Текст книги "Addicted for Now"
Автор книги: Becca Ritchie
Соавторы: Krista Ritchie
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 23 (всего у книги 31 страниц)
{ 35 }
LILY CALLOWAY
I haven’t told my parents to “go to hell” yet, but that’s partly because they really haven’t spoken to me. When we arrived at their Villanova mansion, Lo and I were ushered into one of the dens. My parents were there, along with his father, but so were four lawyers that squeezed onto a single couch. The lawyers asked us questions, and I tried to explain everything without becoming too much of an emotional mess. I failed on multiple occasions, blubbering so much that Lo would have to finish talking for me.
But my mother and father never said a word and avoided my gaze as much as possible. They might as well have been listening from another room. The hardest part was going through the video clips that many guys posted and claimed as sex tapes. Some blurry ones I couldn’t be certain were me or not, but others were clearly fabricated. I don’t have any cute freckles on my butt.
Four hours later, my throat has swollen from talking and bearing as much of the truth as I could. We even came clean about our fake relationship. Now Lo and I wait in the living room while the lawyers and our parents deliberate about the next steps. Rose and Ryke offered to be here, but we both wanted to do this on our own.
“What if they never speak to me again?” I say, rubbing my puffy eyes. I spot Harold, our butler, walking rather quickly past the doorway with the mail in his hands. The staff, most of whom I’ve known for years, have all had the same skittish reaction around me. Like I’m contagious.
“That wouldn’t be a big change, would it?” Lo asks.
My heart twists a little at his words. They haven’t been the most active participants in my life, but I always thought it was my own doing. I purposefully alienated myself during college. But then again, my father was never around when I was a child, and my mother brushed me away pretty easily. But Rose said my mom bought self-help books to learn how to reconnect to her children, so maybe…she’s trying? I don’t think there’s a black and white answer. I think I’ve been swimming in the gray state of things for so long.
They’re still my parents. I love them because I believe they truly love me. My father has given me so much, and even if Ryke says otherwise, I can’t just abandon this life with my family or walk away from what I did. I don’t want to be that insolent child, stomping on my parent’s livelihood and then telling them to clean it up. It’s my fault. I need to take responsibility.
I just hope that I haven’t done irreparable damage—to the company, our family, and my relationship with them.
“It’s going to be weird talking to them through lawyers,” I rephrase. “It’s already weird.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of bullshit,” he agrees and takes my hand in his. “Whatever happens, we’re in this together. You and me.”
“Lily and Lo,” I say with a weak smile. It hurts to lift my lips, but I try my best. I’ve avoided this day for a week now, and every minute I’m here reminds me of all the harm I’ve caused.
He kisses my cheek and the doors to the den open. The lawyers and our parents file out in a large wave. I haven’t been able to apologize to either my mother or father. Every time I tried to digress from the lawyers’ questions, they snapped me back on track with a sharp tone. I fear this may be my only chance.
I walk quickly around the couch, my parents heading in the opposite direction down the long narrow hallway. “Mom!” I shout, scooting past one of Jonathan’s burly lawyers.
She doesn’t look back. “Mom!” I yell again, nearly reaching her as I walk faster. She ignores me, and I rest my hand on her shoulder to stop her.
She spins around on her heels, my father padding ahead.
Her cold eyes puncture me, filled more with malice than anything else, and it takes me a moment to remember what I was even doing in the first place.
I stumble back a little. “I’m sorry,” I choke. “I’m so sorry.”
“You can be sorry all you want,” she says with a chill. She touches her pearls across her sharp collarbone. “It won’t repair the damage you have done to this family.” She takes a step forward, and I take one step back so we don’t bump chests. “You have everything a girl could ever want, and you had to spread your legs for every boy who gave you an ounce of attention. I didn’t raise you to be so disgusting.”
Tears cloud my eyes, and I disobey my therapist’s orders and internalize everything she says. I deserve her hate. I’ve ruined everything my father has ever created. Years and years of hard work have been tarnished by me and my stupid fucking decisions.
Her eyes flit to Lo as he comes to my side. Coldness blankets me, and my hand feels numb to his palm. My mother looks him over in one long gaze before she says, “You could do better.”
I try to disentangle my hand from his, but he grips fiercely, holding on. Tears spill down my cheeks as I focus on prying each one of his fingers off mine. He directs his attention to my mother.
“You don’t know us,” he says. “If you did, you would realize how guilty she already feels, so stop tearing her down.”
I shake my head. He doesn’t get it. I want to hear her anger and disappointment. I’m so tired of people telling me it’s okay when it’s not. It’s not okay that my little sister is being theorized as a future sex addict. It’s not okay that my father’s company has lost investors. I don’t want to lock myself in an apartment and pretend that everything is fine anymore.
There is no one else to blame but me.
Lo squeezes my hand with extra force, making it impossible for me to let go.
My mother purses her lips. “It’s late. You both need to talk with the lawyers.” She spins on her heels, and they clap all the way down the hall.
I breathe in sporadic, choppy inhales, and my head spins so much that my vision starts to whirl with it. Lo presses his hands to my cheeks, cupping my face with strength that I do not possess. Months ago, he’d probably leave me on a bench in the hallway to go collect bottles from the liquor cabinet. Now that he’s here, I try to ingest some of his power to stand upright. But all I see is a boy who’s good and whole and a girl who’s broken and weak.
I want to be him.
I want that.
But those are my parents. And they hate me.
I think I hate myself more.
“Lily,” he says, very softly. “You’re going to have a panic attack if you don’t slow your breaths.”
Going to? This isn’t a panic attack?
“Lily,” he snaps. “Breathe. Slowly.”
I try and listen to him and focus on his chest, the way it rises and falls in a stable pattern. When my lungs feel less strained and my breath steadies, we both turn to the team of lawyers who linger in the corridor. Exhaustion sags their eyes, and they each hold stacks of papers that they’ll be sifting through for the next forty-eight hours.
The head lawyer, Arthur, holds the largest stack. “We need to discuss what should happen in the upcoming weeks.”
I don’t know what my parents have decided to do. Send me to rehab? Fly me to Switzerland? I’m supposed to tell them to go to hell, but after confronting my mother, all I want to do is make this right.
And that means giving in to whatever they want. Whatever they need. I’ll repair the damage I’ve done.
Jonathan Hale steps forward, already clutching a crystal glass of scotch. Surprisingly, like my parents, he didn’t utter a word during our briefing in the den. “I can take it from here, Arthur,” he says easily. “I think Loren and Lily have had enough of this intermediary bullshit.”
Arthur sways on his feet, hesitant to leave.
“You don’t need to relay information,” Jonathan snaps. “You need to get your ass back to your office and make phone calls and fact check the hell out of those stories. It’s time for you to go. Now.”
They disperse quickly, and Arthur hands Jonathan a couple files before he leaves. A burst of envy pops in my chest, and I’m frightened that I covet Lo’s father and want to trade mine in for the Jonathan Hale version, wishing mostly that my dad could be more supportive.
The world has gone mad.
Jonathan looks to us. “We should do this at my house. The staff here is getting on my last goddamn nerve.” On cue, one of the groundskeepers walks into the house from the back door and then speeds off in another direction. Jonathan mumbles something that sounds like ridiculous motherfuckers. But I really can’t be certain.
The farther I am from this house, the better, even if it means that we have to drive through mobs of camera crews again. Lo and I climb into my car, and before he puts it in drive, he faces me.
“I have to tell you something, and you’re probably going to be mad.”
I frown, not having a clue where this could go. I watch Jonathan’s car exit the gates, cameras flashing and clicking, the light glinting off the tinted windows.
“What is it?” I ask, my voice smaller than I like.
He licks his lips, guilt lining his face. Uh oh. “This isn’t the first time I’ve seen my father since rehab.”
The truth washes over me in a freezing cold wave. I shiver and nod, letting this sink in fully. Okay. He’s lied. But he just opened up, so that has to count for something, right? Still, no matter how much I make excuses for him, I can’t help the sadness that pours into me.
I lift my legs to the seat and bury my head in my knees, hiding from Lo, not the paparazzi.
“Lil,” he says, his hand hovering above my head, hesitant to touch me. “Say something.”
I can’t speak, the words tangle, swollen in a pit midway up my throat. So Lo pulls the car out and navigates past the cameras. He explains his conversations with his father and how he went to him specifically to find the blackmailer and to learn more about his mother.
By the time we reach the street, away from the paparazzi and news vans, he has finished spilling all these secrets. After a long tense silence, he asks, “Are you mad?”
“No,” I say softly, silent tears streaming down my cheeks. I don’t lift my head from my knees. I’m just sad. I should have known and busted him like he did me. He was able to go to rehab and come back a little stronger than before. I didn’t have that. When he returned, I started back at day one, trying to figure out how to cope with my addiction and him in the same room. And I’m just realizing how much of a rock he is for me, and how much I may have let him down if he relapsed and I didn’t stop him sooner.
“Lily, please talk to me.” He tails Jonathan’s car and slows down when we reach the gate.
“Did you drink?” I murmur.
“No, I promise, Lil. I mean…”
My chest collapses. I don’t like I means.
“…I thought about it, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. I’m on Antabuse,” he says. “The idea of vomiting stopped me more than once. Being around my father does make me want to drink. I can’t deny that.” He pauses “But I’m at a point where I can say no.” At least he’s being honest now.
I raise my head, rubbing my cheeks on my sleeve. “You didn’t tell me because you knew I’d disapprove.”
He nods. “But Lil, he’s my dad. He’s my fucking family.”
I can’t tell him what I think. That even if his father shows heart one minute, he’ll cut Lo into pieces the next. I’ve seen Lo walk away a shell of himself after his father screamed at his face for half an hour.
He parks the car and lifts my hand. “You’re my family too.” He kisses my knuckles. “Always.” He wipes a stray tear. “Please don’t be upset over this.”
“I just don’t want to see him hurt you,” I say softly.
“He won’t.”
Lo is not built of armor. He goes into every fight without the padding. He lets people hurt him because he believes he deserves that pain. It’s sick. It’s something I think I’m coping with right now.
I breathe heavily and just nod. “Okay.” I feel so ripped open. The extra dagger just fits in place with the others. I have to believe that Lo will be fine in the face of his father, that he can handle all the verbal onslaughts and the sudden disparaging comments. The why aren’t you living to your potential? Why are you such a fucking disappointment? I have to believe he’s stronger than me.
I think I can do that.
We enter the house, and I skid to a stop by the grand staircase, absorbing a home that I spent most of my childhood in. It’s quieter and darker than my parent’s place and carries a somber quality. Maybe because I have more memories here. And not all of them good.
“Can we do this in the morning?” I ask. Postponing the inevitable sounds nice. I could take another sleeping pill too, or Lo might even go down on me tonight. I shouldn’t be thinking about sex right now. I shake my head to try to reset it. I’m a spin-cycle revolving backwards.
Lo strokes my hair. “My father is impatient.”
Oh, right. He leads me to his father’s office where I’ve been many times before. Jonathan is already pouring himself scotch when we walk in. I settle on the brown leather sofa, and Lo scoots close beside me.
I remember kissing Lo on this couch. We’d have these hot and heavy make-out sessions, complete with over-the-clothes caressing, just to be caught by Jonathan or the staff. We weren’t really together, but we made excuses to kiss each other. We said that we were “reinforcing our relationship,” even though it was just pretend. I liked the stroking and the groping more than I should. And Lo did too, I suppose. He just never declared, outright, that he wanted to be with me.
Jonathan lingers by the liquor cart, examining his bottles. “Greg and I agreed not to speak during the briefing. If it felt formal, it’s only because we didn’t want the thing to last all fucking night.” He raises a crystal bottle of amber-colored liquid. “Would you like a glass or are you still being obnoxious?”
“No thanks,” Lo says, his voice firm.
Jonathan returns the bottle and slumps in the plush leather chair behind his desk. He shuffles the three files out along his desk as he takes a slow sip from his glass.
“From here on out, the goal for both of you is to reform your images. You will become upstanding individuals who can proudly wear your last fucking name.” He flips open a file and scans the page. “We’ll start with Lily. The easiest solution would be to deny all the claims, but no one would believe that sixty men were lying.”
I already knew I couldn’t deny the accusations, and I wouldn’t want to. Most are true. I wait for the word, the one that will seal my fate—rehab.
“So your parents and the lawyers have drawn up a list of things you must do. It’ll help restore your reputation, and in effect, that of our companies. Simple, easy, seamless, yada fucking yada.”
“What if she doesn’t do them?” Lo asks.
Jonathan shoots him a sharp look. “I was getting there. Hold your fucking tongue for a second.” His eyes fall to me. “Starting today, you no longer have access to your trust fund. When you complete all the tasks, your inheritance will be restored to you in full.”
My money is gone.
I’m broke. Just like Lo.
I wish I could talk to my parents. I would have completed their list without putting my financial security up as collateral. The guilt motivates me enough.
Jonathan stares at Lo, and I know he wants him to ask for his own trust fund back, especially now that we’re both penniless. But Lo remains resolute and tight-lipped.
His father switches his attention back to me. “I must admit, your father didn’t like this idea all that much. He preferred you keep your trust fund, but your mother convinced him otherwise.” I wonder why Jonathan tells me this; maybe to vouch for his best friend. I’m not sure.
“What’s on the list?” I ask softly. “Do I have to leave?”
Jonathan lets out a short laugh. “Running away doesn’t solve anything. In fact, it makes you look guilty. No, you’ll stay in the city, preferably Princeton after the lawyers get done with the university.”
I’m not going to be expelled? Hope surges through me, only to be smothered by Jonathan’s next words. “You will apologize publicly during a press conference, and you will start seeing a psychiatrist handpicked by your parents.” He narrows his eyes at the list. “They also want you to stop visiting bars and clubs, but really, the three of us in this room can agree that you can go, just don’t be seen. This is about your image not a fucking path to morality.”
He taps his pen on the folder. “The most important and last item on the list…” He reaches into his suit jacket and reveals a small black box. I don’t look at Lo. My eyes zone in on the case as Jonathan opens the lid, a shiny diamond ring inside. “Congratulations,” Jonathan says, his voice more rough than enthusiastic. “You’re now engaged, and the wedding will be held in a year.”
My joints don’t work properly, even though all my thoughts scream violently for me to take the ring. It’s a small price to pay for what I’ve done. But to turn what Lo and I have into bait for the media, cheapening our love, hurts beyond words.
More tears pool.
“Lil,” Lo says, squeezing my hand. “We can find another way.”
We can’t.
This is what they want, and we’ve been selfish long enough. I shake my head, grab the box and pluck out the ring that glitters as I slide it between my fingers. It’s larger and more extravagant than anything I’d ever want. I take a small breath and slide it onto my finger.
It fits perfectly.
I can’t stop staring at the way it sparkles and dwarfs my small hand. It’s gaudy and feels cold and wrong.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Lo. He’s fixated on the piece of jewelry as much as me, and I already know what he’s thinking. This isn’t what he imagined for us either, a proposal by his father in his office.
Maybe…maybe we’re just not meant to have a happy ending.
Maybe we don’t deserve it.
{ 36 }
LOREN HALE
When I was in rehab, I had plenty of free time to let my mind wander. Stupidly, I started thinking about how I would propose to Lily. Not any time soon, but when we were both healthy and happy. I even envisioned the ring I would buy her—a small pink sapphire. Simple, non-traditional. I think she would have liked it.
Now I’ll never know.
I glare at my father, hating that he has hijacked my proposal. It’s not entirely his fault, but if we’re being coerced into marriage, I’d rather have something on my terms. He could have given me a day’s notice. Anything.
Instead, I’m going to shelve this memory with all of my other black, inky tarred ones, ruined by something larger and nastier than me. Lily quietly appraises the ring with sad eyes. I wish I could fix this, but rejecting her parent’s pleas will hurt her more. The shame she caused is tearing her from the inside out, and doing nothing to repair the damage would rip her soul.
“The wedding,” I say, breaking the tense silence. “You said it’s in a year.”
My father nods and sips his scotch.
I itch to taste it, but I focus more on Lil, and any ache for alcohol subsides. For once, I truly feel strong enough to help her. “She has to complete all the tasks before her trust fund is returned. Does that mean she’ll have it again when she agrees to the wedding?”
“She gets it when you’re married.”
My stomach caves. A year? She’ll be broke for a whole fucking year even if she does everything they say. Lily can’t hold down a job while she’s going through recovery. I remember how I found her hiding underneath her desk in Rose’s office, afraid of the male models. She’s not ready to handle the stress of a workplace environment with her addiction at bay. That anxiety is what causes her to go crazy.
“We’ll get married sooner,” I offer. Why prolong the wait? She’ll have money. The cameras will stop hounding us. She won’t be gossiped about in blogs anymore. All will be right again.
“Really?” Lily asks, her eyes big and glassy.
I wipe a fallen tear with my thumb. “Two weeks or one year, it doesn’t make a difference to me, Lil. I’d marry you tomorrow if it’d make you happy.”
She nods once and lets me hold her close.
“It actually does make a difference,” my father cuts in, chilling my bones. “It can’t look like a shotgun wedding designed to coax the media. It has to look real. One year. No sooner and no later.”
He strangled my only alternative.
My father closes a file and opens another. “Now for you, Loren,” he says, “the media has modeled you as the pathetic boyfriend, cheated on and discarded. You will publicly release a statement about how you and Lily have had an open relationship, something new age. You have been sleeping around with other women, and you knew she was sleeping with other men. But since your romantic engagement, you both have decided to commit to each other fully.”
Lily holds in a breath, probably believing I’ll refuse this stipulation. She wants this to be easy, for us to agree and move on. I’m accustomed to lies. If this one helps, I’ll gladly carry it. I nod in acceptance and my father closes the file.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“You’re not the sex addict,” he reminds me with a dry smile and the raise of his glass. He takes a long swig, and my mind lapses back to the money issue.
I have to ask him.
For Lily.
For me.
So we have one less problem to solve. So we can stop taking handouts from our siblings.
“About my trust fund…”
Lily bristles beside me. “Lo, you don’t have to—”
“I want to.” Whatever the repercussions, whatever I have to do to please my father, I’ll work out. A part of me screams failure. I’m giving up by crawling back to this man. But the other part says this is the right way. And I’m listening to that side of my brain. Whether it’s the dumb fucking side—that’s to be seen.
“What about it?” He swirls the scotch in his glass, creating a small whirlpool.
He’ll make me ask. Beg. Plead and grovel. I’m not about to drop to my knees, but I’m close. I’m almost there. “You told me I could have it back,” I remind him, but I’m not an idiot. I know there are strings attached. “What do you want me to do?” Not college. Not college. Not college. I cannot go back to school, surrounded by booze, surrounded by fully functioning twenty-somethings. It drives me to a bottle more than Lily knows. It’s a reason why I opted not to return.
Every sane, happy person is like a reflection of what I could have been, like being met with Christmas Future every day. I don’t want to be haunted by my problems like that.
“What I want you to do,” he says, “is be a fucking man.”
I glare. “Last time I checked, I was one.”
“Having a dick doesn’t make you a man,” he replies. “You’ve been an irresponsible little boy all your life. I give you things and you shit on them. If you want your trust fund, you have to use the money to make something of yourself. You can’t fuck it away.”
“I’m not going back to college.”
“Did I say anything about college? You’re not even listening to me.” He throws back the rest of the liquor into his mouth and smacks the glass on the desk.
I flinch.
And he stays silent, not about to divulge the details. Apparently I’m supposed to know what being a man really entails. In my father’s head, that could mean anything.
“Okay,” I accept blindly. He just wants me to meet my potential, not squander away his wealth with apathy. His terms should be in my power. Hopefully.
His brows jump in swift surprise, but it slowly washes away, replaced with a true, genuine smile. I think I just made my father happy.
That happens…well, almost never.
“I’ll call the lawyers. Your inheritance will be back by tomorrow morning,” he says, “and I expect a business proposal by next week.”
“A what?” My stomach tightens.
He rolls his eyes and his mouth downturns. That smile lasted point-two seconds. “For Christ’s sake, Loren. A business proposal. You don’t have to be involved in my company, but you better create your own. I don’t even fucking care if it succeeds. Just get off your lazy ass.” He stands and hovers over the liquor cart to refill his empty glass. “It’s late. You two should spend the night here.”
I don’t want to step into my old bedroom, a haven for bad memories and shitty mistakes. I shake my head. “We’re staying at Ryke’s tonight.”
He stiffens at the name. “Then get going. I have work to do.” As we walk towards the doors, he says, “And when I find the leak, he’s going to wish he never fucked with our family. I can promise you that.”
