CHAPTER 19
Present Day
The next morning when I arrived at LAX, my mom and Rose were waiting for me at the curb. I couldn’t ever recall a time when my mom looked as good as she did now. She looked younger and fitter than I remembered her looking when she was married to my dad. I knew it must be because she was in love with Dr. Fox, and I hated that fact. I mean, I wanted to be happy for her. I did. But that was so hard to be when her happiness felt like a slap in the face.
Driving back to her place in Trabuco Canyon, we talked about things like the weather, the traffic, and how California compared to Washington. In other words, we kept to safe topics. We all seemed to know we’d have to address the highly-charged topics sooner or later, and we would. They would just have to be approached in the right time and in a careful way.
This was the first time I had visited my mom since she had moved here, and I was surprised to see that she lived in a nice middle-class neighborhood. From the things she had said to me about her new place, I imagined her living in a slum where the houses were practically built on top of each other and where there was trash in the streets and drug-dealers around every corner. I mean, this neighborhood was definitely a step down compared to our former family home in Woodinville, and yes, the houses were built ridiculously close to each other. But it was a nice neighborhood where kids played in the streets and neighbors waved and smiled warmly as we drove by.
My mom’s 2-story, 3-bedroom, 2.5 bath home was just like all the others, the only difference being the exterior color and a few finishes. The interior was decorated very differently than when my parents had been married, in a much more feminine way. Everything was either pink, sparkly, shiny, or some pastel color instead of in my parents’ usual traditional style. There were dozens of pictures on the walls of Rose and me, and other modern paintings as well, but the only picture I found of my dad was in Rose’s room.
Once I’d unpacked in the guest bedroom, we went grocery shopping and spent the rest of the day relaxing on the beach.
We headed home and I took a long hot shower before retiring to the guest bedroom. It was then I realized my phone was still turned on airplane mode from the flight. When I turned it back on, I saw that I had seven missed phone calls from Spencer and that he had sent me three text messages.
My heart ached as much as my blood boiled with anger. One thing was certain: If I was going to get him out of my mind and out of my life, I was going to have to revert to drastic measures. Without even reading the messages, I blocked him.
The next couple of weeks went by in a haze with me going on long runs on the beach and helping my mom repaint her entire house, inside and outside. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I was severely tempted to unblock Spencer to read his text messages and to see if he had reached out again, but I remained determined in my choice to cut him out of my life completely. I felt really good about my decision—empowered. I just hoped it would get easier with time. Someday, maybe the thought of him might not hurt so. At least that’s what I told myself.
Fifteen days after I had arrived in California, I was just finishing off some trim work on the exterior of my mom’s house when I lost my balance and nearly fell off the ladder. To prevent myself from falling the four feet I was up in the air, I had to let go of the paint and grip the roof. The pale blue paint splattered across the lawn below and I cursed, knowing it was going to be a bitch to clean up.
My mom came running out of the house, and when she saw the paint, she gasped.
“I’m sorry!” I said. “I lost my balance.”
She looked up at me and grimaced.
“I’ll clean it up,” I said. Out of nowhere, another dizzy spell hit me, and I swayed enough that the ladder tipped a little.
“Honey, are you ok?” my mom asked.
“Yeah, I… I… uh, must be dehydrated,” I said.
“Come down before you kill yourself,” she said. “I’ll make you some nice fresh lemonade.”
I climbed down the ladder, still feeling uncommonly dizzy. I followed my mom inside and sat on the couch in the living room for a moment. Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit. I shot to my feet and darted into the half-bath downstairs, just making it on time as I hurled into the toilet.
“You ok, sweetie?” my mom asked through the door.
“I…” I threw up again, but it did little to ease the intense queasiness I was experiencing. Was it something I ate? I did have a poke bowl for lunch. Did I have food poisoning?
Once I’d finished throwing up, I unlocked the door and headed into the kitchen where my mom was finishing up making lemonade.
“You don’t look so well,” she said, her expression one of concern.
“I don’t feel so well. Maybe I have food poisoning,” I said. I remembered the last time I threw up, which was when Jane told me about how Spencer had destroyed my dad’s practice.
“Something on your mind?” she asked. My mom always knew when I was getting lost in thought.
I had been here for over two weeks, and although I had tried to time and again grease the wheels on the Spencer lawsuit conversation, she had avoided it like the plague. I was getting to the end of my rope when it came to being patient with her. However, in this moment, I felt too crappy to get into things.
“I think I’ll go lie down for a bit,” I said.
She handed me a glass of fresh-pressed lemonade.
“Try and get some liquid in you,” she said.
I took the glass and headed upstairs to the guest room, then locked myself inside and sat on the bed. I glanced at my phone and was overwhelmed by an urge to check and see what Spencer had texted me. In my weak state, I just couldn’t resist anymore. I picked up my phone and proceeded to unblock him. There were no new messages from him, but I decided to read the ones he had previously sent.
After I’d propped a couple of pillows behind my back and found a comfortable sitting position—well, as comfortable as I could while still feeling as if I might vomit any second—I navigated into his text messages and started reading.
Text 1: I realize you are mad at me and you have every right to be. But please call me. I need to talk to you.
Text 2: I need you to stop ignoring me and call me back. I have something very important to discuss with you.
Text 3: I don’t do apologies unless I know I’m in the wrong. I admit that I have been in the wrong for a very long time with you and I sincerely apologize. Please give me the chance to make it up to you, Ellie. We have something special and I will do whatever you want to have the chance to be with you. Anything. Please, just give us a chance. I know I messed up and I want to come clean about why I treated you the way I did. I can’t stop thinking about you and the night we shared. I don’t want this to be the end. Please call me.
~Spencer
I let the phone fall to my lap as his words swirled through my mind. The texts seemed sincere, and it was the first time I ever remember him expressing this type of sincerity to me. Maybe I should have ignored and blocked him again, but I knew he was right: we had something special and I couldn’t stop thinking about that night we shared either.
But that was one night in a sea of misery. Would we ever be able to make anything of this? If I didn’t call him back, I’d never know.
I stared at my phone for a few minutes, then decided to call him. He picked up after two rings.
“Ellie?”
“Hey,” I said. “I… uh…”
“I’m so glad you called.”
“You are?” I said.
“Yes. Listen. I’ve been thinking,” he said. “I think I know how we can make this work.”
“Spencer…” I started, feeling like this was a bad idea.
“But first I have to come clean about something,” he said.
“I already know,” I said. “Ja… a friend told me… about why your mother died.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“I’m really sorry about your mother. It broke my heart to learn that my father was responsible.”
“You didn’t already know?” he asked.
“No,” I said, just now realizing he didn’t know that I didn’t know. “And I didn’t know that you were suing my father either… that you are after my inhabitance.”
“That I realized you didn’t know,” he said.
“So the way you’ve been treating me all these years, it was because my dad mis-diagnosed your mother?” I asked.
“I don’t want to do this over the phone,” he said, and I could hear the irritation in his voice. “Let’s discuss over dinner.”
“I’m actually out of town,” I said. “Please just tell me.”
“When do you get back?” he asked.
“I’m not sure. Before school starts.”
“That’s not for several weeks,” he said. “Then I’ll come to you.”
“No, I—”
“I need to talk to you!” he snapped.
“Drop the lawsuit and then we’ll talk,” I replied.
“Ellie… I can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I just… I can’t,” he said.
“Then we have nothing further to discuss,” I said. “Good-bye, Spencer.” I hung up and my stomach tensed. The muscles in my shoulders knotted tightly. The man hadn’t changed at all. He didn’t want me. He wanted to avenge his mother and to rob my family—me of all my father had built.
My phone rang and it was Spencer calling.
After rejecting the call, I went into my contacts and blocked him again. I should never have called him. Clearly, it was a mistake. Now I was feeling just as bad as I did the night he had sex with me, then left me. I pulled the blanket over my body and rested my head on the pillow. I hated how the tears flowed. I didn’t want to care about that man. He had put me through hell and now it would seem he wanted to drag me through an even worse hell.
I glanced at the lemonade but found myself unable to even consider taking a sip. If I had food poisoning, then why didn’t my mom have food poisoning? We ate at the same place and ordered the same bowls.
I tried not to think about that the cause of my nausea could be something else entirely. I tried not to think about how Jen told me the morning-after pill might not work.
Shit.
The morning-after pill hadn’t worked.
Shit. What should I do?
I need to know for sure.
Abruptly, I sat up and flung the blanket off. Whoa. Too fast. As soon as the dizzy spell had passed, I headed downstairs and saw through the living room window that my mom was using the garden hose to clean up the paint mess I had made. I stepped outside.
“I’m just going to head to the grocery store for something,” I said.
“Would you like me to go get it for you?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“No,” I said, not wanting her to know about the pregnancy test. “I’ll be fine.”
“Ok, sweetie. The car keys are on the kitchen counter. Drive safe, ok?”
“Thanks.” I went back inside, grabbed the keys, and hopped into the car. A few minutes later, I found myself in the parking lot at the local grocery store. My knees were shaking as I walked in. I located the right aisle and didn’t make eye contact with anyone as I pulled a pregnancy test off the shelf. I made sure to do the self-check out and then I locked myself in the grocery store bathroom. Best to take the test here so that my mom doesn’t find it in the trash at home.
I peed on the stick and replaced the cap with shaky hands. A couple minutes passed but I didn’t dare look at the results. Somehow, deep inside, I knew I wouldn’t like what I would see.
I said a silent prayer as I held the test in my hand, as the nausea I had been feeling all along doubled in strength. I couldn’t stop quivering so.
“Oh, to hell with it,” I mumbled, angry at myself for not being tougher than this. I glanced at the test and stared at the display, eight terrifying letters staring back at me.
P-R-E-G-N-A-N-T
END OF BOOK 1
BOOK 2 in the Reckless Enemies Series
“Twisted Truce”
Available September 29, 2019