Twisted(50)

My head snaps up. And I feel insulted—defensive—at his implied accusation.

“What did I do? You’ve got some set of balls, asking me that question.”

He shrugs. “I think they’re pretty impressive, thanks. But my balls aren’t the topic of this particular discussion. Did you f*ck him?”

“Did you f*ck the stripper?”

“I asked you first.”

That brings me up short. And I’d probably laugh, if this all wasn’t so sad.

In a resigned voice I tell him, “No. No, I did not f*ck Billy.”

Drew blows out his held breath. And his voice softens. “Me neither. I mean . . . not Warren . . . I didn’t f*ck the stripper either.”

I stand up from the bed. “Did you want to?”

Given Drew’s past preference for variety, I think it’s a fair question. The way I see it, this was his chance to relive the days when diversity was his norm.

“Not even a little.”

He slips a finger into the belt of my jeans and pulls me between his open knees. His hands rest on my hips as he looks up at me. “Do you remember that awful chick flick you made me watch last year? The one with the guy from The Office?”

He’s talking about Crazy, Stupid, Love. I nod.

Drew continues, “And at the end, how he said ‘Even when I hated you, I loved you.’?”

I nod again.

“It was like that. It was never about what I wanted—it was what I thought I had to do. It was always all about you. You were in my head, in my heart . . . even when you weren’t there anymore . . . you were still f*cking there.”

There’s never going to be a good time to say it. Lying or not telling him isn’t a possibility.

“Billy and I kissed.”

His hands grip my hips tighter. The words hang in the air, like a heavy stench.

When he doesn’t respond, I insist, “It didn’t mean anything.”

Drew smirks bitterly. “Sure, it didn’t.”

“I was hurt. And confused. It was only a few seconds. And it wasn’t about desire or attraction. It was just . . . comfort.”

Drew moves me to the side and stands up. Then he starts to pace sharply. Every muscle in his body is drawn tight and contracted. “I told you this would happen. All this time, I f*cking told you. That f*ckface has just been waiting for the opportunity to sneak his way into your pants again.”

“It’s not like that, Drew. It was innocent.”

The image of Drew’s salacious kiss with the stripper slams to the forefront of my thoughts. And my anger is right behind it. “It wasn’t anything like what you did. What I had to watch you do.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”

“I’m not trying to make you feel better! I’m trying to explain what happened. So we can put it behind us and move on. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

The desperation in my voice must have gotten through to him. Because he stops pacing and looks at me for several moments.

His blue eyes show warring emotions of indignation and begrudging understanding. With the desire to give in to a fury that will serve no purpose—a fury that Drew must know he has no right to feel.

He blows out a breath and sits back on the bed. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

I smile sadly. “Me too.”

He doesn’t look at me, but stares straight at my bedroom door. “It was just a kiss?”

“Yes.”

“No second base? No sliding into third?”

I roll my eyes. “No.”

Tensely, he nods. “Okay . . . okay. That evens things out, I guess.” He’s quiet for a moment. Then he says firmly, “I don’t want you talking to him again. Ever.”

“Drew—”

“I mean it, Kate. I don’t want him calling the apartment or emailing you. I don’t want you meeting him for a goddamn lunch date or girls’ night out.” His eyes burn into mine as he pleads, “I want Billy Warren out of our life. Permanently.”

I close my eyes. Because I knew this was coming. And don’t think I don’t understand how Drew feels. Maybe you even agree with him.

But choosing between Billy and Drew isn’t an option. Maybe it’s selfish, but I need them both. Drew is my lover, the love of my life, the father of my child. But Billy is my best friend—right up there with Dee Dee.

“He’s my friend.” My expression is stoic, telling him without words that I won’t give in. Not about this, not this time.

His jaw clenches. “How can you ask me to do this? How can you f*cking expect me to see him and watch you talk to him and not obliterate him?”

I take Drew’s hands in mine, holding them tight. “If you and I decided to not be together anymore, I still wouldn’t be with Billy again. Ever. And he wouldn’t want to be with me.

“And when I first came here, I believed you didn’t want this baby. And I didn’t think I could have it alone. Billy made me see that I could. And more importantly, he helped me realize that I wanted to.”

Drew turns away.

I cup his face in my hands and bring him back to me. “If Billy hadn’t been here for me, there’s an excellent chance I would’ve had an abortion before you came. Think about that. Think about what we would’ve lost, Drew. And that I never would have been able to forgive myself—or you. I owe him for that. We owe him for that.”