Chapter 35 - Laurel
Nothing changed what I was looking at. Chugging two bottles of water and taking the other tests didn’t change the outcome.
They all agreed I was pregnant. What a mess.
After wrapping everything up in paper towels and burying it all under the bottom of the kitchen trash, there was no way I could get back to work like nothing had changed, and sleep was also out of the question.
I was antsy and amped up, but also felt like all my energy had been drained out of me, and ended up alternating between sitting and staring at nothing and wandering up and down the hallways.
It was almost ten when I decided I had to get this off my chest and share it with someone so I could calm the heck down.
My mother was out of the question, but since Mila had been a friend to me when I was upset after the shooting, I decided to give it a shot and see if she’d answer.
I took a deep breath, finally jamming my finger on the number in my contacts, determined to tell her everything, including the real reasons Mik and I got married.
Yes, even his lie, and why it upset me so much.
I didn’t know what I was hoping for, whether it be reassurances or answers, but I wasn’t expecting her to completely blow me off.
“So sorry, Laurel, it’s just crazy over here right now,” she said before I even got out a greeting. “Can I call you back tomorrow?”
“Okay,” I said slowly, trying not to let her hear my disappointment. It was late at night. She had a kid, a husband, and a popular catering business. My news wasn’t going anywhere, either. “Sure, yeah, that’ll be fine.”
“Great,” she said. “Oh, and don’t worry about Mik. He’ll be fine.”
With that odd afterthought, she ended the call. Why would I be worried about Mik? Was there another attack at the restaurant, and he didn’t want to tell me because he didn’t think I could handle it?
I probably couldn’t. Thinking about him getting hurt because of me made me sink into the nearest chair and pull my knees up to my chest. When I could breathe properly again, I sent a text to Chase asking if there was any news about the restaurant.
You’d know before me, he answered.
Would I? Maybe not. But if something else outlandish happened, it would surely get back to Chase through the gossip grapevine. He was close with everyone who worked in the kitchen, so if something new and alarming happened, someone had to hear about it.
So if nothing happened at the restaurant, why would Mila tell me not to worry about Mik? As far as I knew, she wasn’t aware of the problems with my ex. They were a tight-knit bunch, but I couldn’t see Mik sharing something like that.
Were the family problems he was always helping out with dangerous? It did always seem odd to me that he went out at such late hours and didn’t return until the next day. But LA was a twenty-four-hour town and his family did business all over the world. Maybe it was a time zone thing?
The thought of strip clubs or wild parties might have crossed my mind in the beginning, but I knew Mik well enough by now that those things weren’t his style. At least, I thought I knew him well enough.
Actually, how well could I really know someone who left the house almost every night with no explanations?
What about that long scratch across his rib cage that he said was from an accident he got helping his cousin unload some things at his warehouse?
How many people as rich as the Fokins unloaded their own shipments?
Unless the shipments were full of things they didn’t want anyone to see.
“Enough,” I said out loud to myself before putting my face in my hands. “Enough is enough.”
But it wasn’t enough. One of his first days as the new owner of the restaurant, he showed up with two black eyes and a busted nose, and hadn’t bothered to come up with some nonsensical excuse at all back then.
There were other times I had dismissed, or rather forcefully pushed out of my thoughts, because he insisted he was fine, and anything that hinted at violence made me queasy and weak.
I couldn’t keep dismissing it as nothing I had to worry about, especially now that his cousin was specifically telling me not to worry. What dumb advice.
I had been curious and even annoyed at his late nights, but since our marriage wasn’t real, what right did I have to demand answers?
Ever since I found out I was a charity case, I really didn’t want to rock the boat.
Now that I was pregnant, I had to get everything out on the table so we could decide what to do.
What if he still didn’t want to tell me? What if nothing changed? Or worse, what if everything changed, but for the worse. Because things could always, always get worse. I found myself crying, my head resting on my knees, my pajama pants slowly getting soaked with the tears flowing down my cheeks.
If only things were different, but wishing didn’t change anything, and I was unable to regret the good times we had. If nothing else, Mik had taught me to trust again, or at least realize that not everyone solved their problems with screamed insults and flying fists.
It was well after midnight when I heard footsteps in the hall.
I was still curled up on a chair in the living room, my nose stuffed up from crying.
I must have fallen asleep, because I was disoriented for a second, almost thinking I was in the house at Canyon Vines, and it was Rand coming to wake me up.
My predicament hit me like one of his classic slaps, and I jumped up, instantly in fight-or-flight mode. I couldn’t face Mik like this. He’d know something was wrong, and I wanted to calmly ask him my questions, not be the one on the receiving end of a worried interrogation.
The light was on, and I couldn’t get to it fast enough to snap it off and hide out until he was in his room.
A fresh sob burst out of my throat as I struggled to calm down before I was in a full-blown panic attack.
I could never afford therapy on my own, and my parents would never have understood why I needed it, but I read plenty of articles on how to stay grounded in the moment and not completely come untethered from reality.
Sometimes the suggestions even worked.
But not tonight.
Mik came into the room, his eyes widening when he saw me. I must have looked like shit, hair rumpled, face red and tear-stained, whole body shaking like one of those nervous little purse dogs. As bad as I must have looked, it was nothing compared to him.
Was this a nightmare from falling asleep while I was wondering about Mik’s mystery injuries? He looked like he’d been hit in the face with a bat, and the hands he held out to me had scratches across the knuckles.
“No,” I whispered, holding up my own hands.
I closed my eyes tight, hearing him say something, but it came from very far away, and other voices were drowning him out. My mother shouting at my father, him threatening to kill her and burn the house down around her body. Laughter, like it was a joke.
Then Rand’s little jibes in front of the other vineyard staff, more laughter, but nervous, not sure what to do. At home, it was worse. So much worse.
You’d be nothing without me. You’re lucky I gave you a shot. You’re lucky I let you live. Useless, worthless, as bad as your mother. Worse than your father. Nothing without me.
It was all jumbled up, a sickening kaleidoscope of memories.
“Laurel.”
I snapped open my eyes to see a monster directly in front of me. But no, it was Mik, or someone who looked like him but was wild-eyed and battered. “Laurel, it’s me. You’re okay.”
I wasn’t, though, not at all. I was supposed to tell him something. Something important, and get some answers out of him, too. All of that was lost. I was stuck in a bad place and couldn’t get somewhere good. Hands gripped my arms, but it was too late.
My knees hit the floor, and everything went dark.