Chapter 15
He looks awful. Stunningly, breathtakingly awful.
his eyes are bloodshot, his face is pale, there’s a few days of stubble on his chin—and despite all that, he’s still the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Looking anywhere else just isn’t possible.
Drew is staring too. his gaze is unwavering—drinking me in—burning me up.
We stand like that for a minute. And then he walks toward me. his steps are purposeful and focused, like he’s marching into a business meeting with his entire career on the line.
he stops just a few feet away.
But it feels like much farther.
And everything I’d planned on saying to him in New York flies right out of my head. So instead, I start off easy. “how did you know I was here?”
“I went to the diner first, saw your mom in the kitchen. She said she didn’t know where you were. And she was looking at me like she wanted to chop my dick off and put it on the Specials Menu. So I went out front—ran into Warren. he told me you’d probably be here.”
Of course Billy would know where I was. Just like he knew I would want him to send Drew to me.
“Did he do that to your face?” I’m talking about the fist-sized welt on his left cheek. It looks fresh—just starting to bruise.
he touches it gingerly. “No. Delores was with him.”
No surprise there. Although I don’t think her heart was really in it. If Dee Dee seriously wanted to do Drew damage? She wouldn’t have wasted her time with his face—it would have been straight to the crotch.
“What do you want, Drew?”
he lets out a short bark of laughter, but there’s no humor behind it. “There’s a loaded question.” Then he looks off into the horizon. “I didn’t think you’d leave New York.”
I lift a brow, questioning, “After your little show? What did you think I would do?”
“I thought you’d curse me out, maybe smack me. I thought you’d choose me . . . even if it was just to keep someone else from having me.”
Jealousy. Drew’s weapon of choice. he used it when he thought I wanted to win Billy back, remember?
“Well, you were wrong.”
he nods grimly. “So it seems.” his eyes meet mine for a long moment. And his brow wrinkles just a little. “Were you . . .
happy . . . with me, Kate? Because I was really happy. And I thought you were too.”
I can’t help the small smile that comes to my lips. Because I remember. “Yes, I was happy.”
“Then tell me why? You owe me that much.”
My words come out slow, hushed sadness weighing down every syllable. “I didn’t plan it, Drew. You have to know that I didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did. And people change. The things we want . . .
change. And right now, you and I want two very different things.”
he takes a step toward me. “Maybe not.”
I’m trying hard not to read into the fact that he’s here. I don’t want to hope. Because hope really does float, like a piece of wood on a wave. But if it turns out to be unfounded?
It smashes against the rocks—breaking you into a thousand pieces.
“What does that mean?”
his words are careful. Planned. “I’m here to renegotiate the terms of our relationship.”
“Renegotiate?”
“I’ve given it a lot of thought. You went right from Warren to me, jumped in with both feet. You’ve never just . . . screwed around. Played the field. So . . . if you want to hook up with other people”—his jaw tightens, like the words are trying to stay in, and he has to force them out—“I’m okay with that.”
My face pinches with confusion. “You came all this way, to tell me you want us to . . . see other people?”
he swallows hard. “Yeah. You know—as long as I still get to be in the rotation.”
Sex has always been a top priority for Drew. That’s what this is about, right? he doesn’t want the baby—but he doesn’t want to stop sleeping with me either? having his cake and all that. No strings attached.
It’s like an episode of Jerry Springer.
“how would that work exactly, Drew? A quick f*ck on our lunch break? A midnight booty call? No talking allowed—no questions asked?”
he looks ill. “If that’s what you want.”
And I’m so . . . disappointed. Disgusted.
With him.
“Go home, Drew. You’re wasting your time. I have no desire to play the field at this particular point in my life.”
That takes him by surprise. “But . . . why not? I thought . . .”
he trails off. And then his eyes harden. “Is this about him? Are you seriously f*cking telling me he means that much to you?”
I don’t appreciate his tone. It’s derogatory, mocking. Did I say I was a butterfly before? Nope. I’m a f*cking lioness.
“he means everything to me.” I point my finger. “And I won’t let you make me feel bad about it.” he flinches, like I’ve Tasered him with a stun gun. Five thousand volts straight to the chest. But then he recovers. And he folds his arms obstinately. Completely unapologetic. “I don’t care. It doesn’t frigging matter.”
If you fill a tire with too much air, push it past its limit, do you know happens?
It explodes.
“how can you say that! What the f*ck is wrong with you?”
he comes right back at me. “Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you? Are you on drugs? Do you have some split-f*cking-personality disorder that I haven’t picked up on?
Two years, Kate! For two goddamn years I’ve given you everything . . . and you . . . you’re just so f*cking eager to throw it away!”
“Don’t you dare say that! The last two years have meant everything to me!”
“Then act like it! F*cking Christ Almighty!”
“how am I supposed to act, Drew? What do you want from me?”
he yells, “I want any part of you that you’re willing to give me!”
We both fall quiet.
Breathing hard.
Staring each other down.
And his voice drops low. Defeated. “I’ll take anything, Kate.
Just . . . don’t tell me it’s over. I won’t accept that.”
I fold my arms across my chest, and sarcasm crackles in the air like static. “You didn’t seem to have a problem accepting it when your tongue was down that stripper’s throat.”
“hypocrisy really isn’t a good look for you, Kate. You gutted me. I think you deserved a taste of your own f*cked-up medicine.”
You see it all the time. In celebrity magazines, on TV. One minute, couples are all soul mates, never felt this way before, jump up and down on Oprah’s couch in love. And the next, they’re at each other’s throats—dragging out the lawyers to battle over money, or houses . . . or children. I always wondered how that happens.
Take a good look. This is how.
“Well, pat yourself on the back, Drew. You wanted to hurt me?
You did. Feel better now?”
“Yeah, I’m thrilled. A regular happy camper. Can’t you tell?”
“Can you stop acting like a child for five minutes?”
“Depends. Can you stop acting like a heartless bitch?”
If he was close enough, I’d slap him. “I hate you!”
he smirks coldly. “Consider yourself lucky. I wish I could hate you—I prayed for it. To get you out of my system. But you’re still there, under my skin, like some fatal f*cking disease.”
have you ever worked on one of those crossword puzzles in the newspaper? And you’re determined to finish it—you start off so sure that you can? But then it just gets too hard. Too exhausting.
So you give up. You’re just . . . done.
I press a hand to my forehead. And even though I try to put up a strong front, my voice comes out small. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Drew. I don’t want to fight. We can go around and around like this all day, but it’s not gonna change a thing. I won’t have half a relationship with you. It’s non-negotiable.”
“Bullshit! Everything is negotiable. It just depends on how far the parties are willing to bend.” And then he’s begging. “And I will, Kate— I’ll bend. hate me all you f*cking want, but . . . don’t . . . leave me.”
And he sounds so despondent. Desperate. I have to stop myself from comforting him. From giving in, from saying yes. A few days ago, I would have. I would have jumped at the chance to eat his crumbs. To keep him in my life—any way I could.
But not today.
Because this isn’t just about me anymore. “I’m a package deal now. You have to want both of us.”
his fists flail in the air, searching for something to hit. “What the f*ck are you talking about?” he roars. “It’s like I’m stuck in some screwed-up Tim Burton movie, where nothing makes sense! None of this makes any f*cking sense!”
“I’m talking about the baby! I won’t bring a baby into a relationship where he’s not wanted! It’s not fair. It’s not right.”
I didn’t think it was possible for a person to be any paler than Drew was when he first got here, and still be alive. But I was wrong.
Because his face just got whiter. About two shades.
“What baby? What are you . . .” he scrutinizes me, trying to see the answer before he asks, “Are you . . . pregnant?”
Kind of makes you wonder just how hard Delores hit him, huh?
“Of course I’m pregnant!”
he takes a step forward. And his face looks like one of those theater masks, horror and hope side by side. “Is it mine?”
I don’t answer right away because I’m so surprised by the question.
“Who . . . who else’s would it be?”
“Bob’s,” he says matter-of-factly. Like he actually believes I know what he’s talking about.
“Bob?”
“Yes, Kate—Bob. The guy who means everything to you.
Obviously you’ve been f*cking him, so how the hell do you know the baby’s not his?”
I flip through my mental Rolodex, looking for a Bob, trying to figure out why in God’s name Drew thinks I’d be f*cking him.
“The only Bob I know . . . is Roberta.”
That takes the wind right out of his sails. “Who?”
“Roberta Chang. Bobbie—Bob. I went to school with her.
She’s an ob-gyn. You saw me go into her office the night you followed me. That’s how you knew . . .”
his eyes widen, thinking. And then he shakes his head in disbelief.
In denial.
“No. No—I saw you with a guy. You were meeting him. he picked you up and hugged you. he kissed you. he had food.”
It takes me a moment to process his words, and then I remember. “Oh—that was Daniel. Roberta’s husband. he lived with us in during undergrad too. They just moved to the city a few months ago. I told you about them.”
Drew’s expression is unreadable. Then he takes a hand and rubs it down his face—hard—like he wants to scrape off skin.
“Okay, just . . . go with me here for a second. When you wrote the name Bob in your calendar, you were talking about Roberta, who’s a woman and a baby doctor that you went to school with in Boston?”
“Yes.”
“And the guy that I saw you with, in the parking lot, is her husband and also an old friend of yours?”
“Yes.”
his voice is tight. Strained. “And you think we’ve been fighting this whole time because . . . ?”
“Because you don’t want me to have the baby.”
have you ever seen a skyscraper demolished? I have. It implodes. From the top down, so as not to damage the buildings beside it. And that’s exactly what Drew does. Right in front of my eyes. he crumbles.
his legs give out and he falls to his knees. “Oh, God . . . Jesus Christ . . . I can’t believe . . . f*ck . . . I’m an idiot . . . so f*cking stupid . . .”
And I go down with him. “Drew? Are you all right?”
“No . . . no, Kate . . . I’m so far from all right, it’s scary.”
I grab his hands and his eyes meet mine. And just like that—it all makes sense. Finally.
The things he did.
The things he said.
It all falls into place like the last piece of a mosaic.
“You thought I was having an affair?”
he nods. “Yeah.”
The world spins and I’m barely breathing. “how could you think that? how could you ever believe I would cheat on you?”
“There was a guy’s name in your calendar . . . and you lied . . .
.and I saw you hugging that man. how could you think I wouldn’t want a baby? Our baby?”
“You told me to have an abortion.”
his hands tighten around mine. “I would never say that to you.”
“You did. You told me to end it.”
he shakes his head and groans. “End the affair, Kate. Not the baby.”
My chin rises defensively. “But I wasn’t having an affair.”
“Well, I didn’t f*cking know that.”
“Well, you f*cking should have!!”
I tear my hands from his and push him on his shoulders. “God, Drew!” I stand up, needing to get away from him, because it’s all too much. “You can’t treat people like this! You can’t treat me like this!”
“Kate, I’m—”
I whirl around and point a finger at him. “If you tell me you’re sorry, I will kick your balls up into your eye sockets, I swear to God!”
he closes his mouth. Smart move.
I push my hair out of my face. And pace.
Am I supposed to feel better now? Because it really was all just a mistake?
If a house gets destroyed by lightning, do you think the owners are cheered by the fact that the lightning didn’t mean to strike their house?
Of course not.
Because the damage is already done.
“You ruined it, Drew. I was so excited to tell you . . . and now whenever I think about it, all I’ll remember is how horrible this has all been!” I stop pacing. And my voice trembles. “I needed you.
When I saw the blood . . . when they told me I was losing the baby . . .”
Drew reaches for me, still on his knees. “Baby, I don’t know what you’re saying . . .”
“Because you weren’t here! If you’d been here then you’d know, but you weren’t! And . . .” My voice cracks and tears blur my vision.
“And you promised. You promised you wouldn’t do this . . .” I cover my face with my hands, and I cry.
I cry for every second of useless pain. For the crevasse that’s still between us—and for the stupid choices that created it. And I don’t mean just his. I’m a big girl—I can take my share of the blame.
Drew may have pulled the trigger, but I loaded the gun.
“Kate . . . Kate, please . . .” he holds his hand out to me.
“Please, Kate.”
he looks shattered. And I know, then and there, that I’m not the only one who’s suffered.
Still, I shake my head. Because do-overs only exist in playground games. Real life doesn’t have take backs.
“No, Drew.” I turn my back on him and walk toward the car.
But I only make it a few steps before I pause and look back.
Can you see him?
On his knees, his head in his hands. Like a man waiting for the executioner.
When I think of Drew, two words always stand out: passion and pride. They’re ingrained. Who he is. Arguments, work, love— it’s all the same to him. Full steam ahead. No hesitation, no holding back. And Drew knows what he’s worth. he doesn’t settle; he doesn’t compromise. he doesn’t have to.
“Why are you here?” I whisper, so low I don’t know if he’ll even hear me.
But his head snaps up. “What do you mean?”
“You thought I cheated on you?”
he grimaces. “Yes.”
“You thought I could be in love with someone else?”
he nods.
“But you came . . . for me. Why?”
his eyes drift across my face. It’s the way he looks at me in the morning, when he wakes up before I do. It’s the way he watches me, when he thinks I’m not looking.
“Because I can’t live without you, Kate. I don’t even know how to try.”
I was in advanced placement English in high school. For weeks, we analyzed Wuthering Heights by Emily Bront?. In most of it, heathcliff is the villain. he’s ruthless, often cruel. And as a reader, you’re supposed to hate him.
But I never could. Because in spite of all his despicable actions, he loved Cathy so much.
Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you. . . . I cannot live without my life! I cannot live without my soul! Some of you are going to say that I should’ve punished Drew more. But he’ll do a better job of that than I ever could. Others are going to say that I should’ve made him work for it more. But we all know that he would have.
And sometimes, forgiveness is selfish. We give it not because it’s earned, but because it’s what we need. To find peace. To be whole.
I can live without Drew Evans. I know that, now. But if given the choice?
I won’t ever want to.
There’s only a dozen steps separating us, and I run every one of them. I throw myself at him, and he catches me. he wraps his arms around me and holds me so tight, I can’t get air in my lungs.
But it doesn’t matter. Because Drew is holding me—who needs to breathe?
“I’m sorry, Kate . . . God, I’m so f*cking sorry.” he sounds so forlorn.
And tears well up in my eyes. “I didn’t think we’d ever . . . when you said . . .”
“Shh . . . I didn’t mean it. I swear on Mackenzie I didn’t mean any of it. I never wanted to . . .” he buries his face in my neck, and his regret leaks from his eyes and soaks into my shirt.
I press closer against him. “I know, Drew. I know you didn’t.”
his hands run through my hair—they caress my face, my arms, my back. “I love you, Kate. I love you so much.”
Last year, Drew and I went to Japan. One day we stopped in a bonsai tree shop. They’re kind of strange-looking, don’t you think?
With their stunted trunks and twisted branches. The shop owner told us that it’s the knots and twists that make them strong, that keep from splintering even during the harshest storm.
That’s what Drew and I are like.
his lips touch my forehead, my cheeks. he holds my face in his hands, and I frame his with mine. And we kiss. Our mouths move in sync—fierce and bruising, tender and slow. And all the rest, every injury, every harsh word, melts away like snow in the sunlight.
They don’t matter. Because we’re together. We’ll find our way.
Drew presses his forehead against mine, then his hand covers my stomach. his touch is reverent and his voice is awed. “Are we really having a baby?”
I laugh, even though the tears are still falling. “Yeah. We are.
Do you really want to?”
he wipes the wetness from my cheeks. “With you? Are you crazy? It’s one of the few fantasies I have left. I’d have twenty kids with you—give those freaky Duggar people a run for their money.”
I laugh again, and it feels so good. So right. I lay my head on Drew’s shoulder. his face rests against my hair, breathing it in.
And then he vows, “It’s okay, Kate. We’re gonna be okay now.”
And I believe him.