The Ground Rules: Undone (12 page)

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” she asks, her voice no longer cheery. “Talk to me.”

A snort escapes my mouth, the sound slightly disturbing. “I…I told Gabe.”

Silence fills the line. And I realize she doesn’t know what to say to me. She can’t help me either.

No one can.

“Oh no,” she finally manages. “I’m so sorry. I bet he was pissed.”

My voice still cracks when I tell her, “Yeah. He stormed off. Told me I was on own.”

“I’m coming over,” she says. “Don’t move an inch. I’ll be there soon. Will you be okay until then?”

I wipe my cheek with the heel of my hand. “I will. Thanks, Gwen.”

Gwen is by my side in a flash. I wonder how many traffic rules she broke to get here so fast. She holds me in her arms and tells me she’ll be here for me, no matter what. She tells me she’ll sit for me, run to the grocery store, and buy cute little outfits for the baby. She says she hopes it’s a girl because there are so much more fashion choices for girls. And she tells me she’s glad I’ve decided to keep the baby. “I’m sorry I brought you to that clinic,” she says. “And I’m sorry I said you were ruining your life. You’re not. This baby is a precious gift.” A weight is lifted as I realize that no matter what, I have support. Even if I don’t have Gabe’s or Weston’s support, I’ll always have Gwen.

And just as expected, she instantly goes into ‘cheer-up-Mirella’ mode. She makes me my favorite tea, selects one of my favorite movies (Dirty Dancing) from my DVD collection and plops it into the player. She even does my nails in a bright orange color, which I hate, but that’s of absolutely no importance to me at the moment. I try to get lost in the movie but I just can’t. Even Baby and Johnny’s story, which I love, can’t get me out of my funk. Johnny reminds me of Gabe too much — the quintessential sexy tortured rebel with a heart of gold. Although my bad boy’s heart wasn’t so golden when I told him about the baby. He’s never been so hurtful.

I vacuum the living room, not wanting the girls to prick their toes on microscopic shards of glass, as Gwen makes us smoothies. She insisted when I told her I didn’t want dinner.

She takes a seat next to me and hands me one of the rather disgusting looking green smoothies. I have no clue what she’s put in there but I suspect broccoli might have been involved. I eye it suspiciously and she forces me to drink it. “You need to keep your baby healthy.”

Surprisingly, it’s not horrible. As I drain my glass, I reach for the phone. “I should call Caroline and tell her to bring the girls over.”

But just as I reach for the receiver, the phone shrills, the old familiar melody ringing in my ears. It is a number I don’t recognize and I pray to the Gods it’s not a telemarketer because this is really not a good time. Whatever poor soul is at the other end of the line will most certainly get his or her head chewed off, in one huge, single bite.

“Hello,” I venture cautiously.

“Hello, Mirella.” I recognize the voice, but the tone is all wrong. Something tells me this voice should be cheerful, sweet. But it is edgy and shaky.

“Hello,” I venture once again, knowing I know this woman, but can’t quite put my finger on her.

“Mirella,” she says with a heavy sigh. Her voice is still shaky. “It’s Bridget.”

My stomach drops. I’ve never spoken to Bridget on the phone before and I’ve never heard her quite like this. She’s clearly upset and I wonder what’s wrong. My mind immediately jumps to Weston. He was so upset the last time I saw him and he never did call me. But then, I asked him not to. Could he have told her about our little tryst?

“I’m at the precinct with Gabe,” Bridget tells me, her words as cold as ice. “You should come down immediately.”

My mind whirls around. “What?” A flood of emotions overtake me. I have a million questions. Were they in an accident? Were they together? Did he tell her about the baby?

When she tells me what happened, a wave of nausea hits me. I can’t believe her words. It feels like I’m caught in a bad nightmare. I worry about Weston. I worry about Gabe.

I grab the pen and notepaper by the phone and jot down the details she gives me, my mind numb. Gwen stares at me, wide-eyed, a half-empty smoothie in her hand. I ask Bridget a question or two but she dismisses them.

My hand shakes uncontrollably as I set the receiver back in its cradle. Gwen rests her hand softly on mine. I crumble to the sofa, my sobs coming out in half-cries, half-whimpers.

She squeezes me tight. “What happened?”

“Weston…Gabe…” At first, I can’t quite speak. My cries muffle every word I try to utter. I close my eyes and suck in a calming breath. “Gabe…Gabe went to see Weston…”

Gwen gulps. She knows Gabe. She can probably guess what I’m about to say.

“He went ballistic…” I trail off, my voice surprisingly calm. And then, as I tell her what happened, I cannot believe my own words. “He barged into his office, and beat him within an inch of his life.”

“Oh fuck,” Gwen whispers. She knows Gabe’s history. She knows he already has a record for assault. She knows he’s done for.

I’m consumed with worry for Gabe. But I’m even more worried about Weston. Will he be okay? “It sounds really bad, Gwen. Bridget told me Weston is in the hospital. I begged her to give me more details, but she wouldn’t tell me anything more. Her voice was so cold.”

“This is bad news for Gabe,” Gwen says, stating the obvious.

“I know,” I say, my words small. “With his record and his MMA training.”

“He could be charged for aggravated assault,” she says. “His body is a weapon.”

Damn, I should have known something like this would eventually happen.

I bury my head in my hands. “Bridget is going to bury him, she’s going to skin him alive.”

“You mentioned she was a criminal lawyer?”

I wince as a wave of nausea washes over me. “Yes, and she’s a shark.” I know this; the way she carries herself, the intensity of her gaze when she gets a point across. And I also know this because of the stories I’ve heard from Weston. She’s sweet and lovely as pie but you can tell there’s a tiger, a whole other person hidden underneath.

Gwen holds me tighter but doesn’t say a thing.

I pry myself from her. I need to get to Gabe. I need to help him out. How? I’m not sure but I know I need to be there for him. “I need to go see him,” I tell Gwen. “Now.”

Gwen is a godsend. She calls Caroline, tells her there’s been an emergency and asks her to keep the girls for a little longer. She drives me to the city because I’m in no state to drive. She repeatedly eyes the scrap of paper I’ve given her, calls Greg on her Bluetooth, and asks him he if knows a good criminal defense lawyer, or someone who knows a good criminal defense lawyer. The woman is all over it. She reminds me of Bridget. And as my thoughts are brought back to the shark, my stomach turns a little.

I stare blankly at the road ahead of us, not taking in a single detail. I need to know more. I want to know more. I decide to call Kathryn and am relieved and surprised to catch her still at the office.

She’s completely shaken up.

She tells me a large man came barging in at around noon, dressed in sweat pants and a grey t-shirt. She tells me his hair was unkempt, he had a thin beard, and looked crazed. Apparently, she told him he couldn’t see Mr. Hanson without an appointment. But he barged in anyway and slammed the door behind him. She heard him screaming through the door, cursing, shouting unintelligible things. Then she heard the sound of slamming and crashing. She wanted to go in and help, but was too afraid.

At this point, she decided to pick up the phone and call the police. She didn’t know what else to do.

The man came out and fell on the chair in the reception area, no more than fifteen feet away from her. She tells me she has never feared for her life more than she did at that moment. She wanted to go help out her boss, but terror had her frozen to her chair. She ventured a look at him from the corner of her eye. The man was clearly distraught, he was crying; loud horrible sobs. He buried his head in his hands, and scraped at his long hair repeatedly. And when he caught her eye, she didn’t flinch, for apparently, all she saw in his eyes was sorrow. She knew he wasn’t going to hurt her.

The man was still sitting in the chair when the police came and he didn’t struggle when they cuffed him, almost as if he wanted them to take him away.

My heart is shattered as she tells me her story, and I fall into sobs. I had no idea this had wounded Gabe so deeply. I didn’t realize to what extent this could really mess him up until now. I should have known. Gabe always acts so cool — like nothing in the world ever bothers him. But it’s all an act. I should have known better. I’ve been so stupid, so irresponsible. I should have known he would blow up eventually.

I swallow hard and take a calming breath, trying to retain my composure. My voice is still shaky as I tell her how sorry I am. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“Thank you,” she says, her voice sweet. “I’m okay now.”

My words are measured when I ask her, “Why are you still at the office?”

“I wanted to be here for Mr. Hanson,” she tells me. “And I want to be here for any news.”

The seat belt strains against my shoulder as I sit up straight. “What is the news?” I blurt out, desperately wanting to know. “Have you heard anything?”

“Well, apparently, thank goodness, it’s not as bad as we all thought. I mean, he was unconscious and bloody when the paramedics came. We all thought he might be dead. But apparently he’s no longer in critical condition, and they say he’s going to be okay.”

A huge wave of relief washes over me…a tidal wave, a tsunami. “Thank you, Kathryn,” I say before I hang up.

Of course, I don’t tell her the man who scared the life out of her is my husband. I’m surprised she didn’t recognize him. Gabe has only been to Weston’s office once before, and I don’t recall seeing her that day. Or perhaps she was there, and simply didn’t remember him.

But I’m sure she will remember him now. For the rest of her life.

When we get to the police station, we can’t seem to find anyone who will help us. We ask about a Gabriel Keates who has been detained earlier in the day, but the receptionist seems to have too much on her plate to give a rat’s rear.

Just as I’m about to lose all hope, I spot Bridget rounding the corner, in a tight black suit, hair up in a severe bun, shoulders squared, her mouth a thin line. The shark is heading straight for me with evil in its eyes, a lust for blood.

My heart pounds as she approaches, sandwiched between two other equally stern women in suits — other lawyers I assume.

Gabe is dead in the water. I just know it. In a pool of blood.

I can actually see the nostrils of her perfect nose flaring as she inches toward me. “Mirella,” she says.

I struggle to breathe. “Where is he?”

She glares at me. “How could you let this happen?”

I know she’s not talking about Gabe. She’s talking about the baby. I don’t know what to say to her. Her husband’s child grows inside me; a life we made together. There is no worse betrayal. I could tell her it was an accident but she would never believe me. And it really wasn’t, we weren’t careful enough.

I stare down at my flip-flop clad feet and my bright orange toenails, like a petulant little girl in front of the strict head mistress.

Bridget turns to her colleagues. “Leave us,” she snaps. And they scurry away like frightened hamsters.

I stand frozen, steadying myself for one of the worst moments of my life.

“You too,” she hisses at Gwen.

Gwen blows out a breath. “Yes, Sir,” she scoffs. “Mirella, let me know if you need me,” she mutters before leaving us.

I find myself actually trembling and I take a step back, hoping to retreat to…I don’t know where.

She stares at me for the longest time without a word, her eyes icy. “Don’t you think for a second this changes anything between you and Weston. He will no longer be seeing you. It’s still over between you two.”

My heart sinks. I know it’s over. I’ve accepted that. But what about Gabe? Will he be okay?

Despite myself, the waterworks take a hold of me. “Please Bridget,” I plead, the words stifled by cries. “This is my fault. And my fault only. Gabe has nothing to do with this. He did what he did because he’s angry, just as angry as you,” I tell her, desperately trying to even out my shaking voice. “You must understand that.”

Her face softens. “Gabe will be fine,” she tells me, matter-of-fact. “He’s still detained. But as soon as I’m finished here, he’ll be free to go. Weston will not be pressing charges.”

I just stare at her. I don’t understand. How?

I’m floored.

“Really?” I say, the word floating above us in the stuffy room.

“Really,” she says simply, and slides past me. Her two eager little puppies scurry and trail behind her.

I stand frozen, my hand still splayed on my chest.

Gwen makes me jerk when she grabs my arm. “What happened? What did she say? You look like you’ve just seen an alien.”

“I think I have.” It was so surreal.

I take a seat on one of the upholstered blue chairs and I try to figure this out. “I don’t understand.”