Page 16 of If You Were Mine (After We Fall 3)
“This isn’t him,” Josie insisted. “This person who takes over when he drinks. It isn’t him.”
It was and it wasn’t. I knew what she meant—the Aaron she loved was strong and brave and hard-working. Proud and ferociously protective of his girls. But inside him were demons he couldn’t ignore. He tried to quiet them with booze, but it only made them louder. It was why I’d quit drinking six years ago. “He needs to get sober and stay that way if he comes back.”
“He’ll come back.” Tears filled her eyes. “He’s got to.”
Something about the way she said it made my hair stand on end. I dropped my eyes to her stomach. “You’re pregnant.”
“Shhh.” She threw a worried glance over her shoulder at Ava and Hailey. “I haven’t told the girls yet.”
“Does Aaron know?”
She nodded tearfully. “I told him last time he called. I shouldn’t have. I think I made things worse.”
My hands balled into fists. It killed me that she thought this was her fault. “You didn’t. When are you due?”
“Early July, I think? It must have happened last time he was home, which was September.” A tear dripped down her cheek. “We had those few good weeks.”
Damn you, Aaron. “Have you been to the doctor?”
“Not yet.”
“Make an appointment.”
“But I can’t aff—”
“Make. An appointment. I’ll cover the cost. And turn the heat up, it’s too cold in here for the kids.” My tone left no room for argument.
Pressing my lips into a grim line, I brushed Peyton’s matted blond hair from her face before heading for the front door. “I’m going to get the Tylenol and some salt for the driveway. Be right back.”
* * *
After I returned from the drug store, I gave the kids their new crayons and coloring books and shoveled the driveway, the front walk, and the sidewalk, angrily scraping the metal shovel along the cement. I was so mad at my brother. So fucking mad. And why was Josie so blindly loyal to him? Even if he did come home, if he didn’t get sober, he’d only take off again. That was the cycle, and she knew it. The past kept on repeating itself. Wouldn’t she wake up every morning and think, Is this the day he leaves us? Didn’t she want something better for her children? I did, and they weren’t even mine!
Love was a fucked-up thing.
Eight
Claire
* * *
Audacious.
As soon as I saw that name printed on the bottom of the lipstick tube, I knew it was the one.
It was Thursday, and I’d stopped at the drugstore after work to purchase a tube of crimson courage. (Surely Margot would have frowned upon purchasing cosmetics at Rite Aid, but I didn’t have her bank account. I needed the discount version of badass.)
When I got home, I noticed Theo had sent me a message via the Hire a Hottie website.
Hey Claire, just wondering if you’d like me to pick you up before the wedding or if you’d be more comfortable meeting me there. I’m good either way.
I thought it over and decided I would be fine with him picking me up. It wasn’t like he was a complete stranger—we’d met and messaged back and forth a little. Plus, it would be weird having to explain to people why we’d driven separately. But just in case Theo really was a serial killer, I called Jaime and told her he was picking me up. “So if you never hear from me again, it’s because I was too embarrassed to show up at a wedding without a date.”
“You have to check in with me all night long and let me know when you get home,” she said. “And for the record, I think this is a bad idea.”
“Duly noted. Hey, what do you think I should wear?” I asked, staring at my closet.
“Not the Wedding Dress,” she said, referring to the loose-fitting black dress I wore to weddings so often it had a nickname.
