“Tell me what he said, Ian.” My words bite.
“I saw red, Sparrow. I asked him if that was the only way he could get laid—to get a virgin to pass out and he laughed … and said it did make it a lot less complicated…”
My chest hurts. I’ve given up trying not to cry and tears are falling, dropping on my chest or splatting across the dining room table.
“I started hitting him and I couldn’t stop. The only time I’ve ever gotten in a fight was in middle school. I don’t do that, baby. You have to know that. You do, right?”
I don’t say anything. So he just keeps talking.
“But Asher just kept that fucking grin across his face the whole time. I told him I’d break every bone in his body if he came near you again and I’d tell his constant little paparazzi caravan the truth about him if he so much as breathed a bad word about either of us.” Ian heaves a huge sigh. “And then I called the ambulance and got out of there.”
“He said you nearly killed him.”
Ian lets out a hollow laugh. “He wasn’t dying, Sparrow. Far from it. I hurt him, pretty bad, but he was nowhere near dying. I called the ambulance because I wanted it on record exactly what did happen to him, just in case he pulled something like this.”
I mull all of it over. My headache is back. I lay my head down on the table and try to process it all.
“I’m still not convinced that he didn’t put something in your drink. But even if he didn’t, he knew what he was doing…” he pauses. “Baby? Please say something.”
“I need to go, Ian. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
He’s talking as I hang up, and I don’t even care. I walk into my room in a daze, get in my bed, and fall asleep.
I wake up to Tessa hovering over me. “Ro? Wake up. Ro?”
I try to focus on her face. “What time is it?” I groggily sit up.
“It’s morning. Are you working today?” She props up my pillows, and I sleepily lean back on them.
“Not until this afternoon.”
“Okay. Well, I was at Jared’s and didn’t check my phone until this morning and there are, like, a dozen calls from Ian. You probably have more. He’s freaking out, Ro. What’s going on?”
“Long story,” I say, looking in her eyes and then down at my fingers. I pick at my nail polish.
She sits down on the bed. “You know I’ve got time. Spill. What’s going on with you two?”
“Well, it’s more about Asher Caldwell.” I lean my head back and close my eyes. I’m still so tired. Tessa’s body gets tense. “There’s something I never told you about him.”
I tell her the whole story, start to finish. Afterwards, we’re holding onto each other in my bed, both crying and blowing our noses. She’s livid with Asher, so sad that I went through that on my own, and trying to convince me that Ian was just protecting me.
“I know, but he still went about it all the wrong way. And then he should have told me what he’d done—and not let me hear it from Asher! What was he thinking? He could have gone to jail.”
“Yeah, he should have told you. I think he’s regretting that now. He sounds pretty stressed out. He left one long message saying he felt helpless because he’s across the country and can’t be with you right now. I was afraid the two of you had broken up or something.”
“No, but I did practically hang up on him yesterday.”
She smiles. “I love it when you get sassy.”
The next time Ian calls, I answer, and we talk through it. He’s so sorry he didn’t tell me what he’d done. I forgive him, but also let him know that I don’t want to hear any other secrets about my fiancé from anyone other than my fiancé. If we can’t have honesty between us, then we’re doomed.
- 23 -
2 months later
“Just think, the next time you’re home will be for your wedding,” my mom says as we work on party favors for my bridal shower. “Just a few months now.”
“December will be here before you can blink,” Tessa says. “Are you sure you wanna do this? Marriage is so permanent.”
We all laugh and keep tying tiny ribbons around each candy jar. Thirty-five women will be coming to my shower this weekend. We’ve had so much fun getting everything ready for it. It’s tedious work, but actually more relaxing than the rest of the wedding planning.
Ian came the second week into my trip. We had one of the best visits yet. It completely wiped away any worries I was having. We talked everything to death and put all the Asher drama to rest. He vowed to be upfront about everything from here on out. I reassured him, too, that I am ready for this. It felt like a timely discussion, to put it all on the table and move forward with our future.
I cannot wait to be his wife. I was excited when he asked me, but I am ecstatic now. The more I know about Ian, the more in love with him I am. It just gets better and better. Ian seems more excited now, too. The first few months of our engagement, I wasn’t always confident that he didn’t have second thoughts, but I know without a doubt that he’s sure now.
I don’t get to see him for another two weeks, and it’s torture! I will be so happy when we’re in the same place at the same time. Ian’s career is going well—he’s really happy with the direction it has taken. His songs are being recorded right and left by various artists, and the royalties are pouring in. I did a flying leap the other night when I heard one of his songs on the radio. He’s playing a show in Vegas right now, but come January, it’s been finalized for him to begin his solo project in New York. His tour will start in April and as soon as I graduate in May, I’ll be joining him on the tour. Penguin has pushed my release date back, which was disappointing at first, but now I know it’s for the best. I would have been working on edits while planning a wedding and that would have been way too much. Now, I’ll be working on edits while I’m on tour with Ian.
When all the wedding stuff seems really stressful, I imagine us traveling: me with my laptop, Ian with his guitar. That’s what I’m looking forward to—not the wedding so much as starting my life with him.
When Tessa leaves that night, I text Ian to let him know I’m going to bed early. He has a late show tonight, and I don’t think I can stay awake for him.
He texts back: Sleep, Little Bird. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I love you.
I crash pretty hard. Early in the morning, I feel a little chilled and I pull an extra blanket onto my bed. When I fall back to sleep, I dream.
I see the doors. They’re the same as always, except this time I feel like a tiny child in front of them. They’re bigger than they’ve ever been. I’m scared to open the right side but I do. Asher is the first one I see. He points at me, laughing. He has a drink in his hand and he passes it to Laila. She looks at me as she takes the drink and then she starts laughing at me. Michael sits, sunken into a big oversized chair, but when he sees me, he adjusts his posture and lets out a loud laugh at my perplexity. I look around. Where are my parents? Where is Tessa? I need Ian. I can’t breathe. And then I see him. He’s by Laila now, in that weird skip that dreams do. He leans over and takes a drink out of her glass, his eyes on me the whole time. I start crying for him to get me out of this room and he just watches me, never blinking once. I turn around and try to open the doors, but neither will open. I’m locked in.
I sit up in a cold sweat. My heart is pounding and I push the covers off, hoping to calm down. Instead of trying to go back to sleep, I take a shower. Are these wedding jitters?
All morning, I try to shake the funk, but I just can’t seem to get it off of me.
Ian calls a few hours later, and he hears it in my voice right away.
After trying to change the subject, I finally tell him about my dream. When I’m done, he’s completely quiet. Nothing, not a word.
Then something comes out of my mouth, and I’ll never know why or where it came from or why not sooner, but I say: “When do you think you’ll be over Laila?”
My own words rattle me, like the wind is being knocke
d right out of me by my own mindless doing.
Ian’s voice sounds strangled and very far away. “What do you mean?”
“I-mean-when-do-you-think-you’ll-be-over-Laila?” An island of single words strewn together that are going to ruin my entire life. I already know, without him saying a thing, that this will change everything.
“What do you want to know?” he whispers.
“I want to know everything. Start from the beginning.” I don’t even know this person who’s using my voice to speak. The words and the calm are surely not my own. “Are you having an affair with her?”
“No,” he says.
“Have you had an affair with her?”
He pauses and his voice cracks as he says, “Yes.”
“When?”
“Baby, I don’t—”
“Was it while we were together?”
Silence.
“WAS IT WHILE WE WERE TOGETHER?” I yell, my heart coming out of my throat like a ravaged animal.
“Yes,” he says, broken.
My whole body begins to tremble, starting at the crown of my head and rushing over every pore like blood when it oozes after a deep cut.
He’s saying in a rush of words, “Listen to me, I love you. I can’t lose you, Sparrow. Do you hear me? I made a mistake, but I cannot lose you. I’m coming to you. Are you listening?”
I throw the phone across the room and watch as the screen shatters.
I go in my closet and shut the door, leaving the light off. I don’t know how long I sit in there, crying and raging, but when I stand up and walk out, I wipe the tears and go pretend like nothing has happened.
If I have to talk about it with a single person, I will lose my mind.
During supper my mom and dad are chatty about the reception. I push food around on my plate and when they ask if I’m not feeling well, I tell them I’m not and go to bed.
The next morning, Charlie comes in my room early and wakes me up, “Sparrow? Honey? Wake up.”
I open my eyes and feel so angry that I’m awake. I was hoping the death I feel hanging over me would claim me, but it’s only my insides that are dead. The rest of me apparently has to keep on living.
“Sparrow, why is Ian parked in front of the house? He’s been out there since early this morning, and I just realized it’s him.”
“There’s some trouble,” I say, as if I’m discussing a new nail polish color.
“What sort of trouble? Should I let him in?” Charlie looks completely confused.
“I guess when he comes to the door, you can let him in,” I tell her.
She gives me an odd look, but when she realizes that’s all I’m gonna say, she doesn’t push it for once. I pull the covers back up to my chin and turn over. So very tired.
I get up a few hours later and freshen up before going out to the kitchen. When I walk in, Ian is sitting at the bar, talking to my parents. They all look rough. My mom’s face is splotchy, like she’s been crying. My dad looks sad and angry. Ian has circles around his eyes and looks like he hasn’t slept all night. He rushes over when he sees me.
He starts to hug me but stops when he sees the expression in my eyes. He holds out his hand to touch my face and thinks better of it. “Baby, will you please talk to me?”
“I don’t have anything to say to you right now.” I move out of his reach.
Ian looks at my parents and then back to me. “I told your parents, and I’ve asked their forgiveness.”
I glance at them and they look heartbroken. My mom comes and hugs me. I feel like I’m the one comforting her as I pat her back while she cries. When she steps back, Ian puts his hand on my arm. I flinch.
“Please let me talk to you,” he pleads.
I turn around and walk out of the kitchen and back to my bedroom. He follows me and nearly trips when I stop suddenly at my door. I’m afraid the room will close in on me if I go inside the small space with him. When we walk inside, I sit on my bed and he sits next to me. Staring at me. I look straight ahead.
“Look at me, please. You’ll know how I feel about you if you look at me.”
I keep looking straight ahead.
“I have never loved anyone but you. I never will.”
“I guess love isn’t enough,” I say.
“Love is everything to me, Sparrow. You changed my life by loving me. I’m not gonna let you go. I can’t give you up.”
“I guess you should have considered that before you fucked Laila.” And with that I look at him. Empty. Hollow.
He visibly cringes and holds his head in his hands. When he lifts his head, tears are streaming from his face. “My life didn’t begin until you breathed into it. I know what I have in you, Sparrow. I do. I will never fuck it up again. I promise you.”
“I don’t want to hear your promises,” I yell. “Just tell me about Laila!”
Ian wipes his face and the tears keep pouring out. He’s always said he stopped being able to cry when he was a kid, but the floodgates have opened. “It started a long time ago. We were friends—we’d actually been friends long before Jeff ever met her…”
“I kinda caught that from what she said that night at your show.”
Ian looks up at me, relieved that I’m talking back.
“Jeff was always gone and Laila started showing up wherever I was. If I was in L.A., she ended up there. If I was at the San Francisco house, she’d come there. I knew she was lonely, and I felt bad for her. She was fun then, not this gross person she’s become.”
“I guess watching the man you’re in love with get engaged to someone else will do that to you,” I reply.
He makes the gasping sound that you make when you’re trying not to cry, but it’s still coming. “That’s not the way it is.”
I stand up and whirl around to face him. “If you really believe that then you’re more “idealistic” than I’ve ever been.”
His face falls. “I love how idealistic you are.”
“Was,” I say. “Was.”
That hits him hard, and he can’t speak for a few minutes. Finally, he stands and paces the room. He sees my cell phone, picks it up and lays it on the nightstand. “We’ll get that fixed,” he says.
“So, tell me, what does Laila have that makes her so irresistible?” The sarcasm drips off my voice. “She’s beautiful, I’ll give you that. But you told me I was the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, so … it must be all her … experience. Is that it?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“Well, that’s what I’m wanting to know, Ian. Do I have to ask the exact question for you to tell me the answer? You’d probably say this hasn’t all been a lie—you and me—because I never ASKED you until now if you’d slept with Laila. The truth is, withholding information like this IS lying. Our whole relationship is a lie!”
“No. Don’t say that. It isn’t. Please don’t say that.” He grabs my hand and holds it even though I’m trying to pull it away from him. “Sparrow, please, listen to me.” He leans his head on mine and something in me breaks from deeper still, and it takes my breath away. I choke on it. The tears start falling and I can’t breathe. I begin to panic, and he looks me in the eye and whispers, “Breathe, baby. I’m here. I’m so sorry. I love you. Breathe.”
Gradually, I calm down and my heart rate returns to a fast pace, instead of the out-of-control sprint it was just doing.
When I can speak, I say, “Just tell me when it began and when it ended.”
“You have to know that I’ve been on a vicious cycle my whole life of sabotaging myself when anything good comes along. I knew I didn’t deserve you and Laila played on that. I’m not blaming her, I take responsibility for my actions in this, but it’s just the truth. I never felt anything for Laila; in fact, I hate her,” he says quietly. “I despise everything about her.”
“So you risked everything for someone you hate. I don’t know if that should make me feel better or not. When did it start, Ian?”
His eyes cloud
over. “After our day in San Francisco.”
There goes the wind again, being knocked right out of me. When I get a grip, I say, “And when did it end?”
“There was one time after we got engaged … that was the last time anything happened.”
If I could just go to sleep right now and never have to open my eyes again. I close my eyes and will it to happen. I can’t bear this kind of pain. It’s too much. He was my life and now he is nothing.
“We didn’t have sex, we stopped before it got to that. I knew I couldn’t continue destroying my life. I knew I wanted you more than I want anything in this world. You are everything to me. I stopped and I haven’t touched her since.”
“Am I’m supposed to be proud of you for that?” I give him a look of disgust.
“No, I just … I needed to know I was capable of being the kind of husband you need, the kind of husband I want to be, and I know now that I am.” His eyes search mine, looking for any hint of hope.
I shake my head. “No.”
He puts his hand on my arm and I brush it off.
“Who else?” I ask. “Reagan?”
“We kissed once, but never anything more than that. She wanted to be more and was persistent for a while, but realized I meant it when I said I didn’t.”
“When?”
“Before you met her.”
“Who else? Who do I not know about?”
“No one. No one, I promise.”
“Don’t. Say that to me.” I close my eyes. My whole body aches. This is what grief feels like. Agony. Torture. Anguish. Torment.
“Sparrow, if I stood in front of witnesses today, I would promise to love you and honor you and only you for the rest of my life, and I would mean every single word. Please—I know it will take time for you to believe me, but if you will only give me a chance, I will spend every day for as long as I live, proving my love for you.”