Filthy English (26 page)

“WAIT,” HE SAID,
grabbing my hand to pull me back as I jerked off the couch and stumbled in my haste to get away from him. The arm of the couch saved me from falling. My breath snagged, my body ice-cold as if a Siberian wind had blown in the room.

No. No.
Not this
.

His question triggered a wasteland of memories I didn’t want to revisit.

Shaking my head furiously, I bolted for the kitchen and out the back door. The night air greeted me as I leaned over the rail that lined the patio.

Don’t puke, don’t puke.

Out of control. Need control.

I took deep breaths, inhaling. Exhaling.

How did he know?

“Remi?”

“Go away.” Wetness fell from my face. “Leave me alone.
Please
.” My voice was a broken mess.

He touched my back. Soft little brushes as he traced my shoulders. “I can’t, love. I need answers.”

“Stop!” I yelled at him, flinching away. I couldn’t think when he touched me like he cared.

I ran down the steps to the yard, but it was dark and hard to see. I turned in erratic circles.

God.

I had nowhere to go, nowhere to run.

The sins of my past had caught up with me.

He’d chased me through the yard and caught my arm as I came to a halt in front of a large oak tree. He turned me around, peering down at me. Moonlight struck his face, accentuating his beauty, the sharp lines of his face, the shape of his mouth.

I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see him.

He’s going to be your ruin
, my head said.

He pushed hair out of my face. “Shhh, it’s okay. Don’t be upset, Remi. Please. I just want you to tell me.”

My entire body shook, and I shuddered against him.

He exhaled, and wrapped me up in his arms. “Please. Remi, forgive me for asking—but I have to know.”

I rested against him, giving in, my chest heaving. “How . . .”

He rubbed my back. “Eva-Maria told me. I saw her today and told her to stay away from you, and then it just came out. She thought I knew.” He paused. “I would have helped you. I would have done something. I don’t know what, but please, talk to me.”

I leaned back to see his face. Searched his eyes. “You want to know how I dealt with my blackest moment? You want to know what it feels like to be pregnant by a guy who was probably screwing someone else the next day?”

“Yes.”

My throat caught.

Tell the truth, Remi. Let him see the emptiness you’d been left with.

I pulled myself out of his arms, backing myself up to the tree.

Swallowing, I said, “I found out I was pregnant when my period didn’t come two weeks later. The campus clinic confirmed what my early pregnancy test had already told me. I—I was on the pill and you used a condom, but there were a few times—you didn’t. I was so stupid! And I thought—I thought you felt the same way about me. I slept with you for three days—because I imagined myself in love with you! Love at first sight. Soul mates. So ridiculous.” A bitter laugh erupted. “You were the only thing I did that was not part of my plan and it ended up nearly ruining my life.”

“I’m sorry.” Even in the darkness, I saw the torture on his face.

“Knowing I was going to have a baby changed everything. All my plans. Yet, when I saw those two blue lines, I
wanted
that baby. I made another plan—if I could get through fall semester, I was going to drop out, have the baby, and go to college later. Somehow I was going to make it work even if I had to live with my mom.”

“What happened?”

A harsh laugh came out of me. “
What happened?
At eleven weeks, I was in my advisor’s office and started . . . hurting. When I stood up blood was in the chair, on my pants. They—they called an ambulance. My mom came . . . She didn’t even know I was pregnant until she got to the hospital.”

I hugged myself, rubbing my arms. “They told me there was no heartbeat. It was simply gone. Someone I loved had died
.
Again.
And just like my dad, I never even got to say goodbye. I never got to hold my baby. For weeks I grieved. I kept telling myself I’d get over you, that I’d forget about the baby.” I furiously wiped my face. “I was a walking zombie—and every time I saw you on campus with another girl, I wanted to shatter into a million pieces all over again.”

He exhaled and dropped his head, his hands pressing against his thighs. “God. You’re killing me.” His voice was ragged. Torn into pieces.

“I’d been careless and flighty. I made a mistake, and I promised myself I’d never do it again. My mom said it was for the best—God’s way of giving me another chance. I needed to focus on what I needed instead of what I wanted. And then—I met Hartford, and
he loved me.”

A shuddering breath came out of Dax. “
Fuck.
I can’t take this.”

Silence grew between us, stretching all the way to the stars.

The air seemed to hold its breath, heavy and thick with emotion; me brimming with grief and him with regret. I saw it on his face as we stared at each other in the moonlight, neither of us moving, neither of us speaking.

I wanted to run into his arms and let him comfort me.

I wanted him to hold me and tell me he loved me—but he didn’t.

He never had.

I whimpered. Distance. I needed it. Now.

Moving fast, I slid past him, the grass wet beneath my bare feet. Like a statue, he didn’t move to stop me.

I slipped into the house and went back to the den. With shaking fingers, I threw a blanket from the hall closet over a still-sleeping Malcolm and went upstairs. I didn’t stop to wash my face or brush my teeth or put on nightclothes. Falling into bed, I crawled up to the pillow, tugged it into my chest, closed my eyes, and wept.

Much later, as I lay awake, my door opened and he came in. Even though my back was to the door, I knew it was Dax because my body came alive, my skin aching for his touch.

He lifted the covers, slid into the bed, and formed his body to mine. His nose pressed into my nape as his arm encircled my waist as if he never wanted to let me go. His hand slid down to mine, and I clasped it tight.

“I can’t know what you went through, but I’m here now,” he whispered.

My breath hitched; I felt leftover tears rise up again, but I swallowed them down.

He kissed my hair.

And, eventually, we slept.

Sunday dawned. Dax was gone from my bed by the time I’d gotten up around nine. Part of me was glad. The other part didn’t know what was going on.

I came downstairs after my shower and saw he’d been out already and had gotten a new coffee pot and filters along with a bag of Starbucks coffee. Another bag of pastries rested on the table. He must have been up early. I pulled out a chocolate donut and ate it while looking out at the backyard.

He knew now. He knew about the baby. He knew that I’d believed myself in love with him after three nights together. For a reason I couldn’t explain, relief filled me. The secret had been mine to carry for too long—and telling him, even if it was hard to revisit, made me feel lighter.

Malcolm and I spent the early part of the day hanging out with Lulu and getting her moved in her dorm. While Malcolm had been out of the room to get boxes from her car, I’d given her the lowdown on everything that had transpired between Dax and me.

“If living with him gets too hard, you can always apply to be my roommate next semester,” she offered as we unpacked her clothes and put them in the closet.

“I’d hate to be mean to Carla if you dumped her for me before the year is up.” Carla was her roomie and they’d been friends for a while.

She sighed. “Yeah. I keep hoping she’ll decide to move in with her boyfriend, but she hasn’t.” Her eyes narrowed in on my face. “So, just noticing here, but you seem good.”

“Malcolm is here, you are here, I’m going to graduate this year, and I have some money.”

“And you have Hartford.”

“Yes.”

Needing to change the topic, I grinned and held up a shirt with white skulls and cut-outs everywhere. “Do you really wear this to class?”

She smirked. “Of course. And tonight, I’m wearing this!” A mini tank dress appeared, dangling from her fingers. Black with red roses and pin-up girls on the material, it was, um, eye-catching.

“Nice. Where you going?”

She pouted. “Don’t you mean where are
we
going? Remember, it’s the day before classes and ladies’ night at Cadillac’s. It’s practically a tradition we go.”

“We went one time our sophomore year,” I said dryly.

She tsked. “And we’re going tonight, so you best find something cute and flirty and come with. I promise to buy you drinks.”

“Uh, they’re free.”

She snorted. “Okay, so I’ll trek to the bar and be your errand girl while you chat and dance—”

“There’ll be no dancing.”

“Don’t you want to wash your hair in front of everyone at Cadillac’s?” Her lips twitched.

I threw a pillow at her. “It was the best I could do!”

She laughed. “And you looked good, I swear.”

“Liar.” I smiled. “Anyway, Hartford wants to see me tonight. He had family stuff all weekend.”

She groaned. “Fine, invite Hairy. I’m desperate to get out and see everyone. Aren’t you?”

I raised a brow, thinking. “I don’t have a thing to wear.”

“Wear that silk number from London, the one that made Dax’s eyeballs pop out of his head. Maybe try some heels this time.”

“No heels. Ever.” I paused. “Besides, don’t you think a dress is too fancy for Cadillac’s?”

“Nope. Not where there’s a blue-haired British boy popping in to see us.” She squealed, her hands fluttering around. “Oh my God, I wasn’t supposed to tell you. Shit! Spider’s been texting me for days arranging to surprise Dax tonight.”

“What are you talking about?”

She giggled and settled in on the bed, crossing her legs. “Spider’s coming and we’re having a party for Dax’s new house. Declan is supposed to get Dax to Cadillac’s, and I’m supposed to bring you.”

“Me? I don’t understand. And why you are suddenly texting a rock star? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

An impish grin spread across her face. “He only texted a few times.”

“How many?”

She shrugged.

“Spill.”

She just grinned.

I pursed my lips. “I think you have some ’splaining to do.”

“Whatever. It’s nothing. We’re just friends. He’s still in love with some Mila girl.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t say it like that.” Her face flushed a deep red.

“Fine, fine. But now I’m wondering what you two were up to while Dax and I were getting our tattoos . . . oh shit . . . my tattoo. Whatever I wear, it’s got to cover it.” I grimaced.

She ran to her closet and pulled out a short, lime-green dress with a mandarin collar.

“It’s so bright.” I held up my hands to shield my eyes.

“Nah. It’s classy with a bit of slut, and the top is high enough to cover your Union Jack.” She held it up to my frame and I peered down at it. It was short.

“You know I weigh about fifteen pounds more than you, right?”

She pushed it in my hands. “Here. Take it home and try it—and put something besides flats with it.”