I want to be official with Lucy. I don’t know if she senses that, but I want her to be my girlfriend. And this isn’t just about her being pregnant either. I care about her. I want people to realize that she’s an important part of my life.
Now if I can just gather up the nerve to tell my parents how important Lucy is to me…
Yeah, that’s going to take some time.
I make sure everyone is fed and has a drink before I make my own plate. I end up eating in the kitchen and chatting with one of the guys who works part time for us. Lucy’s in the living room with Jade talking and eating. I like that they’ve become close. Lucy is being brought into our fold more and more and I’m comfortable with that. I like having her around, someone I can count on. And I hope she knows that she can count on me too.
When I start hearing more and more voices out back, I decide to check out what’s happening. The second I walk outside I see there is a large group of women standing on my back patio, each one of them clutching a beer bottle in their hands and not a one of them were invited. I send a questioning look in Shep’s direction, who merely shrugs and indicates with his beer bottle that the person I need to talk to is Tristan. He who is standing among the group of women with a giant smile on his face as they all watch him with adoration glowing in their eyes.
Of course.
I stalk toward him, irritation making my blood pump hot when he turns and smiles drunkenly at me. “Hey, look. I found some girls to liven up your party, G.”
“Tristan.” I clap him on the back, then pull him in close so I can mutter in his ear, “You need to get rid of them.”
He pulls back, smirking at me. “Since when did you become so boring? This is supposed to be our last year of fun before we have to get all responsible and shit. You said this yourself.”
“I’ve had enough fun like that,” I say and he starts to laugh.
“What, are you so pussy whipped you’re afraid you’ll piss off the missus?”
“More like you’re the one pissing me off.” I offer him a bland smile, trying to contain my anger. He’s drunk. And when Tristan’s drunk, he says stupid shit. He doesn’t think and in the past, that sort of drunken attitude has gotten him into many a bar fight. I don’t know how many times Shep and I had to pull some huge guy off of Tristan. Or we’re pulling Tristan off of some dumb drunk dude. “Now take your dates and go.”
“Are you really going to kick me out because I brought some entertainment with me? That’s how we used to do this, Gabe, or have you forgotten? Has your new chick brought you so far down you don’t know how to have fun anymore?”
I send him a warning glance, feel the presence of Shep looming behind my shoulder. “Tristan…”
“You’re so dull now. You and Shep both. We used to have fucking fun but not anymore. It’s like I lost you both to chicks and they’ve turned you into domestic sheep. Fucking sucks.” Tristan shakes his head, looking disgusting. “Next thing you know you two assholes are going to have a double wedding together and shit. Way to make me sick.”
He’s not really making much sense but I get the picture. He’s a little jealous. We three don’t spend as much time together anymore, but lately Shep and I have been hanging more because Lucy and Jade have each other. Tristan feels like the fifth wheel—and quite literally, he is.
“Hope the sex is good because you’re trapped bro. You don’t have a choice anymore,” Tristan says, laughing as he stumbles over his own feet. The girls stop talking, every single one of them watching the spectacle he seems intent on putting on and I tamp down the anger rising inside of me.
“Shut up before you say something stupid and make me angry.”
“What, you’re not angry enough? Fine, let’s talk about how your newfound girl is trying to trap you by getting knocked up with your baby,” Tristan taunts, his tone mocking, making me fucking furious.
Making me see red.
The shitty smirk on his face is all I can focus on before I rear my arm back and sock him square on the jaw, so hard my knuckles hurt like hell the second I make contact.
Tristan goes stumbling backward, clutching at his face and all the girls standing around us begin to scream, jumping back as if I just tried to bite them. Shep grabs hold of my shoulder and keeps me from going after Tristan again and I push against his hold, loving the idea of hitting Tristan again.
The fucker deserves it. I can’t believe what he said. Worse, he’s one of my closest friends, so he knows just how to hurt me. And his words hurt.
So fucking much.
I turn my head to look at Shep. “Let me go,” I mutter but I know he’s not going to. I’m furious. I can’t believe Tristan would blurt out my private business in front of everyone, including a bunch of girls we don’t freaking know. They’re all staring at me like I’m some sort of monster. A couple of them have gone over to comfort Tristan as he stands on the grass, glaring at me while he still cradles his jaw with his palm. His gaze is dark, full of anger and hurt and I know exactly how he’s feeling because I’m feeling the same exact way.
“Get out,” I tell him, my voice low and fucking scary, even to my own ears. “Get the fuck out of here and take your harem with you.”
“Gabe,’” Shep starts but I shrug off his hold and step away from him. I don’t need him giving me a lecture on how I should treat my friends. Did he not hear what Tristan said? He’s such an asshole. He’s trying to make Lucy look like a gold digging bitch and I fucking hate him for that.
Without a word Tristan strides past me, his head bent, gaze never meeting mine as he waves his hand. Every one of those women eagerly falls into step behind him. He goes around the side of the house, the whispering girls following until they all disappear.
“I can’t believe you hit him,” Shep says incredulously.
“I can’t believe what he said,” I return. “He’s an asshole.”
“You know how he gets when he’s drunk…”
I cut Shep off. “Don’t defend him. He’s a dick when he drinks. And he’s less of a dick when he’s sober. I’m tired of his shit. I’m tired of the way he talks to me, treats me, hell, how he treats the both of us. Fuck that guy. Let’s buy him out.”
“I can’t buy him out, he’s my fucking cousin. Hell, my mother will probably call me and vouch for Tristan, then give me a bunch of shit over it. Then his mother will call me…it would be a total mess, dude. I can’t do that to him. We’re stuck with him,” Shep explains.
“You’re the one who’s stuck with him, not me. I say I shut this shit hole business down and let you two take it somewhere else. I’m tired of dealing with it. I’ll let it be your problem now.” I shake my head and rest my hands on my hips, turning toward the patio to see Lucy is outside, standing just beside the back door.
And she doesn’t look very happy.
“You don’t mean that,” Shep says. “You’re just mad. Tristan will say he’s sorry, you’ll forgive him and all of this will be forgotten.”
Tristan’s apology won’t mean shit to me. “Hell yeah, I’m mad. And trust me, I mean it. Check with me tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll still feel the same way.” I need to get to Lucy. Forget standing here talking to Shep. I need my girl.
I make my way toward her, notice how she’s watching me with fear and doubt in her eyes. I stop just before her and take her hand and she lifts mine up, examining my scratched and battered knuckles from socking Tristan in the jaw. The skin is raw and it hurts like hell. “You’re injured,” she says before she lifts my hand and brings them to her lips.
“Yeah, well it happened because I was defending your honor,” I mutter, touched that she’s kissing my hand so tenderly, like she wants to take care of me despite the fact that I’m a total asshole who gets into fights with his best friend.
Damn it. Regret is starting to surface. What Tristan said was bullshit but did I really need to hit him?
“I heard.” She carefully drops my hand and I instantly miss her touch. “How did he know,
Gabe?”
My entire body stiffens. She’s eerily calm as she asks the question and that’s fucking scary. “I told him, okay? I needed to talk to my friends and get some advice and I—let them know what was going on.”
Lucy gapes at me, her mouth opening and closing as if she doesn’t quite know what to say. “That was our private business,” she finally whispers. “Private business that really sheds me in a bad light, what with how he just spilled my secret in front of a lot of people.”
“He’s an idiot when he’s drunk. No one will take what he said seriously,” I say to reassure her but she’s not falling for it. And I can’t blame her. Seeing her so upset makes all regret disappear and infuriates me all over again.
“It doesn’t matter if they believe him or not. Now I look like some gold digging whore out to trick you and steal all your money or whatever via child support. And that’s not the case at all. I don’t want your money. I don’t need it,” she practically spits at me.
“Right, because your rich daddy takes care of you and gives you whatever you want.” Spoiled little princess not liking her reality right now, is she? Well, me either. I wonder how sheltered she’s been. I wonder if anyone has said something about her as shitty as Tristan just did.
“Not quite,” she mutters as she starts to walk away from me.
“Wait a minute.” I grab hold of her upper arm, my grip loose so she could slip right out if she wanted to. She watches me, her eyes wide, her lips trembling, like she wants to cry and is holding back. I search her face for some sort of clue, something to let me know what’s wrong but…
Something’s off. I can feel it in my bones, sense it in my blood. It’s like everything’s going to change between us with whatever she’s about to say next.
“What did you just say?” I brace myself for the verbal blow.
She stares at me, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and damn, that look on her face is almost unbearable. I hate it when she’s sad. When I can’t fix whatever it is that’s bothering her.
“I don’t even know who my daddy is, okay? My mother got pregnant when she was sixteen and he ran out on her before I was even born. So she had to raise me by herself with no support. In a tiny, one bedroom shitty apartment in a terrible neighborhood in the middle of Los Angeles with no help, no money, just me and her. We didn’t have anything. Nothing.”
What the hell? “Are you serious?”
She sends me a look that says she’s so fucking serious it hurts.
All I can do is stare at her, my mind going over what she just said. I had her pegged all wrong. Completely and totally wrong and she never corrected me. Not once. Just kept up the lie like it was no big deal. Hell, did she laugh at me? Talk with her friends about what a sucker I was? The longer I think about it, the more pissed I become and I stare at her in shock, her words slowly starting to sink in. She’s not rich. She never was rich. But some of these things aren’t adding up. “What about the house in Santa Barbara? How’d you score that?” I ask like a dumbass.
“I was housesitting for the family who owns it. My mom is their maid and cleans the main house they have in Beverly Hills. They usually come to Santa Barbara for the summer but for whatever reason, that plan fell through. Mama got me the job for the summer so I could earn extra cash to help pay for my tuition.”
Her mom is a fucking maid. Jesus. I lean against the wall, so shocked by her story I’m afraid I’ll keel over. Glancing around, I see that everyone has miraculously gone back inside the house, thank Christ. I don’t need an audience for this particular conversation. “So there’s no rich dad.”
She shakes her head. “He was eighteen and scared shitless when my mom told him she was pregnant with his baby. He ran. Never to be heard from again. She refuses to even say his name so I have no idea who he is.”
That sucks. But she should’ve told me the truth. I wouldn’t have cared. “You’ve been lying to me this entire time then.” When she opens her mouth to defend herself I shake my head. “You’ve been lying to me. Your entire story until now is false. Right?”
Slowly, she nods, her teeth sinking into her lower lip, worrying it before she lets it go. “I thought it was just going to be temporary between us, you know? A fun fling over the summer, where I could pretend to be whatever you wanted me to be. And it worked. You made up my backstory, took care of the minor details for me and I just…ran with it. We had a few ups and downs but overall, it was a…magical summer.” The fond expression on her face makes my heart crack. Yeah, it was good between us but shit. She lied. And like a dumbass I believed every word she said. “Then you left and I figured I’d never see you again.”
“Until you did,” I add.
“Exactly. And I felt like I had to keep up the pretense, you know? I was scared, Gabe. Scared you’d leave me once you found out the truth,” she admits softly. “Especially now, with everything that’s happening.”
I run both hands over my head, gripping my hair so hard I pull on it, making myself wince. Fucking hurts. All of this fucking hurts. Is she lying about the possible pregnancy too? Is this all one big trick and I’m just being played?
I never asked for this. I didn’t want a serious relationship this year. Hell, this is my last year of freedom and instead I get myself involved with a girl who’s nothing but shackles and chains. “I don’t know if I can handle this.”
She frowns. “Handle what?”
“All of it. The lies. The truth. The fact you might be pregnant with my baby. Or maybe you’re not. I don’t know. I can’t trust you to tell me the truth.” I drop my hands and stare at her. “I’m not ready for any this.”
Her expression freezes, eyes filled with shock and horror. “I-I understand. You have every right to hate me.”
Her words make me feel like shit. I don’t hate her. I could never hate her but…damn it, she lied to me. She betrayed me and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get over it. Don’t know if I’ll be able to get over Tristan’s betrayal either.
Talk about a fucked up night.
How can I trust them? Tristan and I have been through ups and downs over the years so I figure we’ll work it out somehow. But how will I ever be able to trust Lucy again? For all I know this pregnancy talk is a bunch of bullshit.
“I should probably go,” she finally says in the lightest whisper, her head hanging down.
“That’s probably best.” I stare at her bent head, my lips aching with the need to kiss hers. But I gotta stay strong and resist the urge. “Can I—can I call you?”
Why did I have to go and say that? Shit.
She slowly shakes her head, the tears falling freely now. So freely they’re dripping off her cheeks and onto the ground. Seeing them fall breaks my already aching heart. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
And with those final words, she’s gone. Out of my life.
Like she never even existed.
“Are you skipping your marketing class again? You’re going to flunk out,” Gina calls from the doorway of my bedroom.
Gee, thanks for reminding me, Gina. I had no clue that could happen. I want to yell at my roommate but I restrain myself. Why make this worse? She’s been nothing but supportive since the night I came home a few days ago, crying so hard my stomach hurt, my face hurt…my entire body hurt. She comforted me, put me to bed and told me I’ll feel better in the morning.
I didn’t feel much better. I still don’t. I miss Gabe so badly my body aches.
“I can’t face him,” I say into my pillow, my voice muffled. “I’m going to try and withdraw. It’s too late to pull out completely but a W on my records is better than an F.”
“So true, I guess.” Gina sighs. “Then you should come with me.”
I lift my head off the pillow to look at her. “Where are you going?”
“Shopping.” Her face brightens, like she thinks she’s got me. “I need to go to the mall.”
I groan and drop my head onto the pillow once more. “That?
??s the last thing I want to do.”
She walks into my room, I can hear her footsteps on the carpet, feel the dip of the mattress as she sits on the edge of my bed. “I’m worried about you, Lucy. You’re not acting right.”
I just had my heart broken. It’s kind of hard to act normal when you’re insides are shredded into tiny little pieces and you’re fairly certain you’ll never be the same ever again. “I’m fine. I’ll get over it. Get over him.”
My words are total lies. I’m not fine, not even close. How can I get over him when I will have a constant reminder of his existence in approximately eight months?
Well, that’s not totally confirmed but I still haven’t started my period, which is just ridiculous. I have to be pregnant. I haven’t bought a pregnancy test because I almost don’t want it confirmed, which is stupid but I’m living in the land of denial and it’s kind of a nice place to be.
I’m just…scared of reality. I don’t know how I’m going to survive all of this but I’ll figure it out. I have to. I don’t have a choice. I guess I can drop out of school, get a job to support the both of us and pray like crazy that Mama won’t disown me.
Talk about history repeating itself. At least I’m a little older. But wiser? Yeah, I’m not so sure about that.
“Maybe you should see a counselor. Talk to someone about your problems,” Gina suggests.
I lift my head to look back at her. “No way.”
“Why not? It’ll make you feel better to get everything off your chest. They don’t judge. They give objective advice. And right about now, I’m thinking you need some objective advice from someone.” I confessed all to Gina so she knows what’s going on. And luckily enough she never said anything mean to make me feel bad.
More than anything, I think she feels sorry for me, which means I’m a total loser.
“I can’t afford counseling,” I say, lying my head back down on the pillow. It’s damp from my tears. That sounds like the title for a country song. I’m sure I could write a pretty good one right about now.