Because I Love You (9 page)

Last thing I needed was to fill out paperwork and have a nurse notice the signatures were too similar.

He raised an eyebrow. “Not that I mind breaking the law, but you know we could both get in serious trouble for this, right?”

“Please?”

He sighed, snatched the pen from my hand, and forged my mother’s signature. With a quiet “thank you,” I led him into the building, and he grabbed a seat near the back of the waiting room. I gave the secretary my name, I.D., and the certificate. With a smile, she handed me a clipboard and instructed me to fill it out while I waited for the nurse to call my name.

“You think her boobs are real?” Neil asked when I sat down, showing me the open magazine he held.

It’s like being with Heather all over again.
“No.”

He flipped a couple pages. “How ‘bout hers?”

“No.”

“Hers?”

“Neil.”

“Sorry. Can’t help it if I like real boobs.”

Shaking my head, I started on the necessary paperwork. I expected the medical history and confidentiality information, but when I got to the detailed descriptions of my options, my pulse raced. Have it sucked out like a vacuum cleaner. Take one pill here, take another at home, and boom—miscarriage.

My stomach sloshed, and I let out a deep breath.
You can do this, Andie. You
have
to do this.
I checked the box for the one with the pills.

When the nurse called my name, I stood on noodley legs and wobbled through the waiting room. Neil grabbed my arm, placing my hand inside his elbow.

“You looked like the scarecrow from
The Wizard of Oz
,” he whispered.

In my head, I punched his arm—the one I clung to like a baby monkey to its mother.

“Are you the father?” the nurse asked him when we reached the doorway.

“Why? Can I go back with her if I’m not?”

“No. You’ll have to wait—”

“He’s the father,” I shouted, blushing.

“Uh, yeah. What she said,” Neil replied.

The nurse’s expression showed that she knew better, but she responded with, “Come on back.”

Gripping Neil’s arm, I followed in a daze and found myself seated on a table. Had Neil helped me up here?

“Andrea?” The nurse’s voice was loud. I must’ve zoned out.

“Yes?”

“Your vitals are good, so I need to make sure you’re here for the medicine.”
She took my vitals?
“Otherwise, I’m going to need to make you an appointment.”

I nodded. “I am.”

She handed me a clipboard. “I need you to sign below and initial the boxes, stating that you’ve read the information about the procedure, consent to the procedure, and fully understand that you’re terminating a pregnancy.”

Maybe it was the way she worded it—“terminating,” like I was destroying something. Every part of me constricted. I grabbed the pen, but my hands trembled. The boxes on the paper moved. My lungs burned, and my fingers weakened. When had my world turned so upside down that I was ready to kill an innocent baby because of
my
mistake? The clipboard fell out of my hand. Dropping the pen, I gripped the edge of the bed and wheezed, my sides throbbing like Goliath stepped on my ribs.

“I’ll give you two a minute,” the nurse said, leaving the clipboard and pen on the counter.

As soon as she left the room, I leapt off the exam table and wrapped my arms around my waist. Words spewed out between gasps as I paced. “I can’t do it, but I have to. I can’t. I have to.”

Neil tried to interrupt me. “Andie—”

“I have to do it. I have to. Oh, God,
I can’t
.” My knees weakened as a howl rolled out of me, and I hit the floor. If I had to, then why did it feel like my life was ending? Like I was signing away a piece of my soul?

“Shit.” Neil jumped out of his chair and crouched next to me. He put his hands on my shoulders as hyperventilating took over. “Hey, breathe. You’ve got to breathe.”

I shook my head, bawling as black spotted my vision. I grasped his forearms when the room spun.

Eyes tight, Neil drew me into his arms. “You’re all right. Let it out.”

I gripped the back of his jacket in my fists, and, for minutes, we stayed like that—Neil rubbing my back, me soaking his shoulder. Why had I thought I’d be able to go through with this? I never should’ve come.

Soon, my breathing eased, and my sobs turned into soft cries and sniffling. Still, Neil held me tight. I closed my eyes, letting myself relax. Exhaustion filled every muscle. If we didn’t leave soon, I’d fall asleep, right here on the floor.

“Take me home,” I spoke into his chest.

“Well, that’s mighty forward of you.”

I pushed him away with a glare.

He smirked. “That’s better.”

I rolled my eyes, and he hoisted me to my feet, holding my hands until he made sure I could stand. Then, with an arm around my shoulders, he led me from the room, stopping only to let the nurse know I’d changed my mind. Neil heaved me into the truck before hopping into the driver’s seat. He peeled out of the parking lot like a man on a mission.

I rested my head on the cold glass of the truck’s window. My cheeks were still hot from crying like a blubbering fool. Ugh, this was such a mistake. Picturing the scene from Neil’s point of view, my skin crawled. I hated to cry when I was alone, and even more so in front of other people. Especially when they were someone like Neil.

Five minutes down the road, I found the courage to thank him for what he did at the clinic. “I should never have asked you to do any of this.”

“Yes, you’ve been a terrible inconvenience.” His voice was playful.

I scowled at him. “Are you capable of anything other than sarcasm?”

“No, not really.”

“Well, humor me, because I’m trying to offer you a sincere apology.”

His gaze flicked to me. “We’re seriously going to turn this into a chick flick moment?”

I crossed my arms without breaking my stare.

“Oh, for God’s sake.
You’re welcome
.”

“That’s it? ‘You’re welcome?’”

Neil shrugged. “What else do you want me to say?”

“Maybe ‘don’t ever call me again?’”

He shook his head.

“So, what? Bad boy Neil Donaghue has a heart? He actually comforts women without expecting them to jump into bed?”

Neil yanked the truck off the side of the road, slamming on the brakes.

He jerked his head in my direction and curled his lips. “How is it, given everything, you still think the worst of me? I came after you when the whole school laughed in your face. I committed a possible felony because you needed my help. I drove you to a fucking abortion clinic and pretended to be the damn father so you didn’t have to be alone. And you think I did all this because I want to
get in your pants?
”

I mumbled, “Well, you do have a reputation.”

His face reddened, and he turned away, hands balled into fists. Neil grabbed the wheel, every muscle in his toned forearms taut, and wrenched the truck onto the expressway without a word.

My stomach churned. He was right. I was jumping to conclusions and being judgmental when I had absolutely no right to be.
What is wrong with me?

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I just don’t know why you would do all this for me.”

His fingers loosened and then tightened around the steering wheel, but he didn’t respond.

I watched him for a few minutes, hoping he’d say something. But, when he didn’t, I put my feet on the seat, tucked myself into a ball, and leaned against the window again.

chapter nine

For the next fifteen minutes, I waited for some angry or sarcastic comment, but every time I looked at Neil, the muscles in his jaw remained rigid. He never once looked in my direction. Like he forgot I existed. But when we reached River Springs, he missed the turn that would’ve taken me home.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he drove through town until we reached the outskirts. The part of River Springs no one ventured into unless they wanted to get lost in the forest. I pursed my lips.
Why would he take me out here?
Then he pulled into a hidden driveway, and there, in front of me, was a house that took my breath away.

In its time, the place had to have been beautiful. A Victorian home with wood siding that looked like it had, at one time, been painted jade green. Now, the paint was chipping off, shutters were missing, and one of the upstairs windows was boarded over with plywood.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“Get out.” Neil shut off the engine, jumped out of the truck, and then slammed his door closed.

I followed, my insides twisting in knots. The front porch steps creaked under my weight. When Neil pushed open the front door, the hinges screeched like a dying cat. I cringed. Inside, the rooms were in much better shape, for the most part. Smells of fresh paint and cleaner filled my nose, and the furniture appeared to be in good condition. The place still held the ambiance of a well-to-do Victorian family, the kind of place you once went for tea and finger sandwiches while discussing business affairs.

“You live here, don’t you?” I asked.

Neil dropped his keys on an antique chest in the foyer. “Try to keep it down. You don’t want to meet my mother.” His gaze flicked everywhere but toward me. “Hungry?”

“Sure.”

I followed Neil through an outdated dining room and into the kitchen. From off-white, yellowing cabinets, he pulled a loaf of bread, some peanut butter, and a bag of potato chips. A rickety stove sat beneath a cracked window, and a rusting refrigerator was tucked in the far corner. Sympathy warmed my chest.

“My parents bought this house before I was born,” Neil said. “It was their intent to fix this place up and flip it, like those families you see on TV. They started with the inside and worked their way from top to bottom. Completed the upstairs then finished the living room, family room, and foyer.”

His hand movements were jerky as he slathered his bread with peanut butter. I knew what was coming next; his dad had died when we were in elementary school. My fingers twitched, aching to touch Neil’s arm, to tell him he didn’t need to share this with me. But he continued before I had the chance.

“Then on my eighth birthday, my dad came to pick me up from a sleepover at Owen’s, and on our way home, our car was struck by a semi.” Neil’s gaze caught mine for the first time since I lashed out at him on the side of the road. There weren’t tears in his eyes, but the spark that had filled them the last two days was gone.

Someone stuck a hot, jagged piece of iron in my chest and twisted as my own memories flooded my mind. I’d been sitting on the couch in our living room when the police officer walked through the front door and gathered my mom and me together. As Mom screamed and collapsed to the floor, I stared at the dark television, dazed, like it was a dream, like I’d wake up the next morning and hear my dad call me “sweet pea.”

But Dad never read his newspaper at the kitchen table again, or brought me a present from one of his speaking tours, or chauffeured me to another dance class. The ache I felt in my bones every time I saw Mom sitting alone in the stands at football games . . . there was no comparison.

“Neil . . . .” I placed my hand over his.

Dropping the knife he’d been using for the peanut butter, he stepped back. “I’m not done. In case you can’t tell, this place was never touched again. Mom started drinking and never stopped. I became a parent to a younger sister who still blames me for her dad’s death. And the only thing that keeps us from complete poverty is my asshole uncle who, because of some promise he made my dad, pays for our tuition and bills while holding it over our heads. The rest of it—the clothes, the groceries—it’s all from the monthly check we get from my Dad’s life insurance or the money I make on the weekends, working for my uncle.

“So, next time you want to accuse me of being a low-life asshole with nothing better to do than use women like toilet paper, remember this: I built that reputation so people don’t get close enough to see
this.
”

My heart pounded in my ears as Neil’s nostrils flared and he seemed to forget how to breathe. I understood why he’d want to hide this from people, why he’d pretend to be something he wasn’t. I hated the pity stares and comments from people who knew about my dad’s death, and I didn’t have poverty looming over my head. If I were in Neil’s shoes, I wouldn’t want people to know the truth either.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Precisely.”

“Look, about what I said—”

He sighed. “Forget it.”

“No, let me finish.” I held up a hand, fighting the burn in my throat. “I lost my dad, too, two years ago.”

Neil’s shoulders drooped. “I know.”

“And you’ve been nothing but kind to me these last couple days. Why, I don’t know, but I still shouldn’t have lashed out at you, even without knowing about your family. I’m sorry.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds, like two cowboys in a standoff. It was so quiet; I could almost hear the wind rustling the trees outside. My curiosity got the best of me. “I have to ask: Why are you sharing all this with me?”