Out of Love(89)

“Hey.” He sounded defeated, so unlike my strong father. The last time he sounded like that was after Mom died.

I dragged my heavy feet to the piano and sat next to him, facing the opposite direction.

“I want to kill him. And I mean that in the most literal sense. And here’s the thing … I could do it and not go to prison because he’s already dead.”

I closed my eyes. “I love him. You know that. I made a conscious decision to love the monster if that was the only way to keep the man. You made the decision to keep me away from him because you knew …” I couldn’t finish because I wasn’t sure if the words preparing to come out were the truth. Not yet. I didn’t know my truth yet.

“I knew what, Livy? That you’d choose him over me? That you’d choose him over all of your family? That he could whisk you away one minute, cheat on you the next, and you’d have no choice but to stay in a life … separated from your family and friends … forever.”

“He would never do that.”

“Livy … I taught you better than that. No human is one hundred percent trustworthy. You have to invest in you first. Always you first.”

“What about the baby? Shouldn’t I invest in my baby? His or her future?”

“Jesus …” He scrubbed his hands down his face. “You have choices.”

“Abort it? I can’t! I haven’t seen Wylder in over four months. So I don’t know why I don’t feel pregnant or look pregnant, but I’m past the point of getting an abortion. And I don’t want one!”

“Fine. Keep it and raise it on your own. Or adoption. Or a million other choices that don’t involve …”

I opened my mouth to finish his sentence for him, but I couldn’t do it either.

Choices that don’t involve him losing a child in a way that would feel as painful as losing his wife.

My eyes burned so badly as my face contorted, and I choked out a sob as I leaned against my rock. “I-I don’t know w-hat to d-do …” It hurt so badly because the pain went both ways. He would feel like I died, and I would feel like he died. A forever goodbye. I didn’t know if I could do it. “I w-wish Mom were h-here to t-tell me what to d-do …”

He wrapped his arms around me, one hand pressed to the back of my head, guiding my face into his chest as I cried. “For the first time ever, I’m glad she’s not here because this would kill her.”

“I l-love you s-so much …” My hands fisted his shirt. “I c-can’t do it. I can’t s-say goodbye.”

He pressed his lips to the top of my head. “And I can’t make this decision for you. Not this one. I’d rather lose you than have you hate me for asking you to choose me.”

I didn’t care for life at that moment.

Pregnancy was supposed to be a joyous occasion, not a death sentence.

Love was supposed to heal all wounds, not rip apart souls.

I didn’t know what to do, so I let myself have a timeout. I let myself celebrate Thanksgiving with my family, as if I didn’t have a choice to make, as if I didn’t have a baby in my belly, as if I didn’t miss Wylder to the deepest part of my heart.

Then … I asked for a few personal days, and I got on a plane to Texas with an address Jessica gave me as she whispered in my ear, “You have to know.”





Chapter Thirty-Nine





Alex Obermeier and his wife Melinda lived in a conservative ranch just outside of downtown Austin. They had an actual white picket fence, a basketball hoop on the garage, and a curved walk to their red front door beyond a lovely porch with a swing. I sat in my rental car across the street wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap for three hours before a black truck pulled into the driveway. He climbed out and my heart hammered into my ribs, wanting out to chase him.

Loosening his tie as he walked toward the house, the front door opened for him. A long-haired brunette flashed him a huge smile and stepped outside to beat a rug against the railing. They stood on the porch for several minutes talking.

She grinned and nodded as he talked. And when she responded, he threw his head back and laughed. I couldn’t recall a time he laughed like that for me. After she finished shaking out the rug, he took it from her, and she slipped her arm around his waist, leaning up to kiss his cheek.

I died.

I knew it was a mistake.

Jessica was right. Five years was a long time to be with someone in the same house and not risk developing feelings for them. The reality was … she’d known him and been with him a lot longer than I had been with him.

Time should not have mattered, not with love. But in that moment, I felt certain the woman who had time on her side was the woman who would spend forever with him.

I had Slade Wylder. He died.

She had Alex Obermeier, and he was there, married to her, living under the same roof, laughing, kissing, and huddling together after a long day.

I wasn’t sure how long I stared at the red door, the picket fence, and the manicured lawn. Probably a good half hour. Just as I reached for the button to start the car, the front door opened again.

I pulled the bill of my hat down and scooted lower in my seat as he strutted outside wearing different clothes—his usual jeans, tee, and boots. He came closer, but I anticipated him stopping at the mailbox.