The Lover's Game (17 page)

Okay, maybe a little.

Still, Sylvie didn’t have to be so brutally honest about it.

Disappointment or not, what was wrong with being a little obsessed with the man you loved, thinking about him day and night—which was the result of a bruised ego and hopes that were destroyed?

“I don’t owe you an explanation, okay?” My voice trembled slightly as I glared at her. “I might still be in love with Jett, but I’m not crazy, and I’m certainly not bordering on obsessive or jumping-off-a-cliff-compulsive. It would take a lot more to make me jump off a bridge or start stalking him.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Sylvie said defensively. “I don’t want you to get hurt and make the same mistake again.”

I wanted to point out I had repeated the mistake before and survived, but I kept my mouth shut.

“No man is worth the pain or waiting for him to change,” she continued. “It’s easy to be in love with the idea of love rather than actually loving a person.”

God, Sylvie could be irritating sometimes.

“You’ve got it wrong. I’m not in love with the idea of love,” I said in a low tone. I sounded so defensive it was almost laughable. “If I were in love with the idea, we’d be married by now, probably horseback-riding on the beach.”

She shrugged, unconvinced. “If you say so.”

I glowered at her as I began to massage my temples to get rid of the pounding behind them. It wasn’t like me to be rude, but Sylvie didn’t see how much I wanted to be alone in the dark abyss of my mind so that I could ignore the annoying agony in my chest.

“Maybe you moved in with him too soon,” she murmured, oblivious to my reluctance to talk.

For a second, I was taken aback, and my head snapped in her direction. “What do you mean?” I asked, shocked. I had feared the same thing, but I had discarded it. To hear my hidden fear coming from her mouth was daunting.

“Think, Brooke. You did everything
he
wanted. You moved in with him. You worked for him. You always played by his rules.” She counted more reasons, but I stopped listening.

The blood in my ears rushed faster, drowning out everything else.

Was it possible that Jett and I had spent too much time together and our relationship fell into a routine, where he felt he didn’t have to chase me anymore because he already had me?

My heart lurched at the thought that our relationship had become too boring for Jett. It certainly made sense and explained why he had wanted me to dress up as someone he had never met before. I wasn’t a prude when it came to spicing up one’s love life and role-playing could be a part of that, but so early in a relationship?

I buried my face in my hands, letting my shoulders drop. “I’m so fucking stupid. I should have moved out as soon as Nate was arrested. Better yet, I never should have moved in with him in the first place.”

“It’s just a theory, Brooke. I’m not saying it’s true. I’m just pleading with you to open your eyes and see him the way I do, rather than loving him for what he appears to be.”

It made sense. I had given too much too soon. Sylvie was right. The possibility existed that my obsession with Jett was not only stupid, but in vain, too.

“You’ve made your point, loud and clear. Now, can you please shut up and leave me alone?” I walked back into the bathroom and slammed the door shut before sinking to the floor, feeling number from the cold than ever before.

A
soft knock carried over from the door.

“Brooke?” Sylvie’s voice was filled with worry. A second later, her head appeared in the doorway, and I looked up.

“Yeah?”

“I made us coffee. Are you coming?”

On the heels of anger came acceptance. There was no point in evading her.

Sighing, I stood and walked back into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Sylvie slumped into the seat opposite me and pulled her knees up to her chest, regarding me.

“I want my things back before I go to work,” I said, her gaze unnerving me.

“Fine.”

For a long moment, Sylvie just stared at me, the oppressing silence heavy with words unspoken. Each passing second frayed my nerves. The way she just sat there, with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed in a tight line, she looked scarier than a scolding schoolteacher. For an awful moment, I feared she might resume her lecture on obsession. The skin on my face prickled. Without intending to, I brushed a hand over my mouth, realizing I had been stroking my abdomen for the past few minutes, the gesture both protective and indicative of my frightening isolation.

Finally, Sylvie sighed and leaned back in her seat, the tension between us slowly dissipating as she watched my movement. “Can you feel the baby?”

“Not yet.” I shook my head, relaxing a little, happy for the change in topic. “It will be a while before it starts kicking, but I do feel different. I feel like part of J—” I bit my lip, stopping myself from saying the one thing that kept burning inside my mind. “I feel like something else is inside me.”

Sylvie regarded me intently, her expression hardening again, but she didn’t probe.

Dammit.

Not only was I under his spell, but I was also having a hard time controlling what came out of my mouth around Sylvie. No wonder she thought I was in desperate need of an LAA session. After admitting that I still loved him and now proclaiming that he had become a part of me through our unborn child, it was as if I still harbored the slightest hope we would end up together...even though I knew I was kidding myself.

Ending together was impossible. I had broken things off, and he had left me. We were over, even if I couldn’t believe it yet.

“I have something for you.” She retrieved a yellow envelope from one of the drawers and pushed it into my hands. “I meant to give it to you in a few weeks, but I thought why wait that long?” She shrugged, as though it wasn’t a big deal. “I thought we might attend...together.”

“What is it?” I opened the envelope but didn’t peer inside.

Sylvie raised her eyebrows, urging me to take a look. I did as requested. It was a voucher for childbirth classes. I smiled, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion.

“These will be great. I hadn’t even thought of it.” It was a kind gesture, and probably one of Sylvie’s attempts to try to distract my mind from Jett and help me focus on the future.

“Thank you.” I looked up at her. To my surprise, Sylvie didn’t return my smile as she watched me push the voucher back inside the envelope, and I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. The tension in her posture was unmistakable.

Was that a hint of nervousness on her face?

“Can I ask you something?” she said at last.

I narrowed my eyes, suddenly wary of her scary expression. I wasn’t sure how to reply. I didn’t want her to ask me anything, but I just said, very carefully, “What?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” she started.

I winced at what might be coming. Sylvie’s questions and statements always had that effect on me.

“I know you haven’t told your mom about your pregnancy yet. I probably wouldn’t either, because she can be a real dragon. But—” She moistened her lips, pausing as she considered her next words. “For the past few weeks, I’ve been wondering why you don’t really make any plans? I’m your best friend, and yet you never talk about the baby. No offense, Brooke, but it would be hard to believe you’re three months pregnant, if it weren’t for the test.”

So it was a personal issue between friends. I relaxed a little.

“Oh, that,” I said, flicking my wrist.

It was true.

Up until that moment, I had always avoided any discussion about the baby. I didn’t talk about my pregnancy like other expecting women, and I understood why it was a matter of concern for Sylvie. The truth was, even though I had listened and gone along with Jett’s and Sylvie’s suggestions, the entire situation seemed surreal. Now that Jett and I were over, I was trying even harder to banish any thoughts of what the future might have in store.

I smirked. “I’m not like other people, Sylvie. Maybe others want to scream it at the top of their lungs, but I don’t. I’m not comfortable telling the whole world my business.”

“But why? Aren’t you excited?” She narrowed her eyes. “Just because you and he are over, it shouldn’t change anything. You should be proud, go shopping, plan a baby shower. You should be talking about it nonstop, you know, do all the stuff women do when they’re pregnant. I’d love to help, even though I’m not even keen on having kids.” She paused, eyeing me cautiously. “Is it because of Jett?”

I winced inwardly at the way she said his name, as if he resembled an infectious disease.

“No. It’s—” My voice failed me. I took a deep breath and released it slowly. “It has
nothing
to do with him.”

I shot her a begging look, silently urging her to stop talking about him. Couldn’t she leave the matter be, forget his name like I was trying to?

“What is it then?” Sylvie insisted.

“It’s just...I can’t believe that I’m pregnant.”

“So being in denial is your solution?” She stared at me in shock. “You have to face reality eventually, particularly when you stop fitting into your clothes.”

“I’m
not
in denial,” I protested. “I just don’t want to risk anything.”

“Risk? I don’t understand.” She spread her hands, palms out, her usually smooth forehead creased in a frown. “What’s the problem? I understand you don’t want to talk about Jett, but what about your baby?”

“You’re a hell of annoying, you know that?” I laughed, even though the situation didn’t seem particularly amusing to me.

“I’m your friend. I’m supposed to be annoying.” She leaned forward, smoothing her hair back. “That’s what friends are for. We’re supposed to breathe down your neck to make sure you stay on track, but I can’t do that if you keep things to yourself. Ever since you met Jett, you’ve been shutting me out. Have you ever thought about how that makes me feel?” Her tone betrayed her hurt.

Surprised, I looked up at her and slowly realized that Sylvie had likely felt that way for a while. Shame burned through me.

Had I been so blind that I didn’t realize I was neglecting our friendship? We had been friends forever, and yet there were things Sylvie still didn’t know about me—things only Jett knew. For the past few weeks, I had been so focused on Jett that I had not realized Sylvie might feel left out. She had always been the sister I lost. And now with Jett gone, she was all I had. There was no doubt that she deserved my trust more than he did. I owed it to her to tell the truth.

“Look, I get your concern.” I sighed. “I know it’s wrong not to talk about things, but if I start talking, I’ll start making plans. I’ll dream and hope, and I don’t want to do that right now. When I was with Jett, I always had this unexplained fear that something would happen.”

“That you would break up?” Sylvie cut in. The question was harmless enough.

“No. It wasn’t only that,” I said softly.

I walked over to the coffeemaker. We had been so engrossed in our discussion that she had forgotten to switch it off. I poured steaming coffee in two cups, then handed Sylvie hers.

“I want this child more than anything, but I don’t want my hopes raised, only to see them shattered,” I said. “What’s so wrong with that? If you had experienced what I’ve gone through, you’d probably feel the same way.” I wrapped my fingers around the cup, but even the hot liquid didn’t warm my cold hands. Looking up into Sylvie’s blue eyes, I remembered it wasn’t that long ago that someone had planned to kill me.

Sylvie remained quiet, so I continued, “Trust me, I
want
to embrace motherhood. I
want
to paint the nursery in hues of pink and blue. I want to talk about baby plans all day, but I can’t. Do you understand?” I paused, wondering whether the question was directed at myself as much as at Sylvie. “It’s just not an option at the moment—not when Nate is free and I’m living in constant fear. Every night is a struggle, and I can’t fall asleep. I’m in such a state, I don’t dare hope for the better, and I most certainly don’t imagine what things could be like.”

I waited for Sylvie to ask another question, but she remained uncharacteristically silent. With a frown, she stared at her coffee, engrossed in her own thoughts.

“I understand,” she whispered at last. “I’m sorry, Brooke. I was so wrapped up in the belief that you weren’t happy about being pregnant that I thought...” She stopped in thought, unable or unwilling to finish her sentence.

“It’s okay. I know you mean well,” I said softly, my hand starting to rub my flat tummy, a habit I had developed since I’d learned I was pregnant.

Please stop talking about my baby or Jett. Especially Jett.

“Anyway, let’s not linger on those depressing issues.” I forced a smile onto my lips, even though there was no feeling behind it. “Enough about me already. What about you? What are your plans for the day?”

As if sensing my need for a change in topic, Sylvie lifted a mushroom and smelled it, then grimaced. “I’m going on a date today.”

“What?” I said, agog. “With whom? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have gone shopping to find you a nice dress.”