Chapter Twenty-Six
Twenty-Six
JJ
I wasn’t leaving him forever, and I certainly had no intention of divorce. I just needed some space to breathe after the last couple of days. I wasn’t typically one to run when things got tough, but I guess there was something about getting your ass beat by your husband’s father that made a girl extra wary. Not of Nico, though he seemed to think I was somehow lumping him into the same trash pile his dad belonged in.
No, I was wary that Nico would never get over the ghosts of his past that dogged his every step. I had a fresh insight into what made him tick and the demons that drove him to self-sabotage at every turn. That, or self-medicate to keep from facing the pain and dealing with it. That was certainly easier.
Still, he’d come so far in a short time, I wasn’t sure he could come back emotionally from having his mom show up so beaten, then the confrontation we had with his dad. I probably shouldn’t have gotten in his face, but I wasn’t going to let the elder Mr. Santorini talk to Nico like that. The look in the dark eyes I loved so much—so wounded, so angry—just made me snap. He didn’t deserve it, any of it, and someone needed to stand up for him. Pure adrenaline had made me get physical, and in retrospect that was dumb.
Stassia had taken one look at me when I’d shown up on her doorstep and gasped. “Do I need to kill that asshole?”
I shook my head, feeling slightly more grounded by a friendly face. “Nico didn’t touch me.”
“Then who did this to you? Do we need to call the cops?” She ushered me inside and took my bag, clearly confused why I was there and not with my husband.
“Nico’s dad.” I plopped on her couch, nearly laughing at the shocked look on her face. “It’s a long story.”
“Yeah? Well, I guess we’re staying up all night because you’re going to tell me. All of it.” She made a round through the kitchen, then sat next to me with a bottle of wine and two glasses. “But with this.”
I smiled my thanks and took a sip before I dished the whole sordid tale.
She listened raptly, thankfully showing no judgment on her face. When I was done, she took a big drink and sat back. “Phew. Damn. You sure you’re okay?”
Tears filled my eyes for the first time since I’d arrived at her place. “No. But I have to be, right?”
She set aside her wine and collected me into a hug. “No, you don’t. You got assaulted by your shitty father-in-law. You’re totally entitled to not being okay, at least for a little while.”
I couldn’t help smiling at that, thankful to have her for my best friend.
“So, how long are you staying?”
“I don’t know. Nico and I need a little space right now while he gets his head straight and takes care of his mom. I need him to understand he’s not his father in order for this marriage to have a fighting chance.”
“Is that what you want? I mean, I know you said that before, but...”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I do.”
I barely slept that night in Stassia’s guest room, tossing and turning and wishing I was with Nico. Maybe it was stupid to leave because I was emotional and so was he. That’s when we needed to stick together, right?
Still, I stuck to my guns in the morning and ignored his text messages, instead calling my father.
“What the hell is going on?” he demanded.
“What do you mean?” I played stupid, trying to see what he already knew.
“It’s all over the news that there was a domestic disturbance at the Santorini home in New York and that Nico’s father was arrested. Some outlets are reporting Nico was also taken into custody and later released. There are photos of both of you looking like you just stepped out of a boxing ring. I’m hoping those are photoshopped because if he laid a hand on you, so help me God—”
“He didn’t,” I was quick to reassure my father. “And he was not arrested.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief.
“But his dad was.”
“Ah, hell,” he grumbled, and I could picture him running his hand through his hair like he did when he was frustrated, leaving his thinning strands standing up. “What happened?”
I put on my PR voice and gave him the shiniest version I possibly could. Nico’s abusive past. His mom showing up looking terrible. Nico going to confront his dad. Me deciding to go be with him and the subsequent altercation.
“Wait, wait, wait,” my dad cut me off when I was almost done with the story. “Are you telling me that Nico’s father... hit you?” He sounded incredulous, like the idea was preposterous.
“I was a bit confrontational first,” I said carefully. “But yes. More than hit me, actually. And Nico intervened. It got really ugly. Hence the arrest.”
My father was so silent, I had to pull the phone away from my ear to make sure the line was still connected.
“You still there?” I asked.
“I am. Just processing.”
“Yeah, well, just ignore anything the press might put out over the next few days, okay?” I hedged.
“Why?”
“Because I might’ve moved out.”
“What? After all that? Why?”
“It’s really too much to explain.”
“Try,” he bit out.
I squeezed my eyes shut as tears threatened again, telling me how exhausted I was in every way. “I fell in love with him, Dad.”
“Okay,” he said slowly. Measured. He obviously had not expected this when we were as different as night and day and all of this had been a PR plot. “You love your husband. I’m not sure how that equals moving out of your home.”
“He’s broken,” I choked out. “I know I can’t fix him. I don’t even want to. I just... I just want to love him, but he won’t let me. Not really. He doesn’t see anything worth loving.”
I didn’t hear my father’s response as I began to cry, overcome with everything. He eventually told me he loved me and to get some rest and he would check on me later.
I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but I couldn’t, so I got up and found a note from Stassia on the kitchen counter.
JJ,
Had to go to work for a little bit but I should be off early. I’ll bring home dinner.
Make yourself comfortable. I’ll even let you use my awesome jacuzzi tub.
Call me if you need anything.
Love ya,
S.
I took her up on her offer and soaked in her tub with gobs of smelly soap until I was a prune. Then I dressed and grabbed a yogurt and sat on the couch, hesitating before I turned on the TV.
The noon news was playing a story about Nico and his father, portraying them as a happy family gone awry and speculating that Nico had fallen off the wagon with drugs and instigated something with his dad. They didn’t show me or my injuries, thankfully.
I turned it off and found a random home and garden show to kill the time. I was dozing when Stassia came home and we ate a quiet dinner.
“Did you talk to Nico today?” she asked.
I shook my head. I’d turned off my phone, ignoring his messages.
“He called me.”
I glanced up at her words. “He did?”
She nodded and took a bite of her Lo Mein.
“What did he say?”
“He is worried about you. Really wants to talk to you. I think he wants to apologize, work it out.” She sipped her drink. “He sounds pathetic.”
I chewed and swallowed, digesting this. I wanted to call him, but I wanted to be more grounded first. Ready. “If he calls again, tell him I’ll be in touch.”
“When?”
“Soon.”
Yeah, well, two days later, I woke up to another news story and another broken heart. This time, it was about his band and their new album. The edgy young reporter was speaking about the buzz surrounding the new songs and how hard the band had been working and the speculation about their upcoming tour to promote the album, along with their opening act, Zombeez. Footage showed him speaking with Sebastian and Cohen at rehearsal, the other guys in the background, chatting or playing their instruments.
Then the footage changed to show them at a gig last night.
“As you can see, Zero Energy is full of energy,” the reporter said over the brash beat of Nico’s drums in the background, the flash of stage lights moving behind him. Then the song was over, and the guys smiled at the crowd. Except for Nico, who was still behind his drum kit, drenched in sweat, his sculpted face dark and beautiful like a fierce Greek god.
Groupies flooded the stage in various colors of skimpy dresses, and the one I remembered from the first night I went to see him play, sauntered up to him and plopped her round ass right on his lap and whispered something in his ear as she feathered her long red nails through his hair. The same way I did when we made love.
Before I could see what happened next, the image cut and moved back to the reporter in the newsroom as he continued on about the show and how awesome it was. But I didn’t hear a word of it as bile filled my throat.
Really?
I’d been gone two days, and he was already back to that?
I didn’t want to believe it, but the proof was right in front of me. Still, he could’ve pushed that tramp off his lap. I wasn’t that jealous woman who jumped to conclusions. I refused to be.
Instead, I picked up my phone and dialed his number, pressing it to my ear with a deep breath.
After several rings, it finally connected.
“Hello?” came the female voice.
I paused, startled. I drew back to check my phone and make sure I’d dialed correctly. I had.
“Who is this?” I said.
“Who’s this?” she spat back all fire and venom. “You’re the one calling.”
“Where’s Nico?” I answered instead, suddenly feeling like I really was going to be sick. “Put him on.”
“He’s, uh... a little busy right now.”
“Busy doing what?”
“What do you think?” She snorted and hung up on me.
I stared at the screen on my phone, more than a little shocked. And pissed. Who did that bitch think she was answering my husband’s phone and talking to me that way?
I dialed again but this time nobody answered. I tried half a dozen more times with no luck. I took a deep, calming breath, silently reminding myself I wasn’t that girl, and texted him.
Me: I’m not sure who that slut was in your lap or on your phone, but for better or worse does not include adultery. If your dick has touched another woman, I’m out, six months or not. Call me when you’re sober.
I knew as soon as I hit send that the last sentence was maybe unnecessary. I had no proof he’d gone back to any drugs or booze, but it made me feel better. Plus, what other excuse could there be for this bullshit?
I waited for over an hour, but he didn’t call.
Still nothing by the time Stassia and I had dinner, watched a movie, and I slid into bed. What the hell? Did he really not want to talk to me?
I knew I should’ve just reached out to Sebastian or Lance or driven over to see him and force a conversation, but my pride wouldn’t let me. The sound of that girl answering his phone held me back. Made me question everything. I’d told him I loved him, showed him in every possible way, but he’d never been able to say it back. Maybe I had been a fool, loving a man who would never be able to love me the way I deserved. Would it be easier to walk away and start over? I couldn’t have any hard feelings. We’d walked into this as a business deal, no promises made beyond that. I needed to suck it up and own my own feelings that grew out of bounds.
As another week went by and my bruises were all but healed, I’d almost convinced myself of it. Nico hadn’t called me back and Stassia and I had settled into a rhythm where I pretended everything was fine and she pretended I wasn’t invading her space. I figured eventually Nico would get his mom situated and moved out and I could go home but after all she’d been through, I wasn’t going to rush her. She was still my mother-in-law after all.
“Lucy, I’m home!” Stassia called from the front door, take-out bags in hand.
I glanced up from my perch on the couch, my laptop on my lap where I’d been working from home. I’d been feeling mostly better, though I was still a bit tired and weepy, but I still wasn’t up to going into the office and facing people’s questions.
“And how was your day, dear?” I quipped, forcing a smile for her benefit.
“Peachy.” She kicked off her shoes, then set the bags down on the counter. “I hope Greek food works. I’ve been having a craving and it’s on my way home.” She opened the containers, and the strong, spicy scents wafted my way.
I put a hand to my mouth as my stomach lurched unexpectedly. “I’m not hungry.” I rose and shut my laptop. “I’m gonna go lie down for a bit.”
She frowned at me. “You love Greek.”
“I know. Maybe later,” I said, rushing away and closing myself in my bedroom. Unwanted tears crowded my eyes as I collapsed on the bed, along with a wave of homesickness. When was this going to end so I could get back to my life? And now I was sick on top of it?
Nearly an hour later, Stassia knocked, then peered in my room. “You okay?”
I nodded and sat up. “Yeah. Probably just coming down with something.”
She walked in wearing her favorite yoga pants and alma mater t-shirt. She crossed her arms and leaned against the dresser as she eyed me up and down. “Something like a fetus?”
My mouth fell open and I snapped it shut.
We’re hoping to start a family soon... We might have already...
My words to Brody ripped through my heart and mind. I’d said it so carelessly, just to take a jab at him. Or was it something more? That night was the first time I’d told Nico I loved him. The first time I’d seen him cry. So much had happened that night. Had we also started a family?
I placed a hand to my still flat stomach and looked down, not sure what to think. I’d wanted nothing more back then. But now? Now that we were on such unsure territory?
Warmth filled my chest like sunlight, pulsing and rich. Sweeter than any love I’d ever felt. Right and true and so, so pure.
I still wanted it. I wanted nothing more.
I glanced up at Stassia, my tears back but for a whole new, sweeter reason. “Do you think?”
She tilted her head in a silent duh , making me laugh.
She held up her finger in a ‘hold on’ motion, then left the room. She returned a minute later and tossed me a boxed pregnancy test. “There. Take it and find out for sure.”
“You just happened to have a pregnancy test here?”
She shrugged, looking chagrined. “I had a little situation not that long ago. False alarm.” She nudged my foot. “Anyway. Go pee and let’s see if we’ve got a baby rock star on the way.”
The idea sobered me a bit as I closed myself in the bathroom and unwrapped the little stick that could potentially change the course of my life forever.
Five minutes and one plus sign later, I had my answer.
Now what to do about it.