Forsaking All Others (From This Day Forward Book 2) (2 page)

It’s been six weeks. Six hellish weeks without her. I’ve been living in hotel rooms and while I originally tried to make sure all my jobs were done close to home, I’ve had to take some out of town jobs in order to ensure all of our bills remain paid while Beth’s recuperating. I’ve also tried to stop by and see her a few times, but each time I show up, I’m met with the door in my face.

While I’ve been actively trying to put my marriage back together, I’ve been dodging calls and texts from Jess. When I told her that Beth knew everything, I expected her to show some remorse. I couldn’t have been more wrong. She seemed happy by the news and almost immediately began trying to plan our future together. It’s like she couldn’t get it through her thick skull that I wasn’t going to throw away my marriage and my life over several instances of drunken, meaningless sex. Unfortunately, Jess doesn’t give up that easily. Between that and her pregnancy, I’m screwed.

I rub at my eyes as the phone rings. I haven’t slept in days. As I lift my arm, I smell myself.
“David, you really need to shower.”
The memory of her whispering in my ear as she lay in that hospital bed after the wreck is almost enough to overtake me. Mike finally picks up, saving me from my emotions.

“Detective Sullivan speaking.”

“Don’t you just sound real professional, Detective,” I put on a thick southern drawl in an attempt to throw him off.

“Nice try, dickwad. You still drowning your worries in a bottle of Pendleton?”

I sigh, “No, I gave that shit up. I’m not going to get her back drinking like that.”

I can hear him clicking a pen on and off, it’s a nervous habit he’s had as long as I can remember.

“So, she’s still shutting you out? What did I tell you that night you both got home from the hospital? I told you the lies were going to come back and bite you in the ass, didn’t I?”

His words leave a sour taste in my mouth, “Yeah, you did. I just thought we were getting a second chance—a clean slate. You ever find out anything on Landon?”

Mike clears his throat, “He’s clean, David. Guy doesn’t even have so much as a speeding ticket. So, there’s no chance of me bringing him in and holding him indefinitely as you so helpfully recommended the other night. Why are you so focused on him?”

“I don’t know, Mike. I just have a bad feeling about this guy. The way he looked at her, acting as though she was his possession—I still think he’s the one who broke into the house that night—”

He cuts me off, “David, we’ve been over this. No prints were ever recovered and when we questioned him, he had a rock solid alibi. He’s not the perp. Tell you what, I know you haven’t had a decent meal in quite a while. I’m taking off around five tonight, let’s meet for dinner.”

“Where?” The idea of eating a meal at a table and not in my truck is really appealing right now.

“I’d say
Nick’s
, but I don’t wanna send you on a bender again. Let’s just meet at West End and grab some pizza.”

I agree and forty-five minutes later, after a long shower and a change of clothes, I’m sitting across from him. I’m messing around with the coaster my beer is resting on when he interrupts.

“So—she won’t see you, but is she still seeing him?”

I stiffen immediately and my jaw clenches, “I don’t know—I guess I just assumed she was keeping us both at a distance while she sorted everything out.”

He takes a swig from his bottle of Guinness and nods, “I know I asked when you first told me, but did you ever suspect she was screwing someone else?”

I struggle to find the right words as I mull it over. Beth was always so happy to have me home, she’d practically throw herself at me the minute I’d come through the door.
Maybe out of guilt?
It’s as if a bucket of ice water has been thrown on me and I feel physically sick from it.

It was right in front of my face the whole time—the house was always spotless, and I knew for a fact she cleaned like that to deal with stress. That, and she startled at the slightest sound. It’s how I’d gotten away with my crimes against her, we were both so preoccupied with our own guilt that we missed each other’s.

I finally find my voice again, “I never saw anything out of the ordinary. Looking back on it though, the signs were there.”

We’ve fallen back into a comfortable silence when a beautiful woman with long blonde hair walks up. She looks so much like Beth, I have to do a double take.

She smiles uncertainly, “David Greene?”

I nod, encouraging her to continue.

She thrusts a large manila envelope in my hands and looks almost apologetic as she does so.

“You’ve been served.”

Cheater. Adulteress. Unfaithful. Philanderer. Fraud.
The words are on a constant replay in my mind. I’m still struggling to make sense of all of my memories—to sort fact from fiction. What I do remember is enough to disgust me. I alternate daily on whether I hate David or myself more.

I feel like a part of me knew about what went on with David and “she who shall not be named,” enough for my brain to leave me bread crumbs at least. And can we pause for a moment to think about the level of assholery one must be at to call up their best friend to come take care of them when they’re actively screwing said friend’s husband and their own spouse has left?

“Right after my Dad died—and then the night you admitted you were on birth control. I took off and ended up drunk in a bar. She showed up and uh, one thing led to another.”
My throat burns at the memory of his confession and in remembering that it was Jess who suggested that I get on birth control in the first place. The bitch suggested it and then used it against me to get my husband into her bed. My best friend.

I waited six weeks, hoping there’d be some clear answer on how to fix everything. There wasn’t. He and I were two people who had hurt each other beyond reconciliation. I did the only thing I knew to do.  I finally Googled “How to file for divorce in Texas,” and they were going to be serving him the papers within the next few days.

I couldn’t face him on my own and I knew there was no way in hell he’d agree to it. If I had to talk to him face to face about my decision, he’d either end up in bed with me or on the floor bleeding out.
Yeah, the man stirs up some pretty conflicting feelings within me.
No, it was safer this way. Plus, with Jess having his baby—ugh, I may vomit—I had no other choice. I wasn’t willing to stay with him, somehow try to get past all the hurt we’d caused each other, all while playing step-mom to Jess’s kid. That was daytime talk show-level crazy.

“You still think this is the best idea?” Lauren walks into the living room with a large cardboard box. She places it on the coffee table and searches for a marker to label it.

I take my glasses off and rub my eyes. God, I’m exhausted. I’m not sure if it’s due to the accident or if all of the emotional bullshit is finally taking its toll.

“Laur—I can’t stay. He’s going to want the house for his… his—” I place a hand over my mouth as I begin dry heaving.
Yeah, I’m not ever going to feel comfortable discussing my husband and my former best friend having a baby together.
I make my way into the kitchen and vomit into the sink, as it’s the closest thing to me.

“Damn, Elizabeth. Have you gone a day in the past few weeks without vomiting when someone brings up David?”

I rinse the sink and my mouth out with water while giving a weak shrug. I can feel the tears forming, right on cue, because it’s not enough to be sick—I have to become an emotional basket case as well. I can’t stop crying lately. If I didn’t know better I’d think I was—
oh sweet Jesus.

“Lauren, we need to run to the pharmacy.”

Two minutes. The longest two minutes of my life. I sit on the edge of the bathtub, my legs bouncing and my head in my hands while Lauren paces.

“How did this happen?”

I pop my head up long enough to give her a look, “Really?”

“Stop, we don’t need it.”

He looks over his shoulder at me, “Are you sure? We don’t have to try tonight.”

“I want to do this and I really want to feel you inside of me. Nothing else…please.” 

Those words are coming back to bite me now, aren’t they? I cannot be pregnant. Not right now. Six weeks ago? Sure. I thought my life was a fairy tale.

My phone chimes at me, letting me know it’s been two minutes. Lauren stops pacing and we just stare uncertainly at each other.

“You want me to look?”

I nod and she grabs the test off the back of the toilet. When she bites her lip, I know.

“It’s positive, love. You’re pregnant.”

“Okay. Okay. Don’t panic. It’s probably wrong. The test is wrong. We just need to go out and um, buy a different brand.” I can hear the hysteria in my voice.

She sits down on the rug near my feet. “Let’s call David. He has a right to know.”

I rub my eyes, “No. I cannot do that to him. Make him choose between me and…her.” I say the word “her” with as much disgust as I can muster.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: If Jess is really pregnant, then I’m the Queen of England. Call him.”

I place my hand on her shoulder, “No. No one can know about this. I just need a minute to think.”

“You’ve been served.”
I thought up until this point the worst three words I’d ever heard were, “David, I’m pregnant,” but this was worse. Far worse. To say I was blindsided by it would be the understatement of the fucking year. I knew she wasn’t ready to talk, but for her to just end things permanently? Yeah, I’m not taking this well. I’ve got a death grip on the table and I can feel what little control I have left slipping away.
What the fuck is she thinking?
I’m breathing like I’m on the verge of a fucking heart attack. Maybe I am.

“David, I need you to keep it together—at least until I can get us out of here.”

Mike is standing next to me, trying to keep me from drawing any more attention to myself. Apparently, yelling the word “fuck” is frowned upon in establishments like this.

I manage to speak around my gritted teeth, “I’m fine. Don’t I seem fine?”

He makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like laughter before throwing cash on the table and hauling my ass out of there. I suspect he flashed his badge at some point to keep everyone inside calm.

Once we reach my truck, he faces me. “Man, I know she picked a really shitty way of going about this, but you need to calm down and go talk to her.”

My voice is cold when I respond, “Go talk to her? Really, Detective? That’s the best idea you’ve got? I’m pretty sure that talking to me is the last thing she wants to do as she just had me served.” I walk around him and climb into my truck.

“David—let’s leave your truck here. Just come back to my place—”

I cut him off, “No, I don’t want to be around anybody right now. I need a fuckin’ minute, okay?”

Mike nods, his mouth a grim line, “Let me know if you change your mind.”

I drive around aimlessly for hours. I can’t believe it’s come to this. I mean, I guess I should’ve seen it coming—we broke each other beyond repair. I guess I held onto this hope though that we could find our way back.

Everything was for her—the long nights in other towns and every back breaking second spent away from her. I did it all for her, but I lost sight of that. I didn’t let her know that she was the most important thing and then I pushed having a kid on top of it. I should’ve listened to my dad. Just thinking of him dredges up a cesspool of memories and I don’t want to face them right now.

After attending his funeral, I tried to go back to normal. I tried, but the weight of the fucking world was on my shoulders. I had to make sure my mom was okay while still running a business and being a husband. I fucked it up though. I put my wife last—when I did spend time at home (which was almost never), I hated her pitying glances. She was always checking in on me and I couldn’t even tell her about the conversation my dad and I had the night before he died.

I finished up some jobs early one weekend and my mom was out of town staying with her sister. By all rights, my ass should’ve been home with my wife, but I didn’t want to spend another weekend of tense silence and her walking around on eggshells. I drove back to town and found a local bar. I planned to drink until I could only remember the good stuff when Jess walked in. I was a bit surprised to see her out and about without Nate, especially considering that this bar wasn’t in the best of neighborhoods.

Her eyes found mine almost immediately and she pulled up a chair next to me. I expected her to start talking, but she just sat silently as I ordered shot after shot.

Jess surprised me when she placed a hand on my thigh. She ran her hand back and forth lightly across the denim and I looked up, expecting to see pity. What I saw was lust. When she caught me staring at her, she bit down on her lower lip.

“Car. Now.” I growled the words out, expecting her to slap me across the face and leave.

She grabbed her purse and leaned in next to my ear, “I brought my car. I’ll drive us.”

Like it was an everyday occurrence.

Once we got into her car, she started chattering away about finding a hotel room.

“No. Drive out of the city.”

She looked upset, but drove us out into the country. I took her roughly in the backseat of her SUV and I didn’t feel a damn thing.

I was numb.

When I finally showed up at the house the next day, I looked at Beth and willed myself to feel some emotion over what I’d done. Nothing.

It was like feeling required too much effort. I wish I could go back to the night she admitted she’d been taking birth control. I should’ve been man enough to accept her words for what they were—a sign that she was feeling alone. Instead I drove to the first bar I could find and drowned my sorrows in a bottle of whiskey, just as I had when my Dad died.

I wasn’t even surprised to see Jess there this time. By the time she walked over, I was so far gone that the words just fell out of my mouth. I’d expected her to be shocked by Beth’s behavior, but she said she knew and had tried to talk her out of it. Fuck, looking back on it, she told me everything I wanted to hear and I just ate it up.

When I stumbled out of that bar, I was beyond wasted. She took my keys and I briefly remember wondering how she was sober. She drove outside of town on some little deserted county road before putting the truck in park and climbing onto my lap.

By that point, I didn’t give a flying fuck if either of us was married—I pulled the flimsy straps on her tank top down and took a nipple in my mouth while she worked on getting my jeans off. I can’t remember a lot of the details after that.

All she talked about as she drove us back to the bar so she could get her car was how we were perfect for each other—shit I didn’t take seriously at the time. I managed to make it home in one piece and I stood for several minutes outside the closed bedroom door, still too inebriated to feel any sense of remorse. I thought I was going to remain numb to my actions. I was wrong.

That next morning, I woke up in the guest room with a splitting headache and a strong urge to vomit when it hit me. I cheated. More than once. I cheated on a good woman who had done nothing but support my sorry ass while I got my business off the ground. I couldn’t speak to her, I was so scared I’d lose my shit and break down in front of her.

The guilt was all encompassing. It was this weight on me. I wanted to throw myself at her feet and confess every sin before begging for her mercy and forgiveness. I couldn’t do that to her though, so I kept my mouth shut. Beth took my silence as a sign I was still angry at her and when she blinked rapidly and turned away, it was like someone ripped my fucking heart out of my chest. My emotions decided to return with vengeance. I bought the tickets to Mexico without a second thought. I wanted me and her alone on a beach—I guess I thought we’d reconnect and it’d be like it never happened. The truth always has a way of coming out though.

The third and last time was when I was working out of town. I heard a knock on my hotel room door late one evening and she was there. I don’t even know how she tracked me down. I’d had a few drinks at dinner, so I was feeling a nice buzz. I had her up against the wall with my hand on her throat. I’d dodged her text messages after Nate left and I was so fucking pissed that she had shown up. I took my frustration out on her body. It wasn’t like I was in love with her, hell I didn’t even like her the majority of the time. One thing I am damn sure of is that I had a condom on when I slipped inside of her, just as I had the previous times.

My phone rang afterward while Jess was in the bathroom. It was Beth and she sounded scared. When she admitted that someone had broken into the house, I knew it had to end. I had to be the kind of husband my dad was for my mom. I owed it to him. Shit, we were trying to have a kid. When Beth and I hung up, I started tossing all my shit into a bag. Jess walked out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around her and I tossed her clothes at her. “Get your clothes on and leave. We’re done here.”

She tried arguing with me, but I wouldn’t hear it. What we had done to Beth was unforgivable and I didn’t know how, but I would make it up to her—even if it took me the rest of my life.

I glance down at the clock and see that it’s still early—I bet the liquor store is open. I can’t deal with this sober.