8. Megan
MEGAN
Frantically, I stuff everything I came here with into the bag I brought home from the store when Orson took me shopping. I grab one of my unfinished paintings from the studio and head downstairs. No idea how I’ll get the rest of them, but if I have to leave them here, then so be it.
I’m nearly hyperventilating as I take the stairs. My heart may be broken, but it’s beating like a drummer on speed.
God, please don’t let me have a heart attack.
I yank the door open and race outside. Without my phone, I can’t call a ride—not that I have the money to pay for one anyway—so I just start walking. I used to love how long and elegant this driveway was, but now I hate it.
Just get me out of here!
It’s kind of chilly, but I’m overheating. It feels like forever before I reach the front gate, and right before I can press the button to let myself out, it starts to swing open. I back up just as Orson’s Rolls pulls up in front of me.
Something painful swirls in my chest. A mixture of emotions that sting like a poison.
I want to see him so badly. But at the same time, I never want to see him again.
Why did you have to show up, Orson? Why?
Without even thinking, I turn around and run back to the house. The Rolls’s engine roars, and the massive car speeds past me and slams to a stop, blocking my path. Orson leaps out and rushes toward me.
“Baby, wait!”
“How could you!?” I sob, dropping my painting. I hear the frame crack on the ground. “She’s my best friend!”
“Megan, nothing happened!”
“Then why were you with her!?”
I’m not even thinking. My mouth is just moving. My emotions are in control.
I look past Orson and see Trish step out of the car. My stomach turns. God, I’m going to vomit.
“It was just a coincidence, babe,” Orson says, his voice soft. He walks over to me like a human approaching a frightened animal. “I was downtown at a…store, and Trish was next door at a boutique with another man.”
“Another date,” she adds, clearing her throat. “You know.”
Could this be true? I want to believe them so badly.
“But what about what Chuck said?” I blurt out.
Orson frowns. “Chuck? What do you mean? When did you see Chuck?”
My body is trembling as I wipe my tears on my sleeve. My vision blurs as I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down.
“He was here when I came downstairs. He told me about you and Trish!”
Orson’s frown deepens. He looks down briefly, like he’s analyzing something. Then it clicks.
“Baby, Chuck is pissed at me for not doing a business deal with him. This must be his way of trying to get back at me.”
My chest is heaving. Each breath burns like I’ve been inhaling smoke.
I want to believe him. Desperately. But is it because what he’s saying makes sense? Or because I’m thinking with my heart instead of my head?
“Fine, let’s just pretend I believe you,” I reply, stepping away from him. Trish looks more nervous than I’ve ever seen her before, and that’s saying something. I point at her. “How did you get here today? How’d you know where Orson lives? Who let you in?”
She twists her lips and looks at Orson. My stomach turns. I know that look.
It’s the look that Trish makes when she’s coming up with something—coming up with a lie.
“Don’t interrogate her, baby,” Orson chimes in, stepping in front of me and blocking my view. “Just listen to what I’m saying—”
“No, I want an answer!” I step around him so I can see Trish. “Answer me!”
Again, she glances at Orson like she’s waiting for him to step in and save her. “I…I tracked your phone and told the guard at the gate that I was your sister. He let me in.”
All the air leaves my lungs. My entire body deflates.
“Yeah, bullshit.”
Leaving my painting in the dirt, I grab my bags and head for the gate. There’s only so much of this I can take. It’s honestly a miracle I’m still standing. If I stay here any longer, I’m going to have a panic attack.
“Megan, wait.”
Orson rushes in front of me. His green eyes blaze, hitting me with the same energy I’ve always felt every time I stare into them.
I look away.
No. Don’t give in. He’s lying. They both are.
“Leave me alone.” I try to walk past him, but he blocks my path again.
“Okay, I admit it. I lied to you. We’ve both been lying to you.”
I look up, my vision still blurred from the tears. Well, that’s not something I was expecting to hear.
“Trish showed up here today because I asked her to,” he goes on. “I gave her the address and told the guard to let her in because I needed her to…distract you for a while.”
My first instinct is to shout back at him, but something in his face makes me stop. I turn and look back at Trish, who slowly nods.
“Why would you want to distract me?” I ask, turning back to Orson. He steps closer, the muscles in his jaw tight. He swallows hard and takes a breath.
“Because there was something I needed to do. Something I actually asked Trish to help me with.”
My head is now spinning. I clutch my bags tighter, ready to run for it. The flight part of my fight-or-flight instinct is about to take over.
I hear Trish’s footsteps behind me and glance back to see her moving closer. For some reason, she’s got the hint of a smile on her face.
“Orson, what are you saying—?”
Then Orson reaches into his pocket, and my heart nearly beats out of my chest. “I needed her help, angel. Picking out something for you that would be absolutely perfect. Because that’s what you are. Perfect.”
I gasp and clutch my chest as he drops to one knee. My bags fall to the ground, scattering my things everywhere.
“I’m so sorry for what happened this morning, princess. I just want you to know that you mean more to me than anything. I would never be unfaithful to you. You are my world, my life, my everything.”
He pulls something from his pocket, and my legs go weak. I’m trembling.
It’s a jewelry box. Small, expensive, wrapped in red velvet. He opens it to reveal the most beautiful engagement ring I could ever possibly imagine. Sunlight glints off the diamond, reflecting its golden beams onto me.
“Megan Anson,” Orson says, his voice strong and filled with determination. “My life changed forever when I met you. I love you. I will always love you. Will you marry me?”