Finding My Forever (7 page)

I did that. I took that step and look where it got me. My palm finds my stomach and rubs along the outside of my sweatshirt. I’m lucky that the cold weather is allowing me to wear layers because right now my oversized sweatshirt is hiding an even bigger bump. I’m not going to be able to hide it much longer. The truth is going to come out sooner or later. I just hope that they don’t freak out on me. I know Josie is going to want to know who the father is, but I need to keep that to myself out of respect for him. I keep thinking I’m going to tell him, but then I imagine the look on his face when I tell him that our one moment produced a child and I can’t bring myself to say those words. Watching him walk out on me will break my heart.

Liam’s car pulls into the driveway, shaking me from my reverie. I focus harder through the rain sheeted window when I hear four car doors slam individually. From the time that it takes me to leave the living room and walk into the foyer the door is open. Liam walks in first, his arms and hair dripping with water. Josie’s next, but under the cover of Liam’s jacket. My heart aches, knowing I won’t have that kind of love. The next person to walk in is my mom, but the fact that she’s standing there, staring at me, is not registering. I look at her hard, questioningly. She smiles, her eyes sad. My dad steps in and shuts the door. He looks at me, smiling widely.

I run the five or so steps it takes me to get to my parents. I collapse into them, one on each side of me, and don’t even try to stop the tears from coming. My parents are here in Beaumont. I haven’t seen them in so long and they’re here, standing in Liam’s house, dripping water all over the floor, but that doesn’t matter because I’m holding them now.

“Let me take your coats,” Liam says, moving around us, trying not to bother our reunion.

I pull back and look at my parents. My mom, she’s aged, but is just as beautiful as the last time I saw her. My dad, he’s graying more and has earned himself a bit of a belly.

“I must be dreaming,” I say.

“You’re not dreaming. Your friend, Liam, arranged this for us.”

I look over their shoulders at Liam, who is looking shy, like he doesn’t like to be the center of attention. If he weren’t the lead singer of a successful band, I’d almost believe that he’s shy. Liam looks at me and offers me a half smile and a shrug.

“He’s pretty great,” I say, downplaying the situation for him. “Come on, you must be so cold in those wet clothes. I’ll take you upstairs and you can change.”

“I’ll go get their things,” Liam says, slipping into his coat.

“I’ll go with you, Son,” my dad says. Liam freezes, his hand on the doorknob. I see Liam’s jaw clench, but he nods, accepting my dad’s help. I’ll have to find a time, privately, to tell my dad that Liam and his father have a rough relationship.

“I’m so happy to see you Jenna.” My mom takes my hands in her. Her eyes water as do mine. The last time she saw me I had a bruised cheek that even make-up couldn’t hide.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I pull her into my arms and hug her tightly. I mouth
thank you
to Josie, who is standing there watching us. She looks like she’s about to cry. She shakes her head, telling me everything I need to know. Liam set this up. He did this for me.

The men walk back in with luggage in their hands. Liam nods to the stairs and my dad follows. I’ll gladly take the couch if it means my parents are going to be here for a while.

“How long are you here for?”

“Well, dear, you and your father need to figure out what to do about Damien and I’m going to take care of you.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I’m fine, mom. Ever since that night, Damien hasn’t been around.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t waiting for you. Lurking out there like the sick man that he is.” She closes her eyes, clearly remembering the night that I came home battered. I will never forget the look on her face when I walked into the house or when she sat with me in the emergency room while the police took pictures, pictures that they never did anything with.

“I wouldn’t know. I’m being held captive.”

Josie scoffs in the background.

“It’s true. This is the Westbury jail. I’m not even working and I hate that.”

“With more people watching now, you can go back to work.” Liam’s voice startles me. I turn away from my mom to find him and my dad behind me.

“Is that why you called my parents, to babysit me?” I ask, trying not to laugh. He shrugs. “Well, thank you,” I say, giving him a hug. “I really needed them here,” I mumble into his shirt.

“I know.” He rubs his hands up and down my back. “We just want you safe.”

I nod, biting my lip to keep from crying. I can’t keep crying at the drop of a hat. I know I’m emotional, but it’s getting to be too much. I’m going to dehydrate myself if I’m not careful.

“We need to talk, Jenna,” my dad says, motioning toward the table. I follow him, pulling out the chair across from him. He slides papers over to me. Everything moves in slow motion. The last time we did this, I ended my marriage. What will I be doing this time?

I flip through the pages. Each page detailing previously told incidents from the diary I kept. I can’t read them. I don’t want to relive those nights in my life. When I married Damien, I was happy, I was in love.

“Sign on the back there.”

“What am I signing?”

“It’s a restraining order. It’s a long shot, but we’re going to try it. I can’t practice here, but Liam says he already has someone that I can work with to get this squared away.”

“What does this mean, dad?”

He folds his hands on the table and leans toward me. “It means, if the judge accepts this order, Damien won’t be able to come within two thousand feet. It’s far-fetched, but we’re hoping to pull some strings.”

“And what happens if the judge doesn’t go for this?”

My dad leans back and scratches his belly. I stifle a laugh. He won’t like it if I’m not taking this seriously. “The worst case scenario is we get thrown out, but I’m hoping it doesn’t come to that.”

“We don’t even know where he is.”

Dad flips though the papers sitting in front of him. “Officer Baker has been keeping tabs on him. He placed a GPS beacon under his car. It’s illegal, but it allows Baker to track Damien’s whereabouts.”

“Is he waiting for me to leave the house?”

“Yes,” Liam says, coming into the room. “This is why Paul was adamant you stay in the house. He’s waiting to bust him and was hoping he’d trespass, but he hasn’t. So now Paul wants you to return to work.”

“I’m the bait.”

Liam shrugs. “Or the solution. Your dad will file the restraining order tomorrow, asking for an emergency hearing. Your ex doesn’t have to be at the hearing, but Paul will serve him when he sees him.”

It sounds too complicated. I do want to go back to work, but seeing Damien is not something I want to do. I sign my name and leave the table. I have to trust that my dad, Liam and Paul know what they’re doing.

I take the stairs to my room. I need to lie down and try to sleep off this headache I’m developing. My mom is in my room, well now her room, putting away her clothes. She smiles when I walk in. I sit on the bed and watch her for a minute.

“Have you been sleeping well?”

I shake my head. “A lot of thoughts run through my head when I’m alone.”

“That happens when you have so much on your plate.”

She sits down next to me, putting her arm around me.

“I have something to tell you, but you can’t tell dad.”

“Okay.”

“You have to promise.” I know once she does, she’ll never tell.

“I promise, sweetheart. Tell me what’s going on.” She runs her hand through my hair, like she did when I was younger. Just like she did the night before I married Damien.

“I’m pregnant.” I lift my sweatshirt and show her my little bump, a bump that I’m very proud of.

“Oh, Jenna.” She covers her mouth. I can’t look at her for fear of seeing the disappointment in her face. “Who’s the father? Have you been together long?”

I shake my head, biting my lip. “We’re just friends, but he doesn’t know. I don’t know if I’ll tell him. He’s not really the commitment type.”

“Do you think he’ll change his mind when you tell him?”

I look at her and see myself years from now. “It’s better if I do this by myself.”

E
VERYTHING
is white and sterile. This is a new side of Chelsea. When we lived together it was girly pink with posters of boy bands, tiara’s and pompom’s in the corner. The virginal Chelsea was sweet, innocent and ready to rebel against her straight-laced corporate American father and her beauty contest winning mother.

I was her salvation.

She was my destruction.

“You’re new here.”

I look at the leggy blonde lying on the sunbed next to me. I don’t remember seeing her when I sat down, but I can’t say I was paying much attention.

“Yeah, I am, my dad lives here. I’m only staying here until I find my own place.”

She turns to face me, putting her sunglasses on top of her head. “Where are you from?”

“London.”

She sits up and swings her tanned, toned legs around. She’s posh, upper-class. Right up my father’s street. He’d call her arm candy.

“What’s your name?”

“Jimmy. Jimmy Davis,” I say, as I hold my hand out to her. She takes it and I shake it firmly.

“Can I call you James?”

I shake my head slowly and smile at her. “Nope, my name’s Jimmy, not James. You’d have to ask my mum why she didn’t call me James.”

She laughs and for the first time since I’ve been in Los Angeles, I’m laughing too. When my mum suggested I should come out there to live with my dad I was against the idea. She told me this is where I should pursue my dream of making music and if I didn’t like it, I could come back and try and be successful in London as a famous musician. She wanted the best for me.

I didn’t want to come. I can’t stand my father. I think I’m the only child to ever celebrate when my mum finally kicked him out, but she says I need him in my life. I beg to differ, but I’m here and enjoying the luxury that his apartment has to offer.

“What’s your name?”

“Chelsea Spencer.”

“Do you live here?” I point to the towering apartment block in front of me. My dad lives on the seventeenth floor. It’s a penthouse, bigger than our flat in London, and it pisses me off that he isn’t looking after my mum, given that he clearly has the funds to do so.

“Sometimes I stay here or at our country house.”

I give her a once over and decide that she’s from money. I should’ve known. I wanted to avoid everything that was the typical LA cliché, otherwise known as ‘the rich-list’ in Los Angeles, and the first woman I talk to is just that. Chances are, daddy dearest is probably some high-powered politician.

I look back at the pool and watch the other women. They flirt with the waiters and other men passing by. No wonder my dad thinks the way he’s treated my mum is okay. He lives it on a daily basis.

“Did I say something wrong?”

I press my lips together and shake my head. “No.”

“How old are you, Jimmy?”

I try to avoid eye contact with her, but to no avail. She’s sexy and I’d be stupid to ignore her. I’m lucky she’s even talking to a bloke like me. I’m sure she has some man waiting for her once he finishes work. She adjusts the straps on her bikini, giving me an eyeful.

“I’m nineteen,” I say, moving my legs around so I can face her. I reach over and move the fabric of her top to cover her nipple. “You’re showing.”

“Oh shit, thank you.” Her hand covers mine and she holds it over her tit longer then should be normal seeing as I just met her. My fingers squeeze on their own accord. I try to move my hand, but she’s holding it there firmly.

“Um…”

“Sorry,” she says, letting go. “I think you’re really hot.”

“I think you’re fucking sexy,” I blurt out.

“Want to see my room?”

When we lived together we had vibrant art, mixed lines and warmth. Her apartment now lacks colour and life. This is what I think as I lie in her bed, staring at the ceiling. Her tanorexic arm is lying across my stomach. One of her bare breasts rests on my chest. Her head is snuggled into my neck. I used to enjoy this. I used to beg for this.

But now I want to run.

I turn my head a little to look at Chelsea. Her dark blonde roots are starting to show over her bottled hair colour. If I tell her that her roots need doing, she’d go running to the hairdresser to have them taken care of. She’s superficial like that and right now I’m in that frame of mind. I know everything there is to know about her and that’s still not enough for me to stay. Yet, the moment I touched back down in Los Angeles, I called her because I knew she’d come running and now I lie here, regretting it.

This isn’t where I want to be. I’ve never been able to say no to her, but I never imagined that I’d be back in her bed. She knows how to wear me down and does it with perfect precision. I’m the way I am because she’s my first love and I haven’t even tried to love anyone since her. Maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I need to put my heart on the line again to get Chelsea out of my system.