Constantine: Britain’s Story Part 2 (Spearhead Lake)

Chapter 20

Britain

Dear Britain,

This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life, but I know I have to do it. If I don’t do this now, I know I’ll lose the nerve, and never follow through. I’m sorry that this is coming at you with no warning, but it is something I’ve been thinking about for awhile now.

I should start from the beginning. I’ve lied to you. I promised I wouldn’t lie to you, so I’m going to tell you all the truths now. No matter how ugly they seem, I have to get it out there. Then you can decide how you want to move forward.

First, I was the one who forced Matt to break up with you. I thought you knew this, which is why I haven’t said anything about it. I only just found out yesterday, when I called Matt to tell him about us. That’s when he told me you didn’t know the full story. I had resolved to tell you when I got home, but you were in the bathroom crying. And you’d just found out this awful thing about your family’s past, and I didn’t want to add to your pain.

I should have told you the moment I knew that you didn’t know, and I’m sorry. Truly. The reasons I asked Matt to do it are numerous, and I’ll get to them, but in order to do that, I have to go back to the start. Our start.

I lied to you the first time I met you, too. You asked me if I believed in fate, and I said no. When we first met, I couldn’t even see you for the first couple of minutes, but I didn’t have to. I felt you, and I just had this feeling come over me that you were special. To me. I wanted to get to know you, I wanted to soak up every minute with you in that dingy bathroom. And honestly, I didn’t believe in fate, until I met you.

I was standing outside that bathroom when I got what most people would think was terrible news. My girlfriend of five years was dumping me. She’d been cheating on me. I wasn’t mad, I wasn’t hurt, I was just annoyed, then indifferent. Then you, you hit me in the head with that door, and from the moment I heard your voice, I felt something. You made me feel something in that minute that five years with my ex never even touched.

It only got better when I opened my eyes. You were so beautiful that day. I’ll never forget your sun-kissed cheeks and the way you gave me this little half smile. You had the sweetest demeanor and you were so tender about the way you cared for me. You could have asked me for anything right then and I would have given it to you.

I had a moment where I thought, “Is this fate?” Nancy sent me that message just as you opened that door. What are the chances? It felt like one part of my life died and another began in that fraction of a second. Nancy and I had argued the day before and I told her, fairy tales aren’t real, fate’s not real. This is just life.

I don’t know why, but I had to know if you believed in fate. It was a dumb thing to ask, but for some reason I had to know. And guess what you told me? You didn’t believe in fate. Believing in fate would mean believing in fairy tales, and you didn’t believe in those. I couldn’t help but smile. It was like you took the words right out of my mouth. If ever fate existed, it was in that moment, in that bathroom. And I saw you, like the answer to a wish I didn’t even know I made.

But then you asked if I believed in fate, and I lied to you. I said no. Ten minutes earlier, and that answer would have been the truth. But after you, I’d always thought it was fate, meeting you that day. I walked out of that bathroom determined. I was going to find you, but when I did, none of it made sense.

You were Georgia’s daughter, you were with Matt, and you were 18. I felt like the biggest idiot. I couldn’t date you. I was so much older, you were too young. I didn’t think you looked 18. You definitely looked younger than me, but not 18. It was like getting punched in the stomach. I resigned myself that whatever I felt for you then was misplaced. Maybe the breakup had been harder on me than I realized and that’s all it was.

In the back of my mind, though, I always harbored these feelings for you. I denied them because I wasn’t that old guy trying to date someone 14 years younger than me, but they were still there. You’ve always been there. Which brings me back to why I convinced Matt to break up with you.

The company was under water at the time. We’d made a couple bad investments, and it was on me to come up with the next thing, so I did. I put all my passion into a project I believed in. It ended up being Broken Ridge, but back when I met you, it was still just an idea. When I was finally able to pull it all together, the entire project hinged on one person, and that was Julie Scala. She had brokered this deal with her father for the land, for us. It was an amazing deal; one I knew I’d never see again in this lifetime.

She had one demand in order to finalize it: She needed me to get Matt to break up with you. I was a bit confused by her demand at first, but, if I’m being honest, I didn’t fight her on it. I didn’t want you to be with Matt either. You couldn’t be mine, but I didn’t want you to be his. It seemed like a special kind of torture to have to watch you get married to him someday, have his kids someday, and so I agreed to Julie’s stipulation.

When she asked me to do it, she told me it was because you were Constantine’s daughter. I don’t know that I believed this, but it helped me justify to myself that I was doing the right thing in telling Matt he needed to end it with you. I didn’t know Matt would do it the way he did. I thought he would explain it to you, how I had asked him (forced him) to do this. But, he didn’t.

A couple months after that, I found out from Georgia that you’d moved away. I thought that was the best outcome for everyone involved, honestly. But I was wrong. Again.

I had no idea that you moved because of Matt, that you never got over him. I thought you moved on, and were probably happy to escape the valley. I didn’t know, Britain. I’m so sorry. I really didn’t know until I overheard you talking to Damian today.

You’ve given me the happiest days of my life, Britain. I’m absolutely convinced that if it doesn’t work between us, it won’t work out for me with anyone. You are it for me. You are everything, my everything.

But what if I’m not it for you? What if I never was?

You spent 17 years never being able to get over Matt. Our six weeks is nothing compared to that. It would be one thing if you never got over him, but Matt was happy and settled in his life. But he’s not. He never got over you either. He’s still waiting for you.

There’s a very large part of me that wants to say, I don’t care. I’d rather have you, even if you have one foot out the door, than not have you at all. But what kind of life is that? What example are we setting for the girls by doing that? I want you, Britain, but only if you want me the same way. Without reservation, without caveats, without ghosts from our past looming over our relationship.

You deserve to be so fucking happy, Britain. I can’t take that from you. I’d rather be miserable, but know you’re happy, truly happy. I won’t be the one to take that from you again.

I’m going to give you the space to figure it out. I’ve let Matt know that you and I are no longer together. Whatever happens next is up to you, and him. I’m removing myself from the equation. I’m turning off my phone and I’m going to go work in Sonoma for the next 4 months. That’s all I can give. If you need longer than that, I’ll know you can’t decide and that’s a decision in itself. I can’t spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering if you wish I was the other guy. And I can’t wait longer than 4 months. I want to give you the time you need, but I also need to know how to proceed with my life.

We don’t have to have a confrontation about it. You don’t need to explain anything to me. If you’d rather be with Matt, just don’t be at our house in Spearhead on October 7th. If you’re not there, I’ll know. I’ll pack up the house and move to Sonoma permanently. I will completely disappear from your life.

I still can’t believe you showed up at Broken Ridge, that you rented my house. You’ll always be a part of me, Britain. Even if you don’t choose me, you’ll always be the best part of me. I probably won’t ever stop loving you, but if you want to be with Matt, cut me loose so I at least have a chance at trying to stop.

If you decide earlier, you know where to find me.

I love you, Britain,

Liam

The tears stream down my face, a drop rolling down my nose and falling onto the paper in front of me. I blot at it, trying to prevent it from making the ink bleed, then set the letter aside and drop my face into my hands. I love him so much. So fucking much.

Fuck, Liam. I quickly change out of my leggings and tee, opting for a nap dress and sliding on sandals. A brief look in the full-length mirror doesn’t do much for my confidence. I’m not wearing any makeup, and my hair is still wet, but I don’t care. I’m moving at full speed right now.

I grab my purse out of the mudroom and run into Jess as I do.

“Whoa, where are you going?” Jess asks.

“There’s something I need to do. Can you hang with the girls for a couple hours?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” I’m already walking away before she can finish, “Guess you can just tell me about the Greek Fest later then!” Jess calls out after me.

I call back, “Yeah, I will, later. I promise!” I step out into the garage, opening the door while I fumble, searching for my keys. Instead of finding them, my Porsche calls to me. Fuck yes. I smile as I duck into the low car, starting it and listening to its purr as the engine turns. I pull out of the driveway and head straight towards Spearhead. I need to see him. I need to tell him I read his letter.

Chances are he’s probably home, but just in case, I call. It rings out, then goes to voicemail and I try to tamp down the familiar unease that bubbles up, remembering all my unanswered calls. Probably working out. Yes, that’s it. It’s a little late in the day for him, but not unreasonable. It’s only noon. My heart thumps loudly in my chest and I accelerate, my Porsche flying at the same speed as my blood through my veins.

I don’t know what I’m going to say. I have no plans other than to tell him I read the letter.

We need to talk, I mean really talk, and we haven’t done that. We’ve seen each other in passing mostly, just skimming the surface of it all, but we need to talk. I know it. Subconsciously, I know I just need to see him. Him. Liam. My heart flutters as I approach the windy portion of my drive. My hands shake and I slow down considerably to accommodate the steep curves and twists of the mountain road.

Please be home, Liam. Please.

When I get to his house, I say a small thank you Jesus when I see his Range Rover parked in the driveway. But then my stomach takes a dive because this means I’m doing this. I snatch my purse up and walk briskly to the door. My hands are bouncing the keys back and forth, nervously, as I wait for someone to answer my knock. But no one does.

Christ, maybe he’s in the shower. I knock again and wait, still fidgeting because shit, I really need to pee. Maybe it's the nerves or maybe it’s my uterus sitting on my bladder, I don’t fucking know. I test the door knob and it turns easily. Unlocked. Assuming he hadn’t changed it, I could have used the keycode, though.

I step over the threshold, listening for a beat. When I hear nothing, I head straight towards the hall bath, but I’m stopped at the entrance to his office. He’s sitting there, full glass of brown in hand, looking a little worse for the wear. If I’m honest, he looks a little like me.

My breathing stops and my cheeks heat while I wait for him to notice my presence. When he finally seems to recognize me, a strange expression passes his face. I lift a hand up and wave silently, giving him a gentle smile, hopeful it’s one that says I come in peace. But he doesn’t return the gesture.

My mouth is getting hot and I swallow down the excess saliva, realizing I haven’t had anything to eat today. Tentatively, I take a step forward and Liam’s eyes go wide, giving me pause.

“Hi, I-uh, sorry for just coming in like that,” I point back to the front door. “I just really need–” He lifts up his hand to stop me and when he does, I notice…hair?

“You know it’s rude to break into someone’s house?” A woman’s voice asks, as a naked Gina rises up from behind the desk. Liam stands up abruptly, his pants unzipped, and his dick hanging out. Ohmyfuckinggod. I turn away from the two of them abruptly, averting my gaze then break into an all-out sprint for the hall bathroom, emptying my stomach of bile into the toilet. There’s no food there, so as soon as I finish retching, I flush, and book it straight out the front door. I don’t know if I’m running or walking, I just know I’m moving — and fast. Have to get the fuck away from this place.

I can hear Liam call out to me, but the sound is muffled. My ears are ringing and everything seems a bit spinny. Huh, is “spinny” even a word? I lean against my car, fighting for breath as my brain begins what I assume will be a relentless verbal assault. Mistake, this was a mistake. You’re a fucking idiot, Britain. Stupid. Fucking stupid.

I see Liam walking out his front door towards me, holding up his hand for me to wait, but I just shake my head at him, throwing myself into the car and peeling out of the driveway. Pressing down hard on the accelerator, I almost crash into a tree, but miss it by inches. My car is practically screaming at me with all the sensors going off, but I can’t see them, the tears are completely clouding my vision. Fuck my life. Fuck me. I am so stupid. Britain, why the fuck are you so stupid?

I throw the car in drive, and the tires screech against the pavement as I floor it past Liam in his front yard. At the stop sign at the end of his street, I just hang my head and cry, but at some point the cry turns to screaming, and I thrash against the steering wheel. I hate this stupid car. I hate that it smells like him. And I hate him, too. I shake my head. No, I hate myself most. For believing any of his words, spoken or written. For ever believing a promise he’s told me. It means absolutely fucking nothing.

“There is nothing between me and Gina. You’re it for me. The only place I want to be is next to you.”

Fuck you, Liam Millar. I’m going to find the best goddamn family court attorney that money can buy and I’m going to make sure he only ever sees this baby when I say he can. Fuck splitting custody, fuck co-parenting, and fuck this place.

In the rearview mirror, I can see him start to pull out of his driveway, so I take off at breakneck speed, flying past the main strip and heading straight for Sandy’s. It’s the opposite direction of town, which is where he probably thinks I’ll go. I keep an eye behind me the whole time, but he never shows up in my rearview again. Maybe he wasn’t following me. That would imply he cares. Or maybe he’s just feeling guilty for getting caught in a lie. I don’t know and I don’t care.

Damn, I really don’t want to go to Sandy’s, but I still need to pee like no-other.

Pulling into their drive, I try to collect myself as best as possible before heading in. They might be at the cafe, in which case I’ll consider this a great mercy and thank the heavens. I slam the car door shut and pull out my phone to see there’s already two missed calls from Liam, but I ignore them. I knock on the front door and try the doorbell, but no luck.

Flipping over the pot on the front porch that’s painted with sunflowers, I pull out the hidden key and let myself in, but I call out first, just in case.

“Sandy! Jim! It’s Britain! I just need to use your bathroom!” I’m met with silence which is infinitely relieving.

The tears start again, and this time I just let them go. Thankfully, no one is here to see the train wreck I’ve orchestrated over my own life.

I sit on the toilet to pee and pull out my phone, sending a few messages.

Britain

I need you. Can you please come home?

Then I shoot off another.

Britian

I need the best family court attorney you know. I don’t care what it costs.

Fuck, I have to think of something plausible. Why would I just show up at his house? Then I’m reminded of my pillow, my favorite pillow probably still lying on his bed. I wonder if Gina uses it. Hell. Then I send another text.

Britain

Hey, so sorry about that. Shouldn’t have come by unannounced. I just needed to pick up my pillow. Won’t happen again. Have a good day.

The entire thing is a lie, but I can’t let him see how much he affects me. He always will, fucking bastard. I clean up and wash my hands, then sit on the cool stone floor to let loose a few more tears. Once I feel sufficiently drained, I stand up and open the door.

“Don’t you ever drive like that again.” Liam crowds into my personal space, gripping my upper arms firmly in his hands, stunning me speechless. “I could fucking kill you for driving like that.” It’s an empty threat, though, as he releases my arms, then pulls me in tight to his chest. He smells like his cologne and scotch. Lots of scotch. My body goes willingly into his arms, even though my mind is screaming in revolt. I let him embrace me, but I don’t return it.

“How’d you know I was here?”

“I stopped at The Grounds and asked if anyone had seen which way the Porsche went. They all pointed straight here.” Fucking small towns.

“Did you see my text?” I try to fortify my voice, “Sorry about that. Hope Gina wasn’t too put out that I had to vomit and run.” It’s hard to keep the emotion out of my voice. The joke sounds neither funny nor crude, just lifeless. A bit like me. I push out of the embrace. “I tried calling, but I promise that won’t happen again.” I turn to walk past him, but he grabs my arm.

“Stop running from me, Britain.”

I glare at him, then down to where his hand is holding my arm. “Stop doing shit that makes me want to run from you.”

“That wasn’t what it looked like.”

“Please don’t. You don’t need to explain or excuse anything. You are free to do whatever you want with whoever you want.” He drops my arm and I start walking towards the front door. I stop and turn before I get there because there is one thing I can’t leave unsaid. “I really don’t care what the fuck you do, Liam, but don’t lie to me. If I can’t trust you to be honest, I can’t trust you with our child.” He takes two steps to slide in front of the door, effectively blocking my exit.

“Is that a threat, Britain?”

“Yeah it is. I know you’ve never seen the mom version of Britain, but I try really hard to not let my kids be in shitty situations with shitty people. Do whatever you want, but if you want to be a shitty person about it, don’t expect me to willingly send my kid to you every other weekend.”

“Ouch, every other weekend.” He feigns a pain in his chest.

“Right now, you’re at supervised visits once a month, at best.” His face hardens and transforms.

“This does not have to be like this, Britain.” He looks down on me with disdain for the first time…ever.

“No it sure as fuck didn’t. Please move so I can leave.” I don’t know what it is about him that makes me so insanely reactive. I hate him, I love him, ugh. Why can’t I just be indifferent to him?

“No, not until you talk to me. Not until you let me explain.”

“Ahh yes, the epidemic, right?” He looks at me, confused. “Yes, the one where naked women’s mouths just fall on your dick. Tragic stuff happening nowadays.” I sneer at him and roll my eyes.

“One, she wasn’t fully naked. Two, my dick wasn’t in her mouth, nor has it ever been in her mouth. And three, you're one to talk! I got to hear all about how much you screamed your boyfriend’s name when he fucked you this weekend. Which, gee, he’s such a good guy he just left you on your porch so you could get sick. And I don’t remember you calling his name out in your sleep. Do you remember that, Bambi?” He asks harshly. “I seem to remember you called out for me. You begged me to stay.”

“He is not my boyfriend and…fuck you, Liam,” I say, trying to keep the tears and anger from drowning me.

“Yeah,” he laughs cruelly, “I wish you would, Britain! Is there a line I can get in? What’s the process for getting in your queue, huh? You know Max, Niko, and Silas are all still single if you want to make your way through them, too.” If I wasn’t firmly against domestic violence, I would slap him. I try to get the rage under control, but I can’t. I try to breathe, but I can’t. I try to say something, but I can’t. The room starts spinning, and I falter.

“Britain?” The word doesn’t come out fully formed, though. Or maybe I don’t hear it fully because everything starts to fade and get fuzzy, and the walls close in and I panic before everything fades to black.