Twisted (20 page)

welt on his left cheek. It looks fresh—just starting to bruise.

he touches it gingerly. “No. Delores was with him.”

No surprise there. Although I don’t think her heart was really in

it. If Dee Dee seriously wanted to do Drew damage? She wouldn’t

have wasted her time with his face—it would have been straight to

the crotch.

“What do you want, Drew?”

he lets out a short bark of laughter, but there’s no humor

behind it. “There’s a loaded question.” Then he looks off into the horizon. “I didn’t think you’d leave New York.”

I lift a brow, questioning, “After your little show? What did

you think I would do?”

“I thought you’d curse me out, maybe smack me. I thought

you’d choose me . . . even if it was just to keep someone else from having me.”

Jealousy. Drew’s weapon of choice. he used it when he thought

I wanted to win Billy back, remember?

“Well, you were wrong.”

he nods grimly. “So it seems.” his eyes meet mine for a

long moment. And his brow wrinkles just a little. “Were you . . .

happy . . . with me, Kate? Because I was really happy. And I thought you were too.”

I can’t help the small smile that comes to my lips. Because I

remember. “Yes, I was happy.”

“Then tell me why? You owe me that much.”

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My words come out slow, hushed sadness weighing down every

syllable. “I didn’t plan it, Drew. You have to know that I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did. And people change. The things we want . . .

change. And right now, you and I want two very different things.”

he takes a step toward me. “Maybe not.”

I’m trying hard not to read into the fact that he’s here. I don’t

want to hope. Because hope really does float, like a piece of wood on a wave. But if it turns out to be unfounded?

It smashes against the rocks—breaking you into a thousand

pieces.

“What does that mean?”

his words are careful. Planned. “I’m here to renegotiate the

terms of our relationship.”

“Renegotiate?”

“I’ve given it a lot of thought. You went right from Warren

to me, jumped in with both feet. You’ve never just . . . screwed

around. Played the field. So . . . if you want to hook up with other people”—his jaw tightens, like the words are trying to stay in, and he has to force them out—“I’m okay with that.”

My face pinches with confusion. “You came all this way, to tell

me you want us to . . . see other people?”

he swallows hard. “Yeah. You know—as long as I still get to

be in the rotation.”

Sex has always been a top priority for Drew. That’s what this

is about, right? he doesn’t want the baby—but he doesn’t want

to stop sleeping with me either? having his cake and all that. No

strings attached.

It’s like an episode of Jerry Springer.

“how would that work exactly, Drew? A quick fuck on our

lunch break? A midnight booty call? No talking allowed—no ques-

tions asked?”

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he looks ill. “If that’s what you want.”

And I’m so . . . disappointed. Disgusted.

With him.

“Go home, Drew. You’re wasting your time. I have no desire to

play the field at this particular point in my life.”

That takes him by surprise. “But . . . why not? I thought . . .”

he trails off. And then his eyes harden. “Is this about
him
? Are you seriously fucking telling me he means that much to you?”

I don’t appreciate his tone. It’s derogatory, mocking. Did I say

I was a butterfly before? Nope. I’m a fucking lioness.

“he means
everything
to me.” I point my finger. “And I won’t let you make me feel bad about it.”

he flinches, like I’ve Tasered him with a stun gun. Five thou-

sand volts straight to the chest. But then he recovers. And he folds his arms obstinately. Completely unapologetic. “I don’t care. It

doesn’t frigging matter.”

If you fill a tire with too much air, push it past its limit, do you know happens?

It explodes.

“how can you
say
that! What the fuck is
wrong
with you?”

he comes right back at me. “Are you serious? What the

hell is wrong with
you
? Are you on drugs? Do you have some split-fucking-personality disorder that I haven’t picked up on?

Two years, Kate! For two goddamn years I’ve given you every-

thing . . . and you . . . you’re just so fucking eager to throw it away!”

“Don’t you dare say that! The last two years have meant
every-

thing
to me!”

“Then
act
like it! Fucking Christ Almighty!”

“how am I supposed to act, Drew? What do you want from

me?”

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he yells, “I want any part of you that you’re willing to give

me!”

We both fall quiet.

Breathing hard.

Staring each other down.

And his voice drops low. Defeated. “I’ll take anything, Kate.

Just . . . don’t tell me it’s over. I won’t accept that.”

I fold my arms across my chest, and sarcasm crackles in the air

like static. “You didn’t seem to have a problem accepting it when

your tongue was down that stripper’s throat.”

“hypocrisy really isn’t a good look for you, Kate. You gutted

me. I think you deserved a taste of your own fucked-up medicine.”

You see it all the time. In celebrity magazines, on TV. One min-

ute, couples are all soul mates, never felt this way before, jump up and down on Oprah’s couch in love. And the next, they’re at each

other’s throats—dragging out the lawyers to battle over money, or

houses . . . or children. I always wondered how that happens.

Take a good look. This is how.

“Well, pat yourself on the back, Drew. You wanted to hurt me?

You did. Feel better now?”

“Yeah, I’m thrilled. A regular happy camper. Can’t you tell?”

“Can you stop acting like a child for five minutes?”

“Depends. Can you stop acting like a heartless bitch?”

If he was close enough, I’d slap him. “I hate you!”

he smirks coldly. “Consider yourself lucky. I wish I could hate

you—I prayed for it. To get you out of my system. But you’re still there, under my skin, like some fatal fucking disease.”

have you ever worked on one of those crossword puzzles in

the newspaper? And you’re determined to finish it—you start off

so sure that you can? But then it just gets too hard. Too exhausting.

So you give up. You’re just . . . done.

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I press a hand to my forehead. And even though I try to put

up a strong front, my voice comes out small. “I don’t want to do

this anymore, Drew. I don’t want to fight. We can go around and

around like this all day, but it’s not gonna change a thing. I won’t have half a relationship with you. It’s non-negotiable.”

“Bullshit! Everything is negotiable. It just depends on how far the parties are willing to bend.” And then he’s begging. “And I will, Kate—

I’ll bend. hate me all you fucking want, but . . . don’t . . . leave me.”

And he sounds so despondent. Desperate. I have to stop myself

from comforting him. From giving in, from saying yes. A few days

ago, I would have. I would have jumped at the chance to eat his

crumbs. To keep him in my life—any way I could.

But not today.

Because this isn’t just about me anymore. “I’m a package deal

now. You have to want both of us.”

his fists flail in the air, searching for something to hit. “What

the fuck are you talking about?” he roars. “It’s like I’m stuck in some screwed-up Tim Burton movie, where nothing makes sense!

None
of this makes any fucking sense!”

“I’m talking about the baby! I won’t bring a baby into a rela-

tionship where he’s not wanted! It’s not fair. It’s not right.”

I didn’t think it was possible for a person to be any paler than

Drew was when he first got here, and still be alive. But I was wrong.

Because his face just got whiter. About two shades.

“What baby? What are you . . .” he scrutinizes me, trying to

see the answer before he asks, “Are you . . .
pregnant
?”

Kind of makes you wonder just how hard Delores hit him,

huh?

“Of course I’m pregnant!”

he takes a step forward. And his face looks like one of those

theater masks, horror and hope side by side. “Is it mine?”

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I don’t answer right away because I’m so surprised by the ques-

tion.

“Who . . . who else’s would it be?”

“Bob’s,” he says matter-of-factly. Like he actually believes I

know what he’s talking about.

“Bob?”

“Yes, Kate—Bob. The guy who means everything to you.

Obviously you’ve been fucking him, so how the hell do you know

the baby’s not his?”

I flip through my mental Rolodex, looking for a Bob, trying

to figure out why in God’s name Drew thinks I’d be fucking him.

“The only Bob I know . . . is Roberta.”

That takes the wind right out of his sails. “Who?”

“Roberta Chang. Bobbie—Bob. I went to school with her.

She’s an ob-gyn. You saw me go into her office the night you fol-

lowed me. That’s how you knew . . .”

his eyes widen, thinking. And then he shakes his head in dis-

belief.

In denial.

“No. No—I saw you with a guy. You were meeting him. he

picked you up and hugged you. he kissed you. he had food.”

It takes me a moment to process his words, and then I remem-

ber. “Oh—that was Daniel. Roberta’s husband. he lived with us in

during undergrad too. They just moved to the city a few months

ago. I told you about them.”

Drew’s expression is unreadable. Then he takes a hand and

rubs it down his face—hard—like he wants to scrape off skin.

“Okay, just . . . go with me here for a second. When you wrote

the name Bob in your calendar, you were talking about Roberta,

who’s a woman and a baby doctor that you went to school with in

Boston?”

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“Yes.”

“And the guy that I saw you with, in the parking lot, is her

husband and also an old friend of yours?”

“Yes.”

his voice is tight. Strained. “And you think we’ve been fighting

this whole time because . . . ?”

“Because you don’t want me to have the baby.”

have you ever seen a skyscraper demolished? I have. It

implodes. From the top down, so as not to damage the buildings

beside it. And that’s exactly what Drew does. Right in front of my eyes. he crumbles.

his legs give out and he falls to his knees. “Oh, God . . . Jesus

Christ . . . I can’t believe . . . fuck . . . I’m an idiot . . . so fucking stupid . . .”

And I go down with him. “Drew? Are you all right?”

“No . . . no, Kate . . . I’m so far from all right, it’s scary.”

I grab his hands and his eyes meet mine. And just like that—it

all makes sense. Finally.

The things he did.

The things he said.

It all falls into place like the last piece of a mosaic.

“You thought I was having an affair?”

he nods. “Yeah.”

The world spins and I’m barely breathing. “how could you

think
that? how could you ever believe I would cheat on you?”

“There was a guy’s name in your calendar . . . and you lied . . .

.and I saw you hugging that man. how could
you
think I wouldn’t want a baby?
Our
baby?”

“You told me to have an abortion.”

his hands tighten around mine. “I would
never
say that to

you.”

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“You did. You told me to end it.”

he shakes his head and groans. “End the
affair,
Kate. Not the baby.”

My chin rises defensively. “But I wasn’t
having
an affair.”

“Well, I didn’t fucking know that.”

“Well, you fucking
should
have!!”

I tear my hands from his and push him on his shoulders. “God,

Drew!” I stand up, needing to get away from him, because it’s all

too much. “You can’t treat people like this! You can’t treat
me
like this!”

“Kate, I’m—”

I whirl around and point a finger at him. “If you tell me you’re

sorry, I will kick your balls up into your eye sockets, I swear to God!”

he closes his mouth.
Smart move
.

I push my hair out of my face. And pace.

Am I supposed to feel better now? Because it really
was
all just a mistake?

If a house gets destroyed by lightning, do you think the own-

ers are cheered by the fact that the lightning didn’t
mean
to strike their house?

Of course not.

Because the damage is already done.

“You
ruined
it, Drew. I was so excited to tell you . . . and now whenever I think about it, all I’ll remember is how horrible this

has all been!” I stop pacing. And my voice trembles. “I
needed
you.

When I saw the blood . . . when they told me I was losing the