CHAPTER SIXTEEN #2
“You know, every vile word that comes out of your mouth only goes to show how little you know about your husband. Tommy may not want you, but he has good reasons, and they’re not the ones you’ve concocted out of thin air.
He’s a good man who has put up with your crap for too long.
Now he’s taking a stand, you can’t handle it.
You can’t bear the fact he’s not bending over backwards to please you anymore. ”
Chelsea bursts out laughing. “Oh, please. I left him.”
There’s a twinkle in Angie’s eye because Chelsea has played right into her hands.
“Oh, yes. And why did you leave your husband exactly? Oh, wait, I know. Because you’ve been shagging one of his friends.
How the hell can you stand here, all high and mighty, accusing me of sleeping with your husband when you’ve been having an affair with Dylan Jennings?
Of all the people you could have chosen, Chelsea. ” Angie slow claps. “Bravo.”
“I am not with Dylan. I’ve told Tommy this already.” Chelsea turns her focus to me. “This is your doing. Why are you spreading vicious rumours about me?”
“I haven’t,” I reply. I wish I could wipe this smirk off my face, but I’m enjoying watching her squirm.
“He’s telling the truth. I’ve got it on good authority that you two were at it while the band was on tour.”
“Don’t believe all the gossip you hear, bitch,” Chelsea replies, and I know she’s going to regret it.
“Jesus, you’re incredible. You were seen with him, Chelsea. There are witnesses.”
Chelsea laughs again, and from the look on her face, she’s not worried at all. “All right, then. Who ‘witnessed’ us together?”
“I’m not saying. It wouldn’t be fair.” Angie looks away, folding her arms around herself.
Angie always was the faithful type, and I understand she doesn’t want to dump Max in it, but again, Chelsea uses the opportunity to her advantage.
“Because it’s bullshit, that’s why.”
“Okay. That’s enough now, Chelsea. She doesn’t have to tell you anything, and I’ve had enough of your voice. Get out.”
“Whatever. She’s so full of crap.”
Chelsea’s last words push Angie to her limit.
“Calla doesn’t lie, and she’s the one who saw you two together, so now you know.”
What the hell did she just say? A chill runs down my spine as my head spins in Angie’s direction, and her blue eyes stare back at me. Does my confusion show? It was Max that caught them, not Calla.
I turn back to Chelsea and notice her hands trembling, and she stutters when she replies.
“Don’t listen to her. Calla has never liked me and now she’s making things up.
And… this bitch,” Chelsea points towards Angie.
“Well… she agrees to anything that makes me look bad. All she wants is to be with you, Tommy. She’s trouble. ”
This woman makes me feel sick and I don’t want her near me. “Get out, Chelsea. I’ll see you in court.”
“I want to see my son, and you can’t stop me.”
She’s right. I can try to stop her, but Oz would hate me for it. The problem is, I’m so mad that I can’t think logically. “Oh, yes I can. Get the fuck out of here before I pick you up and put you out the door myself.”
“Don’t threaten me,” she spits.
I would never touch her, but the fact she thinks I might just shows how little she knows me.
“You wanna test me?” I warn, but Chelsea grabs an opportunity.
“Okay. If Angie is as honest as you think, she won’t have any problem confirming the threat you just made to me.” Chelsea’s eyes fall on Angie. She’s fucking unbelievable.
Angie laughs and points a finger at her own chest. “Me? You think I’ll be your witness? Get real, Chelsea.”
“What happened to the sisterhood? You’re willing to stand up in a court of law and defend a violent man?” Chelsea glares at me.
Angie bursts out laughing. “You are no sister of mine and Tommy doesn’t have a violent bone in his body.”
I glance at Angie and catch her eye. It lasts for less than a second, but there’s a silent conversation taking place. Angie knows me better than anyone and she has my back.
Chelsea takes in a deep breath, and I notice she’s grinding her teeth. What the hell is going through her mind? She must be fucking stupid if she thinks Angie would side with her. Finally, she responds. “I will be back for my son, and I intend to take him home with me.” She scowls.
“I’ll let him know you had to rush off and how sorry you are,” I growl back at her.
She throws me a death stare, turns abruptly on her heels, and storms towards the door, slamming it firmly as she leaves.
It takes me a minute to calm down. That woman winds me up like no one else.
Angie walks straight into my arms, probably out of pure relief. “Jesus, are you okay? How the hell did you end up in this situation?”
I pull back from her, holding her shoulders. There’s just one thing on my mind. “Why did you say Calla caught her and Dylan together?”
Her mouth twitches and her eyes narrow. “Sorry?”
“You said Calla caught them at it. Why? Unless I’m going mad, it was definitely Max who caught them in the act, and no one else was with him.”
Her hand rests at the base of her neck, and she frowns. “I’m sorry, Tommy, but I don’t know anything about Max seeing them together.”
“Are you sure?”
She nods. “Yes, and I thought you knew.”
I shake my head. “Max told me himself. Unless—fuck.” The worst possible scenario plays into my head. “Do you think they both caught them at different times?”
Angie’s eyes are wide and her face is bright red.
“Oh, God.” She touches my arm. “I’m so sorry, Tommy.
I assumed Cal was the one to talk to you about it.
I had no idea you found out another way.
” Her hand slips into mine, holding it loosely.
She’s trying to comfort me, but I’m rattled.
I can’t help the growl that leaves my throat. “Fuck. Everyone knew but me. Everyone.”
“No, Tom.”
“No? But you did, right? And Calla and Max.”
Her hand drops from mine and she chews one of her fingernails. “Yes—”
“Fuck.” I spit, stepping away from her, running my fingers through my hair and pacing in circles.
Angie steps in my path, laying her palm against my chest. “Please, talk to me so we can make some kind of sense out of all this.”
I silently nod for her to carry on.
Her worried eyes catch mine. “Can we at least sit down?”
“You can. I’m fine where I am.” I need space around me before I sink my fist into a wall. My pride is hurt. I feel like a fucking fool.
Angie takes a seat at the table, her head bowed.
“Calla called me the night you found out Brett was leaving the band. She was so upset, and I assumed it was because of that, but it turned out to be much worse.” She puffs out a breath.
“Calla saw Dylan and Chelsea together backstage during one of your shows. They were getting intimate.”
My body tenses. “Jesus Christ.”
Angie stands and slowly steps towards me.
She loops her hand through the crook of my arm while stroking my biceps with her other hand.
“Please don’t be angry with Calla. She didn’t want to hurt you, Tommy.
She didn’t have a clue what to do for the best and couldn’t even bring herself to tell Ash. You know those two have no secrets.”
I look down into her big blue eyes. “Wait. Ash had no idea?”
She shakes her head. “No. Please, Tommy. Please don’t blame this on her. She was in the worst position.”
Inside, I know this. Calla would never hurt me, and she’s had my back more times than I can remember, even when she didn’t agree with what I did. “No, I get it. I’m just so fucking livid about the whole thing.”
Angie squeezes my bicep. “Of course you are. That cow. I never liked her.”
We exchange a look that says I already knew this.
Angie continues to stroke my arm as she leads me to the kitchen table. She’s calming my temper, something she’s good at doing when I get a little wild.
“Let’s sit down and talk about it. Shall I get you a drink?”
“Yeah. Coffee would be good.”
She seems surprised. “You sure? I wouldn’t blame you for taking a shot or some whiskey if that’s your preference.”
I huff out a deflated laugh. “It’s too early and I’ve cut back on drinking since having Oz full-time. I need a clear head.”
“Very admirable.” She grabs two mugs from the cupboard and sets up the coffee machine.
With her back to me, she continues to talk, but I sense her mind is ticking over.
“When did Max tell you about Chelsea, if you don’t mind me asking?”
And there it is. She’s trying to piece everything together.
“Just after Brett left the band. I don’t know what Cal witnessed, but Max drew a graphic picture,” I say, scratching my forehead.
“Were they—” She stops, almost afraid to say it.
“Fucking? Yeah.” Bile rises to the back of my throat as realisation sinks in.
Not because it was my wife. Not because it was my friend.
But because I’ve come to the conclusion they wanted to get caught and couldn’t give a shit about the consequences of how it affected the people around them. Selfish pricks.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, shaking her head.
“Maybe the worst part for me was realising Max knew for a little while before he finally told me. It’s going to sound stupid, but it hurts. If that was me, I wouldn’t hesitate.”
Angie turns to face me and rests against the cabinet.
“You don’t know that, Tommy. Not until you’re in that position, which I hope you never will be.
It’s hard telling someone you love news like that, which is why your friends found it difficult.
” Angie half smiles. “So, what happens now?” she says, picking up the coffee mugs, placing them on the table, and taking the seat next to me.
“I file for divorce. I’ve been mulling it over, but now there’s no point in hanging around.”
“But what about the fuss she made when she demanded to see Oz? I thought she was happy for you to take over.”