Dirty Red (Love Me With Lies)(60)

Fierce, she was so fierce. It was probably the white trash background that made her such a good fighter. I gazed at her earnestly to see if she approved. She did. I had a second — no — a fraction of a second where I wanted to hug her. Then, it was gone and I wanted her to die and rot in the ground.



I wanted to gloat after I won the trial. I wanted her to know that he was mine and always would be. She needed to know. We were celebrating the win at a restaurant. Olivia arrived late. Honestly, I don’t even know why she came. Whatever debt she felt that she owed Caleb was paid. She’d won me my freedom and I would have gladly parted ways, content to never see her again. Yet, here she was, at my celebration, walking on my happy home with her short dress and spiked heels.

I made my way over to her, intent on expressing my displeasure with her being there. I glanced at Caleb who was preoccupied across the room. I didn’t want him to see me speaking to her. I wanted her to leave before he saw that she was there.

When she saw me coming, the smile dropped from her face. I had to give it to her — the bitch was exotic. One dark eyebrow rose as I strolled up, champagne in hand. Her mouth pulled into a pucker. She looked down her nose at me. I’d gotten used to it during the trial, but tonight it made me furious. Tonight was mine … and Caleb’s.

I hadn’t gotten four sentences in when she looked at me and said, “Go back to your husband, before he realizes that he’s still in love with me.”

Shock.

Why

Did

She

Think

That?

It wasn’t true. She was hung up on him. Who could blame her? I looked at Caleb. He was everything I wanted to be. He protected me. He stood with me. He was the only man who said he’d never hurt me.

He laughed at something someone in his group said. My heart swelled at the sight of him. Olivia was jaded, and he was mine. I looked at my Caleb, so sure in that moment of our strength as a couple. It was as if he could sense my eyes on him. I felt the beating of butterfly wings in my stomach, just as his head came up. I smiled. We’d shared intimate looks like this in the courtroom. When I was afraid I looked at him, and he’d meet my eyes and I would feel better immediately. This time was different. I felt a groundswell of confusion. The room tilted. The beating wings stilled. He wasn’t looking at me.

As suddenly as he looked up, the smile was gone from his face. I could see his chest rising and falling beneath his suit like he was taking deep breaths. In those five seconds, I saw every piece of Caleb’s mind splayed across his face like someone had made a thousand little cuts and everything was coming out at once: anguish, love, belief. I turned to see where he looked. I knew I shouldn’t. But, how could I not? The answer was too bright for me. It made me want to shield my eyes and duck back into the cover of darkness. Olivia was the target of his eyes. I felt like he’d dropped me from the highest building. Shattered. Every part of me. He was a liar. He was a thief. I wanted to crumble to the ground right there, admit my defeat. Die and die again. Die and take Olivia with me. Die.

I opened my mouth to scream at her. To regale her with every insult and name I’d collected over my twenty-nine years. They sat on the tip of my tongue, ready to hurl toward her. I was going to throw my champagne in her face and rip at her eyes until they bled. Until Caleb thought she was so ugly and deformed, he would never look at her like that again.

Then she did the most dumbfounding thing. She set her glass down, her wrist wobbling like it couldn’t handle the weight of the dainty glass. Then she tucked her chin to her chest and left.

I took a breath — a deep, satisfying breath — and went back to Caleb’s side.

Mine. He was mine. That was that.





Chapter Thirty-OnePresent

I rock back and forth after I get off the phone with Caleb. What is wrong with me? How did I worship the ground my father walked on after all those years of neglect? It was pathetic. I hate myself for it, and yet I know I’d do it all over again. And this baby — she is my only blood family and I do everything to stay away from her. She hasn’t done anything wrong. What type of person am I to isolate my own child?

How can chocolate covered raisins bring such clarity? It isn’t the chocolate covered raisins. I know that. It’s what Sam said to me, the part about me giving my loyalty to all the wrong people. The only person who really deserves it is the little girl I grew in my body. And yet, I can’t assemble the right feelings for her. I open my computer and search postpartum depression. I read through the symptoms, nodding. Yes, that has to be it. There's no way I am this bad of a person. I need to get on medication. There is something very wrong with me.

In the morning, Caleb brings my baby back. I clutch her to my chest and smell her head. He has her shock of red hair tied up in a little pink bow. I eye her gingham dress and give him a dirty look.

“Why are you dressing her like she’s Mary Poppins?” I say sourly. He deposits her diaper bag and car seat next to the door and starts to leave.

“Caleb!” I call after him. “Stay. Have some lunch with us.”

“I have somewhere to be, Leah.” He sees the disappointment on my face and says in a much gentler voice, “Maybe another day, yeah?”

I feel like someone has reached out and slapped me across the face. Not with his rejection of my lunch offer, but with that very simple “Yeah?” dripping off the end of his sentence. That yeah, is an acidic memory, burning painfully across my hippocampus. I think of Courtney and her summer in Europe. The way she came back, speaking as if she were born a Brit.