If I Had You Page 9

  Deciding this is probably the best way to avoid me saying something inadvisable, I take his hand without another word and follow him toward the bedroom.

  A bit later, even as Oliver falls asleep with me snuggled against him and his hand resting on my stomach where I carry our child, all I can think about is how Zach needs to tell me the truth.

  And I’m going to make him because if I am stuck here in this life that isn’t really mine, one where we’re both living a lie based on the one he told, he’s going to admit what he’s done.

  The possibility he actually cheated doesn’t even enter my mind.

  Oliver hasn’t wavered after my confession. It’s strange for him to believe me without hesitation, yet if I really think about us…well, maybe it isn’t.

  He’s never been one to shy away from the strange and unexplainable, nor from flat out saying that telling Zach anything would be nothing short of disastrous, something I can’t disagree with after having thought it over.

  I still want to hear Zach admit he lied, though. For my own reasons more than anything else — he hated my lies, and now I understand the sentiment.

  No matter what I wanted in this life, his lie prevented anything else from happening except what came out of his deception.

  Just as I got an abortion in the absence of his consent, he ended our relationship here without mine.

  But, when I woke up this morning, I decided to let it go and arrive at his wedding with nothing more than to show support. Not for him, but for our children, who are going to have this woman in their lives as a stepmother.

  Yet, the longer I sit next to Oliver among everyone else there for the wedding, waiting for Zach to take his place at the end of the aisle, the harder it is to breathe in the face of what’s about to happen.

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  I abruptly stand up and whisper this to Oliver, who thinks nothing of it and releases my hand with a smile and a muttered, “Hurry back. Supposed to begin in less than five minutes.”

  “I will.”

  But I don’t.

  Everything becomes a blur through the pain in my head and the tears streaming down my face. One moment we’re talking, with him refusing to admit what we both know he’s done, and the next, our lips are locked together.

  And the lack of feeling stuns me.

  No thrill, or passion, or heat between us. Not even when he groans and embraces me back, deepening the kiss as if he’s trying to capture what we’ve always had and denying it doesn’t exist with each sweep of his tongue inside my mouth.

  Until the kiss is over as quickly as it began and he releases me at the same time I let go of his neck.

  He makes sure I’m steady before stepping back, scrubs my taste off his lips with his hand, and glares at me as he growls, “Damn you.”

  I can’t look at him even as I say the one thing I know to be true. “You lied to me.” Even knowing and understanding why, the fact he would go so far as to hurt himself to make me happy kills me.

  “I need to go,” he says harshly, without acknowledging my accusation.

  He doesn’t have to, though, because that kiss said it all. His arousal had been hot and hard against my thigh as he ravaged my mouth, showcasing exactly how attractive he still found me all while his hold declared his love.

  My body, the one that is mine yet isn’t, feels nothing, but in my head, I’m the me who has never stopped loving Zach. And I want nothing more than to sob from the utter heartbreak swirling in his eyes when I finally meet his gaze again.

  “I’m sorry,” I manage to say while turning back to the window, unable to handle his pain or mine any longer, and say the word he’s waiting to hear. “Go.”

  He does because there’s nothing left to say.

  I know the truth. We both do. And now we’ve freed each other.

  The buzzing in my head grows to an unpalatable level then, both of my hands going to my head in an attempt to ease the accompanying throbbing.

  It increases instead.

  The last thing I remember as my vision darkens with the blackness rushing in is my hands flying away from my head to try and grip something while a scream is ripped from my throat.

  14

  Zachary

  Three days I’ve been waiting for her to wake up.

  Even though I shouldn’t, I’ve placed the blame for her fall in my hands.

  And so had her husband the moment he found out who I was. He’s questioned why I’m waiting around for her to wake up, telling me it would be better if I left and stayed away from Darcy now that they are married.

  I can’t fault him. He knows everything, of that I’m certain, and I would want me gone, too.

  There’s just one problem — the woman lying unconscious in a hospital bed is the one I’ve never forgiven or forgotten. I had a right to the way her decision made me feel, and I’ll never believe she made the right one; but no, I honestly haven’t ever looked past my own pain to understand hers…until recently.

  Now, I have, making it imperative I apologize one more time — and this time I’ll truly mean it.

  After the other day, I know she needs it as much as I do, which is why I keep returning, hoping today is the day she’ll open her eyes and allow me to wish her well.

  Oliver walks out right as I’m about to leave for the night, needing to get back to Rose so Tara can go home, and stops me with an angry glare while crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s awake and asked for you once she knew you were here. Don’t upset her.”

  On the outside, I’m calm, giving him a cool nod before walking past him into the room. On the inside, nothing except turmoil from watching her fall and being unable to prevent it in time.

  She’s sitting up with her gaze locked on the door and smiles when she finally sees me. It’s bright, her entire expression inviting despite how pale she is, and she holds out a hand as I reach the bedside.

  “Hi,” I say while clasping her hand in mine and taking a seat on the nearby chair. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

  “Oliver said you won’t stop coming back until you make sure I’m okay.”

  “You fell and hit your head in my house and have been passed out for nearly four days. Of course, I want to ensure you’re all right.”

  “Afraid we’re gonna sue you, huh?” She smirks at my instant frown because that thought hadn’t even entered my mind. “I’m teasing. It wasn’t your fault.”

  It’s easier to breathe now with her appearing unharmed by what happened and I smile at her. “Glad your sense of humor remains intact.”

  “And my brain,” she replies, laughing as she runs her hand through her hair and winces when she comes in contact with the bump on her forehead. “At least, I think so. Not sure after that wacky dream.”

  Her soft yet bemused expression prompts me to ask, “Dream?”

  “Yeah…” Whatever she was going to say drifts away as she bites her lip and tugs her hand away. “It was something else, but I’m back now.”

  A rather bizarre thing to say that makes me more curious. “What did you dream of?”

  She compresses her lips into a flat line, her eyes searching mine as if she’s trying to decide what to do, and then shakes her head in conclusion. “It was nothing. Thanks for hanging around to make sure I was okay. With the way things have been between us…”

  A perfect opening for what I want — no, need to say. “About that. I’ve spent the last ten years being angry at you and went so far as punishing you for it when I ran into you. And I know I’ve apologized for that already,” I say, raising a hand to stop her from interrupting me, “but it wasn’t good enough because I didn’t believe the words when I said them the first time.”

  She tries to cut in anyway. “Zach—”

  “No. Let me finish.”

  “Okay.” She nods and places her hands in her lap after making a zipping motion with her fingers across her mouth.

  It’s hard for me to admit my weaknesses, but I plun
ge ahead because I don’t have anything left to lose here. She’s already out of my reach for good. “I’m not sorry for catching you following me that day. Or what happened after. I am, however, sorry for what I said and for placing all the blame on you, when we were both at fault for the whole situation. I went on and finished college, got a great job, and have a beautiful little girl who is my entire world. My marriage is a different story, but there’s nothing I can honestly complain about, not after learning how hard things have been for you for way too long.”

  When a tear slips down her cheek, her hands come up to her mouth, and she trembles visibly with the effort to keep from sobbing.

  “I never wanted to make things worse for you or hurt you, regardless of what happened between us.” Not resisting the urge to stand up, I lean over to take her into my arms as a tear slides down her cheek, but she stops me with a hand on my chest.

  “Don’t,” she croaks out with tearful emotion as I sit once more. “Touching me in the first place is what got us into this mess.”

  Not expecting her to crack a joke, the abrupt laughter from myself catches me off guard, and so does her giggle as she wipes her face with both palms while taking a deep breath.

  “Zach.” She finally breaks the silence after calming down. “Apology accepted. After all, what else is there for either of us to do except put the past behind us and move on?”

  “That’s what I want, too. For us to forgive each other.”

  “Ah. Well, we don’t need each other’s forgiveness, Zach. Just our own.” She gives me a sad smile and glances over my shoulder toward the doorway. “For ten years, I’ve punished myself, and I have to stop. I’ve got a husband and a baby on the way, and I can’t build a life with all this guilt over something still weighing me down that can never be changed.”

  Hard for me to admit I wish our past could be changed. My feelings for her have been buried under a mountain of anger and with the way our attraction burns bright between us to this day, I know we would have had a great life together.

  Tougher to let it all go, to free us both from the weight of our history, yet doing so is vital to both our futures.

  A time in our lives that begins now and means this conversation has to end before I tell her what she’s always meant to me…and always will, in complete honesty.

  “You’re right.” Rising from the seat, I lean in, press a kiss to her cheek, and step away from the bed while glancing at my watch. “I need to get home to Rose.”

  Her eyes fly to mine then, her question wondrous. “Is that short for Roselyn?”

  “You remember that?” At her sheepish expression, I laugh. “My grandmother would have loved her namesake.”

  She flicks her gaze away again, her voice softening. “She’s adorable, Zach. I…I wish you both the best.”

  “And I want the same for you, Darcy. Take care of yourself.”

  “I will. Promise.”

  Her statement is filled with more conviction than I’ve ever heard from her before and that’s when I realize how civil this whole conversation has been.

  I look at her; really examine her face for the first moment since walking in here and the transformation is amazing. Her expression is serene and more open. In fact, she reminds me of the Darcy I fell in love with rather than the unsure woman who followed me through a bookstore.

  She does seem more peaceful already and seeing her this way hurts more than I’ll ever admit to anyone.

  With nothing more left to say that isn’t superfluous or ill-advised, I put one foot in front of the other and leave the room, the profound sense of sadness settling in my chest.

  Walking past Oliver, who gives me a brief and dismissive glance before heading back into the room, I make it all the way back to my car in the parking garage before recognizing what the ache truly means.

  My love for Darcy never ended. I buried it under my hurt and pain and refused to think about her until she stopped entering my mind.

  This revelation doesn’t matter, though, because we are both different people from all those years ago, and I don’t love her. I can’t since I don’t know her as she currently is, but I won’t deny wishing I could find out, which won’t and can’t happen with the way things are presently.

  Unlike when I ran into her at the store, I don’t try to forget her or what we had. Instead, I get in my car and head home to my daughter, all while appreciating those few moments with Darcy for what they were: closure.

  Then, I move on with my life, too.

  15

  Darcy

  Ever since Zach left without looking back, I’ve been determined to do the same.

  Chalking up the whole other life experience as being nothing more than a dream has helped, because really, there’s no way I would’ve been calm had it been real. And although I convinced myself that other Oliver’s serene acceptance of my story had been in character for him, I doubt that’s true, either.

  So many misgivings about it that I actually haven’t mentioned the dream to him at all, unlike the way I spoke about it to Zach without thinking about it. I was glad he let what I said go, though; not sure that would’ve gone over well with him either when all he wanted to do was make sure I was okay.

  One thing I’ve learned is that decisions made become permanent actions you can’t undo, and each choice leads to the irrevocable consequences. There are ramifications for you and everyone you love even if you think the decision only affects you.

  Something I wish I had learned long ago.

  Everything seems so strange now. The dream appeared real and tangible, to the point I almost began to believe it was my real life. Weeks went by, but not even half a week had passed here. Crazy is how I felt for a few weeks after waking up, but that’s slowly gone away.

  Now, two months later, everything’s back to normal, with the entire fall and hospital fiasco behind me.

  I haven’t seen or heard from Zach, and I can tell Oliver’s quite happy about that. He hadn’t been pleased with having him around at the hospital, nor had he liked finding out Zach built the house he was interested in buying. He swore if he had known, we wouldn’t have gone to see it, but let the whole thing go when I reassured him it wasn’t his fault or a problem, for that matter.

  Despite Zach telling me we could buy it if I wanted, we passed on it and have continued looking for another. So far, nothing has caught both of our eyes, but that’s okay because we have plenty of time until the baby arrives.

  At fourteen weeks, I’m finally showing; the pregnancy easy and going well.

  Oliver takes every chance he gets to rest his hands on or put his mouth close to my stomach. He talks, sings, and simply lights up with everything that involves our child.

  He’s going to make a magnificent father.

  As for me, with my lack of experience with any children and the relationship with my own parents, I’m nervous about becoming a mother.

  Actually, beyond anxious. More along the lines of terrified.

  I’ve been thinking about it a lot and after that dream, or whatever it was, my parents have entered my mind more now than since the day I left home. Wondering how they are, if they’re both alive and healthy, if they miss me, and if they would want to know their grandchild once I give birth.

  The curiosity has been so intense that a few weeks back I dialed the home number to my parent’s house — the one they’ve had since before I was born — and my mother picked up the phone. I didn’t speak; I couldn’t. I heard her voice and all the anger and hurt and yes, even the love I don’t want to feel for her after everything…it was all there below the surface, just waiting for me to let it out.

  She said hello twice before I lost my nerve and hung up on her, tears streaming down my face for hours after as all the emotions I should’ve let out a long time ago came pouring out.

  I meant, and still mean, what I said to Zach. I’m forcing myself to let go and move on. To heal, finally.

  My child needs a mother who can deal with h
urt, disappointment, and rejection, as well as a mother that has her shit together, at least more than I have in a long time.

  Yes, I’ve come a long way from the girl who couldn’t even fold her laundry or cook because her parents had servants who did all that, but I can admit that there are plenty of things left that need improvement.

  As for Oliver? I want better for him, too. Everything affects both of us. His promotion helped a little, yet I’ve been working hard to make sure he gets out more so he can gain some confidence. It’s amazing to see him make decisions without constantly asking me what I think we should do. Not that he doesn’t ask for my opinion; just that now he trusts his own more than ever before and mine adds to it, rather than overrides his because of uncertainty.

  That’s why I love him more every day and am confident in my decision to marry him now. We’re growing together, and our life will be better than I could’ve ever imagined just a few months ago.

  In some moments, it’s easy to believe he and our unborn child will be all I need, but that’s not true.

  Reconnecting with my parents is necessary. Vital, really, if I want to shut down old hurts for good so I can truly move on and give them an opportunity to be involved in their grandchild’s life.

  It’s just the question of when I’ll get the nerve to let that happen now. Each day, tomorrow looks the better option, and I know the longer I take, the more chances tomorrow may be too late.

  And through all that has happened, I don’t want to chance being too late.

  So, I pick up the phone and dial the one number there’s no chance I’ll ever forget.

  When nobody answers, I hang up and barely suppress the urge to bawl my eyes out from the sudden disappointment I never expected to feel.

  After no one had answered the phone, Oliver suggested we look for the information online. It was hard for me to say why I wanted to know if they were alive and living in the same place without telling him about the bizarre dream, but I managed.