Don't Lie to Me (29 page)

“I just…I don’t know. I feel like I need to get away. With everything going on with Jack, and now Marcus, I feel like I might explode.”

“But Wisconsin? Really?” She wrinkled her nose into a squishy icky face and I giggled.

“I know,” I said, smiling now. It was practically sacrilegious for a die-hard Chicagoan to move to the cheese state up north. “But Notre Dame and Marquette are still close enough to be able to see you on the weekends, and for Marcus to see Logan.”

“How’s the daddy doing, anyway?” she asked with a slight inflection I wasn’t sure I appreciated. Marcus had become, friendlier, over the last week to say the least.

He started coming a little bit earlier every time it was time to pick up Logan, and staying a bit later every time he dropped him off. He said it was because he wanted to be around Logan as much as possible, and I wanted to believe it, but I had also caught a few lingering glances of his in my direction. He watched me just a little bit closer…with his eyes a little bit softer. I didn’t say anything, afraid I would embarrass myself around him. I wanted to believe that he was concerned about me.

Something told me it was more than that though, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. So I did the most mature thing possible and ignored it. Denial was my closest ally when it came to Marcus.

I rolled my eyes at Macy. “He’s fine. He took Logan to a movie tonight.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant.” She set down her glass of wine on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “I heard him in Jack’s office today.”

I shook my head. “I said I don’t want to hear about him anymore.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Not even if they were arguing about you?”

My hands froze on the Notre Dame campus brochure. I set it down when I noticed my hands were shaking. I did want to know. I desperately wanted to know what in the hell changed so quickly with Jack that he could profess his love for me and then throw me out like some used tramp. I knew something was going on, and I hated that everything ended with so many questions. And yet, I was too afraid to hear the truth. Maybe he just decided I wasn’t worth the trouble, or that Logan wasn’t worth it, and Marcus was just defending my honor or some silly bullshit.

Either way, I didn’t think knowing the truth, or the rumors about what Jack and Marcus were yelling about would help anything.

“How are your wedding plans coming?” I asked, changing the subject again. It was the lamest attempt in the history of the world and Macy pursed her lips, but because she loved me, she humored me.

“Fine,” she said. Then she picked up her three-inch thick binder that she used for coordinating every single possible need she could have for her wedding. Everything was tabbed and color coordinated. Pictures and prices of wedding venues, invitations, florists and potential bouquet pictures, dozens of styles of bridesmaid dresses, and everything else you could imagine were packaged perfectly into sheet protectors inside this binder. She guarded that book with her life.

She was a little bit psycho about the wedding planning, although January was only a few months away. Why she wanted a winter wedding, I had no idea. Chicago in the winter was freezing cold, windy, and downright miserable. But she got stars in her eyes and looked all fan-girl silly when she talked in a dream like voice about starting out the new year, as a new bride with a new name and the man of her dreams.

Who was I to argue with my best friend’s happiness? If a January wedding was what she wanted, I wanted to help her in any way that I could. Even though I cringed when she kept showing me pictures of strapless maid of honor dresses.

I feigned a groan of frustration when she opened it to the invitation section and patted the seat next to her on the couch.

“You asked for it,” she said jokingly and I moved to sit next to her. We spent the next couple of hours, drinking wine, laughing about Tate and Dean, and picking out invitations for the bridal shower and wedding, along with flowers for the wedding party.

When Marcus brought Logan home, we were well into our second bottle of wine and laughing hysterically about You Tube videos we had watched with wedding parties doing flash dances down the aisle. It was apparently all the rage in weddings this season, but Tate had two left feet and we couldn’t imagine him pulling off something so cool looking.

We were right in the middle of drunkenly acting out Tate’s version of smooth dancing – which looked similar to the chicken dance -when Marcus opened the door.

His jaw dropped in surprise as we sang and robotically moved, off beat, to Maroon 5 blaring through my speakers.

“Having fun?” He finally asked with a smug grin. Logan held his hand and looked up at his dad with a questioning look. He probably wondered what in the world was going on with his crazy mom. Macy and I collapsed onto the couch in a fit of laughter.

Gasping for breath through my laughter, I held my arms open for Logan to crawl into them. “We were pretending to be Tate dancing.”

Marcus chuckled and set down Logan’s backpack before joining us in the living room. He turned down the volume on the stereo so we could hear him and smiled lazily at Logan curled into my lap.

“He’s exhausted,” he said with a nod of his head in Logan’s direction.

“Did you have fun at the movie?” I asked, and rubbed my hands through Logan’s hair.

“I got to wear glasses and thought the monsters were going to eat me,” he said with a worried look.

“What movie did you take him to?”

Marcus shrugged. “It was just a kid’s movie in 3-D. And it wasn’t that bad. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

“Sure, until I’m the one up with him having nightmares during the night.”

“I could always stay over, just in case.” Marcus said with a small teasing of his lips. But his voice was smoother than it had been before, and a little bit deeper, and I had a feeling he wasn’t just concerned about Logan and his possible nightmares.

“And that’s my cue to take off,” Macy said with a cheeky smile thrown in Marcus’s direction. I frowned, but helped her pack up her wedding binder and walked her to the door.

“I’ll get Logan ready for bed,” Marcus said and held his hand while they walked to his room.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Macy said as she walked out the door.

I frowned. She could be referring to a dozen stupid things. I wondered which one she meant specifically.

“About school. Don’t let Jack be the reason you take off. Schools in Chicago are great, if not better, than your other options and you know it. I might have to kick your ass if you take off.”

I opened my mouth to respond but she skewered me with a glance. “Just think about it before you decide.”

I nodded and closed the door.

Logan and Marcus were laughing in his bedroom so I went in to see them huddled together in his full size bed. Marcus was laying on his side, one arm curled under Logan, his other hand holding Logan’s favorite Corduroy book.

“Crash went the lamp!” Logan said when they got to the page where the little bear knocked over the lamp in the department store. I crossed my arms and leaned against the doorway, watching Marcus read to our son and a feeling of warmth spread over me. I had dreamed of this scene for years, Marcus and I as a family, tucking our baby into bed.

Marcus’s blond hair fell almost to his eyes. I remembered how soft it used to be when I would run my fingers through it when we were together. It was a little bit shorter now, and styled more professionally, but his natural light blond highlights were the same. The edges of his eyes wrinkled a little bit as he smiled at Logan while reading the story. He was older now, and so much the man I remembered, but in a way, better looking. He looked peaceful, curled up reading his son a bedtime story.

I felt tears pricking at the edges of my eyes and backed out of the room before they saw me, but when I hit the living room, I picked up my camera and tip-toed back to the room. I wanted to remember this moment and I knew Marcus would, too.

I caught both of their attentions when they heard the camera click as I took the picture. Marcus set the book down on Logan’s lap and leaned in to give him a kiss on his cheek.

I smiled, happily, at the joy that flooded Logan’s face and the tears returned. I was right in the middle of living out the dreams that used to torment me at night after Marcus left, and in the first couple of years after Logan was born. The memories of those dreams and the real-life events occurring right before me scared the crap out of me.

Marcus said good night and walked to the door.

He lightly put a hand on my arm and my body warmed instantly. This was a softer touch than the friendly ones he’d given me, and his eyes were more serious when he gazed down into mine. “Logan wants a kiss good night from you,” he finally said and quietly left the room.

I watched him leave the room and when he was gone, I realized I was still frozen in the same spot. What in the heck just happened?

I shook off the funny feelings I felt when Marcus touched me and looked at me like that. It was just so familiar. Safe. And nothing at all like Jack.

I gave Logan his kiss good night, tucked him into bed by tucking the sheets of his bed down the length of his body and under his feet. It was our nightly ritual of tuck-tuck-tuck so he was as snug as a bug in a rug, and we giggled just like always.

I closed the door to his room, smiling at my perfect little boy. He was the best thing to happen to me in the world.

I froze again when I reached the living room. This time, there was no warmth in Marcus’s eyes. He stood in the middle of the room, his green eyes looking positively glacial and held up the brochures for the colleges Macy and I had spent most of the night talking about.

“What in the hell is this shit?” he spat out and smacked them down on the coffee table.

I ignored him and walked to the kitchen, knowing I had some explaining to do, but not knowing how to start.

“Want a drink?” I asked casually, but based on the anger that flickered across his face, only pissed him off more.

“Beer. And then explain to me why you think you’re going to leave the state with my kid.”

I bristled at the accusation but handed him his beer anyway. “They’re less than two hours away, Marcus. And I’m not taking Logan from you. You’d still be close enough to see him on the weekends.”

He looked panicked as he took a long pull on his beer, almost finishing half of it with one large gulp. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. “I just started getting to know him, Emma. You can’t leave now.”

“I don’t know if I can stay,” I said after a few minutes of quiet, but thick tension prickled in the air between us. “I don’t even know if I’m going back to school. I’ve just been trying to figure out what in the hell I’m supposed to do now. Without…”

I cringed and stopped talking.

“Jack,” he supplied. His voice was full of venom and anger as he spit the word out like it was the most foul four letter word in existence. Although, it did have four letters, so maybe he wasn’t too far off the mark.

I nodded and re-filled my own glass of wine.

Marcus sounded softer when he spoke again. “You know, a part of me is really pissed off that Jack hurt you like this. I hate seeing you this broken, and sad.”

Irritation rippled through my nerves, making me feel like I needed to shed a layer of skin. I didn’t want to talk about Jack with Marcus and I certainly didn’t want anyone telling me how broken I looked.

“It was worse after you left, if that makes you feel any better.”

Marcus gasped. “Are you fucking serious right now? No, that doesn’t make me feel any better! Damn it, Emma. I hate what I did to you, and I feel like shit every single day knowing that I left you – with Jack, no less to take care of what’s mine.”

I don’t know what in the hell he had to be so pissed about, but I certainly wasn’t anyone’s possession. The very mention of the word ‘mine’ threw me back to visions of Jack and how he so adamantly declared that Logan and I were his to protect and care for. How did it get so screwed up so quickly?

“I’m not yours,” I said through tears that began falling. I hated them. I hated every single tear I let fall for Jack, because I knew. I knew this was going to happen the minute I first touched him at that stupid Irish Pub. I knew I would let him in and he would crush my heart into a million pieces and that was exactly how I felt right then.

I looked down at the floor, almost as if I could see my heart beating on the tiled floor at my feet.

Before I knew it, I was wrapped in arms that at one time, had been my favorite place in the world to be.

“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.” Marcus held me while my sobs were the only sounds filling the entire apartment.

When I quieted down and stopped shaking, I realized who was holding me and slowly backed away.

“Sorry,” I said while wiping my tears and giving him the most pathetic smile ever. “I just…I didn’t mean to do that.”

Marcus took a few steps away and rested his hands at his sides. “You know, what I was going to finish saying was that I hate that he’s broken you like this. But the other part of me….the other part is glad you’re single again.”