I try to think of how the old Lauren would respond and compare it to the Lauren I’ve been the past few weeks. I can't help wondering…who am I now? The Lauren of yesterday is gone, obliterated. He fucked the complete life out of her. I try to find the words of who I should be, but I’m at a complete loss. Nothing I can think of seems adequate so I stay perfectly still and quiet. That’s not something I’ve ever done before. I turn to see him disappear into the bathroom, bare as an egg, body of a god, and with the attitude of a spoiled six year old.
He’s still upset. But from what I’ve learned about Chris in the weeks I’ve been getting to know him is that Chris forgives easily and I know from past experiences that Cal holds grudges like a hoarder. I get up from the bed and try to think. What we did last night wasn’t making love. It was the opposite and I don’t know how to feel about that.
I don’t know what to do but I have to tell his parents. I can’t avoid them because they have Caylen and I can’t tell Cal. I’ve never been so confused in my life. My eyes make a sweep of the room in a frantic search for my clothes. Of course my clothes aren’t in here. They’re somewhere on the first floor of the suite. I grab the sheet, wrap it around myself, and head downstairs. My clothes are strewn all across the room. I grab each piece of clothing from where it lay scattered all over the place and put them on. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my phone, the alert light blinking, beckoning me. I’m afraid to see how many messages are on it. I take a deep breath and see that I have 18 missed calls and 12 voice messages. I scroll through and see the numbers from Gwen, Lisa, and Helen.
Shit.
I don’t know what to tell these people. I don’t expect Cal to tell them anything. I scroll through the numbers and dial Helen’s. It goes to voice mail. I call Lisa’s. I can’t call Mrs. Scott. I can’t tell her any of this over the phone. I glance back towards the room.
I don’t know why I feel like I have to sneak and do this. Should I do this? Ugh! I’m not going to drive myself crazy about this. It’s time to cut the bullshit. I head back up stairs and into the bedroom. I hear the shower running.
“I’ve been thinking about whether I should call your parents or not,” I say loud enough for him to hear me over the water. He doesn’t say anything.
“They have Caylen. I’m going to have to tell them something. I was going to call and tell them I’m trying to start something new. I want nothing but open and honest communication between us. So can you let me know your thoughts on that?” I say in almost one breath. He steps out the shower and I force my eyes to stay on his face and go nowhere else, but the wall between us is back up again. His eyes are on me and I can’t read him. His stare is blank but he steps towards me, completely naked with a sly smirk stretched across his face. My breath hitches as he reaches across me to grab a towel and wipe his face before wrapping it around his waist.
“Are you not going to say anything?” I ask him, feeling my stoic façade begin to crumble beneath me. He bites his lips trying to suppress the smile I see peeking through. He likes me upset. How could I forget?
“Fine,” I say, pulling out my phone. “I’ll give them a call.” Before I can even get my thumb to touch a button, he’s snatches the phone from my hand. I expect him leave the room or to even flush it down the toilet but he doesn’t. He hits a few keys and the phone starts to ring on speaker.
“Lauren, where the hell are you and why haven’t you been answering our calls?”
It’s Mr. Scott, and my eyes widen.
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Cal’s voice sends a chill through my spine. There’s a stunned silence on the other end. Mr. Scott obviously at a loss for words.
“If you ever speak to my wife like that again, I’m going to break your fucking legs,” he says, his grip tightening on the phone.
“We’ll be there to get our daughter tonight. I’ll call you when we’re a few minutes away. Have her dressed and ready to leave.” He hangs up and tosses the phone to me before stepping closer, his arm wrapping around my back, pulling me towards him and leaning down to my ear.
“I’m not a little boy. I thought I reminded you of that last night,” he says huskily in my ear, his grip tightening on my waist.
“Chris’s parents don’t scare me. Dexter has no authority over me. I can give a shit what anyone else thinks about me being back. You can call and alert the newspaper if you feel the need to. You’re either in this with me or you’re not. Chris won’t be back anytime soon,” he says, letting me go and leaving the bathroom. My phone begins to ring again. I’m guessing it’s probably a not-so-stunned Mr. Scott calling back in a fury but, when I glance down, I see that it’s Lisa. She’s called me at least four times. I shake my head and pick up.