KEPT: A Second Chance Fairy Tale (43 page)

“Don’t push,” I clip. “I need a favor.”

His eyebrows lift in question as he sits forward, now bracing his elbows on his knees. “What’s that?”

“Tomorrow, Lucy is meeting with Margret and Jackson.”

“Yeah, Lillie told me.”

“I want to be there.”

The air leaves his chest, and I visibly see him gasp for breath. “I gather you already know she won’t welcome you with open arms.”

I smirk, not giving a shit if she welcomes me or not. I’ve come to care about Dillon almost as much as I’ve come to despise Margret Hollings Monroe.

“Don’t care. I want Margret to remember me. If she pushes anything past this meeting tomorrow, I want her to know it’s no longer about Dillon. It’s about me.”

“You’re doing it again.” He rolls his eyes.

Not appreciating his tone, I snap, “What?”

Pointing to me, he states loudly, “This! You’re keeping her again. Jesus, Michael.”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” he objects. “You’re making her business yours, and you’re doing it without her knowing.” Finally, he takes in a long breath. “Fine, whatever. I’ll let Jane know you’ll be loitering around as backup. I’m telling her not to tell Lucy.”

“Whatever you think is best.”

Corbin stands, shaking his head and giving me a half-smile. “Best. Right. Like you ever cared what I thought was best.”

“I care deeply,” I slide out sarcastically,

“This is crazy. You and Lucy deserve each other. You’re both nuts.”

“Corbin?”

He stops and turns to look at me. If anything, I note he looks a little flustered. Although our relationship isn’t his concern, he deserves to know that if everything works out as I hope it does, all of this will be worth it.

“Nuts or not, I love her.”

“I think I knew that,” he immediately replies. “I
hope
I knew that anyway.”

“She’s…” I try to put it into words, but I find it difficult to sum up all I’ve grown to love about her.

“She’s maddening.” He smirks. “If there are two people who deserve to come out of this happy, it’s you and her.”

“Thank you,” I sincerely return, knowing after all that’s happened, he and I will be okay.

“Now let me get out of here. I need a minute before I call Jane.”

When he turns around and starts heading toward the door, I listen to him mumble aloud. Words to describe us include crazy, ridiculous, and nuts.

I cannot wait until Corbin Mercer finds a woman who drives him to the brink of his own sanity. When that day comes, I’ll pass him the bottle of all sensibility and help him toast to his final drink.

This is exactly what loving Lucy has done to me. And so far, other than the mess I’ve left to clean up, I’ve been having the time of my life.

Lucy

“S
O TOMORROW’S THE BIG DAY
, huh?” Shannan queries as she rolls Dillon’s mini basketball back and forth across the table. She’s been side-stepping this conversation the entire time I’ve been straightening my apartment, attempting to avoid feeling my own anxiety.

“Yep. Two o’clock,” I inform her. “Margret can’t wait, I’m sure.”

“Have you talked to her since all this started? I mean, has she seen Dillon at all?”

Shaking my head and pulling the blanket from the couch to fold it, I reply, “Nope. Not once.”

“God, she’s evil. This isn’t about Dillon at all.”

“It’s not,” I answer. “This is about me. I told you, she blames me for Gabe’s death.”

“Do you think she knows about Victoria and what Gabe was doing with her when he died?”

I’ve thought of this, but I’ve come up with no answer. Other than blaming me for him dying, maybe she does know and also blames me for him looking outside our marriage to find a happiness he thought she would approve of.

“No clue, but it doesn’t matter. Gabe’s dead,” I answer coldly.

I wouldn’t talk like this if Dillon were listening. It’s bad enough his father is gone, but to know how he left before he actually left is a story for another time.

If I ever tell him.

I’ve reasoned with myself in regards to this matter. I know if I choose to never let Dillon understand his father in the adulterous capacity, it’s no better than Michael keeping it from me. I’d be protecting Dillon from the anger and hurt I felt when I learned of it.

I’ve admitted there are good intentions to what Michael was doing. I’ve also admitted I miss him very much.

Shannan sits quietly. Again, I hear the rolling of the ball, but with my back to her, I’m not sure what she’s thinking as I can’t see her expressive face.

“Have you talked to Michael since…”

“No, I haven’t.”

Using the briefest version possible, I filled Shannan in about our breakup. When I told her we had sex, I watched her eyes grow round, almost happy, as if because we had sex, we wouldn’t be ending anything.

“He hasn’t called? Written? Sent a text? Flowers? Stormed in here to carry you away? Nothing?”

The pang of heartache strikes. I wasn’t hoping, by any means, he’d take my promise of letting him go as a chance to prove himself. He wouldn’t do that. Michael’s been through too much. He’s too proud. However, there was a part of me that knew the part of him which refused to be denied. I thought maybe he’d at least try, but he never did.

And why does that bother me so much?

“I think he’s as done as I am,” I explain. “We’ve put each other through enough.”

“I don’t believe that,” Shannan replies, standing up and walking toward me. She grabs a few pillows from the floor and positions them on the couch where I eventually would have. “I think he’s waiting.”

“For what?” I question, standing still, wanting to hear her opinion.

It’s not often I give her the floor in regards to her thoughts on my life, so she uses it to her advantage and waits a few minutes before replying. “He’s waiting for you.”

“For me to what?”

She throws the pillow at my chest, making me drop the blanket when I’m forced to catch it. “To pull your head out.”

“We’re not going through that again.”

“No, we aren’t,” she retorts with attitude. “I’ll just say that if any of this ever happens to
me
and I’m acting like
you
, dear God in Heaven, please smack me silly.”

She’s not being fair.

None of this would ever happen to her because she’s never met a man who made her want to be with him. She’s never experienced the passion Michael gave me for the first time in my life. She’s certainly never had the security of a man looking after a woman he doesn’t even know, yet living each day looking behind him to a past he wanted to forget if only to ensure she’s safe, cared for and, for lack of a better term, kept.

Is she making me believe I’m the one who’s wrong?

“You’re coming around.” She grins after sitting quietly and watching me process my thoughts. “You’re getting it.”

“No,” I deny, shaking my head and focusing on Dillon’s scattered array of toys littering the living room floor.

“You clean when you’re pissed, Lucy. When you’re stressed, your house never looks so tidy.” She giggles. “You’re starting to realize all you’re about to lose by not forgiving a man who loved you before meeting you, who cared for you before getting to know you, and also…” She pulls the red truck from my hand and throws it to the floor with frustration. When my eyes come to hers, she finishes with, “A man who happens to adore your son.”

God, I hate this.

Getting angry is easy. Believing in the reasons I’m angry is just as easy. Staying angry is where I’ve started to become remiss.

“He won’t be there tomorrow,” I admit my anxiety, hoping she knows what to do with it. “He started all of this.” I toss the toys in a pile, then straighten and secure my ponytail. I don’t look at her before I finish. “A part of me ignored what Margret was doing because I knew I was taking her on alone. But then Michael…”

“Everything in the last two months begins and ends with Michael,” she carefully observes. “Each and every day, your world has revolved around his.”

“Yes,” I answer, continuing to look down.

I feel Shannan’s arm around my shoulders before she pulls me closely to her. “We’re gonna have a hell of a lot to talk about when we hit the bar Friday night. With all your problems over the last week, I’m guessing we’ll definitely be needing a cab ride home.”

“Right.”

The thought of returning to the robotic life I had before Michael makes the circumstance that much worse. Going back to working at the diner, sitting in a crowded bar complaining about my life as it’s come to be, and trying to forget everything about a love I hardly held will all but slowly kill me.

“I say we go back to Tryst tomorrow night. I mean, it’d be like returning to the scene of the crime, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s what got me into this mess, remember?”

“Yep, and maybe, just by chance, it’ll get you out of it, too.”

Please, someone, tell me how my traitorous best friend suddenly became Michael’s biggest ally.

At the same time, Shannan and I turn our heads to Dillon as he walks out of his room, stopping once he reaches the end of the hall.

“Hey, buddy,” Shannan greets him first. “How are you?”

Dillon doesn’t respond. Instead, he looks up at me. With a puzzled expression on his face, he asks, “Where is he?”

My eyebrows pinch together before attempting to clarify. “Who?”

“Michael,” he answers. “Where did he go?”

“He’s home,” I return quickly.

Dillon’s face grows more concerned before he questions, “He doesn’t have a family, does he?”

The maturity of his observation both surprises and hurts. For as young as he is, Dillon hasn’t missed as much of this as I thought I had protected him from.

“No, Dillon,” I tell him with all honesty. “He doesn’t have family. Not close anyway.”

His face remains expressionless. “So he’s all alone?”

My throat swells, suffocating any answer I could muster.

Dillon stands in front of us, his finger aimlessly running up and down the wall at his side.

Finally, after what seems like hours, he speaks again. “If I weren’t here, I’d want him to be here with you.”

Behind me, I hear Shannan’s gasp.

“Dillon…,” I breathe.

A single tear falls from my eye, which he doesn’t miss. “You’re sad. He’s probably sad, too. He’s probably sad because you are.”

Thankfully, at that statement, I hear Shannan jump from her chair.

With a feigned lightness in her voice, she walks to Dillon, extends her hand, and offers, “I’m thinking Mom needs a minute. You and I should go get some ice cream. What do you think?”

Dillon pulls himself from the wall, but keeps his eyes on me. When he walks in what I thought was her direction, he stops short. His arms wrap around my waist and he holds me tighter than I remember him ever doing.

All I can do is look down and feel the pang of guilt as it overtakes me.

Michael will never have this with his son again.

Lucy

S
UCH BULLSHIT.

All of this is bullshit.

Jackson Wills isn’t anything how I remember being told he would be.

He’s a civil lawyer, like Corbin, but that’s where the similarities end. He’s not nice, he’s not sweet, and he’s definitely not handsome. He’s old, heavyset, and sweaty, and appears to be, putting it in simple terms, Margret’s ‘fetch and sit’ boy. The man is just as insistent as Jane, but he’s also terribly rude.

“How do you plan to send your child to private school when, by all the information I have gathered here, you nearly qualify for state aid?” he asks me directly.

That’s the third time he’s asked me a question, and this will be the third time Jane sets him straight because I’m not about to answer. We’ve been here all of ten minutes and he’s pissed her off at least that many times.

Jane tosses her pen on her pad of paper and overdramatizes an air of ridiculousness.

“Dear God, Jackson. This isn’t a trial. She’s only here because your client…” She limply points at Margret sitting across from me, scowling, “insists on being a pain in the ass.”

Margret gasps, while I hold back a giggle. My bottom lip is starting to get sore from continuously doing just that.