Bad Girlfriend
Authors: Brooke Cumberland
Copyright © 2015 Brooke Cumberland
Bad Girlfriend
Cover photography by
Mae I Design and Photography
Cover design by
Quirky Bird
Literary Editor:
Kiezha Ferrell of
Librum Artis Editorial Services
All rights reserved. No parts of the book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission from the author, except for inclusion of brief quotations in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, establishments, organizations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously to give a sense of authenticity. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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What if time was the only thing that kept you from falling in love?
What if you knew when your time was
up?
Kate Wesley knows about that all too well. When time is no longer on her side, she decides to live. To be spontaneous and live with no regrets. But her perfectly crafted plan is shattered when she meets Gabe and the moment he comes face to face with her, he realizes he doesn’t ever want to let go. No matter how fast she runs away.
Life has a tricky way of catching up to you, of forcing your hand, of leaving you with no choice. Kate accepts her destiny and pushes anyone out that threatens to get close. But how will she feel when Gabe pushes back?
Would you give your heart to someone if you knew it wouldn’t last forever?
Would you risk it anyway for a chance at love?
To Adele’s heartbreaking and inspiring music, Starbucks coffee, &
LuLaRoe
leggings.
“Be brave and fearless to know that even if you do make a wrong decision, it was for good reason.”
-Adele
ne
Kate
There’s nothing like a big slap of reality to get your life back in check. Correction: a strong, backhanded slap across the face that sends you reeling, tilts the world on its axis and never really levels out again so you can regain your stance.
Yeah, it’s pretty painful.
The whole “
you only live once”
and
“live like there’s no tomorrow”
couldn’t be truer for me.
At least, now I knew the truth. My new reality.
It’s not about ‘who wore it best’, who so-and-so is dating this week, or the tragedy that happens when the cable goes out.
Those are petty and materialistic preoccupations that don’t mean a thing in the real world. The real world is about life and death. Survival and pain. Choices and consequences.
After weeks of self-pity, I finally came to the conclusion that I needed to do something with the time I had left. Anything, really. Just to know I mattered, in some way. But time wasn’t on my side.
After finding out, I broke up with my boyfriend, Kyle. We’d been dating for the past four years and he didn’t deserve it, but there was no point leading him on.
I just saved him years of grief and pain
, or so I keep telling myself.
“Kate, don’t do this. I love you,” he pleaded, kneeling in front of me with his hands around mine as I sat emotionless on the couch. I knew he did…and that’s why this was so hard. I went with the Band-Aid approach—rip it off, fast.
Get it over with.
“Sorry, Kyle.” I focus on the floor so I don’t see the pain in his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore,” I lied, but I managed to say it with confidence. If I told him the truth, I knew he’d promise to stay with me, but in the end, he’d only regret his decision.
And I couldn’t let him do that.
“I can’t believe this.” He stood up, brushing both hands through his hair and pacing back and forth in front of me. I tried to remain calm, and appear unaffected in spite of how much this was hurting me—hurting him. I had to turn off my emotions—be an empty shell.
Finally, he paused in front of me and with cold, dead eyes, stared at me as if I was the worst person on earth.
“You’re a bad girlfriend, Kate,” he hissed, and I couldn’t even blame him for the words he spat at me. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me. After everything we’ve been through, after everything I’ve done for you…how could you?”
He took another step toward me, his face directly in mine as he bent down. “You’re a bad girlfriend…I’m lucky to be rid of you!” I knew his words were sliced from anger. I understood. He gave me everything—and in return—I couldn’t give him a thing.
As soon as he slammed the front door in my face, I walked to the bathroom for a hot shower. My life was spinning out of control, whirling around like a tornado just waiting to touch land and destroy everything in its path. Things hadn’t been perfect, but after my mother’s death, Kyle was there for me to make sure I ate and slept. But that was three years ago. That was before he graduated at the top of his class in law school. Since then, he’d been hired as a law clerk, working under a judge, and we hardly spent any time together anymore. He’d sleep over a couple of times a week and then rush off to work the next day.
As the water cascaded down my pale body, images of my mother and grandma come to mind. While most twenty-one-year-olds go barhopping to celebrate their birthdays, I spent mine sitting next to my mother’s bed, sobbing and praying. It was just after midnight when she passed away. She died on my birthday.
Five years earlier, I was in a similar situation, watching my mom say goodbye to her mother. It was like déjà vu. Illness had now taken two of the most important people of my life.
So when the doctor gave me that look of pity, I knew. He was the same doctor my mother had gone to two years earlier. She fought. She fought every damn day, but the cancer won. Breast cancer. By the time we found out, she was already in stage three. She was so caught up in caring for her own mother that she forgot to take care of herself.
And apparently, history was repeating itself.
As I toss my bags and suitcase in my trunk for my trip, I think about the way he looked at me that night. Like I had ripped his heart out of his chest and left him for dead.
Although I know I did the right thing, I still miss him. He's never far from my thoughts. I wonder if he’s over the hurt I caused him, if he’s moved on yet, and if he still thinks of me. The only thing that gets me through the guilt is knowing he deserved so much more than I could’ve given him.
I had allowed myself to become emotionally detached from Kyle in the weeks leading up to our breakup. I knew it was coming, I just hadn’t known how he’d respond. He’d been working a lot and hadn’t even noticed the increased doctor appointments, my change in behavior, or the fact that I went from being energetic and happy to depressed and hopeless.
I can’t put all the blame on him, though. That’s not fair, considering I never told him the truth.
He was supposed to come with me on this trip, something we planned months ago when Natalee announced her engagement, but now it was welcome silence.
The silence makes me feel numb. Numb to the facts. Numb to reality. Numb to the ache in my chest anytime I allow myself to think about my fate, which isn’t often. Not anymore, at least.
The truth is that I didn’t want Kyle changing his life plans for me. He graduated at the top of his class in law school and had just started clerking. It wasn’t exactly something you took a year off from. I could never let him jeopardize his career after all his hard work. Or perhaps the real fear was wondering if he
would
change his plans for me once he found out.
Not knowing was better than risking that kind of heartache.
Kate
I smile the entire three hours it takes to drive from New York to Massachusetts. My cousin is saying
I Do
at the end of the week, and I’m her maid of honor.
With the top down on my blue, Volkswagen Beetle, the wind blows my newly dyed blonde hair everywhere—bucket list number thirteen—and I speed down the interstate. As I sing along to Maroon 5’s latest hit, I finally pull up to Natalee’s house—rather,
mansion
.
Hingham, Massachusetts—known for its colonial history and location on Boston Harbor—is stunningly beautiful in the fall. The leaves are just starting to change color and the weather is absolutely perfect. Natalee’s house is
big
—large bay windows and a white wrap-around porch adds to its beauty. It’s much bigger than what I’m accustomed to. It sits right off the shore, with the backyard leading to the water, and it’s simply breathtaking.
I turn the music down as I pull my car up next to her brand-new, silver Lexus and kill the engine. It’s been months since I’ve seen Natalee. Months that I regret deeply, where I chose to hide away rather than be alive.
But not anymore.
No more sulking. No more being depressed. Life is too beautiful to be living it alone.
With a positive attitude and a bucket list, I’m coming here with a new outlook on life. It’ll finally be my chance—my chance to
live
. I’m done hiding out. It’s my time—probably my last chance—to be spontaneous, wild, and carefree. If time isn’t going to be on my side, I need to make the most out of this life while I can.
Natalee’s asked me to stay an extra week after the wedding to housesit during their honeymoon, so it’ll just be me, the water, and fall leaves. I left my job more than two months ago—a job I had worked tirelessly toward for four years while studying at Syracuse University—but now a job that was useless to me. I wasn’t going to waste my time working.
Natalee asked me repeatedly if staying two weeks was too long, but I was more than happy to do it. They’re getting married in six days—on Saturday—and I know she’s going to need all the extra help she can get before the big day.
She’s had her wedding planned since she was six years old, down to the flower bouquets and flavor of the cake.
The very idea of having to plan a wedding shoots anxiety throughout my entire body. The cost alone makes me want to jump off a cliff, but that was something Natalee never had to worry about.
We grew up in very different circumstances. My Aunt Lauren—Natalee’s mom—married a very wealthy businessman. Natalee grew up in a lifestyle that most people can only dream about. Wealthy, proper, elegant. She grew up around maids, nannies, and never hearing the word “no”. You wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t know that about her. She’s the most humble, down-to-earth person I know.
Aunt Lauren passed away when we were teenagers, and Natalee’s father—Uncle Mark—died in a ski accident a short time after that. Natalee, being an only child, inherited everything. So when she told me she was engaged, I knew there’d be no shortage of funds to make sure it was exactly the wedding she and her mother had planned years ago, before she died.
I barely slam my car door shut when I hear her heels clicking against the wood of the porch.
“Kate? Is that you? Oh my God!” she squeals, her eyes lit bright. “Katie Bear! You’re here!”
“It’s me,” I say with a smile. She flails her arms as she runs toward me, pushing my entire body back against my car. “A bit much?” I laugh as she wraps her arms tightly around me.
I start to choke, desperate for air when she finally releases her death grip. “Sorry, I’m just so excited you’re here!” Her eyes widen as her voice goes up an octave. “Oh wow, your hair! I love it!” She threads her fingers down my blonde hair that was previously a rich chocolate brown. “You look so good. Getting a little too skinny though.” She takes my hands in hers. “Oh my God! There’s so much to do!” I can tell she’s a bundle of nerves by the way she’s rambling and practically jumping up and down.
“Me, too.” I really am. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for weeks. “I’ll help anyway I can.”
“Thanks for being here, Katie Bear.” Her face goes soft. “You’re all I have.”
Oh God
.
To hear her say those words makes this whole situation a living hell. I wish I could tell her, prepare her for what’s to come, but I can’t do that to her. Not when this is supposed to be the happiest time of her life.
“I’ll always be here for you, Nat. You know that.” I allow the corner of my lips to curl up so she can see I’m being sincere. I plan to be here for her as much as I can—or as long as I can, anyway.
“No Kyle?” She tilts her head and furrows her brows as she finally notices the empty passenger seat.
I haven’t told her yet.
“No, we broke up three months ago.” I shrug my shoulders and bow my head.
“Katie Bear, you never told me.” Her voice is low and sad.
I look back up and see the concerned look on her face. “I’m fine,” I say reassuringly, but the way she purses her lips tells me she doesn’t buy it. “I promise! I’m okay with it.”
She exhales and flashes a knowing grin on her face. “Well, this calls for wine and ice cream.”
I laugh at her enthusiasm and nod my head. Her happy energy is contagious.
I finally escape her death grip and walk to my trunk, popping it open and grabbing the suitcases I brought with me.
“I can’t wait to give you the grand tour!”
She links arms with me, pulling one suitcase behind her. I pull the other with my right hand as we walk up the steps and into the house. And
grand
isn’t even the right term to use.
“Wow, Natalee. This is so beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she says proudly. “Trace and I had most of it remodeled before we moved in. It needed a lot of work, but I’m happy with it.”
It’s one of those old Victorian houses with steady, thick beams and natural hardwood floors. The vintage scent still lingers in the air, but it smells like heaven—a mixture of oak and floral.
“It’s absolutely charming. Your sense of style really adds to the character.” I brush my fingers across the staircase banister. She’s always had great taste. It’s a mixture of modern chic meets sophisticated housewife. The walls and décor are all earthy tones and solid colors. They’re easy on the eyes and blend in well with the view at the back of the house.
“Please tell me I can swim in there?” My eyes glaze over in a dreamy haze as I take in the clear, blue water. I’d never leave the house if I had a view like that.
“Oh, of course. There’s a brand new dock out there and everything. Make yourself at home, Katie Bear.” She flashes me her mega-watt smile. “But it might be cold. So I don’t suggest any late night swims or anything,” she warns, as if she’s reading my mind or something.
“You know I’m not eight years old anymore,
Nattie Bug
. You can call me by my name.” She’s called me that my whole life, so I’m teasing her, even though I know it won’t stop her.
“You’ll always be Katie Bear to me, sorry hon.” She glances back, smirking. She walks me through the first floor, showing me the dining room, the living room, the kitchen, the breakfast room, the three full bathrooms, her office, and the back porch—all before we make it back to the staircase in the front of the house.
“Wow…that was quite the tour.” I grin.
“The guest rooms are up here.” She begins walking up the stairs, suitcase in one hand.
“Rooms?” I raise a brow, towing the other suitcase behind me.
“Oh! I almost forgot. One of Trace’s friends from college is staying here, too. He’s in the wedding party as well, but you won’t even notice him,” she reassures me with a nonchalant wave.
We make it to the top of the second story, which is just as beautiful as the first. Walking down the hallway, she stops at the last room on the right. “You’ll stay in this one.” The door opens to the brightest, most-decorated room I’ve ever seen. “The bathroom is over there.” She motions to the right, toward a dark, wooden door. “Your closet is over there.” She points left to off-white double doors. “The bathroom is stocked with everything you’ll need—shampoo, soap, shaving gel, towels, condoms.”
“
Condoms
? Really?” I sputter, with a hand on my hip. “What kind of guests are you used to?”
“Hey, I’m just trying to be a good host. I won’t judge.” She laughs, moving my suitcases to the edge of the bed.
“Good to know,” I laugh with her.
“Well, I’ll let you settle in. Franco will have dinner ready by six-thirty.”
“Franco?”
“The chef.” She smiles. I try to hide the surprise expression on my face, but I’m sure she sees it. This is definitely not the lifestyle I’m used to. I have my whole life squeezed into a one-bedroom apartment. “Feel free to take a bath or something. I’ll be making some last-minute phone calls in my office.”
“Thanks, Natalee.” I smile genuinely, wrapping her in another hug. “You’re an amazing host.” I know she’ll love hearing that.
“I’m really glad you’re here, Katie Bear.”
“You know you’re the only one I would let call me that.”
“I know,” she says softly, a hint of amusement in her voice.
After the tour, I decide to take a shower and lay down for a bit before dinner. Between fatigue and some dull pain in my joints, a hot shower is just what I need.
I toss my luggage out on the bed, digging around for a razor and toothbrush. I grab a towel from the closet, noticing it’s the softest, fluffiest towel I’ve ever felt. This is going to be better than staying at a five-star hotel.
I walk to the bathroom and lock it behind me, marveling at how large it is. The walls are brightly painted, with modern light fixtures hanging over the mirror. There are his-and-her sinks, a separate walk-in shower and clawfoot tub that I can’t wait to try out some night. It’s insane, knowing this is their “guest” bathroom.
I place my toothbrush on the counter and hang the towel on a hook. Turning the shower to hot, I wrap my hair up in a knot, allowing the steam to take over the bathroom before I step in.
After a few minutes of enjoying the silence and heat, I hear banging. Startled, I open the curtain just enough so I can peek out.
A man—
a very sexy man—
is standing at the sink, brushing his teeth.
With my toothbrush!
“Um,
hello
?” I ask, annoyance evident in my voice.
He looks up vaguely, no concern on his face. “Hey,” he manages to say as he continues brushing.
My eyes widen as I look from left to right, wondering if he’s being an ass or is just seriously delusional.
“Can I
help
you?” I snap, holding the curtain tighter to my chest than before. The steam is becoming overbearing and clouding my ability to see him.
“Not unless you have aftershave?” He rinses my toothbrush and gently sets it back down. “Forgot it,” he says casually, patting his cheeks with both hands. A smirk forms on his face as his eyes stay glued to mine.
He’s messing with me
.
“Get
out
!” I snap again. “Didn’t you hear the shower running? That means someone is in here.”
“Sorry, sweet plum. Door wasn’t locked.”
Sweet plum?
I’m shocked at his bluntness. And now I’m angry that I’m standing here naked, having this argument with a complete stranger.
“Yes it was,” I argue.
“Not mine.” He shrugs and points to the door on the other side of the bathroom. “Joint bathroom,” he confirms.
Son-of-a-bitch
. Natalee managed to tell me every detail about this house except that, apparently. I had thought it was just another linen closet.
“Fine,” I hiss through gritted teeth. “I’ll be out in a minute.” This is so fucking awkward.
“Take your time, sweet plum.” I can hear the delight in his tone.
“It’s Kate,” I correct. There’s no response, so I assume he’s finally taken his leave.
I turn around and wash my face under the stream of water, wanting to get out as soon as possible.
“I’m Gabe,” I hear him announce. I spin around so quickly that I almost slip. He catches my elbow, keeping me on two feet. I grab the curtain again to cover my body, but it’s too late.
“Oh, my God!” I scream, noticing he’s looking directly at me from inside the shower. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Well, how can we have an introduction if I don’t see your face?” He flashes a shit-eating grin. If I wasn’t clenching the curtain with both hands, I would’ve been tempted to slap that grin right off his perfectly sculpted face.
“Seriously, get out!” I push a hand against his hard chest, hearing him chuckle as he finally backs up out of the shower. I quickly place my hands on top of the curtain rod and stretch the curtain out as far as it’ll go.
What the fuck is going on here?
I’m sure this has to be some prank Natalee’s playing on me.
