Pieces of Us

Chapter 21 Given Up

Amity

‘Are you sure you want rose gold accents?’ Uncle Jacob asks, scrunching up his nose. ‘It’s very…girly.’ I glare at him. ‘Feminine?’ he corrects, plastering a cheesy smile across his lips.

‘I know it might go out of style, but I can just change them when I’m bored,’ I shrug at his insistence that the taps in the kitchen will look tacky. ‘I want something more romantic and luxurious. My place back in the states is so…white. I’m scared to even touch the kitchen.’

‘And you’re sure you want a black tub?’

‘Again, white gives me nightmares.’

‘You know black is just as hard to clean, right?’

He’s been working with the interior design team to bring my vision to life, but it seems our tastes differ vastly.

‘Uncle Jacob. I love you, but stop. We’ve been in here an hour,’ I whinge, lulling my head from side to side. ‘Can I go? It’s perfect. Good job.’ I give him a thumbs up. He’s not amused. I know he’s a perfectionist, but we’re pretty much splitting hairs here.

‘Young lady, don’t be sassy.’

‘I trust you. It’s exactly what I envisioned, and if it’s not, I’ll just give you free reign to change it.’

‘You’re killing me.’

‘But you still love me, right?’

‘Like my very own.’ He leans back on his chair, stretching his arms above his head. ‘You’re free to go.’

‘Oh, goody.’ Clapping my hands together and gathering my bag, I decide I’ll stop by and see Ella on the way out…maybe see what Lincoln is up to and if dinner is still on the cards. ‘I’m going to grab a cup of tea and hang out with Ella for a while.’ At the mention of his marketing staff member, his head snaps to attention.

‘She’s working. Don’t distract and dazzle her.’

‘I really like her. She makes me happy.’

‘She has that effect on people,’ he mutters, drawing something on his pad.

‘Bye.’ There’s a lilt to my voice I haven’t used or heard in a while. I feel like I’m closing this long and despondent chapter. Finally.

I walk past Lincoln’s office but he’s busy on the phone. When I crane my neck in Billie’s direction, she’s nowhere to be seen. No loss there. I whiz to the marketing department and spot the bubbly blonde from a mile away. Luckily, the fanfare of me seems to have worn off, and everyone is going about their afternoon.

‘Hey, chicka. Want to grab a tea?’ I tap her on the shoulder, causing her to yelp and jump. The papers she’s holding go flying everywhere like confetti.

‘Who? Me? You want to get tea with me?’ She points to her chest and looks over both her shoulders before spinning around to see if I’m talking about anyone else.

An infectious giggle escapes. This woman is hilarious.

‘Yes. You. My best friends, Lily and Rome, are at work, and I thought maybe you could be my new friend.’ I don’t know what it is about her, but I trust her. I think she’s good for my soul. I meet a lot of fake people in my life, and can spot realness from a mile away.

‘Am I Dorothy?’ She’s flummoxed.

‘Who?’ My brows furrow in confusion

‘Dorothy. As in The Wizard of Oz. Have I hit my head and landed in some alternate reality?’

She’s dead serious, which makes me keel over. I have to hold the desk.

‘No, you’re not Dorothy, and yes, I’m serious. Uncle Jacob said not to accost you, but I don’t care. Plus, I could get away with murder and he’d still love me. Let’s go. I’ve had a long afternoon, and I need something.’ I tug at her hand and pull her along. I don’t know who her immediate boss is, but I doubt they’d say anything to me.

‘I made them stock Ami-tea in the kitchen,’ she says proudly. I’m shocked at her confession.

‘What do you mean!? My dad is the head of the company. He should have displayed it.’ I’m mock outraged, but this will definitely be brought up tonight when I get home.

‘It’s so bizarre that you’re Mr. Hartford’s daughter.’

‘Yeah, yeah.’

We both make a cuppa and talk about surface-level topics, like what school she went to, her job here, my job. I know she’s a little awestruck, but the more we chat, the more it feels like I’ve known her for a while.

‘So you’re pretty close to Jacob and Lincoln, then?’ She adds Lincoln on like he’s an afterthought.

My hand wraps around my mug. Lifting it to my lips, I take a sip, eyeing her the entire time. ‘Jacob. Hmm.’

Her eyes go comically wide. ‘I mean, Mr. Hayes,’ she sputters.

‘Uh-huh. Don’t think I don’t know that look.’ I arch an eyebrow. She gulps down her tea, buying herself time.

‘There’s no look.’ Her face is sauce red. It’s cute and endearing that she has a little crush on Uncle Jacob.

‘If you say so,’ I sing-song.

A chill sweeps through the room as if the air conditioner has been turned up a notch. I feel ice tingle its way up my spine. The click-clack of heels gets louder with each step, and the waft of cheap perfume assaults my nose.

‘Well, look who it is,’ the overly fake cheery voice of Billie rings.

My posture stiffens. I don’t want to talk to her or be near her. I don’t want to reconcile. I don’t want to have to pretend to be civil. But I know I have to do all of those things to save face in front of the office.

A sympathetic glance from Ella is shot my way before she greets her. ‘Hey, Billie.’

‘Daniella.’

Billie’s shadow covers the table, eclipsing any light. She’s standing too close for my comfort. ‘What brings you down here, Amity?’ There’s a slice of coolness in her voice.

I force myself to look at her. She’s still as stunning as ever. Blonde barbie doll hair that’s swept off her face and a petite figure that men love. She’s in a little black dress that is probably more suitable to wear to a club, but she still looks killer in it. I hate it, and I hate her. She’s a constant walking, talking reminder of everything I’m not.

‘It’s my dad’s company. I didn’t think I really needed a reason. Plus, Uncle Jacob just finished the design of my next home.’ I drum my fingers on the table, knowing I’m being slightly petty for flaunting my success in her face.

‘Oh? Moving back here?’ she enquires.

‘That would be so cool if you were!’ Ella reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

I half-heartedly laugh, because as much as I’d love to move back here, I don’t know if I’d survive being this close to Lincoln all the time.

‘Nope, but I like the idea of having my own space when I do come back and visit.’

‘I bet everyone has loved having you back,’ Ella chimes in during the awkward gap in conversation.

Billie jumps in. ‘Oh, she’s the talk of the town. Talk of all our friends.’ What baffles me is why she wants to talk like we’re best friends.

‘I only really have my two best friends, Lily and Rome, who I talk to, but I’ve seen them plenty of times over the years.’

‘So, what’s the go with you and Jagger?’ I’m irritated that Billie thinks it's her right to dig into my personal life. My eyes snap to her, only to see that she’s enjoying making me feel uncomfortable and pressured.

‘I don’t really talk about my friends or our personal lives.’ I scratch my forehead, trying to mentally get rid of the itch that is this bitch.

‘But he’s more than just a friend?’

‘He’s so hot,’ Ella sighs dreamily, bringing a little levity back into the room.

‘Yes, he is.’ I agree that my best friend is drop-dead gorgeous. I mean, he’s been named GQ Man of the Year. Of course he’s stupid attractive.

‘Yes, he’s more than a friend?’ Billie interjects again.

I don’t want to say yes or no, because if I say yes, I’m lying, but if I say no, I look like a loser.

‘He’s just Jagger,’ I say surreptitiously, lifting my mug again and taking another sip to lubricate my coarse throat.

‘Have you ridden that stallion?’ What. The. Fuck?

How dare she bring up any of this like we’re best friends. I bet you every cent in my bank account she will sell whatever I say to the media.

I’m shocked at her brashness.

I also don’t deny it because…well, I sort of have.

‘You can’t ask that,’ Ella sputters. ‘Would you like it if I asked you who you’ve fucked, or who you lost your virginity to, or anything else personal like that?’ she rambles, her hands flailing in Billie’s direction. She’s outraged on my behalf, knowing I can’t retaliate back because of outside ears.

‘I wouldn’t have a problem with it. But just for your information, I lost my virginity to Lincoln.’ My stomach tumbles. ‘In year ten.’ And my heart stops as I gasp. Ella’s eyes fly to mine when she hears the shock in my voice. My eyes, just trained on Billie, find their way to the table, as do my hands, gripping the edge to steady me from fainting.

‘W.-w.-what?’ I whisper.

‘Oh, you didn’t know? Lincoln lost his virginity to me, and I him. We were study buddies for some project, and when he came over, one thing led to another. It was perfect. I always knew we had a connection.’ The way she says it is so wistful that I know it’s true.

‘Well, good for you,’ Ella mutters, clearly seeing the distress in my face.

The agony over that one confession is unimaginable.

He lost his virginity to her.

Up until now, I thought it was all lies. Hearing her confirm it after all these years completely and truly shatters me.

What was the most soul-defining moment of my life was all a lie.

‘He was so sweet, too. He was very attentive. He lit some candles, popped on some music and made sure I was okay all the way through.’

The punches she keeps throwing feel life-ending.

It wasn’t hell enough that they were an item for years. Or that he chose her. Now I find out she had him first. She’s always been his.

‘It was the most special night of my life. He certainly learned a thing or two when we reconnected again, if you know what I mean?’ I shudder, finding it hard to draw shallow breaths. Hearing this is sending me on my way to another panic attack. ‘He’s practically lived inside me for the last seven years. He can go all night, you know.’

‘You need to stop.’ Ella’s voice is deadly. I didn’t know she had it in her. I’d high-five her, but I’m having trouble sitting and living at the moment.

‘What? You asked.’ Billie is revelling in the tidbit she’s sharing.

Ella pushes herself back from the table, the chair scraping against the tiles as she gets in Billie’s face. ‘Go fuck yourself, Billie.’

I’m shaking like a leaf, shocking even my nerves. I can hear the rattle of the table where I’m nervously pushing on it.

‘Oh, I don’t have to. We all know Lincoln can’t stay away from me. He fucked me so good, he even got me pregnant.’

Staggering murmurs whisper around me. I feel like I’m sucked into a vortex and there’s no escape.

‘Billie.’ A thunderous boom silences the room. Lincoln. His footsteps are heavy.

‘Lincoln.’ A deafening warning follows. Uncle Jacob.

My eyes haven’t moved from the faux marble table in front of me. My fingers are strained white from locking my grip on the edge, and out of the periphery of my eyes, I can see that Lincoln is standing a ruler away.

‘Why…why would you do this?’ The crack in his voice is heartache. I know the sound very well. After all, it’s the exact tone I’ve had for years. ‘How could you bring up the baby?’

‘Enough.’ Uncle Jacob is livid, but Lincoln ignores him. Did he know? Where’s the baby? What is going on? I feel like Alice in Wonderland, being tossed down the rabbit hole without a stitch of padding to protect my broken and fragile body.

‘I thought you would have told your precious Amity everything.’

Billie’s nonchalance sends Lincoln into a fit of rage.

‘It has nothing to do with her,’ he explodes, banging his hand down on the table, startling Ella and I at the same time. Somehow, it snaps me out of this fog, and I slide back as inconspicuously as possible to get away. The clattering of wood rattles on the floor as my chair tips over in my haste to get out of here.

I don’t attempt to look at the crowd that’s formed. I just hope Uncle Jacob or my publicist can keep this under wraps. This is the exact type of negative attention I’ve avoided my entire career.

‘Amity.’ Lincoln’s hand bolts out, wrapping around my upper arm, forcing me to stay in this hell. His touch usually makes me searingly hot, but I feel detached from my body as his fingers curl and mould to my skin.

I foolishly look around and see that everyone is holding their breath, waiting to see my next reaction. Uncle Jacob’s gaze is murderous.

‘Get your hand off her. Now,’ he grits.

‘No.’ His shout back at his father is loud enough that I feel it in my bones. ‘I need to explain.’ He composes himself and lowers his voice. The grasp he has on me isn’t threatening, but it is possessive.

‘I don’t think this is the right time or place,’ Ella whispers, but it’s still loud enough for everyone to hear. She anxiously looks at Uncle Jacob for what to do next. I don’t miss the fact that they have an entire conversation with a passing glance.

‘Go away. Everyone get out.’ Lincoln’s spit hits my skin. His gaze hasn’t wavered from me. I’ll gladly remove myself from here. I try to jerk away but I’m fastened on the spot, as if my feet are glued to the ground.

‘Look. I know you’re the boss’ son and all, and I could get fired, but you’re making it worse for Amity. She’s a public figure. Think with your brain, not your dick for once.’ Some people clap at Ella’s boldness while Uncle Jacob rolls his eyes. I haven’t so much as looked at Lincoln, but I can imagine his utter horror at being called out. Still, he doesn’t remove his hand.

‘Then we will have this conversation in private.’ I hear his teeth grind as he tries to ameliorate his anger.

He enunciates the word ‘private’ as if to say Ella will be excluded. ‘If you know what’s good for you, Billie, you will go home,’ he seethes, yanking me past his dad. The crowd disperses and I’m just a ghost of myself anyway, so I’m light on my feet as I follow him to wherever he’s leading me.

Once we’re back in his office, he lets go of me and slams the door. Pacing back and forth, I can feel the panic emanate off his body as he pulls at his hair.

I’m still dead inside, so I remain aloof, barely functioning.

He got her pregnant.

He’s having a baby with her.

He’s going to marry her and raise a family with her.

He’s going to have a little human that’s half him and half her, and it’s going to be gorgeous.

The flurry of emotions wracks my body as I sink to the floor, my back to the door. I’ve gone down like a sack of potatoes, but at least the floor is holding up my bag of bones.

‘Hart.’ He crouches down in front of me on his knees, his hands clasping mine. I see right through him. His glassy eyes shine like tourmaline, but I’m dead inside. I feel nothing.

Needle-like pain prickles my skin, but again, the pain is welcome compared to the emptiness inside.

‘Hart. Baby.’ He tries to elicit a reaction out of me again, but my voice has lost all ability to communicate.

‘I am so sorry.’ He breaks. His head drops to my knees as he weeps. When the weeping turns into uncontrollable sobs, I look down to see the darkening pools on my overalls as his tears wet my thighs.

Looking to my left, I see the glass pane hasn’t been frosted over, and Uncle Jacob is peering in. I give him a nod to signal I’m okay, and he leaves, giving us our privacy.

The lifelessness I feel is like when I was at my lowest and I overdosed on weight loss injections.

His blubber fades into ragged breaths. After God knows how long, he sits up, facing me but not letting go of my hands.

I continue to stare through him. I’m looking at him, but not really. My hands are limp in his as he caresses my skin with his thumb.

‘Hart. There’s no baby.’ This jolts my consciousness back into my body as my eyes flicker to his. He swallows, dropping his head to get his own words out. ‘There was a baby, but she had an early miscarriage. No one in the world knew except us before today.’

‘When?’ I whisper, my core clenching in sickness.

‘Like six months after high school, or somewhere around there. I can’t remember.’ His voice croaks as he clears it.

‘How far along?’

I can’t believe I’m asking these questions, but I need to know every detail if I’m going to survive.

‘Seven weeks, maybe? I don’t how that shit works, but it was like she just had a normal period. Honestly, it was a positive test and then it wasn’t. Apparently it’s super common, like one in four.’

I want to say I’m sorry, but I’m not a good person—or at least, I’m not at this moment.

I don’t care.

I feel horrific for even thinking it, but honestly, the baby has, like he said, nothing to do with me. I have no feelings about if it had lived or not.

I’m numb because he got someone else pregnant.

He had yet another first with her.

Whenever he gets a second chance at a kid, it will be just that. His second time round.

He won’t have the joy of finding out for the first time, or seeing the pregnancy test for the first time. He won’t have the first time feeling or emotions when it happens again.

I nod mutely.

‘I felt nothing when she told me. I had no connection…until that chance was stolen away from me. For the three weeks I knew about the pregnancy, I hated me, her, it. I felt like she was trapping me, even though we’d been a couple for so long. I knew that if we had a baby together, you’d never give me a chance ever again. We’d be over for good. I…I…prayed for something to happen. When it did, I was inconsolable. It wasn’t the baby’s fault. I did want the baby…I just never wanted it with her.’ Water drips from his ducts. I’ve never seen him at his lowest, and this is it. It’s hard to not feel compassion, so I give him the only thing I can. I squeeze his hand to let him know I’m here.

‘You lied.’ My voice trembles.

He shakes his head. ‘No. I never told you. There’s a difference.’

‘I’m not talking about the baby. Like you said, it’s got nothing to do with me. You lied about your virginity. You gave her another one of your firsts. Your first baby. Your virginity. Your first kiss. Probably your first anal experience. Probably even your first “I love you”. Fuck, I wouldn’t even know any other firsts you’ve had, but what I am sure of is that none of them were with me.’

Am I a bitch for making it about myself? Probably.

‘I don’t care about any of the firsts. Only the lasts.’

Doesn’t change a damn thing.

‘Lying by omission is still lying. What’s done is done. I gave you a chance earlier to come clean and you didn’t. The trust between us is in shreds.’

‘That’s not true.’

‘How is it not?’ I blast, taking my hands back and pinching the bridge of my nose. ‘I can’t keep going around on this carousel with you. It’s making me dizzy. Every time I don’t think I can feel destroyed, you go and blow up my life again.’

I’ve been anaemic. I’ve had low blood pressure. I’ve had vertigo and fainting spells. So I know how it feels to spin out of control and off axis. I never used to feel that with Lincoln, and now it’s all I feel. I just want my world to stop spinning. I don’t want him to toy with me anymore.

‘I don’t even count the virginity thing as my first time—’

I cut him off.

‘How?! She said you did pretty much everything you set up for me. Candles. Music. The whole shebang. Is that, like, your schtick when deflowering virgins?’ I grimace over the fact that he could have done this a number of times to unsuspecting girls.

‘She’s lying. She lit one candle and she turned the music on. I couldn’t have given a fuck.’

‘No. You were too busy trying to fuck the shit out of her to worry about it. As long as your dick got some pussy, who the fuck cares, right?’

No point sugarcoating it.

‘It wasn’t like that.’ He’s straining to explain himself.

‘Oh yeah? Tell me what it was like? How you working on an assignment led you to losing your virginity with her? She was in our group. You and I were best friends. At the very least, as your best friend, your “Hart”, that’s something you should have told me. Did you even feel guilty when you kissed me a few months later, or did you get it on after we kissed? After we became a couple? What about when we had sex for the first time? Oh, sorry, when I had sex for the first time. Did you feel any sort of remorse that you led me on?’ Every thought I have, I blurt out, and he lets me. He sits patiently while I vomit every thought in my head.

I can see the guilt consuming him, but I’m not sure if it’s just the guilt of me finding out.

Struggling to be this close to him, I, with all my might, get up, crossing to the other side of the room and perch myself on his desk, which creaks under me. There’s a single photo frame on his sparse desk. I lift the wooden frame, unsure if this will be the murder weapon I use when I kill him with how enraged I feel. As I turn it in my hands, I’m splintered all over again. Behind the glass is the napkin he drew our future house on. The sentiment behind it is bullshit. He shouldn’t have this on his desk when I mean next to nothing to him. Still, it pacifies me enough to get the last of my thoughts out.

‘Linc.’ I use my affectionate name for him for the first time, knowing I’m about to break both our hearts. ‘Maybe you and I were never meant to be.’ I wobble on the edge, my fingers trembling around the frame as I look down at a home that will never be.

I fight the next words out of my throat. ‘You have something with her that you’ve never had with me. All your firsts are with her. She means more to you than I ever did. Maybe it’s me that has actually come between you all these years.’ It’s a realisation I’ve never had until today.

I’m the other woman in their relationship. I always have been.

‘I won’t live my life looking over my shoulder, wondering if I’m your second choice. If you’d rather be with her. Maybe…maybe your guilt over what happened between us stopped you from truly committing to her.’ I wonder the statement out loud as I place the frame face down on the desk.

My anger has dissipated and all I’m left with is agony. I don’t want to feel this way anymore.

Walking over to him, I place my hand on his heart. It’s beating as fast as a ticking time bomb. His hot breath fans my face as his eyes search mine for a clue as to where this is going.

‘I don’t want to hold onto this leaden hate and sadness anymore. You’re free. We can both be free now.’

Despair blankets both of us as we come to the realisation of just how much we’ve both lost. We not only lost each other, but he lost a baby. I lost myself. I lost time. I lost the fight to live. I lost myself in others’ opinions of me. And most of all, I lost my sanity and strength.

I can’t stand to be here a second longer. While all his skeletons are out of the closet, I still have mine, and each revelation today is only making it worse.

As Lincoln closes his eyes, I take the chance to dodge around him and leave.

The burdens on both our shoulders still linger, but at least half of them are out in the open.

Passing Uncle Jacob on the way out, I stand on my tippy toes to give him a watery smile and kiss on the cheek, and then I wave to Ella, who’s looking as glum as I feel.