Chapter 66
CHAPTER 66
BETH
I t’s been seven days since I heard from Oliver, eight since I saw Nigel, and twelve days since I heard from Martin.
I’m officially alone and feel utterly abandoned.
I haven’t dropped out of school, but I’ve gotten an earful from my mom since she’s now out of rehab. She calls every day and begs me to either come home or go to school.
She’s fine letting Aimee continue to stay there, and she actually likes her. Like me, she has a vague sense that she’s seen her before but doesn’t remember where. Once I told her that Aimee came from a highly abusive situation, she said she could stay as long as she wanted, which I thought was rather kind. However, that makes me feel even less comfortable in that house than I did before. Aimee needs a place to stay more than I do, even though she’s been nothing but a raging bitch to me. I should tell my mom to kick her ass to the curb, but what would that accomplish? It would just give Nigel and Aimee another reason to hate me. I don’t care what Aimee thinks about me, but it still hurts how quickly Nigel went from being completely obsessed with me to hating my guts.
Then, there’s Oliver and Martin.
Tears assault my eyes as I curl the blanket around me, watching a rerun of Friends . I’ve spent most of the day puking my guts up, and I’ve given up on texting Ollie. He never responds. Instead, I’ve resorted to just crying my eyes out.
I’ve called and texted Martin so many times I probably look like a crazy stalker, but I’ve gotten nothing. I even went so far as to leave him a voicemail of me crying and begging for him to just talk to me.
I feel like I’ve lost my damn mind.
I lost Martin, and for some reason, I’ve lost my Oliver, too. I must have done something that sent him running from me, but I have no clue what it was. All I know is I’ve never been more miserable in my life.
Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life?
I look at myself in the mirror and take in my naturally dark brown hair. I removed the red dye with baking soda and lemon juice. Now, it’s just me, and people won’t question why I’m not coloring my hair.
I wipe my eyes as my phone vibrates. I can’t help the hope rising in my chest that it will be either Ollie or Martin, but it’s there and slowly killing me.
Judy:
I hope you’re doing okay. I’ll come visit you tomorrow. Promise. xoxo
I can’t even smile after hearing from her. It breaks my heart so thoroughly that it wasn’t either of the people I wanted to talk to. And that sucks because Judy is a great friend, and she’s always there when I need her. She doesn’t turn her back on me like Martin or ghost me like Oliver.
My stomach drops as there’s a knock at the door and it’s so soft that I almost don’t notice it, even as I sit in my hotel room in the dark.
Clearly, it’s not Judy. I don’t think my mother would come to see me at this time of day. I’m fairly certain Nigel would rather chew a mouthful of screws than see me.
Who the hell could it be?
“Coming,” I sigh as I walk over to the door and slowly undo the latch. I pull it open and surprise hits me when I see Martin standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets.
What is he doing here?
“Hi,” I whisper and he pushes past me, walking into my room. “Sure. Just come on in, Martin. Make yourself at home.”
How did he find out where I’m staying? I didn’t get the chance to tell him about my change of venue.
I close the door and turn to face him. I hope he has a really good explanation for ghosting me. I want it to be something that excuses why I haven’t heard from him in so long.
Even when Nigel and I were together, I still would get texts from Martin. It was usually cute and sweet things like how beautiful the sunset was or he heard Avril Lavigne on the radio and it made him think of how I love singing along to her songs. It was always something that made me fall even more in love with this sweet man.
“Just stop,” he mutters as he turns to me.
That’s when I notice that he has more than just a slight stubble on his jaw and there’s dark circles under his eyes. He looks so tortured.
What the hell happened to him?
“Fine. You look like you came here to talk so, talk.” I cross my arms over my chest, my personal way of protecting the overly sensitive muscle below my ribs.
“I mean, stop calling and stop fucking texting me all the time,” he demands, his expression darkening.
My heart stings as I feel the blade he wields. It hasn’t quite sunk into the skin, but I can sense it’s destination–my heart.
“I wouldn’t be if you hadn’t dropped off the face of the Earth. Where have you been?” Tears fill my eyes. “I needed you and you abandoned me. You said we were in this together.”
“I know I did,” he admits. “But, I can’t even fucking look at you without seeing what you did.” He pulls his gaze away, looking at the wall, as his hands ball into fists.
“What I did? As far as I know, I haven’t done anything.”
“Just stop the lying, okay?” He explodes and runs his fingers through his hair, looking to be in shambles. “I know what you did. O’Reilly told me when my father made me go see him.” Then, he meets my eyes, hurt on his face. “You fucking helped Casey leave town then lied about it to my face, Beth.”
My expression drops from his words and my stomach turns.
Nigel.
Told.
Him.
Tears spill down my face and I can’t even deny it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to lie to you.” My ass hits the edge of the bed as my bottom lip trembles. I’m losing him and I can feel it happening, the decimation of one section of my heart. “She was so scared and didn’t want anyone to know where she was. I was just trying to help.”
His eyes narrow into slits. “And, all I wanted to know was that she was safe. I didn’t need a fucking location. All I needed was to know that my father didn’t have her killed for running. I thought she was dead in a fucking ditch and you let me think that. How do you not see how fucked up that is?”
“I do,” I cry. “Don’t you see I was in an impossible position? Your father was going to make her do something she couldn’t live with. She didn’t have anywhere to go and I was her only option, much like you were once the only option I had. You helped me escape and she was carrying your baby.”
He groans. “This isn’t about you helping her escape. I appreciate that you did that, especially for someone who was never anything but a bitch to you. I feel so fucking betrayed because you lied to me about it. Don’t you see that? Fucking look at me!”
He motions to all of himself, to the kind of state he is in.
“I have always been on your side. No matter what, no matter how you scowled at me or threw nasty insults at me, I was always looking out for you. I always stood by your side and loved you even when I knew you couldn’t love me back.”
A sob falls from my lips as my chest vibrates. “Martin, please, I’m so sorry. I’m always on your side, too.”
He slowly shakes his head. “You weren’t when you were in that hospital room.”
I was, though. Can’t he see that? I knew he would never rat Casey out to Nolan, but the fact is that Nolan has his ways is why I won’t tell anyone where she is. It’s a secret I’ll take to my grave. Not even Nigel knows where she is. I knew if I told Martin that she was okay and I knew where she was, he would’ve asked for more information and to know where she was. He would’ve felt betrayed that I wouldn’t divulge that. I was trying to protect him and his heart from any perceived betrayal.
“I was. I always am.” Another sob breaks past my lips as he heads for the door.
“I just need some space from you so, stop blowing up my phone.”
“Martin, wait, please,” I beg as he throws open the door and I scream the words I don’t think he’ll ever give me the chance to tell him again. “I love you!”
He stops, his back going stiff, before he turns around and stomps over to me. Grabbing me by my throat, he presses me back on the bed, straddling my waist. He gets in my face and in a fashion unlike the sweet man I fell in love with, he presses his face against mine, snarling.
“Don’t you fucking dare do that. You don’t get to use those words like a weapon to get the results you want. These are the consequences of the actions you decided to take. You can only blame yourself, but you will not attempt to control me,” he threatens and, my god, if what he’s doing isn’t affecting my body in ways that are completely inappropriate for what is happening.
“I’m not trying to.” I know how bad it sucks to be manipulated and feel forced to make decisions you don’t want to. I would never do that to him. “Even if you never want to see my face again, I want you to know it was never one sided. I love you. God, I love you so much. I just wanted you to know that.”
Then, I turn my face away from him so he knows I’ve accepted that the conversation is over. He’s leaving me permanently and there’s nothing I can do to change that. Martin is done with me because of this one misgiving.
I close my eyes and concede to the end, but then Martin grips my chin between his fingers and forces my head back to face him.
“Good,” he whispers before he slams his mouth down on mine, stealing kiss after kiss, as my body melts for him. I bury my hands in his hair, tugging on the strands as he reaches up my oversized shirt and tears my panties out of his way. “I love you so fucking much,” he growls, keeping me pinned in place, as he whips out his cock and thrusts hard into me, giving me zero preparation for him or his size. I throw my head back and scream from how good it feels.
Martin has never been rough with me. Well, there’s rough and then there’s this style of rough. This is more of Ollie’s thing. Martin is just the generic type of rough and demanding, but to get this from him now, it’s intoxicating.
“I love you,” I moan the words again as he slams his cock into me again and again, grunting with each thrust.
I guess this is what one would describe as make up sex or would it fall under the category of hate sex? Maybe it’s a mixture of the two. Martin is mad at me and he’s taking all his frustrations out on my cunt.
“Say it again,” he demands as he thrusts again. He’ll surely leave bruises this time and I’m perfectly happy with that.
“I love you,” I moan louder, feeling my orgasm creeping up.
Lifting my leg over his hip, he uses his free hand to slap my ass, hard. “Louder,” he growls.
“I love you!” Then, my orgasm hits so hard it sprays out of me, soaking him. “Fucking God. I love you so much it burns!”
He leans over me, pressing his face against my own, as he groans. “Let it keep fucking burning.” Then, he kisses me again before he follows me over that edge and he comes hard inside me, waves of release hitting him again and again until it starts to spill around his dick. Then, even though he has gotten off, he keeps thrusting into me until all of his come that was going to leak out has and fucks the remnant deeper into me.
* * *
I just got cleaned up from the animalistic way Martin fucked me then left. He didn’t even say goodbye. He fixed his pants and walked out with that heartbroken look firmly back on his face. He’s hurt, but it’s not the end of us. He made that clear.
Let it keep burning.
That was all I needed to know that Martin needs time and space to work through what I did. At least, that’s the hope he placed in my head.
The sound of screeching tires outside catches my attention but doesn’t worry me. That happens all the time. What does catch my attention is that it sounds like it happened right outside my room. Then, it’s slowly followed up by a knock.
I’m certainly popular tonight.
“Open theee door,” comes a majorly slurred voice before more spaced-out knocking follows it. “Beth, let me in. I need to seeee you.”
Oliver?
I wipe the tears still present on my lashes before glancing at the clock. It’s past midnight.
Leisurely, I pull on my thin cotton robe before walking to the door, pulling it open a crack.
“What are you doing here?” My voice cracks from all the hours of crying over him, and my lip trembles.
His eyes fall on me, but they miss my watery eyes or convulsing bottom lip. “Your haaair,” he slurs as I press myself between the door and the jam to stop him from being able to enter.
Unlike Martin, Ollie doesn’t deserve the chance to invade my space. Martin still isn’t aware of the baby I’m carrying and Ollie was fully aware how alone I was before he disappeared on me. Martin wasn’t.
That means I gave him the grace that I won’t give Ollie. Martin wasn’t the only one who said we were in this together. So did Ollie.
“Yeah, I removed the color, and you’re drunk.”
His glassy eyes meet mine, and darkness shadows his expression. “What happened? Did someone hurt you? I sweeear, if someone laid a fingerrr on you…” he trails off, leaving it open-ended for me to fill in the blanks.
My tears are not just about Martin and the fight between us. It’s also because this man abandoned me the same way his cousin did.
“Take a look in the fucking mirror,” I mutter.
“What?” His eyes move across my face and then down to my robe as if he’s trying to see through it to what might be beneath.
“You ghosted me, Ollie. Did you really think that wouldn’t hurt? If you didn’t, you’re a fucking idiot.” A small sob falls from my lips as he leans against the doorframe, watching me with a look I can’t decipher. I’m not surprised. I can’t tell what half the looks he gives me mean. “You said we were in this together.”
“We are,” he enunciates the words as clearly as a drunk person can. “I just…” he trails off, and it's silent for a moment as I wait and give him a minute to explain why he did this to me, why he abandoned me. I can understand work obligations and friends and forgetting to do things or go places, but he didn’t deny that he was avoiding me. It was completely intentional. “I really needed to see you. Let me inside, crazy girl.”
Anything he could’ve said would’ve been better than that. He could’ve said that he was just done with me and came for a fucking booty call, and that wouldn’t have been as bad.
My eyes water as fresh tears fall down my face. “Go home and sleep it off. You can keep on pretending I don’t exist.” Then, I slam the door in his drunk face and lock it even though I know he can’t get in without a keycard.
I fall to the floor, and my knees hit hard on the ground as I cry right there, and Oliver slams his fist against the door.
“Beth, please, let me in. I’m sorrry, okay?”
But I don’t let him in. I don’t answer his pleas anymore, and I spend the rest of the night like I have for the entire week since he abandoned me.
Crying over him.
* * *
I was forced into attending dinner at the Gray house, and that call from Nolan was something that really hit a nerve because of the whole “you have nothing better to do” line he gave. I couldn’t refute that.
Judy can’t spend all her time keeping me company, and I’m not on speaking terms with Martin or Oliver.
As a change of pace, Oliver has been blowing up my phone since the night he showed up plastered to my hotel and finished ripping my heart out. There wasn’t much left of it anyway.
I was forced into the seat between Martin and Michael at the table as Nolan and a blonde woman sit beside him, looking as posh as I would expect from Nolan’s wife.
Martin hasn’t looked at me or spoken to me once and it fucking guts me. I know he’s still mad at me and I deserve some of his anger, but the selfish part of me is desperate for some of his attention, even if it’s just a simple look. That would be better than him pretending I’m not sitting next to him.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Bethany,” the woman says in that drawn-out way people do when they’re about to insult you. “I was expecting you to look…” she searches for the right word before she settles on “different.” The tone lacing that word is full of disgust, as if she couldn’t force herself to be nicer than that.
“Likewise, Mrs Gray.” I smile viciously, and the shocked look on her face says she didn’t expect me to have teeth or claws. “The word you probably couldn’t find was trailer trash based on the permanent sneer from all the botox treatments I’m sure your husband insisted were necessary. You think I should look like trailer trash because I dated Nigel O’Reilly. Contrary to your beliefs, Nigel has very high standards, but they’re different from your own. He values character above looks. You see, you can take a drug addict out of a drug house and turn them into the next Miss America, but you’ll still worry if they’ll hock your finest crystal dishes at the first chance they get. My high quality comes from the things I value, like loyalty. I’m more than just a pretty face. This pretty face didn’t just attract Nigel but also your eldest.”
Though Mrs. Gray can’t seem to speak, Nolan is cackling like a hyena at what I said.
“Shut up,” Michael hisses under his breath as he lightly pinches my elbow to get my attention.
I understand she’s his mother, but based on her attitude, I can tell she’s a major bitch. His father is a dick, too.
“Why did you invite this miscreant to dinner?” Mrs. Gray asks angrily. “First, you’re forcing this marriage onto our son, who clearly doesn’t want it. She doesn’t even come from a respectable family. Her mother is a drunk, and her father?—”
“Choose your next words very carefully,” I warn, my eyes turning to slits as I glare at her. “I can accept a lot of things, but I will not tolerate anyone trying to badmouth my father, who isn’t here to defend himself. My father was a highly respected psychiatrist who helped as many people as he could, including assisting in several high-profile cases that took dangerous and sometimes sick people off the streets. He believed in rehabilitation instead of locking someone away and throwing away the key.” My glare slides to Nolan, who studies me like he did the day we met.
Michael hisses in my ear again, but I ignore it. I don’t know what his issue is, but it won’t interfere with me standing up for my father.
“I was going to say he isn’t in the picture,” Mrs. Gray mutters with irritation on her tongue.
“You make it sound like my father is a deadbeat. He’s not. He’s just dead.”
The entire room goes silent, and the only thing that breaks it is the soft whistle that comes from Martin.
“Mom’s a brat. You’ll get used to her,” he whispers in my ear before he grabs the salt shaker from in front of my plate.
It’s the first time he has even acknowledged me and it makes me relax as a smile pulls at my lips.
That’s an understatement.
“When are you expecting us to do this thing?” Michael asks, sounding like he'd rather chew rocks than be involved in this.
Me, too, Michael.
“What are you referring to, Mikey?” Mrs. Gray asks. “This sham of a wedding or the heirs you’ll be expected to make?”
At that moment, Michael sprays white wine from his nose and tries to cover it with his hand, but the shock of it has all of us gaping at him.
“Oh, my god! Michael, are you okay?” I panic, grab my cloth napkin off the table, and hold it up to his face.
He nods as he takes the napkin from me and coughs into it. Once he calms down, he places it on the table before widening his eyes at his parents. “Heirs? What do you mean by heirs? You’re not seriously expecting us to…”
He trails off, and even I stare at him like he’s lost his mind. What exactly did he think was going to happen with this little arrangement?
“Expecting you to do what?” Nolan asks, looking at his son like he grew a third head. “Fuck your wife? Yes, we do, and children are a part of Bethany’s contract. If you don’t plan to consummate your marriage, that’s your prerogative, but it will end badly for Miss Mercer and Mr. O’Reilly.”
What? What do we have to do with it? I have no control over Michael. I don’t want to do it either, but this is the deal I made to free Nigel. If he ends up going back to jail because of how selfish Michael is, I don’t think I could ever forgive him.
“We all know this isn’t an arrangement built on love. Michael and I barely know each other. Outside of my obligation, I have no intention of having sex with him–” I start, but Mrs. Cora Gray is ever the prude.
“This is not an appropriate conversation for the dinner table!” she gasps, clutching her literal pearls at what I said, but I just scowl at her.
“Are you offended by sex? If that’s the case, your husband isn’t doing it right,” I sass, but Nolan seems to be getting a kick out of it, not embarrassed or insulted. “If we’re talking about heirs and marriage, I believe sex is a very safe subject. We’re not talking about the actual act but whether we actually want to do it together. I’m completely with Michael if he’s against it. I’m not aggrieved at all if he doesn’t want to have sex with me.” Turning my eyes to Michael, I ask the question. “Do you actually want to have sex with me?”
His cheeks turn pink, and he avoids my gaze, his jaw tightening. I bet he’s absolutely sickened by the concept.
“I will take that as a no, but I do have an alternative,” I say as I turn back to face the group. “What about IVF? A lot of people have it done. We wouldn’t have to make ourselves physically uncomfortable, and the results would be the same. Actually, since I’m in relatively good health, and so is Michael, it shouldn’t take more than one or two times for it to take–”
“No,” Nolan growls, his eyes narrowed to slits, jumping from me to Michael like he’s challenging us not to fight him.
He obviously doesn’t know me if he thinks I’ll stay silent.Though that would probably be in my best interest.
“You can’t just say no,” I bite back, and Nolan jumps up from his seat, anger across his face. “Actually, the contract stated specifically that we could choose amongst ourselves the manner of conception without involving outside parties and the rest of you are outside parties.”
He slams his hands onto the table, sending vibrations down the long table. “Do not push me, Miss Mercer. You will do what I say or there will be consequences. Do you understand?” he warns as he gets in my face, but I harden my expression and steel my spine.
I followed the advice given to me by Martin. He said his father would only go with what was laid out by the contract and I had that put in there just for Michael’s benefit.
I’ve had my suspicions that Michael wouldn’t be okay with consummating our marriage and I sure as hell am not going to fucking rape my future husband.
I have more respect for Michael than that.
However, we are at an impasse.
“I’m not scared of you…Mr. Gray,” I lie through my teeth. This man terrifies me, but I won’t bend my morals for him or anyone else.
Game on, asshole.
I may have signed that contract, but I will exercise every freedom I have that was outlined on those pages, including IVF. He may be able to force us into this marriage, but he can’t force us to get pregnant via intercourse.
I don’t have time to process what is happening before Nolan wraps his fingers around my arm and yanks me to my feet. It’s so sudden I stumble, and red-hot pain seers through my ankle.
“Let go of me,” I demand as I try to pull out of his grip, and Martin is quick to his feet.
“Dad, stop!” Suddenly, Martin yanks me out of his father’s grip, and I’m behind him. Martin acts as a human shield to whatever Nolan is about to do, and Martin knows exactly what it is.
“Do not get in my way, boy,” Nolan hisses, and I can feel the rage coming from his usually calm and collected demeanor.
“It’s getting late,” Martin retorts. “I should get Beth home, and we can resume discussions tomorrow after everyone has gotten a good night’s sleep.” Without another word, Martin grabs my hand and rushes me out the door right beside us, not even stopping to look back.