Julian's Pursuit (26 page)

“I can’t have a kid.” His voice dropped to an eerily low whisper. “Not with you.”

Tears streaked down my cheeks. “Why not?”

Now it was his turn to avoid my gaze. He grew quiet for a while and just when I’d decided he wasn’t going to speak again, he said, “I’m engaged.”

At first the words did not make any sense to me. He was engaged—in what? Engaged in a bullfight? Engaged to the secret service? He couldn’t possibly be engaged to be married.

But a vise clamped around my heart, as if my body had understood the words even though my mind was struggling to comprehend them. “I—I don’t understand.” I stumbled over my words, repeated myself. “I don’t understand.”

“My fiancée…” His voice was gruff, guarded, and he still refused to look at me. “She can’t know about this.”

I started to think I might be dreaming, or about to pass out. “But you can’t be engaged. You—you never told me.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, so low and quiet I almost missed it.

Time froze, along with my heart. I felt like I was falling from the sky and drowning in the ocean all at once. “What’s her name?”

He inhaled sharply. “Why does it matter?”

I had to forcibly swallow the lump in my throat before continuing. “You love her?”

He nodded, only the slightest movement of his head.

“Do you love her more than you love me?”

“Sadie.” He exhaled hard. “You’re a lovely girl. We have great chemistry and I care about you…” Everything inside me grew still. Something about his tone and expression made my gut clench like a fist. Like I was waiting for a
but
to come next
.

Here it comes
. “But…” His mouth was drawn tight, his face rigid with regret. “I’m engaged to her and I
love
her.” He managed to imbue the word with earnest affection.

I shook my head in mute denial.

I didn’t believe him. Didn’t want to believe that what he was saying was possible. “Then how come you spend all your time with me and not her?”

He kept his eyes averted. “She works overseas.”

“Where?” I demanded.

“London.” He was silent for a moment before continuing. “I’ll be joining her when the semester’s over.”

This can’t be happening, this can’t be happening, this can’t be happening
. I hung my head low and buried my face in my hands.

I was the other woman.

And Simon was leaving me.

Fiercely locked-away memories came rushing up from deep inside me. Like water through a dam that had broken, they flooded my vision and my thoughts… my dad leaving my mom. My mom turning into a shell of what she once was. I didn’t want to be her—bitter, angry, alone, and with a grudge against life. I didn’t want to be a single mom, raising a kid all by myself. I wanted my child to have a dad.

My chest seized up and I grabbed his arm when he began to pull away. “No,” I pleaded. “Don’t leave yet.” I was convinced that if he stayed, we could talk things through, figure something out.

“I’m sorry,” he kept on saying. “I’m sorry.”

“Please.” My voice was raw from tears. “Please.” Then I heard myself say, “I’m begging you.”

I knew if Simon left now, it was over.

I’d never see him again. Like I never saw my dad.

In my panic, my breathing picked up.

But everything else seemed to slow down, and I felt as if I was observing myself from afar.

Simon was getting to his feet and in my desperation, I clung to him and he was dragging me with him as he crossed the room.

I’d never—
never
— been a stage five clinger. Not even a stage one.

I had too much pride, too much dignity, but at that moment, I was literally morphing into someone I hardly even recognized.

“Sadie, it’s over.” His tone turned impatient as he tried to pry my fingers off of him.

“No,” I said frantically. “It can’t be.”

“Stop this.” His voice was low, but he filled each word with patronizing pity. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

I didn’t care. “But we can make this work. You’re not married yet, you can break off the engagement… we still need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Sadie.” He wrenched himself from my grip. “It’s over.”

The room spun around me, swooning with my head as I sagged to the floor. “But you love me. You said so.” I sounded so pitiful. Pathetic. I knew it, yet I couldn’t control it. My mom had never fought for my dad and I was determined to put up a fight for Simon.

“I don’t.” His jaw was set, his expression hard and determined. Determined to get away from me.

And he did. That Sunday afternoon, Simon walked out of my dorm room without a backward glance and he never came back. One minute we were lovers, and the next we were strangers and it was like I never even existed.

The pain and the hurt was almost unbearable, wrapping around my heart like barbed wire, squeezing until there was no hope left within it.

Nothing made sense. Nothing.

Chaotic images flashed through my mind until that one memory slammed into focus.

And suddenly I was transported back in time when my dad had walked out of my life and tore a chunk of me away.

Again, I floated outside myself and experienced that weird crack in reality.

I found myself taking center stage in a Greek play, alone, head bent low against my chest as the chorus sang,
“I told you so! I told you so! I told you so!”

Well, Simon sure did tell me so. At my most vulnerable time, a time when I needed him most, he threw me out of his life like yesterday’s trash.

It was months before I heard from Simon again. The email was short, abrupt. To the point.

Sadie,

I’m sorry. I feel terrible for what I did. I heard you dropped out of college and I can’t help but feel partly responsible. I’ve been thinking about how I can help you, even if it’s in some small way.

So I made some calls. If you need a job, or just something to help you get by, Hall & Heinrich is looking to hire temps, interns, admins, and junior account execs. It’s an advertising agency, and there’s always opportunity to advance, even without a degree. If you decide to apply there, tell them I referred you.

Simon

That was it. I re-read the email. He never asked me how I was. He never asked me about the baby. Aside from the obvious guilt, he sounded so indifferent.

So cold, cut, and dry… like a textbook.

It enraged me. “Fuck you, Simon!” I screamed at the laptop. “I don’t need your fucking charity!”

“Hey.” Mom slurred from the couch. “What is this
fuckery
? What the hell are you yelling about?”

“Nothing.” I sighed, staring at the liquor bottle in her hand. Then I dropped my gaze, staring at my growing belly.

I’m going to become a mom
, I thought.

I hoped to be a good mom. I hoped to be nothing like my own mom.

I had made every attempt to never end up like her.

But it seemed as if God was playing a cruel joke on me.

Mom and Dad got married soon after high school. And while mom got pregnant and became a stay-at-home mom, Dad went to college, got his degree in Accounting, obtained his CPA, and went off to start a lucrative career.

He set up his own practice and did well for himself. He was the ‘finance guy’ so Mom left everything to him. She never worried about paying the bills, never concerned herself with any of their investments, and never took an active role in any of their finances.

When Dad left us, Mom was lost. And my dad screwed us when it came to money and everything else. He had a new family to support and a new controlling wife whom I suspected was pulling the strings.

And because Mom knew nothing of their financial affairs during their marriage, it cost her a lot in the divorce. We lost our home because Mom’s name was never on the deed to the house, and because Dad had secretly transferred the title over to his mistress two years prior, she could not even fight for half the equity.

The divorce itself was brutal and Mom spiraled further into depression. She became a barely-functioning alcoholic and could hardly hold down a job. Money was tight and we could not afford to rent anything in the area.

Fortunately, a kind and elderly woman in our neighborhood with two acres of horse property behind her house told us we could park our camping trailer in her field.

And so we lived in a camper for two years.

When I was sixteen and old enough to pull my weight, I worked long hours after school, and in the summer, I worked over fifty hours a week.

I had two part time jobs—a waitress at Olive Garden and a cashier at Target. I had babysitting gigs on the side. I did yard work, tutored, walked dogs, and worked as a lifeguard at the YMCA for extra cash. And I made enough that we were able to rent a tiny one-bedroom apartment a mile from my high school.

It was a crazy hectic time and I didn’t have a social life but I was okay with that.

After high school, I was determined to go off to college so I could escape, get away from my mom, and make something of my life.

That was my plan. And for a time, the plan was working. I’d always earned good grades and was at the top of my class, so I skipped a grade in high school.

I continued to work hard, study hard, and maintain a good GPA.

During my senior year, I knew I didn’t have the money to pay for college so I applied for scholarships awarded to students with specific majors, like History scholarships with the Daughters of American Revolution. I even submitted an application to the American Society of Women Accountants because they offered Accounting scholarships.

Math and number crunching—that wasn’t my passion. But I was confident that an Accounting degree could lead to a stable and secure job.

And that was what I wanted more than anything—stability and security.

In the end, my hard work and perseverance, combined with researching scholarships that were available, filling out endless forms, and getting those forms to the right places at the right time—all that paid off and I was awarded a full Accounting scholarship to UC Berkeley.

Now here I was, back at square one, living at home with my mom, expecting a baby, and living in a constant state of underlying anxiety and instability.

I felt like a crumpled up piece of paper that had been rolled up and tossed into the corner and now I was trying to get myself straightened out again.

I had no idea how I would support my child
and
my mom.

I can’t explain the paralyzing fear I had about making it all on my own.

I didn’t want to work odd-end jobs for the rest of my life.

Moments passed and I just sat there, staring at that email from Simon.

Hall and Heinrich.

Finally, I Googled it.

It was an established advertising agency in the San Francisco bay area with offices in London, New York, Amsterdam, and Tokyo.

No
, I thought.
No.
I’m never ever going to accept Simon’s guilt offering. His fucking charity!

That was the decision I came to that day.

But all that changed two months later, on August 8th—the day I gave birth to a baby boy with half a heart.

Fast forward six years and now here I was, working at a company owned in part by Simon’s dad. And now the devil was back, sending everything tumbling madly into disarray.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

A cloud skittered over the moon, and shadows danced over her face as she stood on the top step of the back porch, staring off into space, into nothing.

I didn’t know what Sadie was struggling with, but I knew pain when I saw it.

In two long strides, I covered the distance between us. “What’s wrong?” I hooked a finger under her chin, tilting her face to mine.

Our gazes met for a long moment before she blinked and looked away. “Evan’s dad is back.”

A beat passed, then another. “What does he want?”

“I don’t know.” The despair in her voice pierced my heart.

So many questions crowded my tongue.

Who is this guy from her past?

Why is she still so affected by him?

A cool breeze shifted in and she rubbed her arms to warm them.

I drew her into the shelter of my body and she seemed content to stay nestled in my arms, letting them act as a buffer between her thoughts and the world. “Tell me about him.”

Everything inside me grew still as I held my breath, waiting.

Even the crickets paused momentarily in their song.

And in time, she did. She started talking.

As she opened up about her past, I felt her heart echoing against mine, beating too fast. I listened in silence and when she finished, I felt her lungs expand with a heavy sigh. Seconds passed before she spoke again. “It makes me sick to my stomach when I think about how easily he tricked me into thinking he actually cared for me. I wish I could go back to the day I met him and walk away.” She paused and there was a small break in her voice when she continued. “I
hate
him. I hate him so much.”