The Scandal and Carter O'Neill (17 page)

THE ROARING IN CARTER’S ears was the sound of his life coming down around him. Everything he’d worked for—law school, city council, Mayor Pro Tempore—it crashed and crumbled, obliterating itself into dust. Into nothing.

“This is an attack!” Amanda cried, pacing in front of the big windows of the mayor’s golden oak office. Carter sat in a vacuum, a million miles away from these people and these events.

But the ripped and torn sensation of betrayal he felt, he felt down to his bones. He could barely breathe.

Mayor Pro Tempore Lies in Court.

That was the headline Monday morning. Not nearly as catching as Deputy Deadbeat Daddy, but it got the job done.

“He names one source,” Amanda said. “One anonymous source. I can’t even believe they published such crap.”

“You need to get a statement together, and fast,” Ben Grovener said. Poor Ben, who just happened to be the right lawyer at the wrong time, had been sitting outside Carter’s office when the story broke.

“We can destroy Blackwell,” Amanda snarled. “No doubt about it, he paid someone. For sure he paid someone to tell this story.”

The story. With one anonymous source. One anonymous female source. This secret had been buried for ten years, and four days after he tells Zoe, this happens? He didn’t want to believe it, but could he believe anything else?

The roar in his ears was deafening. The pain in his chest made him sick.

The only other option was that his mother had betrayed him again, but he didn’t want to believe it. The kid, that stupid kid that still lived in him, wanted to howl that it wasn’t her. That it couldn’t have been her. She wasn’t conning him. She’d told him there was no angle.

Which only left Zoe. Broke, about-to-have-a-baby Zoe.

Christ. Everywhere he turned it hurt. He breathed hard through his nose, trying to numb himself to this pain.

“With the right spin, you can control this,” Ben said. “But you need to act fast. Something aggressive, but that takes the high road. Carter?” Everyone in the room turned to him, waited for him to get to his feet and start fighting. Start giving out orders and putting together a plan. “Carter?” Ben asked, glancing quickly around the room and then back at Carter. “I know this is a shock, but we—”

“It’s true,” Carter said, his voice a broken rasp.

The mayor swiveled in his seat, shock clear on his face.

Carter looked right into his mentor’s eyes and gave up the fight. There was nowhere left to hide. “I lied in court to keep my mother out of jail. It doesn’t matter if Blackwell paid someone, or the source is anonymous. It’s true.”

“Oh, my God,” Amanda sighed, collapsing onto the stiff couch in the corner.

“I’m sorry,” Carter said, knowing how hard Amanda had worked on his behalf.

“You’ll be disbarred,” Ben said, and Carter nodded. “And the mayoral race—”

“It’s over,” Carter said. And it had been torn from him, just as he was beginning to taste the rest of his life. Sweet after a lifetime of sour.

He was light-headed with anger and pain.

“Well, Christ, son, if you’d told us we could have dealt with it,” Mayor Higgins said.

“How?” Amanda cried. “He lied. In court. To protect his criminal mother from further jail time. There’s no good way to spin this.”

“She’s right,” Carter said, the blunt truth of the situation pushing him into action. He turned all that anger he felt back on himself. Nobody had done this to him; he’d done it to himself. After all those years of worrying that his family would be his downfall, in the end it was just him and his mistakes. “I’m not going to confirm or deny the story. But I am going to withdraw from the primary.”

“You might as well just say it’s true,” Ben said. “That’s what everyone is going to think. And you’re still going to get disbarred.”

“I know,” he said. “But it gets me out of here faster.”

And out is what he needed. A thousand miles between him and Baton Rouge and Jim Blackwell and Zoe, was what he needed. He needed time to get himself under control and to think this all through, because right now he was scared of what he would say—how his pain might find its way free.

“I’m sorry,” he said for the last time. “It’s been a pleasure to work with you.” He glanced at Ben. “And it would have been a pleasure to work with you.”

And then he left, walking down the long hallway from the mayor’s office to his own office as mayor pro tempore for the very last time, as if he was marching to his death.

The chill he’d tried to purge from his veins, the cold he’d thought Zoe had thawed was back, but tenfold, encasing him in ice. He could barely walk, barely think past his anger. His self-disgust.

“Mr. O’Neill?” Gloria said, as he put his hand to the knob on his closed office door.

“What?” he snapped and she flinched.

God, he was sorry about that too. How many apologies, he thought, will make my life okay? How many times do I need to whip myself for what I’ve done? He’d paid his whole life for every decision he’d ever made and it clearly hadn’t been enough.

“Zoe Madison is in there—”

Ice filled his brain and his anger was frigid. His control complete. Zoe had distracted him from his diligent command over his life and secrets. She’d been the key that had unleashed everything.

Foolishly, he’d thought it was a good thing, that her affection and love was something that might heal him. Fix him.

But he was an O’Neill. And he was broken down to his DNA.

He pushed open the door and the sight of her jumping out of a chair, a copy of the paper crumbled up in her little hands, was like an ice pick right to his heart.

It hurt to see her. To smell the spicy ginger cookie scent of her.

“Carter?” she cried, racing around the table. “Are you okay? I saw the paper and—”

“I’m fine.”

She stilled, her eyes wary, her fingers fumbling with the paper. “Fine?” she whispered. “But the paper…”

“What do you want me to say, Zoe? I’m going to be disbarred, I’m dropping out of the mayoral race and I’ve been disgraced on the front page of the paper. Again.” His phone buzzed and he scrolled down the list of e-mails he’d gotten in the past ten minutes. Endless. His career was going to go down in a barrage of e-mails.

“What are you doing?” she whispered, the pain like a wind blowing right out of her.

“Answering e-mails,” he said without looking at her, doing his best to freeze her out.

“Put that away!” she snapped. “Talk to me!”

“I have work to do, Zoe.”

“Why are you acting like this?”

“Could you be more specific?”

“Like it doesn’t matter!” she cried. “Like you’re made out of ice.”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said, “I wasn’t aware there was a protocol.”

“Carter!” she cried, and slapped the phone out of his hand. It hit the wall and skidded across the carpet.

“That was unnecessary,” he said.

“Are you…are you mad at me? Do you think…”

“That you are the anonymous source?” His anger surged and his vision went black. “It had occurred to me. Seems a pretty incredible coincidence that I keep this secret for ten years and the week after I tell you it’s all over the paper. You sold me out once, Zoe, and your mother made it very clear that you’re broke. Information like this must come with a pretty attractive price tag.”

She gasped, swallowed hard as if she might throw up, and he just stared at her. Watched her like she was a stranger, and maybe she was. In the end, maybe they were all just strangers. Love, intimacy, family, they were shams, fake oases for the desperate. And oh, God, that had been him, hadn’t it? Desperate for someone to hold him, to listen to his secrets, to forgive him of his crimes.

Pathetic.

Suddenly, he felt sick.

“I get that you’re mad, Carter. But it wasn’t me.” She reached out for him; her fingers, those hands he adored so much reached for him, and he stepped away, the idea of being touched unbearable. His life—the life that her touch had illuminated, brought into focus—was over. Shattered. “Your mother—”

Of course it was his mother.

With her words, the knowledge settled around him like a winter fog. He could strike out at Zoe all he wanted, but he knew, had always known, it couldn’t have been her. Could never have been her.

But his mother had all the practice in the world at breaking his life into pieces.

And now that he was clearheaded about it, the clues all fell into place. The broken fingers. The split lip. She’d sold him out to save herself—he should have seen it coming, but he’d been too drunk on Zoe, on love and trust and belonging to someone. Belonging with someone. God, what a disaster. His mother had been right, trust was only rewarded with pain. Well, not again. Never again would he be blindsided like this.

“It doesn’t matter.” That was the truth. Nothing mattered. The chill did its job and he was totally numb. “Nothing matters, Zoe. It was only a matter of time.”

“Please don’t freeze me out, Carter,” she whispered. This time he couldn’t brush off her hands, and they touched his face, blazes of heat against his skin. Her fingers stroked his lips, his cheeks, and it felt so good, so unbelievably good that he couldn’t push her away. “Why are you doing this to us? To what we have?”

“What we have?” he asked, his laughter a weapon he used against both of them, a sword slicing them both in half. “We met a month ago. You stood on a chair and accused me of getting you pregnant. We went on a date and I got humiliated in front of the entire city, which frankly was a trend that continued. You are having a baby. I have no career and we—” he touched her chest and she flinched “—don’t have anything,” he finished.

She gasped and reeled back slightly before shaking her head, determination clear on her little elfin face. He should have known she would fight him. He should have known she would make this hard. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered.

“It doesn’t matter what you believe,” he said. “It’s over.”

“I could be there for you,” she said, her hands on his chest, tears in her beautiful eyes. “I could help.”

“I don’t need help.” He grabbed her hands in one of his, lifting them from his chest. It was time to say goodbye and end this right now. He squeezed her wrists and gave them a little shake, ignoring the tears in her eyes, the quiver of her lip—all the terrible, terrible pain he was causing her. “I’m an O’Neill, and we take care of ourselves.”

ZOE LEFT CARTER’S OFFICE and tried hard not to run. She felt every eye on her and knew that they all thought that she was the anonymous source. Insane. Everyone was insane. The world had turned upside down. She’d gone to bed last night like she had every night since Thanksgiving, thinking about love and family, and she woke up this morning to find out how disposable she was.

Her stomach lurched, and she detoured to the bathroom off the big marble foyer on the first floor.

She hadn’t thrown up since the eleventh week of her pregnancy, but now her stomach was in her throat. She pushed opened the door of the first stall so hard it bounced back against the metal frame and the bang rang out like a shotgun blast. Her fingers shook as she shut the door behind her, fumbled with the metal clasp and finally just gave up, pressing her hot cheeks against the cool metal.

How had she been so wrong? So damn wrong?

Her mother had been right. The only thing guaranteed was pain. She sank down on the toilet and stuffed her fist in her mouth so no one could hear her crying.

THE WEEK DRAGGED BEHIND Zoe like deadweight. Every minute, even the good ones, were tests to endure. She’d thrown herself into her work for the academy, building her future, meeting by meeting. Handshake by handshake. Eric Lafayette had been wildly helpful, but the joy had barely registered. She was swaddled in cotton, insulated against every sensation. Even the pain had become a dull throb.

Zoe punched the numbers into the lockbox outside the little storefront off St. Louis and pulled out the key.

Dusk fell in grey slabs through the windows and she turned on the lights. It was dusty and smallish. It needed paint and some water damage in the back corner had to be repaired.

But—she spun—mirrors along the west wall. A barre. Dressing rooms in the back. The price was right, thanks to a loan from the bank and Eric’s help. The neighborhood wasn’t great, but it was changing—

The front door clicked and the room’s pressure changed. Her heart leaped into her throat; her hand flew to her Mace.

“Who’s there?” she yelled, scared half to death, but hoping in some stupid place in her heart that it was Carter.

“Sorry, sweetie.” Penny stepped in through the foyer, her red raincoat a smudge of color in the gray. “I hope I didn’t frighten you.”

Zoe nearly blacked out with relief. She sagged against a cement pillar.

“Jeez, Mom, you could have called or something. How did you know where I was?”

“Phillip,” she said, looking down at her fingers before tucking them into her pockets. “He does a good job of keeping tabs on you.”

She hadn’t talked to her mother since Thanksgiving, though Penny had called after Carter had resigned from his job. Zoe hadn’t answered, not ready to swallow her mother’s righteousness.