Scared of Forever (Scared #2) (20 page)

“I don’t deserve
him after what I did to him yesterday. The day before I can blame on
the champagne, but what do I blame yesterday on?” I rebut.

“God damn it, Emily!
Why would you say that?
He
doesn’t deserve
you
.
Blame yesterday on how you feel about me, and us.”

“We were wrong!” I
say, matching his frustration. I turn, also realizing that no amount
of talking will make this any easier.

“He’s cheating on
you,” Tyler says softly.

Wait,
what?
I don’t think I heard right. “I’m sorry,
what?” I say softly, turning around to face him. Looking for an
indication of a lie. But his eyes plead back at me resolutely. There
is not a trace of deception within them. Tears fill my eyes. “You’re
lying. Why would you lie about something like that?”

“I’m not lying.”
Tyler walks over and holds my shoulders. “Tell me when you look at
me, that you really think I’m lying.”

I already know that I
can’t.

“I would have left
weeks ago! Do you think I enjoyed staying in this apartment and
listening to you have guilt sex with my brother every time you spent
the day with me?”

“It was…that loud?”
I ask, cheeks blushing with embarrassment.

“The walls are made
of plaster, not titanium,” he quips, staring at me with a
distasteful expression.

“But Blake would
never do that,” I repeat, tears threatening to spill onto my
cheeks. “And I haven’t slept with Blake since you and I…”

I suddenly remember the
tattoo on Blake’s back, the late nights. I had all the evidence in
the world to support lies on Blake’s part, and none to support lies
from Tyler.
Except
…
“Please tell me you aren’t just saying this to hurt my and
Blake’s relationship.” It’s not hurt that makes me cry. It’s
the feeling of betrayal. The feeling that I was stupid, that I now
look stupid for defending Blake if what Tyler says is true.

He drops his hands and
turns his back to me. “I got this a couple of nights ago,” he
says, showing me a still-healing tattoo across his left shoulder
blade, the only one on the right side of his back.
TE
Amo. From high school Spanish, I seem to recall that it
means,
I love you
.
“From Aria.”

A small pang of
jealousy burns in my gut.

“Your fiancée turned
up there at two am, and these bruises,” he says pointing to his
face, “are the result. Aria said that they have been together for
two years. Continuously. Up until last night. Do the math, Emily. I
didn’t want to tell you. I still don’t want to tell you. It tears
me up inside to see you so hurt. But I also can’t just sit around
and watch you be oblivious to what he’s doing. You need to see who
he really is.”

I shake my head
violently, remembering again the tattoo on Blake’s back.
No,
no, no. He’s lying
. That man treated me like a queen. He
was the one who I was going to marry. If what Tyler is saying is
true, then when he met me, when he proposed on one knee, when he
kissed me and when he lay in bed with me at night and when he took my
virginity...

Were all lies.
Deceit
.
According to the word of a man I’ve known for a few weeks now. A
man who stands to gain everything from breaking Blake and I up. But
does he really want me under those circumstances?

I turn and walk away.
Towards the door.

“Emily stop,” Tyler
calls. “Please.”

I stop, but I don’t
turn. I hear nothing for a few seconds, and then Tyler appears in
front of me, holding a small slip of paper. “I hope, for your sake,
that you are right. That Blake is a changed man. That he loves you as
much as he says he does. Because if he doesn’t, I know I did. I
do
.”

“Telling me all this
doesn’t make what we’ve done okay,” I say quietly.

“Why would I lie?
Yes, I want you. But I’d never purposely break your heart just to
win you. I’m
not
Blake!”
Tyler says desperately.

“You have everything
to gain from breaking Blake and I up.” I lay my thoughts out for
him, tears filling my eyes. “You’d get me, and you’d get the
chance to rub it in his face.”

“No matter what you
may believe, I will always tell you the truth.
Always
.
You don’t have the kind of love with him that you deserve. Your
commitment doesn’t mean a damn thing to my brother.” Tyler
presses the paper into my hand and kisses my forehead gently.

“What’s this?” I
ask, taking the paper and reading the address on it. I stare up into
Tyler’s beautiful brown, entrancing eyes.

“Proof, either way.
If you never need to go there, proof that Blake loves you. But the
next time he works late, or doesn’t come home, go over there. Go
around to the side of the building. There’s a key under a small
ceramic frog at the door. I hope you find the answers you’re
looking for.”

“Are you leaving
soon?” I ask miserably.

Tyler’s eyes fall to
the floor. “I’m not going to stay here and watch you be with
Blake. Not when I know what he’s doing. Ask me to stay with you and
I will, but don’t ask me to stay under those circumstances.”

He takes a step to the
side, letting me pass. My eyes fall sorrowfully on the bags standing
neatly against the wall. I turn and kiss him, one last passionate,
sorrow-filled kiss. I pour everything I feel into it. His hands weave
through my hair. Neither one of us wanting to let go. He waits for me
to speak.

The conundrum is
myself. Me and my stupid will to do what is right. I walk out of
Tyler’s apartment, casting one final glance back to see him
standing against the counter, his head bowed in defeat. Once I’m
safely out of earshot, I let the violent sobs wrack my body.

I could have changed
Emily’s mind.
I wanted to.
But in reality, she would have never truly been mine that way. She
would have been the girl that I stole from my brother. She would have
hated herself for betraying Blake, and I would have hated myself for
making her do it. I had honestly expected her to believe me when I
told her about Blake and Aria, though. I was devastated, and truly
hurt by her disbelief in me.

I know that Blake will
go back to Aria. He can’t help himself, because my brother is an
absolute dog. In fact, with the sheer volume of my hatred for him
over what he did to Emily, I think the canine reference is way too
nice. I actually
like
dogs.

Emily hasn’t knocked
on my door since yesterday. I wait for her. But she doesn’t come
back. Sometime around midnight, I jump on my bike and go for a ride
to clear my head. It’s about time I faced reality, and the reality
was that Emily very much felt like she owed Blake something. And
nothing I said had changed her mind. Not even telling her about Aria.

Maybe
Eliza was right.
I am impulsive, and spontaneous. And it
had worked in my favor, until now. The way I felt about Emily had
seriously impaired my thinking and processing. I had caused her
guilt, which resulted in her feeling sorry for my idiot brother. It
would have all played out on its own eventually. But I pushed it, and
now it’s just a fucked up mess. I’m no different than Blake. He
wanted Aria, irrespective of who he hurt. I wanted Emily,
irrespective of who I hurt. I hate feeling sorry for myself. It’s
probably easier for her if I do leave. At least that way, Emily has
some distance from me to work through her feelings for Blake.
And
for me.
It’s pretty fucking stupid logic, but it’s
what I’m choosing to go with.

I skip my run the next
morning, and email the travel editor I’m working with, telling her
I’ll be in Rio by tomorrow. I book a red eye flight out of JFK and
make my way to my Jeep. I have one more bone to pick before I leave.
I pause at Blake’s apartment. One heart-wrenching step away from
knocking, I decide against it and leave, bags in hand. She made her
choice, and now I need to make mine.

Normally, I would be
excited about driving to the Hamptons. Because normally, I’m
driving there to go to the beach cottage, to get lost in the peace.
However, my agenda this morning involves my mother. I’m almost
positive that she knows about Blake and Aria. I’m sure that she
knows about the money Blake’s giving her. After all, Blake lives
off my mother, since he spent most of his formative years after high
school blowing his trust fund, one dime at a time.
And
definitely not on Medical school.

I pull up two hours
later at the expansive Carson mansion, relieved that the drive is
over. Two hours to mourn a loss and think, uninterrupted, is a long
fucking time. My feet hit the gravel as I exit the car. The crunching
sound reminds me of my childhood, when we came up here for summer
vacations. When Blake and I were still close. When I had no idea how
conniving my mother could truly be.

I walk in and greet the
staff as I see them, most scurrying around, cleaning and polishing to
make the house ready for the summer. The large, marble-tiled hallway
stretches before me, giving way to a grand staircase. Every inch of
this house exudes expensive elegance.
And
I hate it
.

A clicking sound
emerges from the kitchen. I see my mother approach, an unhappy scowl
on her face.
She must be in a
good mood.
“I presume you’re here to discuss your
brother.”

“Hello, son. I’m
well, thanks for asking,” I reply sardonically.

“Blake has already
called and appeased me of the ‘situation.’”

I laugh sarcastically.
“So I was right. You did know about Blake and Aria. You knew that
he was seeing her, and yet you still forced his and Emily’s plans
for marriage. Did you have any consideration for that girl at all?”

“Has this whole
situation struck a nerve?” Eliza shoots me a disgustingly fake
smile. “I’ll have you know there was plenty of consideration for
Emily. She came here with nothing. No money. No family. Nothing.
Meeting your brother was the best thing that could have happened to
her.”

“Oh yes, I forgot. We
quantify everything in dollars and cents in this family.”

“Let’s not get
snide, Tyler,” she continues, wiping the large, round dining room
table with her hand and frowning at the dust that she disturbs. “You
benefit very well from your trust. And I afforded you the same
opportunities as Blake. In fact, you had even more potential. You
were more likeable, smarter, less troublesome when you were younger.”

“Except that I had no
intention of selling my soul to uphold the family name. That may be
true, before I realized what a cold and calculating woman you really
are. But why Emily?”

“She’s a good fit.
No baggage, no discernable history that would one day appear in a
magazine.”

“And pliable. You
insisted that Blake marry her because she would fit well into your
plans for him.”

“Well, I couldn’t
exactly have your brother marrying that girl with the tattoos and the
piercings all over,” she says, referring to Aria.

“Both Emily and Aria
are amazing, and neither of them deserve to be treated the way Blake
is treating them,” I rebut furiously.

“What about Blake?
Does he deserve the way
you
are
treating
him?
” She
rolls her eyes when I stare at her blankly. “Do you think I didn’t
notice that you and Emily left the event the other night together,
were gone for a remarkably long period of time, and then you
disappeared and she reappeared looking like she had just finished
running a half marathon?”

I avert my eyes. I have
no response to that. I should have guessed that if anyone noticed
those things, it would have been my mother.