An Illicit Pursuit (27 page)

“You weren’t mean to her, were you?”

“Of course not. Who do you think I am? Maybe
she feels sick or something. Why don’t ask her instead of grilling
me?”

He raises an eyebrow as he gets to his feet,
his phone against his ear. “Baby, are you okay?” he speaks to the
phone and walks out of the door to the porch. I cringe at the
notion of someone else calling Taylor baby. “Don’t worry. We have
all the time in the world for it. But, I’m tired of having you in
my dreams only. Want to have you for real and feel your perfect
body under me, hear you squeal with pleasure.”

What the fuck! I don’t want to hear that.
Taylor under Jack. No way! My hands begin to shake with rage just
as violently as when I found Brad over Taylor. I jump to my feet
and stride toward the door. I can’t stay here, can’t go back to
Pat, either. I have no choice but check into a hotel and think
things through. Maybe a few days by myself will bring some sense to
me, although a part of me says it’s an impossible wish.

God, I wish my mind could let Taylor go and
find its way back to Pat.

Five years later

Adam is getting married today, and I didn’t
know anything about it until an hour ago. My ass of a best friend,
Adriana, had forgotten to mention her own brother’s wedding
reception taking place in just about two hours. If it wasn’t for
Miranda, I wouldn’t even know about the imminent change in Adam’s
marital status.

I still can’t believe how I could let two
incredible men slip through my fingers. Particularly Adam. Why in
the world did I make myself believe that opening up my dirty
secrets to him would make him commit to me with a deeper bond? What
the fucking hell was I thinking?

I’m so drunk right now that I can’t even
remember clearly whether I’d been under the influence of weed that
time when I blurted out about my abortion to Adam. The dumbest move
of my life, followed only by not taking enough time to think
through about the abortion. Two fatal mistakes, and here I am,
pathetic as ever, heavily drunk, and behind the wheel, heading
toward Long Beach, where the wedding reception will be held.

My life is a big, fucking joke. My fortune
has already passed the hundred-million threshold, and my songs
break the charts every time. But nothing can protect my heart from
being crushed and stomped on. I may be rolling in cash, but I’m
rolling alone in my bed, too. All the money can’t buy me a loving
man to mend my heart. Men see me either as a pathetic fuck or a
step to take toward money and fame.

The navigator tells me to slide onto I-405,
and I barely make it to the right lane, and ease onto the
interstate behind the bustle of cars.

Why do they have to have the wedding in Long
Beach? To make it as far away from me as possible? Does Adam fear
that I’ll show up at his wedding and ruin it?

Zach must have already married that sweet
girl he’d mentioned and had a kid or two, and I won’t lose Adam,
too. I’ll beg, cry, threaten to kill myself, and do whatever it
takes to stop him from marrying that gold-digger.

My wedding day.

The day I thought I’d have with Pat until I
realized she wasn’t the one for me. The real girl of my dreams was
also the one of my best friend’s. His girl, his wife, will
officially be mine today.

Taylor, my wife. Sounds both natural and
foreign.

Does it feel awkward for her, too? Does she
have doubts, second thoughts, that she’ll never find the same love
and joy with me? That I’ll never be able to take Jack’s place? Is
she considering, even for a heartbeat, running away and leaving me
at the altar?

I don’t want to think about it. Negative
thoughts shouldn’t be part of my wedding day. I have a quick shower
and start putting on my silver-grey tux that Adriana handpicked for
me. She must be upstairs at the deck, nagging at the servers to
make sure the ceremony and the reception will be perfect.

Everything seems surreal. When I first asked
Taylor to move in with me, I never thought she’d accept. But she
did. She also said yes when I proposed to her. Another yes came
when I told her that I wanted to get married as soon as possible. I
hired the best wedding planner that I’d heard of to make it the
most beautiful day of Taylor’s life. My soon-to-be wife’s,
life.

I knew she didn’t want another luxurious
wedding in a high-class hotel. So, I booked the Queen Mary Ship for
our special day. It’ll be romantic and hopefully unforgettable,
right across the ocean with the view to Long Beach with our
friends, families, and colleagues, eating, drinking, dancing,
laughing, and maybe singing. Once the words “I do” roll off her
perfect lips, I’ll make her my queen and give her so much love that
her brief months with Jack will be but a faint memory.

There’s a knock on the door, and I turn to
see who’s there. My father. He’s in a black tux, tall, straight
posture, his hair white, deeper lines around his face. The man I
looked up to growing up still has my deepest respect and
admiration. His love for Mom showed me how a man should treat the
woman of his life. I may have not followed his steps exactly during
the last weeks of my relationship with Pat, but I’ll make it right
with Taylor.

“May I come in?”

I nod and wave him in. He sizes me up and
down, motions to my tie, and I turn to the mirror to fix it.

“I take it you are nervous,” he says with a
cheeky smile.

“I’m okay… I guess.”

He raises an eyebrow and settles into the
chair beside the mirror, resting his elbows on its arms. “Your
anxiety today is nothing compared to the turmoil you’ll go through
during your married life. Let me just give you my secret to a happy
marriage, then I’ll leave you alone.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Female orgasm.”

I work hard not to wince. “Excuse me?”

“Just a joke between father and son. Well,
female orgasm is a part of a happy marriage. An important part but
not everything. You see; women are different creatures. They don’t
speak the same language as we do. I guess you’ve already figured
out that much.”

I smile with a shrug of my shoulders and sit
at the sofa across him. He loves talking, and luckily most of the
things he says are useful and generally not boring, if not
sometimes embarrassing.

He clears his throat, making himself ready
for a long preach. “You’ll have to dedicate the rest of your life
to understanding her. It’ll not be easy, especially because women
change a lot, not just hormonally, but their personalities evolve,
too. One day you’ll think you’ve figured her out, the next day
she’ll surprise you with the most unexpected behavior. Taylor won’t
be the same woman you’re marrying today in, say, ten years. If you
want to be happy with her, you’ll have to keep up with and adapt to
the changes she’ll go through and always be supportive of her.”

“Sometimes it won’t be easy to love the new
person, but stick with it and try your best. Always keep your voice
low and your eyes open. Think not just twice but three times before
saying something negative to her. Better, don’t say anything
negative at all if you can. Be her best friend and give priority to
her needs. In return, she’ll give you everything she has and she
is. Believe me when I say that’s as good as it gets in our mortal
lives. Pure happiness. The type that you’ll never get bored with or
tired of.”

I chuckle. “You should write a self-help book
for couples.”

“Maybe I should and dedicate it to your
mother.” His eyes look away, his expression softens, as if he’s
taking a stroll down memory lane.

My mother’s death is still a painful spot for
my family. She was at Adriana’s wedding, which is okay because
she’s my senior. But even Eleanor, my three-years-junior sister,
got to have my mother at her wedding. I, on the other hand, stand
here five years too late to celebrate my wedding day with my
mother.

“And, don’t forget—” my father’s words
interrupt my thoughts. “—whenever you struggle, I’m here to help.”
He gets up and taps me on my shoulder. “I’ll make sure to keep
Adriana out of your way.”

“Thanks, Dad.” I walk him to the door, and
close it after him.

As much as I love Taylor and can’t imagine a
life without her, the idea of taking the plunge and uniting our
lives still makes me nervous. Even if I know she loves me, I can’t
help but wish her heart beats for me only, without having any
feelings for Jack.

My phone in my pocket rings. I pull it out,
worrying it’s from Taylor and that she’s changed her mind at the
last minute. Miranda Murphy’s name flashes on the screen. Why would
Pat’s manager want to call me on my wedding day? Definitely not to
congratulate me, given how I ended my relationship with Pat.

I tap on reply and say, “Hello, Miranda.”

“Adam,” she yells, so unusual for her
otherwise composed demeanor. “Pat had an accident.”

“How, where?” The air is knocked out of my
lungs. Pain pierces my gut. My brain shuts out everything except
for Miranda’s voice.

“On the interstate 710 toward Long Beach.
She’s very badly injured. They had to take her to surgery at the
Community Hospital in Long Beach. Her last words were your name. I
know you’re getting married today, but she’ll need you when she
wakes up…
if
she wakes up.”

Pat, among all people, is suffering because
of my reckless actions. I knew I broke her emotionally, now she’s
broken physically, too.

Because of me.

Grabbing my car keys, I rush out, expecting
to bump into someone on the way. No one, no fucking person, shows
up on my way out for me to leave a message for Taylor to let her
know that I’m leaving for the hospital.

Goddammit.

Right after I turn the car key, I call Taylor
on her cell; she doesn’t answer. Then, I try Adriana’s phone and am
greeted by her voice mail. Double fuck. I quickly recite what
Miranda told me on the voice mail and ask her to talk to
Taylor.

I hate hospitals like I hate the plague. My
hatred for them grew even bigger when Taylor was hospitalized when
her wrists were slashed by Valerie. Now, Pat is fighting for her
life, or maybe she’d rather end it than live in misery.

Miranda meets me in the waiting room of the
ICU. We sit, and I pray in silence for what seems like days during
the surgery. Adriana doesn’t call back, neither does Taylor. But I
can’t think of them right now. If Pat dies, I won’t be able to
think of anything else.

Waiting for the bad news is the worst
punishment, followed only by actually hearing the bad news. I get
up with an excuse to get us coffee, but in reality I’m suffocating.
My feet find the way to the elevator without my mind commanding
them, and the next thing I know I’m outside and surrounded by a
massive crowd of people and their cameras.

Of course, Pat’s accident will attract the
attention of the entire media agencies across the country.

“How is Pat?” someone among the crowd asks.
“Was she invited to your wedding?” another one asks. “Is it true
that she was carrying a gun? Was she planning on killing you or
your fiancé?”

A gun? Pat would never choose violence. But
why do I even bother listening to their questions? They’re paid to
publicize provocative news, or in other words, lies.

I see a man, pushing his way among the sea of
people, and recognize him immediately. Zachary Schulberg. As soon
as his eyes locate me, he roars and swings his fists at my face
with violent force, knocking me down.

“You ruined her,” he keeps on repeating,
while throwing punches at my face and head. I taste blood and salt.
My face throbs with pain. People run to my rescue, but I guess the
paparazzi have gotten enough material to keep the TV watchers and
magazine readers occupied for at least a month.

A nurse takes me and tends my now swollen
face. Miranda’s eyes grow wide with shock when I go back to the
waiting room, holding an icepack on my cheek. I notice Zachary
sitting in the seat across Miranda, but this time he doesn’t dare
touch me. I want to threaten him with pressing charges, but I see
he’s suffering over Pat’s accident and I can’t find it in me to
inflict more pain on anyone.

Two hours pass and still no news from the
doctors. Taylor doesn’t call either, which strikes me as extremely
odd. Hasn’t Adriana told her about the accident? She must have.
But, Taylor might have gotten upset about being stood up at the
altar. Who wouldn’t have? I dial her number and again no one
answers.

At last, the doctor shows up and briefs us
about the surgery, “The surgery was a success and we manage to get
her stable, but she’ll need bed confinement for at least two weeks
for her rib injuries,” the doctor says.

“Can we see her now?” I hear Zachary saying
and turn to shoot him a
who-do-you-think-you-are
glare. He
doesn’t even look my way, though.

“Only family members,” the doctor says and
walks us through the double doors when no one admits to not being a
part of Pat’s family. Zachary strides beside the doctor, and once
we arrive at the room, he rushes to Pat’s side and pulls a chair to
sit. His behavior, as if he’s part of her life, is irritating, but
I won’t cause a scene under these circumstances.

“Pat.” Zachary touches her hand, which is
practically covered with tubes and wires. “Pat, wake up. Open your
eyes.”

I let out an audible sigh and settle onto a
chair on the other side of the bed.

Miranda, however, prefers to pace up and down
the floor, irritating me more than Zachary does, with her nervous
hand fidgeting and murmuring. “She was fine last night. She
actually looked happy for the first time for a long time.”

“It was an accident, not something
intentional.” I tilt my head to see her face, curious to know what
she’s talking about.