True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story (30 page)

Asher shakes his head in disgust. “I talked trash to Ian, but I didn’t mean it. He was just so arrogant, coming to my place like he owned you. You know what? You deserve him. You don’t know shit. Do you hear me, Sparrow? You don’t know shit about Ian Sterling.”

I start walking away and he’s still yelling.

I round the corner and begin shaking uncontrollably. A cab sits nearby, and I rush in and go home.

When I get home, I run up the stairs two at a time, close the door, and lock it. I run bath water and when it’s high, I step inside the tub and lean back, hoping the hot water will calm the shakes. I breathe. I cry and I breathe some more. And cry some more. And rinse and repeat until I’m a shriveled up clump. I put on my most comforting pajamas and get under the covers, pulling my laptop with me so I can google Asher.

I haven’t been paying attention to the gossip on Asher, otherwise, I would have known that about a month after the episode with him, he went missing for a couple of months. He lost several significant production jobs and went on an extended Caribbean cruise. There was speculation about plastic surgery. The more I read, the more I know that Ian probably did what Asher said. I wish I could be more upset about it than I am. I obviously don’t want to be with someone who is violent, but I have never seen an ounce of that in him. I’m not afraid of Ian. At all. I can’t say the same about Asher.

I just wish Ian had told me.

When Ian calls again later that night, for the first time in our entire relationship, I avoid his call. I let it go to voicemail and don’t call him back. The things Asher said are going around and around in my head. All of it. I fall asleep around 2 and wake up a few hours later, feeling like I’ve been run through the dryer—my head has been bumping against the side walls as I twirl around in circles. I’m dizzy and my temples are pounding.

I should have called in sick to work because I botch up a ton of orders. I take something for my headache, and Nadine tries to make up for my lack. When I leave for the day, there are four missed calls from Ian. I go home and without thinking about what I’m going to say, I finally push ‘call back’.

Before I can say anything, he’s talking.

“Sparrow? Are you okay? I’ve been worried about you … if this is about our conversation, I’m sorry, I just-”

“I’m okay,” my voice falters and it all comes rushing out. “I ran into Asher after we spoke, and it didn’t go well.”

“What happened? Did he hurt you?” Ian’s voice instantly sounds harsh.

“No, but it was pretty awful.”

“Tell me everything, what did he do?”

“Well, he told me you put him in the hospital,” I say quietly.

Silence.

“Ian?”

“Yeah, I did,” he says.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

He doesn’t say anything for a long time and when he does, it’s slow and resigned. “The night we were in The Chatwal—the only time I left you, remember? When Tessa came? I went to see Asher. I wanted to hear what he had to say. I didn’t go over there planning to do what I did.” He lets out a ragged breath. “He had this weird smirk on his face the whole time and when I confronted him about you, he bragged about being your first … baby, are you sure you want to—”

“Tell me what he said, Ian.” My words bite.

“I saw red, Sparrow. I asked him if that was the only way he could get laid—to get a virgin to pass out and he laughed … and said it did make it a lot less complicated…”

My chest hurts. I’ve given up trying not to cry and tears are falling, dropping on my chest or splatting across the dining room table.

“I started hitting him and I couldn’t stop. The only time I’ve ever gotten in a fight was in middle school. I don’t do that, baby. You have to know that. You do, right?”

I don’t say anything. So he just keeps talking.

“But Asher just kept that fucking grin across his face the whole time. I told him I’d break every bone in his body if he came near you again and I’d tell his constant little paparazzi caravan the truth about him if he so much as breathed a bad word about either of us.” Ian heaves a huge sigh. “And then I called the ambulance and got out of there.”

“He said you nearly killed him.”

Ian lets out a hollow laugh. “He wasn’t dying, Sparrow. Far from it. I hurt him, pretty bad, but he was nowhere near dying. I called the ambulance because I wanted it on record exactly what did happen to him, just in case he pulled something like this.”

I mull all of it over. My headache is back. I lay my head down on the table and try to process it all.

“I’m still not convinced that he didn’t put something in your drink. But even if he didn’t, he knew what he was doing…” he pauses. “Baby? Please say something.”

“I need to go, Ian. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

He’s talking as I hang up, and I don’t even care. I walk into my room in a daze, get in my bed, and fall asleep.

I wake up to Tessa hovering over me. “Ro? Wake up. Ro?”

I try to focus on her face. “What time is it?” I groggily sit up.

“It’s morning. Are you working today?” She props up my pillows, and I sleepily lean back on them.

“Not until this afternoon.”

“Okay. Well, I was at Jared’s and didn’t check my phone until this morning and there are, like, a dozen calls from Ian. You probably have more. He’s freaking out, Ro. What’s going on?”

“Long story,” I say, looking in her eyes and then down at my fingers. I pick at my nail polish.

She sits down on the bed. “You know I’ve got time. Spill. What’s going on with you two?”

“Well, it’s more about Asher Caldwell.” I lean my head back and close my eyes. I’m still so tired. Tessa’s body gets tense. “There’s something I never told you about him.”

I tell her the whole story, start to finish. Afterwards, we’re holding onto each other in my bed, both crying and blowing our noses. She’s livid with Asher, so sad that I went through that on my own, and trying to convince me that Ian was just protecting me.

“I know, but he still went about it all the wrong way. And then he should have told me what he’d done—and not let me hear it from Asher! What was he thinking? He could have gone to jail.”

“Yeah, he should have told you. I think he’s regretting that now. He sounds pretty stressed out. He left one long message saying he felt helpless because he’s across the country and can’t be with you right now. I was afraid the two of you had broken up or something.”

“No, but I did practically hang up on him yesterday.”

She smiles. “I love it when you get sassy.”

The next time Ian calls, I answer, and we talk through it. He’s so sorry he didn’t tell me what he’d done. I forgive him, but also let him know that I don’t want to hear any other secrets about my fiancé from anyone other than my fiancé. If we can’t have honesty between us, then we’re doomed.

- 23 -

2 months later

“Just think, the next time you’re home will be for your wedding,” my mom says as we work on party favors for my bridal shower. “Just a few months now.”

“December will be here before you can blink,” Tessa says. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Marriage is so
permanent
.”

We all laugh and keep tying tiny ribbons around each candy jar. Thirty-five women will be coming to my shower this weekend. We’ve had so much fun getting everything ready for it. It’s tedious work, but actually more relaxing than the rest of the wedding planning.

Ian came the second week into my trip. We had one of the best visits yet. It completely wiped away any worries I was having. We talked everything to death and put all the Asher drama to rest. He vowed to be upfront about everything from here on out. I reassured him, too, that I am ready for this. It felt like a timely discussion, to put it all on the table and move forward with our future.

I cannot wait to be his wife. I was excited when he asked me, but I am ecstatic now. The more I know about Ian, the more in love with him I am. It just gets better and better. Ian seems more excited now, too. The first few months of our engagement, I wasn’t always confident that he didn’t have second thoughts, but I know without a doubt that he’s sure now.

I don’t get to see him for another two weeks, and it’s torture! I will be so happy when we’re in the same place at the same time. Ian’s career is going well—he’s really happy with the direction it has taken. His songs are being recorded right and left by various artists, and the royalties are pouring in. I did a flying leap the other night when I heard one of his songs on the radio. He’s playing a show in Vegas right now, but come January, it’s been finalized for him to begin his solo project in New York. His tour will start in April and as soon as I graduate in May, I’ll be joining him on the tour. Penguin has pushed my release date back, which was disappointing at first, but now I know it’s for the best. I would have been working on edits while planning a wedding and that would have been way too much. Now, I’ll be working on edits while I’m on tour with Ian.

When all the wedding stuff seems really stressful, I imagine us traveling: me with my laptop, Ian with his guitar. That’s what I’m looking forward to—not the wedding so much as starting my life with him.

When Tessa leaves that night, I text Ian to let him know I’m going to bed early. He has a late show tonight, and I don’t think I can stay awake for him.

He texts back:
Sleep, Little Bird. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.

I crash pretty hard. Early in the morning, I feel a little chilled and I pull an extra blanket onto my bed. When I fall back to sleep, I dream.

I see the doors. They’re the same as always, except this time I feel like a tiny child in front of them. They’re bigger than they’ve ever been. I’m scared to open the right side but I do. Asher is the first one I see. He points at me, laughing. He has a drink in his hand and he passes it to Laila. She looks at me as she takes the drink and then she starts laughing at me. Michael sits, sunken into a big oversized chair, but when he sees me, he adjusts his posture and lets out a loud laugh at my perplexity. I look around. Where are my parents? Where is Tessa? I need Ian. I can’t breathe. And then I see him. He’s by Laila now, in that weird skip that dreams do. He leans over and takes a drink out of her glass, his eyes on me the whole time. I start crying for him to get me out of this room and he just watches me, never blinking once. I turn around and try to open the doors, but neither will open. I’m locked in.

I sit up in a cold sweat. My heart is pounding and I push the covers off, hoping to calm down. Instead of trying to go back to sleep, I take a shower. Are these wedding jitters?

All morning, I try to shake the funk, but I just can’t seem to get it off of me.

Ian calls a few hours later, and he hears it in my voice right away.

After trying to change the subject, I finally tell him about my dream. When I’m done, he’s completely quiet. Nothing, not a word.

Then something comes out of my mouth, and I’ll never know why or where it came from or why not sooner, but I say: “When do you think you’ll be over Laila?”

My own words rattle me, like the wind is being knocked right out of me by my own mindless doing.

Ian’s voice sounds strangled and very far away. “What do you mean?”

“I-mean-when-do-you-think-you’ll-be-over-
Laila?”
An island of single words strewn together that are going to ruin my entire life. I already know, without him saying a thing, that this will change everything.

“What do you want to know?” he whispers.

“I want to know everything. Start from the beginning.” I don’t even know this person who’s using my voice to speak. The words and the calm are surely not my own. “Are you having an affair with her?”

“No,” he says.

“Have you had an affair with her?”

He pauses and his voice cracks as he says, “Yes.”

“When?”

“Baby, I don’t—”

“Was it while we were together?”

Silence.

“WAS IT WHILE WE WERE TOGETHER?” I yell, my heart coming out of my throat like a ravaged animal.

“Yes,” he says, broken.

My whole body begins to tremble, starting at the crown of my head and rushing over every pore like blood when it oozes after a deep cut.

He’s saying in a rush of words, “Listen to me, I love you. I can’t lose you, Sparrow. Do you hear me? I made a mistake, but I cannot lose you. I’m coming to you. Are you listening?”

I throw the phone across the room and watch as the screen shatters.

I go in my closet and shut the door, leaving the light off. I don’t know how long I sit in there, crying and raging, but when I stand up and walk out, I wipe the tears and go pretend like nothing has happened.

If I have to talk about it with a single person, I will lose my mind.

During supper my mom and dad are chatty about the reception. I push food around on my plate and when they ask if I’m not feeling well, I tell them I’m not and go to bed.

The next morning, Charlie comes in my room early and wakes me up, “Sparrow? Honey? Wake up.”