Once the sound of their footsteps fades, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I turn to Dean, who still looks pissed off by the intrusion.
“I’m so sorry, Dean.”
“Don’t apologize. The dude is a fucking psycho. You okay?”
I nod, inching away from the bed. “I should probably get going, anyway. It’s getting late. I just wanted the satisfaction of telling him no.”
A slow grin spreads across Dean’s face. “I like you, Daisy.”
My smile is automatic. “Me, too.”
After exchanging numbers with Dean, I head home. The walk isn’t all that far, just a few blocks. Though it is a little creepy to do it on my own so late at night. My mom would shit herself if she knew what I was doing. I blow out a sigh of relief when my house comes into view.
My heart drops when a shadow suddenly shoots out from nowhere, and a hand clamps over my mouth just as I’m about to scream. I’m spun around, then roughly slammed up against the side of my house. I expect to feel pain or a groping of some sort, but it never comes. When the shadow moves forward, and the streetlight illuminates his features, I gasp. My heart lodges in my throat, and I smack him away from me.
“What the hell is the matter with you? You scared me half to death!”
“What the fuck are you thinking, Daisy?” Callan grits, getting in my face again. “You’re better than this.”
A strike of lightning gets trapped in my chest—frissons of electricity, of rage, fire through my veins.
“Who do you think you are? You’ve been nothing but an asshole to me for the past two years. What makes you think you have any say about anything in my life?”
Something dangerous flashes in his gaze, and his lips thin. “Stay away from him.”
I scoff, shoving him away from me again for good measure. “You have some fucking nerve, Reed. Why don’t you do us both a favor and stay the hell away from me?”
His face contorts in a grimace. “You can do so much better than Dean Fletcher, Dais. Quit begging for attention.”
I jerk back at his hateful words. “You really think this is about you? Screw you! I couldn’t care less. Go fuck Skylar for all I care. I’ll screw Dean in peace, and we’ll all be happy. Don’t worry about me because I’ve sure as shit stopped worrying about you, Cal.” With that, I shove away from him and stomp toward my house.
“You’re making a mistake with him, and you know it.”
His words stop me in my tracks. I shoot him a glare over my shoulder, summoning all of my resentment for what I’m going to say next.
“The only mistake I’ve ever made is trusting you. My biggest regret is and will always be you, Callan Reed.”
He must not be all ice and stone because I see the effect my words have on him. For a fraction of a second, he looks pained, as if my words truly hurt him.
Good.
It won’t even be half the pain I feel day in and day out when I think about him.
Squaring my shoulders, I cross our lawns and head inside. I tell myself I’m done with Callan Reed. Maybe this time I’ll actually believe it.
Present
My eyes spring open at the shrill cry of a baby. It only takes a few seconds for my brain to play catch-up.
Whose baby is that? I don’t have a baby.
Shit!
Yes, I do.
I shoot off the bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes as I run into the guest room right next to mine. The infant inside the bassinet is kicking her little arms and legs, screaming like she hasn’t eaten for days—and believe me, I’d know—I just fed her no more than three hours ago.
“Faithy, baby. I need sleep,” I whine as I lift her from the bassinet and cradle her in my arms, padding toward the changing table.
It’s crazy how the universe works. Sometimes, you just have to stop and wonder if the man upstairs laughs at all your prayers and wishes. Does He look down on you with pity? Because He knows He truly holds all the cards, or does He not feel an ounce of remorse? For years, during my marriage with Dean, we tried everything we could to get pregnant, and still, nothing worked. I wanted nothing more than a family and a child of our own. But it seems my body couldn’t even do the one thing it was made to do. Reproduce.
The fact that I couldn’t have a baby put a strain on our marriage. The fact that I couldn’t give Dean the one and only thing he asked of me. After graduating high school, I fell into the wife’s role all too easily, and college took a back seat because that was how Dean wanted it. I didn’t need college when I had him. Because who else was going to keep the house clean? Who was going to make him dinner? He couldn’t have his wife gallivanting about—no, he needed me at home, where he could keep me under his thumb.
We went through years of heartbreak. Our friends and family wondered why we hadn’t started a family yet. Dean’s work colleagues frequently asked when I would give him kids, unaware that we’d been trying for years. Not realizing that each of their words was a well-placed dart to the heart.
It felt like I was never enough. I wasn’t woman enough to bear a child. I wasn’t strong enough to give my husband what he needed. We tried hormone treatments, failed IUIs and IVFs, and suffered a slew of heartbreaking miscarriages. I could see the sadness weighing on our marriage. It was palpable and damn near impossible to wade through. I couldn’t look at him without feeling panicked, and I couldn’t look at myself without being disgusted by what I saw. I felt like a failure.
A few times, I mentioned the possibility of adopting if things didn’t work out, but Dean didn’t want that. He wanted a child of his own flesh and blood—someone who could carry on his family name and legacy. Screw me and my feelings. Forget the fact that I was slowly shattering each and every time I got my period after a treatment. None of that mattered to him.
The mental process of infertility took a toll on me. I was sad and depressed almost all the time, and because I was stuck alone all day, without any personal interaction, it only made things worse. I think that was what made Dean’s affair so hurtful. It was a betrayal. It felt as though he’d stabbed me in the back. He found someone else to give him that baby, and, of course, it had to be with the one person he knew I couldn’t stand—the one person who has made my life a living hell for years.
I hadn’t spoken to my cousin, Skylar, in years, so when she started coming around again, deep down, I knew I should’ve pushed her away, but I didn’t, and that was my first mistake. Despite our rocky past, I embraced my cousin with open arms.
After I lost my mother, I wanted nothing more than to be surrounded by family. Especially since my father took it the hardest. He let himself go after she passed. He stopped being a father and stopped caring about…everything. So, when Skylar came around, the last shred of my family, I held on to her like a lifeline.
I just didn’t realize that opening my arms to her would equal her opening her legs for my husband. I don’t know how I missed the signs that they were sleeping together behind my back, but they went to great lengths to hide it. Or at the very least, Dean did. It wasn’t until a month before Skylar was due that I found out why.
She was pregnant.
With his baby.
My husband was finally going to have that baby—only, it wasn’t with me.