Keeping London (The Flawed Heart Series Book 2) (26 page)

—London Wright

“Honey, I’m home!” Paige calls from the back door.

“Hey, love!” I greet her from the couch where I’ve spent most of the day writing. “How was work?”

“Oh, great! Remember the big promotion with the online travel site?”

“Yeah, the one where they are giving away a one-thousand dollar trip voucher each day?” I recall Paige talking about it a few months ago and how bummed she was that the bitch of the office, Stephanie, got the account.

“Yes! That one. Well, Stephanie totally dropped the ball, and we almost lost the client!” she squeals, clapping her hands together.

“Uh, this is a good thing?”

“Yes, because they kicked her brown-nosing whore ass off the account and made me the new project manager! Eek!” she shrieks.

“Oh, yay!” I join in her enthusiasm.

“I know! I’m so excited. It’s going to be a lot of work to clean up her mess, but if I do a great job, I’ll really show my bosses what I’m capable of.”

“You totally got this!”

“I know I do!” she cheers. “We totally need to celebrate! Do you feel like getting dressed today?” She quirks an eyebrow up as she eyes my yoga pants and tank top ensemble that I’ve been sporting since last night.

“Don’t be jelly just because I don’t have to get dressed for my job.” I smirk.

“Oh, I’m not. But do you think you could shower real quick? I want to go somewhere fancy.”

“Okay, okay. I suppose I could do that.” I shoot her a wink, swinging my legs off the couch, just as my computer chimes, informing me that a new email has come in. I glance down to the screen, thinking nothing of it…until I see it’s from him. “Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!” I shout in rapid succession.

“What?” Paige jumps, startled.

“Loïc emailed me!” I grab my chest, sure I’m about to pass out.

“Well, what does it say?” Paige plops onto the couch beside me.

“I’m scared,” I admit. My heart is seriously thrumming a painful cadence within my chest.

“It’ll be okay. Just open it.”

“Okay,” I breathe out. “Okay.”

My hand trembles as I click to open the email.

To: London Wright

From: Loïc Berkeley

Subject: Enough

It’s over.

I stare at the two words contained within the email.

It’s over
.

What the hell?

Paige sits next to me, her gaze glued to the laptop screen containing the two vile words.

“What does that mean? He can’t be referring to our relationship, can he?”

“I don’t know, honestly. It’s so cryptic. He could have given you a little more to go off of. Jeez,” Paige huffs out.

“Maybe his tour is over? His mourning? His radio silence?”

“Dinner? His run? His shower?” Paige says, sarcasm lining her voice.

“Now is not the time for jokes. I have to figure out what he means.”

“I know. I’m sorry. But, seriously.” Her features scream annoyance as she shakes her head.

“Look…I get that he could have given me more. But at least he finally responded. That has to mean something.”

“It’s been two months since Cooper died, and he emails you two words. I’m sorry, but you deserve more than that, London.”

“Thank you for being such a great friend, Paige. I appreciate you so much. Obviously, I wish things were different, but this is something at least.”

“Barely.”

“He’s been going through a hard time. He’s been through so much. He’s entitled not to handle his grief well. He’ll get through this. It’ll be fine.”

And it will be okay.

Sure, I could assume his email means the worst and break down, crumbling into a sobbing mess. But I’m not going to. I know what Loïc and I had—
have
. It is real, and it is forever. I can’t pretend to know what he’s going through or imagine the circumstances that caused him to write me those words.

There are so many variables, most of which are unknowns. The only thing I can do is cling on to what I hold as a truth, and that’s my love for Loïc.

Unless I hear the words fall from his lips and know, without a doubt, that he means them, I won’t believe them. I simply can’t. Because they don’t make sense.

I hate the pity I see in Paige’s eyes. She looks like she’s going to say something, but she only nods.

“I’m going to write him back. I’ll see what he says.”

I quickly write him an email.

To: Loïc Berkeley

From: London Wright

Subject: I love you.

Loïc,

I don’t understand what your email means.

We need to talk. I can’t imagine what you’re going through, but I want to help.

I know that we can get through anything—even this, as long as we’re together.

I will never give up on you or us. Please, talk to me. Call me, anytime.

I love you so very much.

Love,

London

I wait a minute after clicking
send
. When he doesn’t respond right away, I close down the laptop. “All right, Paigey Poo, let’s go celebrate you.”

London

“What the heart knows and what it chooses to believe are two different things.”

—London Wright

I sprint out into the living room to find Paige sprawled on the couch, reading a magazine.

“Maggie just texted me!” I shriek, causing Paige to toss the magazine up with a yelp.

“Say it; don’t scream it. Jeez, London,” Paige says, holding a hand to her chest.

“Sorry.” I shake my head. “But she said that Loïc is back and that I should go over and see him.”

“Really?” Paige quickly sits up. “Well, go. What are you waiting for?”

“I don’t know!” I cry as I jump up and down, clapping my hands. “What should I wear? What should I say? Oh my gosh!”

“You look fine. Just go. Oh, but I’d at least brush your teeth. You know what they say.
Actions speak louder than words
.”

“Of course I’ll brush my teeth. I haven’t kissed him in months. Our first kiss is going to be minty fresh.” I practically skip into my room.

Within five minutes, I’m in my car, driving toward Loïc’s house in Ypsilanti. I can’t believe that I’m about to see him. He’s been gone almost exactly five months, but it feels like an eternity, especially the last two months. I haven’t heard from him since his cryptic two-worded email last week. So, maybe he meant that his tour was over, that he was coming home. I just don’t understand why he couldn’t call or write with more information.

But I’m not going to let myself go there. He’s here. He’s home, and I’m about to see him. That’s more than I could have hoped for. The rest, we’ll figure out.

I pull into his driveway, parking behind his truck. There’s another car in the drive that I don’t recognize. At first, I think that maybe Maggie got a different car and that she’s here, visiting, until I remember that she had to work tonight.

She must have been here earlier anyway.
How else would she have known that Loïc was back?

It’s strange that Maggie no longer lives here, but I don’t blame her. I can’t imagine how difficult it would be for her to stay in her and Cooper’s home.

I exit my car, and the May sun warms my skin, wrapping me in a blanket of hope. I pull in a deep breath, inhaling
life
—freshly cut grass, blossoming lilacs from a nearby bush, recent rain, and soil from the earth. I’m surrounded by new beginnings, and finally, after months of doubt and coldness, I know it’s going to be okay.

I’m about to see Loïc.

Jogging up the front porch steps, I’m suddenly overcome by a nervous energy.
Why didn’t Loïc tell me that he was back?
I push that thought away as I knock on the door.
It doesn’t matter because I’m seconds away from seeing him, and then everything will be right again.

I wait for what seems like forever before knocking again.

Finally, I hear someone unlock the door. When it swings open, I’m not face-to-face with Loïc but Sarah, and as I scan down her body—

Her stomach.

My eyes bulge at the sight of her very pregnant belly.

“London!” Sarah exclaims, sounding shocked. “What are you doing here?” The question isn’t asked in a rude tone, but at the same time, I can’t believe she just asked me that.

“To see Loïc.”

I have to stop myself from saying,
Duh
, afterward. Sarah has this way of bringing out the worst in me.

“Oh, right. Well, um…you can’t see him right now,” she finally stammers out.

My mouth opens wide in a gasp. She’s standing on the other side of the screen door in tight black leggings and an itty-bitty tank top that barely contains her Hooters boobs. Even with a watermelon belly, she’s hotter than most women I know. I hate her.

“What do you mean, I can’t see him right now? Sarah, I want to see Loïc,” I snap.

“I’m sorry, London.” She looks down before her gaze catches mine, and she continues, “He doesn’t want to see you. I’m sorry.”

“That’s ridiculous. Please go tell him I am here. Tell him that I need to see him. You can’t keep him from me,” I bite out.

“Hold on,” she sighs. She has the audacity to look remorseful before she shuts the door in my face.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

A minute later, the door opens.

“He says he doesn’t want to see you and to please go. I’m sorry.” Sarah gives me a faint smile.

“I don’t care what you say. I’m not leaving here until I see my boyfriend.”

“But he broke up with you,” she says bluntly.

What?

Yes, I know she’s referring to the email, and in my heart, I’ve known all along that was his intention, but he didn’t mean it. I know he didn’t.

“It was two words in an email. That hardly counts as a breakup,” I growl at the tall, busty blonde in front of me.

“Well, I think it does to him, so you need to accept it.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” I’m being so rude, but I couldn’t care less. I have one objective, and that’s to see Loïc. The fact that she’s stopping me is really pissing me off.

“I live here—with Loïc.”

That bitch just threw those last two words in to piss me off.

“Why?”

“Because he wants me here. Because I want to. We’re going to raise the baby here.”

And there you have it.

That one little word is like a freezing waterfall extinguishing my small candle.

Baby.

A second ago, I would have knocked this bitch down to get to Loïc, but that word completely doused my fire. In the blink of an eye, I lost my fight.

Baby.

She and Loïc are going to raise a baby? What is happening here? Will someone please bring me back to reality?

I’m standing motionless on the porch. Who knows what expression my face wears, but I’m sure it’s disturbing. My chest aches, and I struggle to find air. It’s so cold, and I strive to feel the comforting spring day, but I can’t.

I don’t understand what’s going on.

I just need Loïc.

Sarah presses her lips into a line before saying, “Good-bye, London.”

Then, she closes the door on me. The lock turns, and I’m still here.

This isn’t real.

Nothing makes sense.

I gasp, the harsh breath bringing life to my lungs. I stare at the closed door a second longer before finally grasping enough sense to walk back to my car.

I don’t even remember the drive back to my house. Yet I’m now walking up to my front door.

I can’t even cry. I can’t even mourn this. Whatever this is, it isn’t my life.

This is not how things go down.

This is not how things end.

My front door opens with a whoosh.

“What are you doing out here? What’s wrong?” Paige asks. “You’ve been standing out here for at least five minutes.”

I follow Paige inside and plop down on the couch, still unable to formalize a thought. I’m in shock.

“London, you need to start talking. You’re scaring me. Did you see him?” She paces in front of me. “Did you see Loïc?”

I raise my head at the sound of his name, and I meet Paige’s concerned stare. “No.” I shake my head. “They’re raising a baby. She’s pregnant,” I stammer out.

“Who?”

“I saw Sarah. She’s pregnant. She wouldn’t let me see him. She said he didn’t want to see me.”

“Loïc and Sarah are having a baby? He cheated on you?” Paige shrieks.

“No, he wouldn’t.” My words come out slowly.

Paige snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Earth to London. Snap out of it, love. I need to know everything.”

“That’s all really. She said I couldn’t see him. I was fighting her on it, but then she talked about them raising a baby together, and I kind of had an internal freak-out, I think.”

“How big is her belly?”

“What?”

“How big is it?” Paige urges.

“I don’t know. Big.”

“Well, the last time she saw Loïc was the first week of December when she drove up to surprise him before the guys left, remember? That was five months ago, like exactly. Does she look five months pregnant?”

“I don’t know, Paige. Her belly’s big.” I sigh.

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean anything. Women carry differently. She’s so skinny. Maybe she looks further along than she is, you know? I’ve known people with good-sized bellies at five months.”