allowed”—she gestures two fingers between London and me with revulsion—“this if I had.”

A loud, relieved sigh escapes me.

“But now you can see that your parents’ fairy-tale life isn’t so perfect after all. They only stayed together because of you,” she spits, revealing the real reason her hatred for me runs so deep.

In her eyes, I’m the reason for all that’s wrong with her life. If I had never been born, maybe she’d have a shot with my dad. Two best friends, fighting over the same guy. It’s how every good book begins…

She claims that, because of my birth, my father did what was right and that was to stay with my mom. But I refuse to believe I’m the only reason they stayed together. Their love and devotion for one another is clear. Not once have I ever doubted that what they share is real.

“I’ve kept this secret for so long, waiting for the perfect time…so thank you, London, for organizing this little get-together.” London lowers his chin to his chest, humiliated. By attempting to fix things, we’ve somehow made things a shitload worse.

“Now it’s your turn to feel like a cheap whore,” Kayla snarls at my father. “You’re not without fault, Dee. You knew how I felt about him, yet you didn’t care. You broke the cardinal rule of any friendship—don’t sleep with your best friend’s crush.”

This is just too much.

I shouldn’t feel sorry for Kayla, but a small part of me does. This entire time, I thought she was overreacting, seeing as she and my father hadn’t even kissed. But I’ve been wrong. So wrong. He used her, and then he slept with my mom all in the same night—a night which changed all our lives forever.

But regardless, if I’m the reason London was born, then I’ll bear accountability forevermore because a world without London isn’t a world I want to know.

My father reaches for my mother, but she shrugs from his advances. Kayla’s job here is done. “Let’s go, Ralphie. I feel like celebrating.”

Her heels pitter-patter in a satisfied tone on the carpet as she walks toward London and places a kiss on his cheek. He stands rigid, probably in just as much shock as I am. When she fixes those cold steel blue eyes on me, I flinch.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?”

I refuse to be intimidated by her. “What does?” I spit, wanting her gone for good.

But she knows after today, her memory will never be forgotten. “Being betrayed by someone you love.”

Touché.

No matter what she says, she is right. My dad did use her, only to turn around and sleep with her best friend in the same night, resulting in a pregnancy. Kayla was betrayed by her best friend and the boy she loved.

I remain quiet, refusing to entertain her any longer. The damage here is done.

Ralphie looks at my mom with nothing but remorse. I wish he didn’t have such an impenetrable poker face because I’d give a penny for his thoughts. “Goodbye, son.” He pats London on the back before following Kayla out the door.

I need a minute to gather my thoughts.

This entire time, I thought Kayla was hung up on something she should have gotten over long ago, but now I can understand her bitterness and hatred. What a mess.

Cradling my forehead, I quash down the impending headache. My mom looks broken. I need to comfort her, but she shows us just how strong she is. “Bobby, let’s go. We have a lot to discuss.” Her tone is firm, and my dad nods.

He may have been able to dodge this topic for years, but now, it’s time he fessed up to his sins. No wonder he never wanted London in his life—he’d have to face what he did.

My mom turns to me, but I shake my head, knowing what she silently wants. “Go. London can take me home.”

My parents need to talk, and I’ve already heard more than enough. Both London and I need therapy to erase the very graphic images from our minds.

“Okay, sweetie.” She gives me a gentle hug, then nods at London.

“Ms. Brooks, I’m so sorry.”

But she waves him off. “Don’t be. This should have been dealt with years ago. I now understand your mother’s resentment. But regardless of all this”—she smiles at me tenderly—“you were never a regret, Holland. If I had my time again, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Tears prick my eyes.

My father ambles over, his tail between his legs. “I’m sorry, Holland. I should have told you, both of you sooner. I just didn’t see the point in hurting you. It wouldn’t have solved a thing. It still hasn’t.”

London shuffles uncomfortably.

My father acknowledges him briefly. “Don’t hurt my daughter. She is my world, and it seems she is yours too.”

“I won’t,” London replies, never wavering.

They will have their chance to talk, but now, my father has a lot of explaining to do. My parents walk out the door, worlds apart than when they entered. The moment the door closes, I exhale and bend at the waist.

Taking three deep breaths, I process everything, but it still feels surreal. “Princess, I am so sorry. That was not what I intended.”

“I know,” I say, still bent in half.

London allows me the time I need to calm down, but it seems I’ve been on edge since the moment I came back to this fucking town.

“It could be worse,” he states.

I chuckle, but there is no warmth behind it. “How?”

“We could have been brother and sister.”

This time, I laugh, but it’s a mix of humor and wanting to curl into a ball and cry myself to sleep.

Taking one final breath, I straighten, shaking my head. “How is it our life is this fucked up?”

London raises his broad shoulders. “Our life is ours. It may not be ideal, but it seems you literally are the reason for my existence. It’s just more of a reason to reinforce I belong to you”—he brushes my cheek with a feather touch—“and you belong to me. The stars aligned, so who are we to test fate?” he teases.

I smile; his words of comfort are exactly what I need to hear. If this wasn’t so messed up, I could say we are the epitome of star-crossed lovers.

After the events of today, all I want to do is nestle in London’s arms and allow his heartbeat to lull me into a much-needed slumber. But when my cell chimes, sleep will have to wait. Reaching for it from my back pocket, a chill passes over me when I see who the caller is. “Martha?”

“Hello, Holland,” says my usual cheery neighbor. Her grim tone has me biting my cheek. “I know you asked me to call when I saw Lincoln.”

“Yes, that’s right.” London watches me closely.

“Well, dear, he’s here…moving things out.”

I take a physical step backward. “He’s moving out?”

Her hesitation, however, is the icing on this fucking asshole cake. “No, it seems you’re the one who he’s moving out. All your things are on the sidewalk.”

“Motherfucker,” I snarl but quickly backtrack for swearing. “Sorry, Martha. Thank you for calling me. I really appreciate it.” I hang up, seconds away from hurling my phone at the wall.

London spoke of fate. Well, this just confirmed that fate is a sadistic bitch, enjoying a good laugh at my expense.

“What is it?” he asks, gently cupping my curled fist that is crushing the phone to my palm.

“It’s Lincoln.”

His name is an atomic bomb, and the room explodes around us.

London’s nostrils are flared, and his jaw clenches tight. “What about him?”

This was coming, and we both knew it, but that doesn’t make it any easier to digest. “He’s back in New York. All my stuff is on the sidewalk.”

“Motherfucker,” he repeats, understanding my outburst. “So what happens now?”

And that’s the million-dollar question.

But there has only ever been one answer. “I go back to New York and fix this because every dog has its day.”

Today has proved just how correct that saying really is.

Woof.