“Just nervous about tonight.” It’s a half-truth that I hope she accepts.
“Honey, I already see it coming together. It’s going to be a great night for you.”
“Raven, can you please make Lauren get out of here so she can get ready for tonight? We have this all under control,” Hillary says through clenched teeth.
“I really should get to my appointments,” I try to muster up some enthusiasm.
“Yes, you need to get out of here, I will step in, and whatever they need me to do I’m available."
“Okay. I’m going.” I grip the strap of my purse and maneuver my way through the sea of busy people working together to make my opening night perfect. When I reach outside, I let out a sigh of relief to get some alone time.
“Penny for your thoughts?” I’m surprised when I look up and see Dexter Jr. sitting inside a matte black Rolls Royce.
“Hi,” I say trying to keep the iciness out of my voice. He and I have been on the edge of cordial for awhile. We haven’t been friendly since I found out he lied to me about Cal.
“You’re a little early for the party.” I assumed that he and Helen were coming, but I am surprised to see him here so early. Looking at Dexter reminds me of the secrets and lies that have been tethered to my life.
“Where are you heading? Would you like a ride?” he asks, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
“No thanks.” I turn and begin to walk away from him.
“I think we should talk Lauren,” he calls after me, the smugness erased from his tone.
“What on earth would we have to talk about?”
“Your husband.”
“Right… what would you tell me that Helen hasn’t?” I dare him.
“Helen is bound by certain ethical restrictions. I am not.”
I bite my lip. What could possibly go wrong from talking to Dexter? It’s not like this situation could get any worse. His driver comes around and opens the door for me before I’m even able to touch the handle.
“Thank you.” I get in and he closes the door behind me. I take in the softness of the leather, the decadence of the finishes—this car whispers wealth.
“First time in a Rolls?” he asks, and the awe must be written all over my face.
“So what do you want to talk about?” I ignore his question and get straight to the point.
“I know I was never exactly forthcoming with you, but please know, it was never because of who you are but because of who I am, and what was asked of me.”
“Did you know that he was your brother?” I ask bluntly. His answer to this question will let me know if this is a waste of my time and if he’s only here to ease his own conscience or if he is ready to be more honest with me.
“Not at first. But I am a Crestfield and the lengths my father encouraged me to go made me begin to wonder.”
“When did you find out?” I ask him as he pours himself a glass of brown liquid.
“Right before your wedding.” He brings the glass to his lips.
I let out a deep breath. “Why am I here, Dexter? You must have something important to tell me.”
“Has Cal talked to you about that night?”
“What night?” I ask confused.
“The night when he went to visit his relative from long ago.”
“No. After everything happened he was really broken up about it, and then Collin took over.”
His face sets into one of deep thought. “Actually no. Cal came back briefly a few days ago. I thought he was Chris, and he may have said something about it, but I was too intoxicated to remember what or if it happened at all.” I admit. “Why? Is it something important?” I ask him curiously.
“It could be very important,” he says more to himself than me. “I couldn’t be helpful to you initially because Cal had sworn me to secrecy,” he begins. “Now I’m not bound by that promise. One of my pharmacists disclosed that Collin requested Naltrexonel and Xanax,” he explains, and I feel my face scrunch up.
“I’m sorry, what is that?”
“Naltrexonel is usually given to those who are trying to overcome a drug addiction, but we found that it suppresses emotional urges, and combined with Xanax—”
“He doesn’t want to feel anything?” I ask him confused.
“As you know, switching occurs due to triggers. Collin usually doesn’t respond to those things because he’s the one who isn’t supposed to be affected by that, but things seem to have changed. Xanax can have different side effects including impaired memory. We think by him mixing them he believes─”
“He believes what?”
“We think that he may be trying to create a permanent block, similar to what we were once developing for Cal,” he explains, and my heart has started to race.
“But Collin’s supposed to be…” I let out a long sigh. “I made him this way,” I say feeling guilt gripping my entire body.
“No, he is who he is. If anything you’re what’s keeping them together.”
I don’t believe it though. “So what do I do? What do we do?” I am hoping that someone will give me the answer to all of this.
“If you confront him about it, he’ll explain. Or admit his intentions and if need be—we have him committed.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask in shock.
“He can’t self-prescribe medication, Lauren. It’s dangerous, and we’re not aware of how it would affect him.” He states plainly. “Helen and I will be at your party tonight. If you notice anything strange or out of the ordinary—if he seems to be a danger to himself or anyone else—we’ll have to act tonight. I hate to tell you this on your big night,” he says sounding genuine.
“No, it’s fine. I would rather know than be left in the dark.”
“Where were you heading?” he asks.
“Home.” The little voice in my head says my life is going to hell in a hand basket.
When I get home and open the door, I’m surprised to hear children playing. I’m even more stunned when I see Mr. and Mrs. Scott sitting on our couch watching television and a little blonde girl playing with Caylen and her toys.
“Hi Lauren,” he says, and the biggest headache of my life joins my already nauseous stomach.
“Hi, you’re pretty,” the little girl giggles, and when my senses kick back in, I realize that this must be Willa seeing as she looks just like Lisa.
“Thank you, so are you.” I give her a forced smile. Mr. Scott’s eyes land on mine, and I see such a huge difference from when I saw him last. His eyes are bright and full of life, his beard and hair trimmed and no longer wild. He doesn’t look like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders, or like a man who unleashed a terrible secret on his family. He looks happy, and a part of me is glad, while the other part is wondering what he is doing here.
“Chris wanted me to come,” he explains reading my expression.
“Chris wanted you to come?”
“He called me last night, and said he wanted us to be here for your opening.” They both look at me bewildered. “He didn’t tell you?”