My mouth drops open and Nathan’s body tenses further. I remain behind him, my heart racing with fear. “She’s carrying Caleb’s child,” Nathan says and shifts on the spot.
“So she says,” his father adds and my temper rises. How dare he?
“Why are you still standing there?” His mother shouts at me and my hands instantly go to my stomach. How do I react to this? “Leave!”
Nathan steps to the right, blocking them from view. “She’ll stay as long as she desires. She’s my guest.”
“She’s nothing but a whore,” his mother adds, trying to lean around Nathan so she can see me and spit her venomous words at my face.
“Mother.” Mother? Why not mum? “Watch your language.”
“You’ll get rid of her,” his father snaps and walks towards us. “Send her back. That’s an order.” Well I see where Nathan gets his controlling tendencies from.
Now I’m really freaking out. My skin feels warm. I feel nauseous and dizzy. I want to leave but I’m stunned into stillness.
His words plague me and twist my fears into a knot that rests at the base of my tongue.
Get rid of me? Where will I go?
“She’s carrying your grandchild,” Nathan bites out, his body turning so his hand can wrap around my bicep and bring me closer. I’m grateful for the support.
“That’s no grandchild of mine,” his mother sneers, her eyes now on me. Damn it, if I wasn’t pregnant I’d be cursing at her right now. How dare she? “Don’t you care that she ripped our Caleb from us?” My lips part with horror. I did no such thing.
“He’s doing this to spite us,” his father laughs, nodding at Nathan, but there’s no humour to it. “Forever the disappointment.”
“What?” I gasp and look up at Nathan. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye, warning me to be quiet. I won’t. Not anymore. “How can you say that?”
“Listen to her, she sounds so… common,” his mother spits, her mouth curling in disgust. “You make me want to spit.” Oooh, big words…
“What did I do to you?” I try to take a step forward but Nathan holds me in place.
“You took him from me!” His mother shouts, her distress evident in the tears pooling in her eyes. For some reason my heart goes out to her. A mother has lost her child and she needs someone to blame. That doesn’t make this right, though. “His last moments were with you. Not with us.”
“See what this is doing to your mother?” His father shouts at Nathan, whose entire body is rigid. “Look at her!”
“Come on,” Nathan says to me and begins to lead me to the door. “Those files still need printing and faxing. I’ve done the majority.”
“You can return once she’s gone,” his father snarls, and swings open the door. “If she’s not gone by the end of the week, you won’t have a job here, boy. Make the right choice, your family or your brother’s whore.”
Nathan pulls me out as I give a long and lingering look of hatred towards his father. My body trembles and I struggle to put one foot in front of the other as we leave.
As soon as we enter the elevator after avoiding Sophie’s eyes, my heart breaks. I’m going to lose Nathan and his home. It shouldn’t be so devastating, but it is. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to do this alone.
“Nathan,” I say softly, my legs barely keeping up with his long strides towards his car. We climb in and buckle up before hightailing it out of there. Just like the elevator ride, the car journey back towards the hotel is silent.
“Stay here,” he snaps, his tone angry and clipped. I do as I’m told and wait in the car as he rushes into the hotel. He doesn’t take long, only fifteen minutes before he’s climbing back into the driver’s seat.
We race along the streets, breaking more traffic laws than I’d care to admit. He pulls up outside a bank and orders me to wait here again.
This time I’m waiting for an hour, my mind working overtime, my hands still trembling from the adrenaline that was released during the heated argument. What am I going to do?
Nathan storms out of the bank and stands beside the car for a moment. I watch him pace a few times, his gloved fingers ripping through his hair before he finally climbs into the driver’s seat.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, concerned for my friend.
He chews on his lower lip for a moment before swearing a few times and hitting the steering wheel with the side of his fist. This brings back memories of Caleb, the time he gave me an orgasm in his car after we lost a tyre.
“Hey,” I soothe and place my hand on his wrist, careful to not touch his skin. “What is it?”
“He’s cut me off.” He snarls and I blink in shock.
“How can he cut you off? You work there. Surely you get your own pay cheque?”
“I do, but it’s all in stocks and shares.” I shudder at the thought. “I’ve been living off my trust fund, hoping to gain enough revenue to… Damn it!”
I rub his wrist with my thumb, wanting to stroke his hair or hug him to make him feel better. “You’ll be okay. You’ll figure it out.”
“I know, I have money to get by, it’s just the principle,” he snaps, like I should know this. “I’m sick to death of… of…”
“Being controlled?”
He glares at me. “Mind your own business.”
I shrink back at the tone of his voice. I’ve never heard it so venomous. For a moment there I could see his mum in him and it’s not an attractive thing to behold.
“I should have just set you up in an apartment, but no. I had to take you home,” He rants, mostly to himself. “I had to get involved. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”
“I’m sorry,” I whimper, wishing he’d just shut up now. “I didn’t ask you…”
“Honestly? You didn’t ask? Didn’t you call my parents begging for help?”
“I was…”
“Desperate, I know,” he shouts, pulling the car out into the road. My eyes burn; I don’t deserve this. “I was there when you called.”
Then he’s a bloody good liar because I specifically remember his shock when I told him about that call.
“I never should have gone to you. You’ve ruined everything.” He hits the steering wheel again, causing the horn to go off.
I don’t say anything. I want to get out of the car but I doubt he’ll stop in order for me to do so and, even if he does, where would I go? I don’t have any money. I don’t even have my phone with me.
“This isn’t my problem; that kid isn’t my problem,” he continues. I try to mentally shut him out but the masochist in me keeps listening, absorbing and storing his words so I can use them against myself at a later date. “Why did he pick you? Out of every single female that was available to him, he chose you. Why? He could have picked a female who had her own money, someone who could provide for herself in this situation.” It’s not like Caleb knew he’d be abandoning me, so his rhetorical questions make no sense. “Why did it have to be you?”