Prove Me Right (17 page)

Her body is a blur as it spins around to face me. “So you’re saying it’s my fault? I should have visited you more?”

“No. I’m just saying that when I’m with you, I didn’t need anything else. And when I wasn’t with you, booze took the edge off enough, and I figured I’d just keep going on that way until I was done with the band.”

She storms to the kitchen and with her back to me, pulls open a drawer. A second later, she exhales a huge puff of smoke.

I walk up right behind her. “You’re still smoking?” I’m so close that when I speak my breath moves her hair. “Don’t you know how bad it is for you?”

She turns with a smirk on her face and takes another hit, blowing the smoke directly into my face. I laugh at her, reach down to grab the cigarette, and take a hit of my own. When I hand it back, she shakes her head. “Why did you lie to me?”

Chapter 18

Meara

AS I WAIT FOR
Liam to answer me, I try to think back. I’ve known him forever, yet suddenly feel as if I never
knew
him. How was I so oblivious? When we were together, he never showed any signs. He hardly ever drank around me and didn’t once allude to the fact that he needed or wanted to get drunk or high. In fact, there were times he turned it down when someone offered it to him right in front of me. There were never any phone calls with slurred words or anything like that. I’m completely taken aback, and I don’t know how to react here.

I’m hurt that he didn’t tell me the truth. Mad that he didn’t trust me enough to talk to me about this. But most importantly, I’m worried about him. The past seven years apart have been torture. We’ve struggled so much with the distance, and for the first time, I had thought that we were heading in the right direction. I was going to tell him I was pregnant, he’d finally be done with the band right before the baby was born, and then we’d move into the farmhouse and live happily ever after.

I’d have my fairy tale.

But life doesn’t work that way.

Instead, I found out that night that he was using again. I ended up in the hospital, I broke up with the love of my life, and then I lost the one thing that I thought would bring him back to me and keep him healthy because, obviously, I wasn’t enough.

“Would you have stayed with me if you knew?” He’s almost child-like in his tone, so unsure.

My head snaps up and I consider his question. Would I have? I’d like to think so. But after the overdose last time, I selfishly gave him an ultimatum. But not because I didn’t support him or want what was best. If he had asked for my help, I’d have dropped everything to be there. There was no way though that I could go through it again.

“I still have nightmares, ya know?” I tell him. In an instant, embarrassment floods his eyes, but I continue. “It haunts me. That look on your face, the foam and drool and vomit coming out of your mouth. You were convulsing so hard I couldn’t get my hands on you right away because I kept falling on my ass. Only in a movie have I ever seen eyes like yours, so far back in your head it’s a wonder they still work now. And I still see it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

An answer is all I want. No matter what he says, I can’t be without him. The past two months have been a special brand of misery. I was hoping that with my threat to leave him, he’d sober up and we could put everything behind us. But finding out that it’s so much more than getting caught up in the rock-n-roll lifestyle, that it’s something he’s struggled with for a long time, I need to be here for him. He has to see I love him no matter what.

“I’m supposed to be the strong one, right? The ‘man,’” he says, adding air quotes. “But I’m not. I fucking hated being away from you. I have fucking hated so much about the past seven years. I’m not going to get into it again. Just know I’ve been in a bad way.”

“Okay.” I hop up on the counter and he straddles a kitchen chair.

“You know my dad’s an addict. My mom left him for it. James stepped up to the plate, so did your dad, but … I suppose that it all started about five years ago. And I don’t want you to think I’ve been walking around with a needle in my arm or anything like that. It started small. A lot of alcohol, some weed. Then some pills. It took a while for some of the harder stuff, and that was rare. I wanted to get high and forget about being alone. I didn’t want to die.”

I can totally relate to that. “I understand.”

He abruptly stands and paces for a second. Despite having a discussion about something that is life altering, that could change our relationship forever, my heart skips a beat and my tummy tingles thinking about what just happened on this counter. And that I want to do it again. And again. I’m startled out of my ridiculous thoughts when he sits back down.

“And thinking back, I started saying ‘see you soon’ from the fucking beginning because I couldn’t stand to say good-bye. Going to the airport was too hard. For me! Because once again, I’m a fucking weak bastard!”

“No, you’re not.” I hop off the counter and pull a chair next to him, putting my legs underneath my butt to give me a little boost so we’re face to face. “You’re not weak. You’re strong and sexy. You’re funny and charming. You’re the kindest man I know. You’d sacrifice anything to make someone else happy, and that includes your own happiness. You have so much to offer and I’m so incredibly lucky that you chose me. You are a good man, Liam. This thing, this addiction that you’re fighting. You can beat it, you’re stronger than that. I know it. You just need to prove me right.”

He takes in my words and leans forward to kiss me. “I love you, Meara. And I swear I’m doing everything I can to fix this.”

He stands and picks me up, then carries me to my bed. We undress each other and while he’s on top of me and inside of me, I look at my blank ceiling. He stops moving and I whine in protest. When I turn my head to see what he’s doing, he sticks his tongue out and makes the same face as the poster I took down. I laugh and pull him down to me as we continue to make slow, sweet love.

* * *

Liam’s arms tighten around my belly. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me either.”

I roll over so we’re facing each other. The sun is almost up, and aside from dozing on and off for the past few hours, I’ve just been lying here. Thinking. I want to tell him about the baby so badly. I want to share my struggle. He should know that he was a father, even if it was for such a short time. I want to let him know that those messages of his, the ones I listened to every day, were what kept me going. When I thought my world was vanishing before my eyes, his words brought light into the darkness.

“Why did you take down all my pictures?”

“I took down everything that reminded me of you because it was too hard. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw you. I would have flashes of every part of our lives. When we were kids … especially in the treehouse.”

“I loved that treehouse.”

“You loved being the prince.” I nudge his shoulder a little with my hand and he grabs my wrist, bringing it to his lips to press a kiss to my pulse there.

“I loved imagining you as my princess. Saving you from all the terrible things in the world. I felt invincible back then. My ten-year-old brain didn’t comprehend all the shit there is in the world. It used to be monsters and villains trying to attack the castle. I’d chase away the zombies at night, not yet realizing that all I had to do was open my eyes and look in the mirror to see a demon.”

When I was in track, I tried to do the pole vault. I failed miserably and strained my muscles so bad I could hardly walk the next day. Every time I took a breath, my back ached from the swollen muscles. Every nerve in my body burned whenever I moved. That’s how my heart feels right now.

“I’ve never looked at you as this … this evil man you’re describing. It’s not you.”

“Because of you. I’m not when I’m with you.” He rests my hand back on his side, and I trail my fingers along his tattoos. “Bart tells me it’s not healthy. I argued with him at first, but after a couple of weeks, I realized he was right. He wanted me to stop calling you and to do this on my own. But the truth is you’re the only one I care about enough to make myself better.”

“Don’t say things like that,” I whisper.

“He’s right. It’s not healthy. I shouldn’t need you as much as I do. I want you and I love you and I can’t imagine my life without you. But I shouldn’t need you to stay sober. That’s putting way too much pressure on you. If something ever happened to me, you would blame yourself, and that’s not fair.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

He cups my face in his hands and slides his fingers to the back of my scalp, resting his hand between my head and the pillow. “I’m just telling you how I feel. Things I should have said a long time ago. Realizing these things and saying them out loud are helping a lot.” He yawns. As much as I want to talk about this more; as much as I want to beg him and plead with him and make him realize he is not this horrible person he thinks he is, I tell him to go to sleep.

“We’re both exhausted. We can talk in the morning.”

“Okay. Night. Love you, princess.”

“Love you, too.”

Chapter 19

Liam

“SINCE WHEN DO YOU
cook?” I kiss Meara’s neck as she scoops two pancakes onto a plate.

“I wouldn’t call adding water to a shaker jar and pouring it on a pan cooking.” She turns and gives me a peck on the lips and I grab the plate from her and set it on the table. We eat breakfast, and while she’s concentrating on pouring the exact amount of syrup on her plate, I stifle a laugh at the absurdity of our situation—that my old man dying is what brought her back to me. It also hits me just how fucking much I want this with her, just like this … how badly I want pancakes with her every morning, even if they come out of a jar.

“Do you have anything you need to do today?” she asks after swallowing a rather large bite.

“I did all the paperwork and everything yesterday, so the only thing left is to pick up his ashes and talk to a realtor about the house.”

“I can give you the name of the one I was using.”

The guilt that was beginning to ebb away has returned full force. “Meara.”

“No. Don’t even. It’s fine. Things happen for a reason, and they may not be happening as we thought, but they’ll happen eventually.” Her words are positive, but there’s a hint of disappointment in her voice that churns my stomach.

Meara has always had a very positive outlook on life. She sees the good in people and chooses to be happy; one of the many things I love about her. But I know something about pretending to be happy when you’re really not. I don’t want to be the cause for that any longer. I want her to understand that the future we were supposed to have is still going to happen.

“Soon.”

“Soon,” she agrees.

After helping her clean up and taking a shower together to conserve water, I leave Meara to open up the pub and I go take care of the last thing I need to with my dad. Instead of taking his ashes, I decide to pay to have the company store them until I make a decision. I don’t really know what I want to do with them and honestly feel like I’d make a bad decision with my frame of mind right now.

I’m so angry with him. Of course, there’s the blame I place on him at the forefront, but I know it’s not his fault. I’ve used his addiction and his lifestyle as a catalyst for my own problems for far too long. With many late and lonely nights these past couple of months, I’ve tried to come up with a reason for why I am the way I am. Why did I lie to Meara about my problems? Why do I have these dependencies when I’m alone? These weaknesses that have unknowingly but positively destroyed me.

I guess that’s something I have to work on a little more because I can’t really come up with an answer. There is one person who I haven’t talked to about all of this who might be able to help.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Liam. How are you? I’ve been trying to call.”

“I know. I saw. I’ve just been ...”

“Yeah, I’m so sorry, baby. What can I do to help?”

A quick glance at the clock in the car states that it’s a little after noon. “Lunch?”

“Sure. Want to meet at Muffin Top?”

I actually laugh out loud. She knows it’s my favorite restaurant, and the food is amazing, but every time somebody suggests going there, I laugh my ass off. Can’t help it. And honestly, it feels good to laugh. “I’ll pick you up.”

“No, it’s all right. I’m already out running errands anyway. See you in twenty?”

“Yup.”

I arrive about ten minutes ahead of her. Before I get out of the car, I slide on a pair of shades and grab a hat from the glove box and put it on, pulling it low. I ask for a table in the back, and the hostess leads me to a booth toward the other side of the restaurant.

“Thanks.”

“Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“Water, please.”

She walks away and I pull out my phone to send Meara a text, but it looks like she beat me to it.

Love you.

God, my heart actually pulses when I read that. I text back that I love her too and then scroll through some other texts I haven’t read yet. Messages from band members, our manager, Meara’s family—each sending their love and support. I wonder if they knew the real me if they would still treat me the same. If they’d want me around their precious little girl. Eventually, I’ll have to come clean and fess up to the loser that I am, if they haven’t figured it out already. But for now, I just need my mom.

“That him?” The waitress’s voice breaks my thoughts.

My head pops up when she appears with my water and my mom.

“That’s him.” She smiles and I stand up to greet her.

“Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Iced tea, please.”

Once seated again, Mom grabs my hands across the table and gives them a reassuring squeeze. We talk about stupid shit until our food is ordered and arrives, avoiding the inevitable conversation that needs to happen. I hand the waitress a hundred dollar bill and tell her to keep the change and kindly leave us to have some privacy. With wide eyes, she nods and scuttles away.