Twisted (24 page)

hang this shit over my head for the rest of our lives!”

he’s got a point. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a small part of me that wants to drive the point home—that he can’t treat me

any way he wants to. That there are consequences to his actions.

That if he ever screws up again, I can—and will—leave him.

But it’s not
just
about that.

“You want to redecorate?” he asks. “Be my guest. You want to

paint the walls pink and put unicorn fucking sheets on the bed? I

won’t say a word.”

Now I’m shaking my head. “I need to know I can do this,

Drew. For
me
. And . . . when our son or daughter moves out on their own, I want to know what that feels like, so I can help them.”

Twisted_1P.indd 199

11/18/13 11:47 AM

200

E m m a c h a s E

At this point, I expect Drew to agree to pretty much anything

I want him to.

Women know when they have the upper hand. You know what

I mean. The days after your husband forgot your anniversary, or

your boyfriend spent one too many hours at the bar with his boys

watching the game. The days following an argument, when the win

is in the female’s column, are peaceful. Loving. Men go out of their way to be thoughtful and considerate. They put their shoes in the

closet, take out the garbage without being asked, and remember to

put the seat up before they pee.

So although I realize Drew’s not going to be happy with my

reasoning, I imagine he’ll still be understanding and helpful.

“Well, that’s fucking stupid!”

Not exactly what I’d imagined.

I cross my arms over my chest. “Not to me, it’s not.”

he jumps to his feet. “Then you’re insane!” he pushes a hand

through his hair and regains his composure.

When he speaks, his words are calm, reasonable; the level-

headed businessman making his pitch. “Okay . . . let’s agree the last few days have been pretty emotional. And you’re pregnant—you’re

not thinking clearly. When Alexandra was pregnant she wanted to

chop all her hair off, Miley Cyrus style. The hairdresser talked her out of it, and in the end she was glad. So . . . let’s put a tack in this idea . . . and revisit it later.”

I sigh. “This will be good for us. We’ll still see each other every day, but a little time apart, some space . . .”

“You told your mother you didn’t need space. That we needed

to be frigging together to work through this.”

“That was then,” I say with a shrug. Then I go for the old reli-

able, “If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it’s yours.”

Twisted_1P.indd 200

11/18/13 11:47 AM

t w i s t E d

201

he pinches the bridge of his nose. “So . . . you’re going to

prove you’re never going to leave me . . . by leaving me?”

“No. I’m going to prove I’ll never leave you . . . by coming

back to you.”

Drew pulls the front of his pants away from his waist and looks

down. “Nope—still got a dick. Which explains a lot, because your

reasoning would only make sense to a woman.”

I roll my eyes. And Drew presses on, “You’re fucking pregnant,

Kate! We’re having a baby. Now is not the time to take a step back and figure out if you want to be in a relationship!”

I take his hand and sit him down next to me on the couch.

“Do you remember everything you did, before I moved in here?

The flowers, the balloons, the Sister B pep talk, the home office

overhaul—they were beautiful gestures. Showing me how much

you wanted me, and how willing you were to change your life for

me.”

I look down at our joined hands. “But they also made for an

offer I couldn’t refuse. No woman could. And I think part of you

believes that you manipulated me into moving in with you. That if

you hadn’t pestered me and laid it on so thick, I never would have chosen you.”

“You wouldn’t have.”

“See what I mean? And that’s just not true. It may have taken

time for me to trust you again, to believe that you were ready for a relationship, but I would have. I still would have been in love

with you and wanted a life with you, because of who you are. Not

because of the things you did for me. This will fix that, Drew. So you’ll never doubt why I’m with you.”

he takes his hand back and rubs it over his face. “So . . . you

want to pay for an apartment, pack up all your stuff, buy furni-

ture, go to all the trouble of relocating . . . just to prove to me and Twisted_1P.indd 201

11/18/13 11:47 AM

202

E m m a c h a s E

to yourself that you can? Knowing that at some point, you’re just

going to move back in with me anyway?”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds ridiculous.”

“Yes! Thank you. Take out all the psycho, emo-babble bullshit

and it
is
ridiculous!”

“No—it’s not. Because, later, when we decide to live together

again, we’ll be on equal footing. It won’t be you making room in

your life for me—it’ll be us making a decision together. For all the best reasons.”

he looks away toward the door, thinking. Then he turns back

to me. “No. I’m sorry, Kate: I want to make you happy, I do. But

I can’t support something that’s so pointless. I won’t agree with it.

I won’t. Just—no.”

he crosses his arms and pouts. Like a two-year-old refusing to

move until he gets his way.

There was a time, not so long ago, that his refusal would have

swayed me. That I would’ve let his opinion become my opinion. That I would’ve given in for the sake of our relationship and my sanity.

But not anymore.

I stand up. “I’m doing this, Drew, with or without you. I really

hope it can be with you.”

Then I walk down the hall to the bedroom.

I stand in the middle of the room for a few minutes, remembering.

Some of the most wonderful, and romantic, moments of my life

have taken place in this room.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to miss it.

Twisted_1P.indd 202

11/18/13 11:47 AM

t w i s t E d

203

But I’m firm in my belief that my moving out will be good

for us. That, at some point, it will make the difference between us crumbling under the weight of our own passion and stubbornness

or becoming an even stronger pair than we were before.

I just wish Drew would see it that way.

With a sigh, I move to the closet to get my luggage. I only took

one small bag with me when I left a week ago, so there are a lot of clothes to be packed. I spot the large beige leather suitcase on the top shelf.

Walk-in closet shelves really weren’t designed with the petite

in mind. I stretch on my tippy-toes, trying to grasp the handle. I consider getting a chair from the other room, but I try jumping

for it first.

As I bend my knees for my second attempt, I hear Drew come

up behind me. he reaches over my head, easily taking hold of the

suitcase, and brings it down.

“You shouldn’t stretch your arms over your head. It’s not good

for you . . . for the baby.” he walks out of the closet and lays the suitcase on the bed.

“how do you know that?” I ask as I trail behind him.

he shrugs. “When Alexandra was pregnant, I read a lot. I

wanted to be prepared in case she went into labor at a family function, or if we got stuck in a cab together during rush-hour traffic.”

he unzips the bag and adds, “I would’ve had to gouge my fuck-

ing eyeballs out afterward, of course, but it would’ve been worth it.”

I smile.

he takes me by the shoulders and sits me down on the edge of

the bed. “Just . . . put your feet up. Rest.”

Then he turns toward the dresser and takes a stack of my

T-shirts out of the drawer, placing them neatly in the suitcase. he doesn’t look at me as he works.

Twisted_1P.indd 203

11/18/13 11:47 AM

204

E m m a c h a s E

“You’re helping me pack?”

he nods stiffly. “Yep.”

“But you still don’t want me to move out?”

“Nope.”

“And . . . you still think it’s a stupid idea?”

“Yep. You don’t have many stupid ideas—but even if you did,

this would be the dumbest of them all.”

he takes another pile from the drawer as I ask, “Then why are

you helping me?”

he drops the pile in the bag and makes eye contact. And his

face says everything that he’s feeling—frustration, resignation . . .

devotion.

“In the last two years, I’ve probably told you a dozen times

that I would do anything for you.” he shrugs. “It’s time I put up

or shut up.”

And this . . . this is why I love him. I suspect it’s why you love him too.

Because despite his faults and flaws, Drew is bold enough to

give me everything he’s got. To put his heart on the chopping block and hand me the ax.

he’ll do things he hates, just because I ask him to. he’ll go

against his instincts and better judgment, if it’s what I need. he puts his well-being, his happiness, second to my own.

I stand up, wrap my arms around his neck, and press my lips

to his. A moment later, my feet leave the floor and his hand buries in my hair. his mouth captures my moan as he presses me closer.

I pull back and tell him, “You’re amazing.”

he gives me a soft smirk. “That is the general consensus.”

I smile. “And I love you.”

he sets my feet on the floor but keeps his arms around my

waist. “Good. Then you’re going to let me put three locks on the

Twisted_1P.indd 204

11/18/13 11:47 AM

t w i s t E d

205

door of whatever apartment you decide to move into. And a chain.

And a dead bolt.”

I smile wider. “Okay.”

Drew slowly steps forward, backing me up toward the bed.

“And you’re not going to bitch when I have a security system

installed.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

We take another step together, almost like we’re dancing.

“I’m thinking about buying you one of those ‘I’ve fallen and I

can’t get up’ necklaces too.”

My eyes squint as I pretend to think about the idea. “We’ll talk

about it.”

“And . . . you’re going to let me walk you home from work

every night.”

“Yes.”

The back of my legs make contact with the bed frame.

“I’m also going to come to every doctor’s appointment with

you.”

“I didn’t for a second imagine you wouldn’t.”

Drew cups my face in his hands. “And one day, I’m going to

ask you to marry me. And you’re going to know it’s not because

you’re pregnant, or because of some misguided attempt to keep

you.”

Tears spring into my eyes as we gaze at each other.

In a rough voice, he continues, “You’re going to know I’m ask-

ing because nothing would make me prouder than to be able to

say, “This is my wife, Kate.” And when I do ask, you’re going to

say yes.”

When I nod, one tear trails down my cheek. Drew wipes it

away with his thumb as I promise, “It’s a sure thing.”

And then he’s kissing me, with all the passion and desire he’s

Twisted_1P.indd 205

11/18/13 11:47 AM

206

E m m a c h a s E

held in check the last two days. Drew cradles my head as we fall

on the bed together. Then I arch up, and heat spreads across my

stomach and down my thighs as I rub myself against where he’s

already hard and ready.

Resting his elbows on the bed above my shoulders, Drew lifts

his head and pants, “So . . . is this make-up sex . . . or break-up sex?

Because I have really fantastic ideas for either one.”

I open my legs wider, nestling Drew between them. “It’s defi-

nitely make-up sex, maybe a little bit of take-a-break sex. And a

whole lot of last-day-in-the-apartment sex. That’s a lot to cover—

so it’s going to take a really, really long time.”

Drew smiles. And it’s his boyish, delighted smile—one of my

favorites—that only comes out on very special occasions.

“I
adore
the way you think.”

And we don’t leave the bed for the rest of the day.

Twisted_1P.indd 206

11/18/13 11:47 AM

So . . . I’ve gone back to church. Every week. Sometimes

twice a week.

Yeah—it’s me, Drew.

Long time no see. Miss me? Judging from the “I’d like to shove

your dick in an automatic pencil sharpener” look on your face . . .

I’m guessing that’s a no.

Still pissed, huh? Can’t say I blame you. It was a solid three weeks before I could look at my reflection in the mirror and not want to kick my own ass. In fact, one night I was out with the guys celebrat-ing a massive deal Jack closed, and after one too many shots of Jäger, I begged Matthew to punch me in the nuts as hard as he could.

Because I couldn’t stop seeing the look on Kate’s face when she

walked in the door that horrible night. It replayed in my head over and over, like one of those awful films on cable that’s constantly on, but no one ever watches.

Twisted_1P.indd 207

11/18/13 11:47 AM

208

E m m a c h a s E

Lucky for me, Matthew refused. Even luckier is that fact that

Delores wasn’t with him, since I’m sure she would’ve been more

than happy to oblige. Yeah—the list of asses I’ve had to kiss over the last few months is long. Assembly-line worthy. Kate, Delores,

Carol, my father, Alexandra . . .