Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2) Page 2

  “You still think this is the best idea?” Lauren walks into the living room with a large cardboard box. She places it on the coffee table and searches for a marker to label it.

  I take my glasses off and rub my eyes. God, I’m exhausted. I’m not sure if it’s due to the accident or if all of the emotional bullshit is finally taking its toll.

  “Laur—I can’t stay. He’s going to want the house for his… his—” I place a hand over my mouth as I begin dry heaving. Yeah, I’m not ever going to feel comfortable discussing my husband and my former best friend having a baby together. I make my way into the kitchen and vomit into the sink, as it’s the closest thing to me.

  “Damn, Elizabeth. Have you gone a day in the past few weeks without vomiting when someone brings up David?”

  I rinse the sink and my mouth out with water while giving a weak shrug. I can feel the tears forming, right on cue, because it’s not enough to be sick—I have to become an emotional basket case as well. I can’t stop crying lately. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was—oh sweet Jesus.

  “Lauren, we need to run to the pharmacy.”

  Two minutes. The longest two minutes of my life. I sit on the edge of the bathtub, my legs bouncing and my head in my hands while Lauren paces.

  “How did this happen?”

  I pop my head up long enough to give her a look, “Really?”

  “Stop, we don’t need it.”

  He looks over his shoulder at me, “Are you sure? We don’t have to try tonight.”

  “I want to do this and I really want to feel you inside of me. Nothing else…please.”

  Those words are coming back to bite me now, aren’t they? I cannot be pregnant. Not right now. Six weeks ago? Sure. I thought my life was a fairy tale.

  My phone chimes at me, letting me know it’s been two minutes. Lauren stops pacing and we just stare uncertainly at each other.

  “You want me to look?”

  I nod and she grabs the test off the back of the toilet. When she bites her lip, I know.

  “It’s positive, love. You’re pregnant.”

  “Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. It’s probably wrong. The test is wrong. We just need to go out and um, buy a different brand.” I can hear the hysteria in my voice.

  She sits down on the rug near my feet. “Let’s call David. He has a right to know.”

  I rub my eyes, “No. I cannot do that to him. Make him choose between me and…her.” I say the word “her” with as much disgust as I can muster.

  “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If Jess is really pregnant, then I’m the Queen of England. Call him.”

  I place my hand on her shoulder, “No. No one can know about this. I just need a minute to think.”

  “You’ve been served.” I thought up until this point the worst three words I’d ever heard were, “David, I’m pregnant,” but this was worse. Far worse. To say I was blindsided by it would be the understatement of the fucking year. I knew she wasn’t ready to talk, but for her to just end things permanently? Yeah, I’m not taking this well. I’ve got a death grip on the table and I can feel what little control I have left slipping away. What the fuck is she thinking? I’m breathing like I’m on the verge of a fucking heart attack. Maybe I am.

  “David, I need you to keep it together—at least until I can get us out of here.”

  Mike is standing next to me, trying to keep me from drawing any more attention to myself. Apparently, yelling the word “fuck” is frowned upon in establishments like this.

  I manage to speak around my gritted teeth, “I’m fine. Don’t I seem fine?”

  He makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like laughter before throwing cash on the table and hauling my ass out of there. I suspect he flashed his badge at some point to keep everyone inside calm.

  Once we reach my truck, he faces me. “Man, I know she picked a really shitty way of going about this, but you need to calm down and go talk to her.”

  My voice is cold when I respond, “Go talk to her? Really, Detective? That’s the best idea you’ve got? I’m pretty sure that talking to me is the last thing she wants to do as she just had me served.” I walk around him and climb into my truck.

  “David—let’s leave your truck here. Just come back to my place—”

  I cut him off, “No, I don’t want to be around anybody right now. I need a fuckin’ minute, okay?”

  Mike nods, his mouth a grim line, “Let me know if you change your mind.”

  I drive around aimlessly for hours. I can’t believe it’s come to this. I mean, I guess I should’ve seen it coming—we broke each other beyond repair. I guess I held onto this hope though that we could find our way back.

  Everything was for her—the long nights in other towns and every back breaking second spent away from her. I did it all for her, but I lost sight of that. I didn’t let her know that she was the most important thing and then I pushed having a kid on top of it. I should’ve listened to my dad. Just thinking of him dredges up a cesspool of memories and I don’t want to face them right now.

  After attending his funeral, I tried to go back to normal. I tried, but the weight of the fucking world was on my shoulders. I had to make sure my mom was okay while still running a business and being a husband. I fucked it up though. I put my wife last—when I did spend time at home (which was almost never), I hated her pitying glances. She was always checking in on me and I couldn’t even tell her about the conversation my dad and I had the night before he died.

  I finished up some jobs early one weekend and my mom was out of town staying with her sister. By all rights, my ass should’ve been home with my wife, but I didn’t want to spend another weekend of tense silence and her walking around on eggshells. I drove back to town and found a local bar. I planned to drink until I could only remember the good stuff when Jess walked in. I was a bit surprised to see her out and about without Nate, especially considering that this bar wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods.

  Her eyes found mine almost immediately and she pulled up a chair next to me. I expected her to start talking, but she just sat silently as I ordered shot after shot.

  Jess surprised me when she placed a hand on my thigh. She ran her hand back and forth lightly across the denim and I looked up, expecting to see pity. What I saw was lust. When she caught me staring at her, she bit down on her lower lip.

  “Car. Now.” I growled the words out, expecting her to slap me across the face and leave.

  She grabbed her purse and leaned in next to my ear, “I brought my car. I’ll drive us.”

  Like it was an everyday occurrence.

  Once we got into her car, she started chattering away about finding a hotel room.

  “No. Drive out of the city.”

  She looked upset, but drove us out into the country. I took her roughly in the backseat of her SUV and I didn’t feel a damn thing.

  I was numb.

  When I finally showed up at the house the next day, I looked at Beth and willed myself to feel some emotion over what I’d done. Nothing.

  It was like feeling required too much effort. I wish I could go back to the night she admitted she’d been taking birth control. I should’ve been man enough to accept her words for what they were—a sign that she was feeling alone. Instead I drove to the first bar I could find and drowned my sorrows in a bottle of whiskey, just as I had when my Dad died.

  I wasn’t even surprised to see Jess there this time. By the time she walked over, I was so far gone that the words just fell out of my mouth. I’d expected her to be shocked by Beth’s behavior, but she said she knew and had tried to talk her out of it. Fuck, looking back on it, she told me everything I wanted to hear and I just ate it up.

  When I stumbled out of that bar, I was beyond wasted. She took my keys and I briefly remember wondering how she was sober. She drove outside of town on some little deserted county road before putting the truck in park and climbing onto my lap.

  By that point, I didn’t giv
e a flying fuck if either of us was married—I pulled the flimsy straps on her tank top down and took a nipple in my mouth while she worked on getting my jeans off. I can’t remember a lot of the details after that.

  All she talked about as she drove us back to the bar so she could get her car was how we were perfect for each other—shit I didn’t take seriously at the time. I managed to make it home in one piece and I stood for several minutes outside the closed bedroom door, still too inebriated to feel any sense of remorse. I thought I was going to remain numb to my actions. I was wrong.

  That next morning, I woke up in the guest room with a splitting headache and a strong urge to vomit when it hit me. I cheated. More than once. I cheated on a good woman who had done nothing but support my sorry ass while I got my business off the ground. I couldn’t speak to her, I was so scared I’d lose my shit and break down in front of her.

  The guilt was all encompassing. It was this weight on me. I wanted to throw myself at her feet and confess every sin before begging for her mercy and forgiveness. I couldn’t do that to her though, so I kept my mouth shut. Beth took my silence as a sign I was still angry at her and when she blinked rapidly and turned away, it was like someone ripped my fucking heart out of my chest. My emotions decided to return with vengeance. I bought the tickets to Mexico without a second thought. I wanted me and her alone on a beach—I guess I thought we’d reconnect and it’d be like it never happened. The truth always has a way of coming out though.

  The third and last time was when I was working out of town. I heard a knock on my hotel room door late one evening and she was there. I don’t even know how she tracked me down. I’d had a few drinks at dinner, so I was feeling a nice buzz. I had her up against the wall with my hand on her throat. I’d dodged her text messages after Nate left and I was so fucking pissed that she had shown up. I took my frustration out on her body. It wasn’t like I was in love with her, hell I didn’t even like her the majority of the time. One thing I am damn sure of is that I had a condom on when I slipped inside of her, just as I had the previous times.

  My phone rang afterward while Jess was in the bathroom. It was Beth and she sounded scared. When she admitted that someone had broken into the house, I knew it had to end. I had to be the kind of husband my dad was for my mom. I owed it to him. Shit, we were trying to have a kid. When Beth and I hung up, I started tossing all my shit into a bag. Jess walked out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her and I tossed her clothes at her. “Get your clothes on and leave. We’re done here.”

  She tried arguing with me, but I wouldn’t hear it. What we had done to Beth was unforgivable and I didn’t know how, but I would make it up to her—even if it took me the rest of my life.

  I glance down at the clock and see that it’s still early—I bet the liquor store is open. I can’t deal with this sober.

  I’m pregnant. I lie in bed and stroke my flat belly with the palm of my hand. I can’t believe it. I’m still trying to figure out who I was before the accident and now I’m going to be responsible for another person? I don’t know that I’ve ever been as scared as I am right now.

  I mean how do single parents do it? Financially, I can barely afford to cover myself and the thought of paying for diapers and daycare is enough to send my pulse racing. I wonder if the baby will have his blue eyes. The thought startles me.

  David.

  My Achilles heel.

  I am not certain of a lot of things right now, but the way I feel about him is a done deal. I love him with every fiber of my being, but his betrayal has cut me to the bone. The floodgate of memories of my life with him turned lust into love. I didn’t want to file for divorce, but how could I ever look at him again without imagining him with Jess? How could he look at me and not see me with Landon?

  It’s like when you break a glass. You might be able to super glue the pieces back together, but you’ll still be able to see the cracks from where everything splintered apart.

  I lie in the dark with the moonlight streaming in from the window above the bed. It feels like hours that I’ve been left alone, stray thoughts running rampant through my head.

  Landon.

  I haven’t heard from him since that night and I feel as though there’s still a lot to process as far as memories go.

  It’s incredibly frustrating being locked outside of your own memories. I gained quite a few when Landon showed up six weeks ago, but there’s this nagging feeling that I’m still missing something crucial.

  Lauren seemed patient enough at first to answer my unending questions, but I think even she’s run out of answers for me. I’m on my own.

  Despite my best efforts, my body gives in to sleep.

  As I choke down a piece of dry toast the next morning, I decide to research pregnancy so I know what’s to come. I Google the word and I’m visually assaulted with site after site, each proclaiming to be the web’s leader in pregnancy and childbirth, whatever the hell that means.

  I click on one at random and it immediately asks for the first day of my last period or the date I conceived. I don’t see an option labeled, “I was just involved in a serious car wreck and suffered amnesia, so your guess is as good as mine.”

  I know I wasn’t pregnant right after the wreck. The emergency room doctors ran lab-work for that. I grab the calendar off the desk and flip back to June.

  The wreck was the night of June twelfth and I didn’t leave the hospital until June sixteenth.

  Possible conception dates…

  Well, we didn’t waste any time once we got home—looks like the lucky dates are either June sixteenth or seventeenth.

  I type in June sixteenth and a blue box pops up. “Congratulations, Mommy! Your baby’s due date is March 9th, 2015.”

  I’m eight weeks along according to the website’s charts and I could’ve had a positive pregnancy test as early as June thirtieth.

  Eight weeks!

  June thirtieth!

  What in the hell have I been doing for the last six weeks? How did I miss this?

  It’s almost August and I’ve been carrying this little person around for the last six weeks without knowing.

  I begin clicking at random and a video pops up of what appear to be the cursed mer-people from The Little Mermaid.

  Apparently, it’s meant to be a video of what my baby looks like at this stage. The baby is half an inch long and growing its arms and legs.

  I choke back tears as I watch the computer animated embryo dance around on the screen.

  We made that.

  Regardless of all the shit, he and I were perfect together in that moment and we made this.

  If only he hadn’t done the same thing with my former best friend.

  The alarm clock won’t stop its shrill ringing. I roll over and try to use my hand and feel for it.

  “Beth, turn off your alarm.” I mumble the words before realizing I’m not at home and my wife hasn’t been in my bed for over six weeks now.

  I finally locate the clock and mash every button on it, but the ringing won’t stop. My head is pounding and my mouth feels like cotton. I don’t even know if I’m hungover or still drunk from the night before. It’s hard to keep track. I’ve been drinking like this since I was served divorce papers.

  Come to think of it, I don’t know if I’ve sobered up enough long enough to experience a true hangover.

  The ringing stops and then immediately starts up again. It’s my fucking phone.

  I keep my eyes closed and press it against my ear. “Hello?” My voice sounds like a rusted gate, as though it hasn’t been used in a while.

  “Where the hell are you?” The female voice is definitely not my wife’s. “You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago, or did you forget that you agreed to come to this doctor visit with me?”

  I sigh, “Jess, I—shit, I’ll be there in ten.”

  I end the call and finally open my eyes to the destruction before me. There are empty glass bottles everywhere and a chair is
on its side. I mean, this hotel room wasn’t five-star to begin with, but this is something else entirely.

  You have got to get your shit together, man.

  I sidestep the warzone that is the hotel floor and make my way into the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I need a shower, but I don’t have the time for it.

  My eyes are bloodshot. I look like death warmed over. My beard is poking out in every direction—I look like a bear that missed out on hibernation. As I grab my toothbrush, I can hear Beth lecturing me about the importance of good oral hygiene. God, all these little reminders of her are going to be the death of me.

  I walk into the medical building and find Jess sitting in the corner of the waiting room, texting like her life depends on it. I go over and take a seat across from her.

  “You’re late.” She doesn’t even bother looking up from her phone.

  “Looks like you’re still sitting in the waiting room, so I can’t be that late.”

  She looks up long enough to roll her eyes at me before going back to her phone.

  Fine with me. We can sit in silence for the entire appointment.

  I study her as she continues to tap out texts on her phone. She’s the anti-Beth in every way. She may possess that long and lean look that women everywhere go crazy trying to achieve, but I’m a man. I love that my wife is so tiny when standing next to me and the fact that she has curves for days has never hurt either.

  God, I miss her.

  Jess notices me staring at her and mistakes it for attraction. She pouts her lower lip out, “I know you feel bad about being late so I’ll let you make it up to me later.” She winks and I resist the urge to hurl onto her expensive heels.