Chapter 17
NATALIE
“Are you sure about this?”
Sarah’s voice is worried, and I hear the clanging of dishes from behind her.
“It’s for the best, Sarah. You saw my mother’s reaction. And that was to a photograph. Knowing how vindictive she is, she’s going to tell Lucas. And I don’t know him enough to be sure of how he’ll react. I want to say that he won’t give a shit, but?—”
“—but he’s got crazy in his blood,” Sarah finishes grimly. “Look, do you want me to come by and help you pack up? I’ll take the day off.”
“No, you don’t have to?—”
“I’m taking the day off. Just wait for me. I still can’t believe you went and got knocked up without telling me.”
Ethan is in the kitchen while I’m in my bedroom, so I’m not worried about him overhearing anything. I put the phone on speaker as I pull out my suitcase from under the bed.
“You were the one who said ‘sleep with him, Natalie. It’s just sex, Natalie.’ Guess what, Sarah? It wasn’t just sex! I have a baby in me now.”
“Well.” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and I can just hear her roll her eyes. “It’s not my fault you two are idiots and didn’t use a condom. I put some in your bag when you left.”
I’m unzipping the suitcase as she says this, and the first thing I see is a small, discreet-looking box tucked in the corner of the suitcase, just out of sight. I was in a hurry when I got back, so I never paid too much attention to unpacking. Not that I even managed to unpack properly.
“Well,” I sigh, taking out the box. “You’re going to be an aunt. I hope you like kids.”
“Why? Do you plan to make me babysit?”
“Maybe. Anyway, there is a bunch of mail at the front door. I’m going to sort it out and put yours in your room.”
“Fine. But don’t leave before I come back. Two hours. I’ll be there soon.”
“I’m just packing up my clothes. It’ll take me some time.”
She ends the call, and I put aside the phone, looking around me at the sunlight streaming through the blinds, casting long shadows across my hardwood floor.
“I guess I really will have to give up this apartment.” I rest my head against the bed. “This is Ethan’s fault. All his fault.”
“I’ll be sure to make it up to you.” A cold glass is pressed to the side of my face, and I look up at him. He’s holding out a glass of juice. “You don’t have to sell this place, you know? Just rent it out. This isn’t a bad neighborhood.”
“Yeah, but I prefer buying a condo than renting. The rules of the co-op here are that I put this place this on sale to them first. I’ve already begun talking to the other owners in the building.” Outside, a car honks impatiently, the quintessential New York soundtrack that never stops.
“Not for a year.” He sits on the edge of my bed, his forearms resting on his thighs. He’s shrugged off his suit jacket at some point, and his sleeves are now folded back, revealing muscled forearms. I have to tear my gaze away. “You’ll be living with me.”
He plays with a lock of my hair. I don’t know if he’s noticed, but he likes touching my hair a lot.
“Do you have a hair fetish?” I ask bluntly, one eyebrow arched.
His eyes dart down to his hand, his fingers wrapped around a lock of my red hair. I expect him to pull his hand away. Instead, he yanks his hand, tugging my head towards him. “I have a ‘you’ fetish.”
I make a face at him. “Don’t ever say that again.”
He grins at me. “Why? Does it bother you?”
He’s teasing me. The nerve.
“You realize I have to pack up half this apartment and send everything to a storage unit? And you’re forcing me back to work, so I have a month of work to catch up on. Stop flirting with me. I don’t have time for your charm offensive,” I retort, fanning myself with a magazine from my nightstand.
He just laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you pack. I’ll also help you catch up with work. What else?”
Who is this man?
“Here.” I pick up the bunch of letters and notices from the ground and shove them into his lap. “Sort these out. First, make two piles, one for me and one for Sarah. Then sort out the bills for mine. Organize. Go wild.”
He does so, letting me focus on my packing. I have to move into Ethan’s apartment today. I have no idea how it is going to go. I don’t know what I have signed up for. All I know is he might be the only one who will be able to keep me and this baby inside me safe.
As I take out my clothes from the wardrobe, I keep glancing at him through the reflection in the mirror, the cool breeze drifting through the window.
The scrunchie .
He kept it.
I never even spared it a thought, but he kept it.
It makes me feel funny inside, this warmth and tingling sensation. And then there is that contract. I can’t wrap my head around it. He’s going to give up three-quarters of his wealth to keep me with him?
I feel dazed as I take out a bunch of T-shirts and stuff them in the suitcase.
It’s all there in the contract. His net wealth and what he’s giving me.
Or at least, our child now. Being desired so much feels strange.
The sensation makes me nervous. Part of me doesn’t want to believe that my brother cheated him, but then what do I even know of Lucas?
If I put my brother and this man side-by-side, Ethan has protected me, cared for me, valued my opinion and presence. My brother has never done any of those things.
I idly fold my jeans before putting them inside the suitcase, listening to the distant wail of sirens somewhere on the streets below.
A year. I don’t know what will happen in this year, but anticipation fills me.
My life is changing, and while I’m nervous, the idea of living with Ethan isn’t all that bad.
My heart flutters inside my chest. I made this decision with my baby in mind, but these past two weeks have given me a new perspective.
The hurt over what he did five years ago still lingers, but that anger is beginning to fizzle away.
Maybe it’s the knowledge that he got me a ring.
I don’t want the ring, but knowing he did care lessens the pain and anger.
Knowing he made a mistake and came back makes my heart ache for a different reason.
I am no longer the same girl I was back then, and he’s no longer the same man.
Yet I like these versions of ourselves. I can meet him on equal ground, on equal footing.
I can look him in the eye and speak with confidence.
I don’t want his money .
My hands hesitate, lingering in midair as I reach for my undergarments. I stare blindly at the scraps of clothing.
I don’t want his money, but I want Ethan.
I want to be loved the way he claims to love me. I want to give him a chance to prove how he truly feels.
He got that contract made before he knew about the child. He says he’s going to let me go if things don’t work between us. He’s making all the concessions.
I can meet him midway.
I want to meet him midway.
“What do you want to do with these?” Ethan holds up a couple of envelopes. “There’s no return address on them and no sender information. They’re all addressed to you.”
I walk over and realize that there are 4 to 5 similar envelopes. I check them. “There’s no stamp on them either. Somebody put them in the mailbox themselves.”
I tear open one of them. “We do get some pamphlets delivered this way. But so many at the same time? Even for a month, that’s too much.”
“They can’t be pamphlets. They are addressed to you.” Ethan opens the other envelope. He’s faster than me, and he takes out a piece of paper. Something else falls out of the envelope as well. He picks it up, staring at it. “Is this a parrot feather?”
The other envelope I was opening contains a similar feather. Only this one is stained with red paint. There’s another note attached to it.
‘Whore. Remember TeeTee? Should I pluck out your eyes, too?’
I stumble back, my blood running cold, the contents of the letter dropping from my hands.
“Natalie!” Ethan grabs me before I fall. “What’s?—?”
I snatch the letter he’s just opened.
‘Rip off your legs. One by one. Watch you squawk and scream.’
“What is this?” Ethan takes the paper from me. His grip on me tightens when he reads the words. Without uttering a single word, he picks up the other note from the ground and reads it. “Who is TeeTee?”
I swallow, struggling to speak, feeling the room close in around me. “A—She was a parrot I rescued. Lucas—Lucas came back from college, and he was mad that I didn’t clean his room. He-he killed her.”
That’s the only way I know how to put it. I don’t want to remember what he put my precious bird through. Or how I screamed and cried, and how my mother told me to get over it and apologize to him for not cleaning his room.
It was a memory I buried a long time ago.
Ethan reaches for the other envelopes, and I stop him, my voice shaking. “No. Please, don’t. I don’t want to see what’s in there.”
His voice is gentle. “I won’t show you. But I have to see.”
I rushed out of the room, unable to bear it.
Heading to the toilet, I throw up, feeling sick to the stomach. Rinsing my mouth, I look at myself in the mirror, the harsh fluorescent light accentuating my pallor.
This was Lucas. It had to be Lucas. He was the only one who knew what happened to TeeTee. I can’t see my mother sending me those letters.
That bastard.
What kind of sick games is he playing?
I push aside the grief, letting the anger take hold of me. Splashing cold water over my face, I open the bathroom door, only to see Ethan standing outside. He’s wearing a grim expression on his face. “Are you all right?”
I nod my head. “Sorry about that. I needed a minute. That rattled me.”
“It would have rattled anybody, Natalie. The nature of the messages alone—I need to call the police. These are not threats I want to take lightly. You say Lucas killed your bird. The messages that?— ”
“He was psychotic, Ethan,” I say quietly. “That’s all I want to say on the matter. I don’t want to remember.”
He nods sharply. “Alright. Was Lucas the only one who knew how your parrot died?”