And then I was angry with him again. How dare he make me love him so fucking much that I felt like I couldn’t survive without him? It was so fucking ridiculously unfair.
In between my spouts of uncontrolled wrath, I did everything I could think of to reach out to him. I emailed him. I left him messages on his dead phone—messages that were in turn strings of curse words and I love yous. Then I harassed Dom until he gave me Drew’s email and phone number. I flooded those as well, despite the late hour. Wanting to believe that JC couldn’t possibly know the baby was his, I made sure to include that information in every point of contact. If just one message got through to him, and he saw that he was actually going to be a father, then he’d have to come back. If not for me, then for our child.
It had to be why he’d left before the test came through—because he knew that he wouldn’t be able to leave if he found out I’d been right all along about the baby’s paternity. He’d known I would insist on going either way, and he chose to slip out the easy way.
That thought would just stir up my anger all over again. More dishes would get broken. In one fit of temper, his laptop was thrown across the room, cracking the screen. It didn’t feel as good as I’d hoped it would, but it did feel vindicating on a very base level.
The sun was coming up by the time I dragged myself to bed. I was exhausted, physically and emotionally—the downside of not shutting down like I normally did. I’d almost decided to sleep in the guest room, afraid of how lonely I’d feel without him on our king-size mattress. I dismissed that idea in a fit of stubbornness. It was my bed too, and I wouldn’t let his shitty decision be the reason I was pushed out of it.
The bed was still unmade, so I didn’t notice the paper folded in half on his pillow until I was already lying down. “Goddammit,” I muttered out loud to myself. I was all-sorts-of-pissed again before even reading the note. It would be an explanation, I was sure. Some fucked-up attempt to justify his actions. And when had he brought it, anyway? While I’d slept on the couch earlier? Had one of our bodyguards placed it there when I’d been at the hospital?
Whatever. It was bullshit. And I was done with his bullshit.
I left it on the pillow and turned away from it. I closed my eyes and tried to sleep.
Not more than five minutes had passed before I let out a frustrated groan and turned back to snatch up the note.
It was short—shorter than I expected and much shorter than I deserved. Just one line, written in his block handwriting: As long as we’re alive, I love you.
I crumpled the paper into a ball and flung it across the room. Then I wrapped my arms around his pillow and cried myself to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Two
My cell phone woke me up later.
I had to scramble to get to it, so I didn’t pause to check the name on the caller ID. After answering, I held my breath, hoping it was JC. Or even Drew.
“Gwen!” It was Laynie. Her voice was entirely too chipper for—I glanced at the bedside clock—five thirty in the evening. Shit. I’d slept all day. Which was probably better than being awake and dealing with emotions. “I just heard the news. Why didn’t you call me?”
I rubbed at the sleep in my eyes. “Heard what, exactly?” So much had happened since I’d last seen her. I could think of a myriad of things she’d be referring to, and none of them were things I was really in the mood to talk about.
“About JC’s shooting. Is he okay? Norma said he’s going to be fine, but I have to hear it from you.”
Oh, that. “Yeah, he’s fine.” At least he had been when I’d last seen him. “The bullet went clean through. They’ve already discharged him from the hospital.” I stretched then pulled the blanket up to my chin, wondering if I could get away with going back to sleep.
“Thank God. I’m so relieved. You’re still coming over?”
I paused, trying to think of some excuse to get out of our date. The plan had been for me to spend the night before the wedding at her house so that I could get ready there while JC got dressed at the condo. My dress and accessories were already waiting in her guestroom closet. The whole not seeing the bride before the ceremony thing. It was pointless now, but I had to keep up the charade—for JC’s sake, even though my heart wasn’t in it.
I tossed the covers aside. “Yep. I’ll be on my way shortly.” Just as soon as I did something about my swollen eyes.
“Awesome. I expect to hear all the details. It will be like an old-fashioned girls’ sleepover. We’ll laugh and giggle and stay up all night. You’re getting married tomorrow!” Her enthusiasm was potent. How I wished I could share it with her.