He said it so matter-of-factly. I try not to jump to conclusions—I mean, he can’t exactly say it’s his student’s car and she stayed over last night.
But he lied with such ease.
I finally catch sight of him through the small slit. It takes me a moment before I realize he’s walking toward me, and I dash back across the house and into the bedroom as silent as a deer in the woods. I slip into his closet, shutting the door behind me. As I try to regain my breath, I flick on the light.
His wardrobe is nothing short of intimidating—designer suits, shirts, pants, shoes, even bags—all meticulously organized. I spy a messenger bag on one of the shelves and peek at the label: Gucci. I sift out a random suit and glance at its label: Dolce & Gabbana. Seriously? If this room wasn’t so small, I’d swear I was in David Beckham’s closet. I feel like his wardrobe is mocking me. Am I the biggest idiot on the planet? Of course this guy is a player. Telling me he’s not ready to have sex with me yet is probably part of his game. The man wears designer clothes and constantly tests himself for STDs—have I been a complete fool this entire time? He’s so damn convincing!
Tommy’s sardonic words replay in my head: Don’t embarrass yourself. . . . It’s pathetic to watch you around him.
The faint sound of the automatic garage door opening yanks me out of my thoughts, and I reflexively flick off the light. Is he leaving with her? I have to see what’s going on. I step out of the closet and grab my bra from my bag. If I’m going to get caught, I at least want my damn nipples to be hidden. I sneak out of the bedroom and back down the hallway. Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I peer through the crack of the door once more. This time, I see her, but her back is facing me. She watches Elijah as he backs the Tahoe out of the garage and parks it in the driveway. She’s blonde.
Of course.
And she’s leaning on the hood of my car.
Self-righteous bitch.
Elijah hops out of the Tahoe and walks back into the garage, out of sight. Her head swivels in his direction, reminding me of an owl stalking its prey, and I take in her pretty profile. I don’t like the way she’s watching his movements. And I especially don’t like that she’s as pretty as he is—they look like a couple. They obviously know each other well, since she has a damn key to his house.
A key to his freaking house!
Suddenly, I don’t feel like staying here a minute longer. I dart back to the bedroom and strip off my sleepwear. I throw on my yellow tank top, then slip into my white denim skirt and slide into my sandals. I can’t believe I’ve been lying to my best friends for weeks over this stupid, sexy, jackass. Just as I hear the automatic garage door close, I storm down the hallway, my bag in tow. As I round the corner, Elijah steps into the house, and I push past him.
“Whoa-whoa-whoa—Kaley,” he says as I stomp off to my car.
I stop to see if the wench scratched my new paint before tossing my bag inside. I try to slide into the driver’s seat before he can catch me, but he grabs my arm before I can get in.
“Kaley!”
“What?” I snap. I try to pull away, but my strength is no match.
“It’s not what you think,” he says.
I let out a jarring laugh. “Right! You need a new line, Slate, I think I’ve heard that one before.” I continue to try to yank my arm free, but he just tightens his grip.
“Let me at least explain!”
I relax my arm and stare him dead in the eye. “Was that Audrey?”
“No—”
“Was it your other sister?”
“No—”
“Then, no!” I say, jerking my arm back. “Let me go, you’re hurting me!”
He loosens his grip, but refuses to release me. Instead, he grabs my other arm, tugging me forward, and slams my car door shut with his knee, then pushes me against it.
“Listen to me,” he demands. His eyes darken as he looks down at me. “You can’t just hop in your car and expect me to come chasing after you like some damn movie! I don’t have that luxury!” His booming voice reverberates through the garage.
I grit my teeth. “I don’t want you to chase me, I just want to leave. I’ve seen and heard enough, Slate,” I say, spitting out his name.
“I’m not letting you leave,” he says. He doesn’t appear to be using much of his energy pinning me down like this. I, however, am beginning to sweat.
“Do I need to call the cops?” I threaten.
He sighs and lowers his voice. “Would you really call the cops on me?”
I jut my chin forward in defiance. “If you hold me hostage.”
“Kaley,” he begs. “Please hear me out. And then if you still want to leave, you can.”
He waits to see if I’m going to fight him before slowly releasing me.
“Fine,” I say, rubbing my arm. “But I can’t handle any lies, Slate. I’m serious.”
“Come on,” he says, taking my hand and leading me back into the house.
I notice a house key on the coffee table as I sit on the sofa across from him.
He follows my stare and regards me with caution. “Is your arm okay?” His face looks pained.
I cross my legs and arms, ignoring his question. “Is she your girlfriend?” I ask, my foot bouncing uncontrollably.
“I thought you were my girlfriend,” he says with a slight smirk.
“Don’t play with me right now,” I warn.
He sighs. “No, not anymore.”
“How long has she been your ‘not anymore?’”
He shrugs. “A while. Kaley, it was a rough breakup, I—”
I put my hand up. Screw this. I give an unfriendly nod before standing up and turning toward the door.
He springs up after me. “You promised me you’d hear me out.”
I whip my body around and all my doubts spew out in one rage-filled stream. “So, what am I to you then? Am I just a rebound? Your mid-life or quarter-life crisis or something? Let me guess—you lost the love of your life, so you thought you’d just score some little high school student! Or are you just trying to make her jealous? What?”
My own voice startles me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it in such hysterics. I don’t even know what I just said, or if it even made sense—all I know is I can’t believe I threw my entire life away for this guy. Between Tommy sleeping with Avery and my mom’s affair, it’s impossible for me to trust anyone anymore. Nausea wrenches the pit of my stomach, and I feel the acid rising in my throat. I am not going to get sick in front of him. I clutch onto my keys and bolt back toward the door.
He grabs my arm, twisting me around. “Damn it, Kaley!”
I tug my arm back, but it’s no use. When I try again, he pulls back even harder, grabbing both of my wrists. He lugs me over to the sofa and holds me down, pinning my wrists behind my back.
“Listen to me,” he says, out of breath. “Yes, she’s my ex. But we broke up over a year ago. She was my girlfriend in college. We fought all the time. I wanted to break it off so many times, but we had been together for so long, I felt guilty.”
My mind goes to Tommy. I can definitely relate to that. I relax my body a little, and he loosens his grip on my wrists, but doesn’t let go.
He regains his breath. “Our relationship was at rock bottom, Kay . . . about to shatter at any moment . . . and that’s when she told me she was pregnant.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for the air to return to my lungs. I can’t swallow the image of him being with another girl, let alone that girl—woman—carrying his child. Jealousy slithers like a venomous serpent around my heart. I picture her perfect little frame and luscious blonde hair, with that beautiful profile. My stomach churns, and I pray it settles quickly before I blow chunks all over him.
“It changed everything,” he continues. “Well, for me anyway. It wasn’t the way I had planned on bringing a child into the world, but it was already done, and I wanted to do the right thing. I went back to school right away and started working on my graduate degree. They allowed me to take extra classes because of my academic reputation. I wanted to teach college-level courses as soon as possible and make more money. I took out a loan and bought this house, I traded in my Audi A5 that I adored, and bought the Tahoe. I was completely focused on providing for my child and being a good father.”
Oh great, even the beloved Tahoe is tainted. I can’t take this. I sink into the couch, too numb to struggle. He takes note of my defeat and releases his grip from my wrists and sits next to me. He holds my hand, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. I barely notice. He takes a deep breath and continues.
“I was at home,” he says, his voice distant. “I had just finished up some homework and was preparing my next lesson when Jasmine came home. I was extremely sleep deprived and stretched beyond my capacity. I could tell she had been crying, so I got up to ask her what was wrong, but she put her hands up like she wanted me to stay back. I asked her what was going on, but she wouldn’t tell me anything. When I asked her if something was wrong with the baby, she burst into tears. Kaley, I can’t tell you what I felt in that moment. It was pure agony—I was scared, honestly.”
I notice his eyes are red as he stares through the coffee table. “Before I could ask her what had happened, she confessed that she aborted the baby.”