Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I consider myself to be an observant person. I tend to pick up on things people usually miss, and I might’ve picked up the clues that Lauren left this summer if I hadn’t been wrapped up in my own depression bullshit.
Seven weeks. She was seven weeks along.
What was I doing seven weeks ago?
I was buying Plan B at a pharmacy with Lauren.
She’d read the box at least a dozen times, saying something or another about articles she’d read about side effects.
I’d said something dismissive, telling her it definitely wouldn’t happen again.
I think I might’ve been short with her, visibly irritated at the time.
She’d excused herself to get a glass of water from the kitchen.
But I never actually saw her take the pill.
She was so insecure about our relationship at the beginning of the summer. I could actually imagine why she would try to get pregnant on purpose. Maybe she thought that would keep me with her. She wasn’t convinced that she had me then.
Lauren had a glow about her all summer, and I thought it was because she was happy. I’d spent six weeks with Lauren, a woman, and was never shown any sign that she was on her period even once.
I could recall her eagerness to see my baby pictures, how she gushed over them for days after getting them.
When Lauren showed up at my doorstep at the beginning of the summer, she was at least ten pounds lighter than I remembered her. Six weeks pass, and she gained it all back, plus a little more. I chalked it off as eating well.
I remembered thinking it was strange that she was drinking Sprite the night of my birthday.
If I wasn’t mistaken, she’d actually said the words, ‘No alcohol for me.’ I remember thinking it was odd that she had spent all that time planning the evening, only to turn around and refuse to have at least one drink during.
I’d chalked that off as some sort of leftover issue from that night she almost got raped.
And finally, the biggest sign of them all—that same night, in the champagne room. I didn’t have a condom, and Lauren barely hesitated when she told me, ‘It doesn’t matter.’
How did I not see it?
How the fuck did I not see it?
It was creeping into noon, way past the time I should have left.
I sat at Lauren’s bedside, unwilling to leave her now in the wake of this bombshell, my head resting lightly on her stomach.
She looked so frail to me now, the rise and fall of her chest still frustratingly unnatural.
Tears, which I’d grown used to (and tired of) in the past several days, flowed more freely now than they ever had.
“Did you think I was gonna get mad at you if you told me?” My voice was just below a whisper. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t hear me even if I shouted. “I’m not mad. I promise. And I’m not just sayin’ this because you’re in a coma, either.”
I took her by the hand, resting her fingers along the side of my cheek.
“You could’ve told me… You could’ve told me day one if you didn’t want to take the Plan B. I swear I wouldn’t have forced you to. I might’ve just tried to explain that you didn’t need to do it to keep me. Baby, you’ve had me since the night we first met.”
“And if you still didn’t want to take the Plan B, then we could’ve dealt with all of this together. You didn’t have to hold onto this on your own for so long. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me.”
When Lauren was shot, finding out that she’d survived made me feel like I’d narrowly escaped the worst. And now…
“Can I tell you something?” I whispered quietly.
“I don’t really go around telling women this, ‘cause if you say it out loud, it kinda seems like you’re askin’ for something.
But… I’ve always wanted a huge family. I mean, I already have a huge family, but what I mean is, a family of my own.
I guess what I’m tryna let you know is that if you’d told me sooner, it would’ve been nothin’ for me to start getting used to the idea. I wouldn’t have been upset at all.”
“Especially not upset with you. Especially you… ‘Cause you mean the world to me, Lauren.” I raised the back of my hand to my eyes, feeling as though I’d been kicked in the stomach when I said the words, “You both would’ve meant the world to me.”
Behind my head, cutting into the silence, I heard a throat clear. I cringed, not having heard the door, and because the sound was distinctively male. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to her. I didn’t want to leave.
But it would only be a short time before Joshua Caplan called security. I rose my head from Lauren’s stomach, running my hands down my face before standing to face the man behind me.
“That was heartfelt.”
I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me, but I wasn’t in the mood for a conversation. Especially not one with him. So I ignored it, wordlessly brushing passed his shoulders on my way to the door.
“I didn’t say you had to leave.” My hand froze at the knob, and I looked over my shoulder to confirm I’d heard him correctly. “They told me downstairs that she lost it.”
Evidently, Lauren’s pregnancy was known about by everyone except for me.
It.
I didn’t like his word choice. I didn’t like anything about this man.
I was caught between a strong desire to stay with Lauren, but an overwhelming urge to get as far from her father as I could.
Caplan had such a punchable face. The type of face that practically begged to be smashed in, features wrought with an overstated sense of confidence, and just a generally untrustworthy energy.
Oddly enough, he kind of reminded me of Silas.
When I didn’t say anything, he continued to speak. “I don’t understand how you can stand there and pine after her, mourn the loss of your child, and still do nothing.”
“What?”
“Your father,” he expressed pointedly, irritated that I hadn’t caught on immediately. “He’s the reason my daughter is in this hospital bed, on life support. He’s the reason your son or daughter is dead. He’s taken something from both of us, if not more from you.”
“Y’all extradited him out of Memphis less than twenty-four hours after Lauren was shot,” I reminded. “What? You expect me to singlehandedly break into the prison, and kill him there?”
“Kill him,” Caplan scoffed with a shake of his head. “That’s all you people deal in, huh? Street justice. A life for a life. Like animals.”
If I thought Caplan had a punchable face before, that slick ass mouth only served to strengthen the urge. I glanced at Lauren as she slept in her hospital bed, a reminder that no matter how much I wanted to, I could not touch her father. Even the worst people have kids who love them.
“Do it the right way. Do it the legal way—legal justice,” Caplan urged. “For her.”
“You gotta be a little more specific.”
“I’m bringing your father’s case to trial the day after tomorrow, and I don’t have any witnesses taking the stand. You and I both know your father doesn’t trust anyone as much as he trusts you, so—”
“No. Can’t help you.”
Caplan’s shoulders squared up. He cut the bullshit indoor voice, angrily shouting, “You would let him walk? After what he did to Lauren?”
“I’m not lettin’ him do anything. Silas is being held in the state pen without bail over Lauren’s shooting. He might beat your case this week, but when he’s taken to trial over what happened to her, it’s a done deal regardless. Silas ain’t gonna walk for this.”
“I don’t want him to beat my case.”
“What difference does it make to me? Your case ain’t even about Lauren. I don’t owe you shit.”
I knew what this was.
For years, Caplan had fantasized about being the prosecutor who would bring Silas down.
I wouldn’t have been surprised to learn it was what he thought about while he fucked his wife.
And now, Silas was on the chopping block for two crimes against the state.
The case Lauren’s father would be trying was sure to lose. After all, he had no witnesses.
The second case—the one about Lauren—that would be the one that would get Silas sent away for good. At Silas’ age and health status, any prison sentence over twenty years was a life sentence. In the state of Florida, conspiracy to commit murder was twenty-five years.
Silas was going down for this. The evidence was stacked against him.
But because Lauren was his daughter, it was guaranteed that Caplan wouldn’t be able to prosecute the second case.
Personal connections to the victim are automatic disqualifiers for prosecutors.
But Caplan, ever the egotistical one, couldn’t be satisfied to know that Silas was going to see “legal justice”.
Not if he wasn’t going to get the credit for it, not if his name wasn’t in the law history books. He coveted that legacy. That was clear.
Caplan was a real piece of work. Did he think I was too dumb to realize what his angle was?
“She’ll get her justice,” I assured, reaching for the door handle. “You, on the other hand—I could give a fuck about your legacy.”
Just short of me stepping out, Caplan barked, “You think she’ll be around to see it?”
I stopped dead in my tracks. Sure I’d misheard what he just said, I had to ask.
“What’d you just say to me?”
“Her justice,” Caplan explained impatiently. “Do you think she’ll be around to see it?”
I shut the door behind me, stepping further into the room. I knew exactly what Lauren’s father was trying to say, but I still couldn’t believe it. “Are you threatening me?”
“Threatening you?” he repeated back at me incredulously.
“Of course not, Kain. It’s just that… Lauren’s been on life support for almost two weeks; no sign of improvement.
Every day she spends in this hospital bed, she amasses tens of thousands of dollars in bills.
If I know how legal timelines work—and trust me, I do—then your father probably won’t be brought to trial for her shooting for at least another two years.
A year and a half, if we’re lucky. And I just wonder how much longer I can afford this.
A month? A year? Two years? What do I look like?
A millionaire? Lately I’ve been feeling like every day is much too high of an expense. ”
This man is a fuckin’ monster.
“If you don’t want to pay for it, then I will,” I offered.
“Oh noo, I don’t want your money, kid,” Caplan declined, taking a step back and caressing his sleeping daughter’s cheek. He rose his gaze to meet my eyes. “I just want you to take the stand. What do you say?”