Broken Promises (11 page)

Bob gets a sheepish smile on his face, and I know it wasn’t Trystan. “Dr. Jennings—”

“Call me Mari—unless you want me calling you Mr. Bob.”

He snorts a sharp laugh and looks in the mirror at me. “Mari, he’s not been himself lately.”

“If lately covers the past decade, I’ll agree with you.” I fold my arms over my chest and slump down in my seat. My head is screaming. I close my eyes and tip my head back against the seat.

“It’s not my place to say, but with your showing up when you did—well, I wondered if he pulled that stunt last night hoping to see you again.”

I open my eyes and sit up a little. “That’s insane. Why would he do that?”

“Like I said, he’s not been himself lately.”

I shouldn’t tell him, but Bob is one of the last few people who care about Trystan. “Oh, Bob, it's going to get a lot worse. Seth died last night.”

Bob swears under his breath. We spend the rest of our drive in silence.

As we emerge on the other side of the tunnel, I wonder if Trystan is flaming out. He’s been in the public eye every day for nearly a decade. He’s been showing signs of distress for a while. It’s like watching the hull of a ship get laced with hairline fissures. One day they’ll cut too deep, the waters will come rushing in, and he’ll be over.

I hang my head between my shoulders and regret saying the things I said as I left. No matter what happens between us, I don’t want Trystan to lose it so badly he takes his life. Damn it. I screwed up. We’re not the same. He doesn’t have the luxury of wearing his heart on his sleeve, not anymore. I pressed him for the one thing that would make it easier for me to be around him and didn’t consider how it would affect him.

What if he did crash to get my attention? What if he wanted to say something and I didn’t give him a chance?

I want to pull my hair out. I can’t live with ‘what ifs’ crashing into my skull all day. I have to work later. I need to pull myself together, but I can’t help feeling like I tugged at a string on someone who is coming apart at the seams.

CHAPTER 17

MARI

B
ob drops me off at Katie’s apartment. I want to check on her before I head home. I knock on the door, but there’s no answer. I wonder if she’s still at Seth’s mom’s house or if she’s in bed. I don’t want to leave without checking on her, so I knock again. “Katie?”

If she’s there, she won’t open the door if she’s crying. Katie hates crying in front of people, even me. I turn around and lean against the door with my back while fishing my cell phone from my pocket. I pull up her name and text her.

ME: SO, I SPENT THE NIGHT WITH TRYSTAN LAST NIGHT…

KATIE: WHAT?!?

She races through the apartment and yanks open the door so quickly, I fall backward and slam my butt on the floor. I shriek, and my phone goes flying.

A moment later, Amy opens her door from across the hall. “Are you two all right?” She’s wearing pink slippers and a matching bathrobe.

Katie’s face is glistening with freshly shed tears, but her eyes are wide with curiosity. She gives Amy a thumbs up. “Yup. Mari’s just a klutz. Sorry.”

“Hey!” I protest, but I’m too tired to get up. “My butt hurts.”

“You dirty girl!” Katie bellows as she closes the door on Amy.

I groan and cover my face. “Dear God! You know that woman now thinks I like butt action, right? Jeeze, Katie!”

She smiles and blinks her wet eyelashes at me innocently. “Get up! Spill your guts and all the glorious details of your sexy night with your ex!” She grabs my wrist and starts pulling me across the floor.

I laugh so hard I can’t get up. Katie finally plops down and sits on me. I make an oof sound as Katie laughs. “TELL ME!”

“Fine! I slept with him after patching him up at the ER.”

She bounces on my stomach twice and protests. “That’s not dirty details! You can do better than that!”

“There are no dirty details.”

Katie’s teasing dissipates, and she slides off of me. Katie’s always had radar that could focus with pinpoint precision. “What happened?”

I give her the highlights, starting with thinking Trystan was dead and ending with Bob rescuing me from the reporters and bringing me here. When I finish, my head is against her shoulder, and I want to cry.

Katie listens quietly then wraps her arms around me, giving me a tight hug. “Yesterday sucked.”

“Yes, it did.”

She takes a deep breath and adds, “Thank you for talking to Trystan about Seth. I was so scared to call him and tell him that myself. I know that put you in a weird spot, and I can’t thank you enough. I could barely talk last night, and I didn’t want him to find out from a reporter or something.”

I shrug as if it didn’t matter. “That’s what friends are for. Do you need anything today?”

She shakes her head and pushes up off the carpet. “No, I don’t think so.” Katie looks so forlorn, which is strange for someone like her. Normally, she’s all bounce and smiles—a human version of Tigger. I wonder who she’s going to be when she gets through this. I hope I can be there for her, and figure out what she needs.

I get up and follow her into the kitchen. Katie pours a cup of coffee and offers me one. I take it and sip the hot liquid slowly. “My schedule sucks, but I think I can get a few days off work. I’ll go with you to the funeral home and whatever else you need. Just tell me where and when.”

“Thanks, Mari. What I really need... Well... Could you stay here tonight?” Katie asks uncertainly. Her brows scrunch together as she stares at her coffee. “I don’t think I’ll sleep, but I don’t want to be alone right now. I feel strange—like this is a dream I can’t wake up from.” She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and glances up at me.

“Of course I’ll stay, Katie. I’ll help you however I can, but the thing that helps the most is time. Sometimes the only thing you can do is breathe. These days will come and go, and I can stick around as long as you’d like, okay? Don’t be afraid to ask.”

Normal Katie would give an over-exuberant response, but this time she just nods. After chugging the cup of coffee, she looks at me from over the rim. “I missed something in your story. How did you end up at his place last night?”

“What?” Her question catches me off balance.

“You ended up at his place, right?” I nod, not seeing where this is going. “How’d that happen?”

“I don’t know," I say, thinking about the lack of parking, followed by the rule-following cop, and finally Trystan pulling out of the parking lot at just the right time. "It was weird, like fate made it impossible to walk away.”

Katie lifts a brow and tips her head to the side. “You don’t believe in fate.”

“No, but last night was different. It was like a series of events lined up to prevent any other outcome.” I’m squirming inside. She hasn’t asked, and I haven't mentioned feeling that same strange connection with Trystan even stronger than before.

“What about your Trystan clone? Derrick?”

“Stop calling him that. He’s not like Trystan at all.”

“Of course he’s not—they just look like brothers. You don’t have issues.” Katie turns around and places her cup in the sink. She’s a little more direct than usual, probably because she’s emotionally raw.

“I'm ready to tell Derrick about Trystan, though. It’s time he knew.”

Katie leans against the counter and folds her arms over her chest. “Oh, he knows already.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mari, I knew you spent the night at Trystan's penthouse before you got here. Look.” She turns up the volume on the TV that’s been silently glowing in the corner of the kitchen.

They’re showing pictures of me with the caption: TRYSTAN SCOTT’S LATEST CONQUEST.

CHAPTER 18

MARI

I
blink at the screen, ready to totally flip out. Katie points the remote at the screen and changes the channel. “Don’t freak out, yet. That one runs on smut titles. Most of them are inferring you’re an item. See?” She stops at another station. The host is a young twenty-year-old blonde with a high-pitched voice better suited for a pre-K classroom than the news.

“And it appears rock legend Trystan Scott has become seriously involved with this young woman seen leaving his New York City penthouse early this morning. Scott’s chauffeur helped her navigate the press without speaking, leaving us all wondering,” the woman looks directly at the camera, “Was this public display intentional? It’s rare to see a woman leaving Trystan Scott's Manhattan penthouse.”

The other co-host bursts in, “Rare? It’s like seeing Santa Claus having brunch with the Easter Bunny. We’re in new territory, Lisa. Is it possible this bad boy is finally serious about someone?”

“It appears so, Todd—” her voice vanishes as Katie hits the power button, plunging the room into silence.

“So, what are the odds that Derrick watches the morning news?”

“I didn’t have sex with him! I didn’t cheat on Derrick! And I didn’t—awh, crap!” I can’t even make words anymore. Garbled noises flow freely from my mouth.

Katie walks over to me and puts a hand on my back. “You’re losing it, Mari. Use your words, honey. Come on.”

I’m pacing, circling, pulling at my hair and sputtering half thoughts. “He’ll see it!”

“Yeah, he will. The question is what are you going to do about it? Mari, this isn’t horrible. You’re not an asshole. Trystan lost his best friend. You’re his only friend left that goes back that far, possibly his only friend at all. What were you supposed to do? Leave him alone to jump off his terrace? Everyone knows Trystan’s been acting out. You were a friend last night.”

“But the press! H--”

“The press doesn’t know what the fuck they saw. If Derrick loves you—and I hate to admit this, but I think he does—he’ll believe you. And if he doesn't, then he’s the asswipe I've always claimed he is.” She smiles at me like Mr. Potato Head. “See? No problem.”

I manage to pull it together and wonder how she’s so strong. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping this on you now.”

She swats a hand at me. “Please, dump. It gives me something to think about.” Katie presses her lips together, and her voice drops. She picks at her nails and swallows hard. “That’s why I want you to stay here tonight. When it gets quiet, my mind wanders to his last minutes, and I can’t stand to think about him dying like that—that he knew.” Her eyes are glassy, and she forces a smile. “If we talk about things I can take longer to let it sink in, you know? It doesn’t change anything, but it’ll give me more time and make it a little less painful.”

The lump in my throat is the size of a melon. I can’t fathom what she’s going through. Losing my mom was hard, but this has to be so much worse. Katie thought she'd share a life with Seth, babies and lots of years together. Instead, it was all ripped away.

“Well,” I walk over to her and bump my shoulder into hers, “it’s a good thing my life is so screwed up. I can keep you talking about other things for as long as you want.”

She nods a few times and looks over at me with tears in her eyes. “I thought we’d have a fat baby Seth or Katie. We'd even picked out names, you know? How can I let that go?” Katie’s bottom lip quivers as tears stream down her cheeks. “I didn't just lose Seth last night, I lost all our dreams, too. What am I going to do?”

I don’t know what to say, so I wrap my arms around her and hold on tight. Katie sobs against me and I feel the tears rolling down my cheeks. I wish I could take her pain away. I wish I could fast-forward to a year from now, so she doesn’t have to endure this, but I can’t. “We’ll figure it out.”

CHAPTER 19

MARI

M 
y heart feels full of lead. The weight of Seth’s death, Katie’s pain, and Trystan’s whatever that was all pull at my heartstrings so violently I think my chest may rupture. I know I carry things too close to my heart. I take on other people’s pain as if it were my own. Coupled with my personal grief and suffering, it becomes too much. I know I’m headed to a dark place, so I need to batten down the hatches and hold on tight. I have to be there for Katie. Not only was she there for me when Mom died, but she was there for me when Trystan left me heartbroken, and when I threw myself into medical school, and during my residency from hell. She encouraged me when I decided to change back to pre-med in college, and didn’t judge me for ditching my new art path. She didn’t tease me the way Dad did, either. Katie’s always been there to put a smile on my face, and I am going to be there for her.

It took a lot of arguing with Dad to get the rest of the week off, but he finally caved when I started shouting. Family drama in the middle of the ER is his idea of a nightmare. Chaos and public spectacles overload his senses. I understand that I torched any favors he owed me by calling in all my chips now. With all the crap in the press about me being with Trystan, he wants to disown me, but he won’t. Part of his pride dwells in me being a kickass doctor. Pride is a double-edged sword, and I’ve learned to swing it both ways to get what I need.

When our conversation flips to Trystan, I cut him off at the knees. “You set that ball in motion when you called me to work at your whim, and if you don’t want your name in the press, then drop it. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen. I’m not seeing him. I’m dating Derrick. End of story.” I think I growled the last few sentences. It worked, though, because he did drop it.

The next person to handle is Derrick—and the "my ex-boyfriend is a mega rock star" conversation never goes well. It has to be in person, so I head over to our favorite spot to have lunch at Villagio. The little Italian restaurant is quiet—so he can’t throw a fit—and it overlooks Central Park. I love the Park and the trees. I’m not a hippie, but there’s something about trees that makes me feel steady. They’ve been here longer than me and will be here long after. They’ve endured seasons of change, wild weather, and they’re still standing strong. I want to be a tree.

Wow, random thought. Okay, I’m too tired to do this. I’d postpone it, except for the fact that I think the press will figure out who I am, where I live, and make my life hell. They may piece together that I’m the girl from his high school by the end of the week, and then there will be no more secrets to keep. No, I need to tell him now.