Chapter 55
Chapter Fifty-Five
When Lauren gets angry, she breathes faster.
A pinch will form between her brows, her lips will press into a hard line, and her voice gets one pitch higher. At least, that’s what I could remember. The New Lauren, the one I hadn’t been around for sixteen months, she added one more thing to the mix.
Hands.
The New Lauren hits when she’s angry. Was that just for me?
Or was she really out in these streets picking fights I knew her weak ass hands would not be able to back up?
Her punches landed onto my body like nothing, and as her sixth one connected, I actually thought to myself, Damn, I gotta teach her how to fight…
“Give me back my phone!” she shouted, but then stopped, her eyes widening as she scanned the space around us.
It seemed to dawn on her then that she couldn’t be seen with me in public.
Couldn’t get caught with a Montgomery with her ain’t-shit father was running for governor and all.
When she demanded her phone again, she spoke in harsh whispers. “Give me back my phone!”
“No,” I countered, stuffing the rose gold phone down my back pocket. She wasn’t getting this back until we talked. “We didn’t get to finish our conversation from the night before.”
“Are you here to yell at me again?”
“The only person yellin’ right now is you.”
She shook her head, her arms coming out to cross in front of her chest. Lauren spoke a little more quietly when she urgently asked, “How did you even know I was here? Are you following me now?”
“No.”
“Then how did you know that I’d be he—”
“It’s a long story,” I interjected, not really feeling like now was the time to let her know that I was the one who was paying for her therapy. “There was something you said Saturday night that we need to talk about.”
“I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Okay,” I nodded, acknowledging her request even though, this time, I wasn’t going to respect it. “But we still gon’ talk, though.”
“If I get photographed with you again, my dad will kill me.” That didn’t feel like a figure of speech in Lauren’s case. She had nothing to worry about, though.
“Photographers don’t hang around the outside of health offices.” I’m pretty sure that’s illegal. “We need to talk about you feeling like I set you up.”
“What’s there to talk about?”
“That’s not what happened, but I think you know that.
” I came forward, and she took a step back.
I could see it in her eyes that the closer I got, the weaker her resolve became.
It wasn’t my intention to will her into submission, though.
I didn’t want Lauren to give in to me because I persuaded her to.
I wanted her to give in to me because it was something she wanted.
“On Saturday night you said I never loved you. Do you really feel that way?”
“Someone who loved me wouldn’t have done the things that you did.”
“I don’t think you realize the full extent of the things that I’ve done.”
Lauren rolled her eyes, visibly irritated with this conversation. “You think because you buy me a bracelet, I’m supposed to have some sort of epiphany like ‘Oh, I guess he does love me after all.’ It’s not that easy! You have no idea what your father took from me!”
She was misunderstanding me, but it would be very difficult to plead my case without inflicting more damage.
Somewhere in there, behind those combative eyes, was a heartbroken woman who longed for an explanation I couldn’t give.
It was hard to stand there and watch the tears form at the rims of her eyes.
I was asking for the near impossible. I was asking for a woman to ignore the blaring facts before her eyes and take me at my word.
Ignore what you see and simply believe me…
That was a lot to ask.
Lauren was not the kind of girl to be so malleable.
She wouldn’t believe me just because I asked her to.
I liked that about her, but it left me at a loss for options.
It was do or die at this point, and no matter how apprehensive I was about shattering her perception of her father, I had to acknowledge the fact that was whether I told Lauren or not… she was going to feel pain.
It had been my assumption that it would be better for her to simply believe I betrayed her.
Because then at least she’d have an entire family for support.
But I was wrong. Her family seemed to be adding onto the pain that she already felt.
At least if it were me tasked with the job of being her support, I’d actually do it.
As Dr. Eloise said, sometimes it’s not the people who love you more, or love you longest, that you need in your life. Sometimes it’s the people who love you in the best way. I may not have loved Lauren the most or the longest, but lately I was convinced I loved her the best.
“Lauren—”
“You have no idea what I lost,” she cut me off. “I lost…”
Her voice broke before she could finish her statement, her chest heaving as she pushed back a sob. Without her saying so, I automatically knew Lauren was referring to the baby that we’d lost.
If there was ever any question in my mind as to whether Lauren knew about her pregnancy before she was shot, there wasn’t anymore. She knew. Clear as day, Lauren’s pain was that of a woman who’d lost a baby she’d already begun to envision.
I might’ve mourned the loss of a child that could’ve been, but Lauren was mourning a child that already was.
I lost my resolve. Lauren was already falling to pieces in front of me, and no amount of talking myself into it would allow me to pile onto her overwhelming pain.
You don’t watch your girl grieve the loss of your child and add on to the trauma by saying, ‘By the way, your dad shot you by accident, and then threatened to kill you on purpose.’
I couldn’t fucking do it.
Instead, I reached into the distance between us and pulled her in closer, tucking her head just below my chin.
Initially, she tensed up and I drew in a breath as I prepared myself for the emotional blow of being pushed away.
She didn’t do that, however. I couldn’t tell if this was because she felt secure in my arms or if this was because she had no more fight left in her.
Lauren simply leaned her forehead onto the raised structure of my collarbone and cried, the feel of her tears like acid on my skin.
“I know,” I whispered.
She wasn’t sure she’d heard me correctly. “You know?”
Gently, I pulled back so that I could get a better look at her face, running my thumb across the trail of tears on her cheek. She looked at me, eyes asking for clarification. She didn’t understand.
“I was there,” I confessed. “I was at the hospital, by your bedside, the morning it happened.” I found out about the pregnancy and the miscarriage both in the same second. It was… fucked up, to say the least.
Lauren’s eyebrows came together confusedly, almost angrily. “You were there?”
I only nodded. Her hands came up roughly, and she pushed me away.
“You mean to tell me that, you witnessed my disfigured body miscarry my baby as a direct result of the fact your father ordered someone to shoot me in the fucking chest, and then—if I have my dates correct—no more than forty-eight hours later, you took the stand and did everything possible to make sure Silas walked? Despite what he did to me?” The tears in her eyes created a sharp contrast with the rage in her voice.
“I tried to be realistic, you know? He’s your dad and you care about him.
I get that. How could I ever expect you to love me more than your own father?
But…” Her chest heaved with another sob, and she slammed a closed fist between her breasts as though trying to dull the pain of her heart breaking.
“Your baby. Our baby. He took that from me, and you knew. And you still let him—”
“Lauren,” I said her name like a plea, as if listening to this was pure torture. But that’s because it was torture. “Think about what you’re saying to me. Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know!” she shouted back at me. “I don’t know anymore! I thought I knew, but now I’m so confused. It doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes any sense!”
Agreeing, I replied, “It doesn’t. So what does that tell you?”
She grew frustrated. “What do you mean, so what does—”
“It doesn’t make sense because it’s not true! You really think if Silas was the reason we lost our baby I would’ve taken up for him? You’re right, that shit don’t make sense at all, and that’s because it’s not fuckin’ true!”
Lauren wiped at her cheeks, stunned into silence.
My words were sincere, and I could tell that she needed a moment to think about what I was saying.
She eyed me very analytically scanned my features for signs of dishonesty.
I knew she wouldn’t find any. I watched as a half-dozen emotions hit her at once.
Shock, confusion, skepticism, and most surprisingly—relief.
It was as if this was the moment she’d desperately needed, but even then, she wouldn’t let herself give in. Her expression hardened.
“So what’s the truth?” she questioned. “Please explain some sense into this… this… fucked up situation.”
She waited for me to speak. Soaking in the moment, I seriously considered telling her the awful truth.
I wondered what it would do to her emotionally to learn that her father was the culprit.
Did I have it in me to tell her that her own father pulled the trigger, and after realizing what he’d done, he still tried to use it to get ahead?
I thought about the deep wounds of betrayal the truth would leave.
Twenty years would go by and she would likely still never completely get over it.
Would I be able to mitigate the damage done? Would I even be given the opportunity?