Twisted (22 page)

If you look closely, you can actually see Drew’s chest puff

out—like an ape in the jungle wild, preparing to fight to the death over the last banana.

“Got something you want to add, Warren?”

Billy looks at Drew. And then dismisses him, turning his gaze

toward me.

“I told him you’d be at the park because I knew it was what you

would’ve wanted.”

I smile kindly. “It was. And I appreciate that you did. We both

do.”

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I nudge Drew with my elbow. he just shrugs, non-commit-

tedly.

And Billy says, “You don’t need him, Katie. It’s that simple.”

“I love him, Billy. It’s that simple.”

he holds my gaze another moment, then shakes his head and

raises his hands in surrender. “For the record? You two need buck-

ets of therapy, like yesterday. Trust me, I know dysfunctional when I see it.”

I nod once. “We’ll keep that in mind.”

Drew scoffs, “Whatever.”

Delores stands up next to Billy and addresses Drew, “I’m

gonna enjoy watching you try to claw your way out of the shit-

filled septic tank you’ve dug for yourself. That’s going to be better than anything I can think of to do to you.” She adds as an after-thought, “And if it’s not . . . I’ll have to get really creative.”

Don’t be too disappointed in Dee’s lack of retribution. Like the

true friend she is, she respects my choices, even if she doesn’t agree with them. She knows when to back off and let me handle things.

Or . . . she’s just biding her time.

Dee pulls me into a hug and says in my ear, “Don’t let him

fuck his way out of this one. Multiple orgasms are just a Band-Aid, not a cure.”

I chuckle. “Thanks, Dee.”

She turns to Billy. “Come on. Let’s see if Amelia can stop doing

the dirty with Sherriff Mitchell long enough to make us some dinner.”

Billy grimaces. “
Way
too soon to joke about that.”

They walk out the back door, leaving Drew and me on our own.

I run my hand up his bicep. “George isn’t the only one who’s

glad to see you. In case I didn’t say it earlier . . . I’m really happy you’re here.”

Drew smiles tenderly and touches my cheek. “I know.”

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We go upstairs to my room, and I close the door behind me. I walk

around the bed and slip off my shoes, pushing them under. The

shades are drawn, and I turn on the bedside lamp, casting the room in a warm, dim glow.

“It may take some time for my mother to understand every-

thing. She probably won’t be very nice to you in the meantime.”

Drew sits on the edge of the bed and shrugs. “I’m not con-

cerned about your mother.”

“No?”

“She loves you. She’ll fall in line when she realizes I’m what you want. That I make you happy. Accomplishing that is really my only

concern at the moment.”

We’re silent for a few seconds. I sit on the bed next to Drew,

tucking my feet under my legs. Drew rubs his palms on his thighs.

Thinking.

Then he speaks what’s obviously on his mind. “So . . . has War-

ren been here the whole time?”

Although Drew spoke with Billy before he came to find me at

the park, I’m guessing his presence didn’t fully register until now.

“Billy came home to visit Amelia. he stopped by the restau-

rant a few days after I came home.”

“And you two have been . . . hanging out?”

I know where he’s going with this. Like an expert lawyer, set-

ting up his cross-examination with a witness he’s trying to trip up.

Laying the groundwork, building up to the question that will blow

the case wide open.

I look down at my bed, unable to meet Drew’s eyes. Feeling

guilty, even though technically, I shouldn’t.

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Drew’s habits aren’t the only ones that die hard. Like always,

procrastination is my friend.

“Is this a conversation you really want to have right now?” I

ask him.

he chuckles harshly. “For the record? This isn’t a conversation

I want to have
ever
. But it’s better to get all the shit out of the way now.” he shakes his head slightly. “What did you do, Kate?”

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 fuck him?”

“Did you fuck 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 fuck Billy.”

Drew blows out his held breath. And his voice softens. “Me

neither. I mean . . . not Warren . . . I didn’t fuck 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.

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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 fucking 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 con-

tracted. “I told you this would happen. All this time, I fucking told you. That fuckface 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.

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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 fucking expect me to see him and watch you talk to him and

not obliterate him?”

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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.”

he closes his eyes tightly. I don’t really expect him to agree

with me. It’s a hard pill for any man to swallow, especially a man like Drew. But he listened. And I can only hope that he’ll think

about what I said and realize that my life—our life—is better with a friend like Billy in it.

The fact that he’s not actively disagreeing with me is enough

for now.

he rubs his eyes wearily with the palms of his hands. When

they drop, he asks me a question. And there’s despondent curiosity in every syllable. “Why didn’t you just tell me, Kate? When you

first thought you could be pregnant. Why didn’t you say anything?”

It’s something you’ve been wondering about too, isn’t it? None

of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t kept my suspicions to myself.

If Woody would’ve gone right to the police . . .

“I was . . . stunned. Scared. I didn’t even know how I felt about the possibility of being pregnant and . . . I wasn’t sure how you would feel about it. I needed time to process it. To accept it.

To—eventually—be excited about it. And I was. After my appoint-

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ment with Bobbie, I was happy. I was coming home to tell you . . .

but . . . it was too late.”

Drew tells me, “I tried so goddamn hard not to jump to con-

clusions. Again. When I saw a guy’s name in your calendar and

then you lied about where you were going . . . I was really pissed.

But then I cooled off and I thought, maybe it was good thing.

Maybe you were going to buy me something, or plan a surprise.”

“And instead of asking me, or waiting to see what the surprise

was, you followed me?”

“I couldn’t just sit there. I had to do
something
. And then I saw you, in the parking lot, looking so happy to see that son of a bitch.

I never thought you’d cheat on me. I didn’t want to believe it, but it was right there in front of me.”

“My grandmother used to say, ‘Don’t believe anything you

hear, and only half of what you see.’ ”

Drew snorts. “She was fucking genius.”

I’m willing to accept the part I played in the situation, but I

don’t have a martyr complex. So I ask, “If you thought I was cheating on you, why couldn’t you react like a normal guy? Punch a wall or get drunk. Why do you have to come up with these diabolical

schemes, like some super-villain from
Batman
?”

he shakes his head and touches my hair. “When I thought I

saw what I saw . . . it was a nightmare. It was hell. Nothing God

or Satan could ever dream up would come close to feeling as awful

as that.”

“I can relate.”

“And I just wanted it to go away. The fucking crushing pain.

Even for a little while. So, after I bought the bottle of Jack, I went to this gentleman’s club me and the guys used to go to in the old

days. She was just . . . there. And you know what they say—the

best way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else.”

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“Nobody says that, Drew.”

“Well, they should. Anyway, I got the idea that if you saw me

with someone else, you’d realize what you were losing. And then

you’d . . . stop . . . and come back to me. Plead for mercy. Beg my forgiveness. I had it all planned out.”

Dryly, I reply, “Yeah, that worked out well.”

“I said it was a plan—I didn’t say it was a good plan.”