Finding Jordie: Things aren't always what they seem. (The Love Lies Bleeding Series Book 1) (40 page)

“HONESTLY, RACHEL, I WISH
you wouldn’t leave these rag mags around my bar.”

“Honestly, Jordie, I wish you’d stop being such a raging bitch,” she quipped back, nasty.

She was right yet again. I hadn’t exactly been sunshine and rainbows over the last six months. I looked past my enormous belly and picked up the magazine. “Don’t these people have anything else to report besides Nate fucking Harper living the bachelor’s life? And if he’s going to be a man whore I wish he’d go back to L.A. and not do it in my backyard.” I tossed the magazine back onto the bar and popped a peppermint in my mouth to try and fight off the familiar feeling of nausea. Not the “I’m ginormously pregnant nausea” either. It was the kind that took over your body when you saw the father of your child, the man you loved, live his life big pimpin’ style, without you.

“Stop dwelling on it. It is what it is, Jordan. You know we’ll all be here for you. Tyler, Frank, Nathan’s parents, Emma, Kelly, Isobel, all of us.”

I was in tears again. “Everyone but him,” I wailed and put my head down on the bar.

“My god, woman, that’s it. I can’t continue to see you like this. You need to go and see him again. Tyler said he’s remembering more and more every day. His parents, his childhood, his name.” She muttered the last part.

“No. I can’t. Look at all the women he’s been with since he’s been out of the hospital. I’ll never be able to look at him the same way knowing he’s been with all of them.”

“But you
do
look at him that way still. It’s been
six months,
Jordan, and you’re still as in love with him as you were on day one. I don’t understand—if you won’t allow us to talk to him about you or let him see you, how is that helping him remember you? He stares at me like I hold the key to Pandora’s box or some shit. It creeps me out. He knows
something
. He just can’t figure out what.” She gave me the routine lecture as she gestured to my hand. I knew she was pointing out to me that I was still wearing my engagement ring. I quickly slid my hand off the bar and shoved it into my sweater pocket.

“Exactly. It’s been six months and he doesn’t have a memory of me or how he felt about me.
Six months.
So I’m sure seeing the crazy pregnant lady isn’t going to help him remember. It’ll probably derail his progress. I don’t want to make things harder for him.” I pulled myself together. “Besides, his mom asks him all the time if he remembers anything else or anything new. He does, just not me, or us.” I shrugged. “She keeps asking me if she can tell him I’m like eight months pregnant in hopes that will bring back some kind of memory for him but I don’t want to confuse him even more, or worse yet, deny us. She knows she’ll be a part of our son’s life. A huge part, no matter what the situation is with Nathan.”

“First off, how can he
see
the crazy pregnant lady if said crazy pregnant lady never leaves the house except to come here?” She folded her arms. “Second, you
are
fucking crazy. That has got to be the most awkward situation for her. Seriously, here’s the grandchild your son doesn’t remember having any part in making. Talk about drama fest.” She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, it is what it is, and I do too leave the house. I just try and keep a low profile so I don’t get photographed like this. I don’t want that to be on a cover of
US Weekly
and throw Nathan over the edge, you know?” I placed my hands on my belly.

Rachel just gave me the headshake of disapproval.

Tough shit, Rach, I’m doing this my way.
“Okay, I need to get Emma.” I gathered my stuff off the bar.

“Hollerrr.”

“Hollerrr,” I replied.

While I sat on the steps outside to wait for Emma I couldn’t erase the images of Nathan and the different women he’d been seen with week after week out of my mind. Why could he remember his friends and family but not us? I guessed deep down I
knew
why, I simply didn’t want to admit it.

He only remembered what was truly important to him.

Good riddance. It wouldn’t have worked out anyways in the long run if that was the case,
I tried to convince myself as I felt my heart shatter into a million pieces for the ten billionth time. I’d had my fair share of heartbreak before, but this was like none other I’d ever experienced. It just hung around, stagnant, with no sign of reprieve. My little man gave me a kick and immediately I smiled while I hugged my belly.

“Yeah, I know. I’ll get used to it eventually, kid.”

“Hey, Mom, get inside. It’s too cold out here for you two.” I heard Emma’s voice from a few feet away.

“Hey, kiddo, how was school?” I cleared my demeanor of any unpleasantness and stood up.

“Fine.” She sounded less than enthusiastic.

“What’s wrong?”

The poor kid had been taking this whole ordeal pretty hard. She had good days and bad. It was obvious this had been a bad one.

“Someone brought in another magazine with Nathan plastered all over the front. Mr. Hopper took it right away, but still.” She sighed.

“I know, sweetie. It’ll get better, I promise.”

“When? Mom, I hear you cry all the time playing that stupid ‘Stranded’ song over and over upstairs. It isn’t like you’re making it any easier on me either.” She rolled her eyes and tossed her stuff on the couch, plopping down next to it. “I mean, it’s not like you’ve fallen into some deep dark depression or anything, you function just fine. It’s just, I had imagined Christmas time being a bit different than this.” She extended her arms out, palms up, looking around the room in wonder.

I did listen to that song a lot. I hadn’t realized she could hear me.

“This was our favorite time of the year. This place was always decorated before Thanksgiving, for the love of God. Look around you, not a HO HO HO in sight. Unless it’s on one of those stupid tabloid magazines you have hidden in the laundry room. Yeah, Mom, I know about them. You yell at Aunt Rachel for leaving them around all the time. You’re such a hypocrite.” She mumbled the last part.

Holy shit, she was right. I looked around.
What’s today’s date?
I glanced at my phone. December first. “Well, it looks like we have some decorating to do.” I smiled at her, holding my belly.

“For seriously?” She sprang off the couch.

“Yes, for seriously.” I chuckled.

“Oh, thank god. I was about to call Aunt Kelly and Aunt Rachel for an intervention.”

Four hours later our place looked like a winter wonderland.

“Impressive work, momma dukes.”

“I have a great little helper.”

Just as I went to use the bathroom the door buzzed. I guessed it was Isobel. She’d texted me earlier that her mom had crocheted the baby a blanket, and she was going to try and drop it off tonight at some point during her shift.

“Emma, can you get that? It’s probably Isobel dropping something off for the baby. I need to pee.” I crossed my legs in hopes of making it to the bathroom in time.

“Who is it?” Emma said through the intercom.

“Um, I’m sorry, but do I know who lives here?” A familiar voice came through the speaker and I froze mid-pee.

“Emma, get away from the door,” I called as I rushed out of the bathroom.

Waddling as fast as I could into the living room I saw she was at the window.

Damn, damn, damn. She saw him.

“Mom, Nathan’s out there. He remembers!” She smiled from ear to ear.

“No, he doesn’t, baby. The building is just familiar to him. That’s all. You heard him.” I tried to explain without shattering her heart all over again.

“No, Mom, let him up. He’ll remember. He hasn’t seen us in six months, please!”

“No, Emma Lynn. End of story. Go to your room. I’ll handle this.” I raised my voice, careful not to be too loud.

“Fine, I hate you! You don’t want him to remember us, do you?” she screamed through her tears and stomped off to her room, slamming the door.

“Go away.” I spoke into the speaker with my best attempt at sounding composed.

“Please, I know this is weird, but do I know you? Or do I know who lives or lived here? I had an accident a few months back—I don’t remember much of anything, but I remember this place. I’m drawn to it. Please don’t be alarmed. I’m not dangerous. I just can’t stay away from it.” He said everything in one long breath. He sounded so desperate to put the pieces together.

“No, I’m sorry. You don’t know who lives here, Nathan. Now go away.” I barely got the words out as I choked back the tears, my hand on my belly.

“Oh,” was all he said.

I leaned against the door as the tears steadily flowed down my cheeks. After a few seconds with no response I assumed he’d left so I began to walk away to go deal with Emma.

“How do you know my name then?” His voice came through the speaker once again.

“Shit,” I hissed through my teeth, pissed at myself.
Think, think, Jordie. Quick! Ah, cameras. Yes!

“I can see your face on my security camera. Everyone knows who Nate Harper is.” I sounded annoyed and hostile. I was trying to harden my heart and fight the urge to run down there and throw my arms around the man I loved. The man I loved and
lost
.

“Well, yeah, everyone does know Nate Harper—but you called me Nathan.”

Fuck.
“Please, just... please, just go away,” I sobbed and turned the volume to the speaker all the way down. I scrambled for my phone in hopes that Tyler was next door at the bar with Rachel to get him out of here.

“Of course you don’t answer.”
Ugh, Rachel.
I wanted to pull my hair out. I needed to talk to her. I peeked out the window and he was still standing out there, looking around. My god, he was still just as beautiful as he was the day I met him. My hardened heart softened for the briefest moment, and I put my hand on the window and wished I was close enough to touch him, to put my hand on his chest like I used to, and maybe he’d remember. I shook myself out of the impossible daydream and headed for Emma’s room.

“Emma, I need to run next door. Do not let
anyone
in, do you understand me?” I was a bit too stern with her. “And we’ll discuss what you said to me later. I’ll be right back.”

“I’m so sorry, Mommy.” She got up and hugged me. “I really am. I don’t get it, but there must be a reason you don’t want him here. Plus, I’m the child and you’re the adult.” She nodded and grinned at her little joke. “I’m going to bed.” She gave me a kiss on my cheek. “Oh, and there’s a gift from Ms. Varnett for the baby in my back pack. She said it’s for his nursery.”

The nursery.
I hadn’t even started converting the third bedroom, which I’d been using as storage for the last eight years, into the baby’s room. I’d been avoiding it like the plague.

“We can talk more tomorrow. I love you,” I said and closed her door.

I grabbed my boots and my sweater and hopped back to the window, trying to balance myself as I put my boot on. Looked all clear; I didn’t see him anywhere. “Thank god.” I turned and headed out the door.

While I was locking the outside door I dropped my keys and struggled to bend over and pick them up. “Fuck.” I put my hand on the door to balance myself, and bent over, using my leg in the air behind me as leverage.

“That’s an interesting trick you’re doing there. Can I help you?”

My body and mind froze for a moment and immediately I felt tears form in my eyes.
Keep cool, Jordie, he doesn’t know you.
Oh, that voice, it was so good to hear him even if he wasn’t mine anymore.

“I’m good, thanks.” I snatched my keys up in one quick motion and kept my back turned to him.

“Are you who I spoke with through the intercom? I didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was getting closer. My insides turned to mush because I could feel that electricity between us even though I was sure now it was only one-sided.

“No, that was someone else. Now please go away,” I choked out over my sobs.

“I... I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m just at a loss in my life right now. I feel... empty and alone, and I can’t understand why this place comforts me so much.” He sounded truly bewildered.

Lord, I know I use your name a lot when I’m not supposed to and I know I am a terrible, terrible Catholic, but please give me the strength not to profess how much I—we—love and need him. How his son needs his father. It’s just too much for him. It’s too much for me, please. We can’t take any more pain and rejection. Our fragile hearts are just not strong enough.

“Please, Nathan, just go.” There was no masking my tears by that point.

“What have I done to you that you can’t even turn around and look at me?” I could feel his breath on the back of my neck as he stood right behind me. I tried with every shred of dignity and restraint I had not to turn and look at him but I was defenseless against the current, the yearning. It was like gravity. I turned slowly and faced him once again, blue eyes to green, and he let out a small gasp.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered.