then the phones came out, the clandestine shots even the wrath of Lynnette couldn’t stop.
Lottie stumbled down another two steps. “I’m afraid I’ll always love the wrong person.”
Another three steps, whispers rising into a swell. “I’m afraid the truth will stay locked inside me.”
Her eyes locked on Grayson. “GRAYSON IS NOT THE FATHER!”
She screamed it.
Then fell back onto the stairs, gripping the banister with one hand.
Fifty-One
GRAY
Silence.
Utter.
Silence.
Until my sister’s muffled laugh broke it like shattered china.
“I tried so hard,” Lottie said, voice ragged and breathy. “I tried so hard to be your wife. So many times you still went after her… I just needed to feel wanted.”
Sorrow and disgust swamped me. “Are you saying I did this? I pushed you to this?”
She looked left and right. “No—”
“Do you have any idea what you did? What you’ve caused? If you had just told the truth from the beginning—”
I dragged my hands through my hair.
We wouldn’t be here.
I could have left with her.
None of this would be happening.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I screamed.
She was nine months pregnant and I’d spent those nine months thinking she was pregnant with my baby.
Nine months all but ignoring her.
Being a horrible father.
A disgusting human being.
And hating myself for it.
“You’re disgusting.” I turned away. “I can’t even look at you. I have no idea who you are, but you are not the girl I fell in love with—”
“Did you ever love me, Grayson?” Lottie screamed and any remaining whispers fell dead. She’d gotten to her feet, stumbling down the steps.
“Lottie, sweet pea…”
“Grayson, dear…”
I saw, in the corner of my eye my mother already starting damage control. The press herded out, the ballroom beginning to clear, as the perfect shower my mom spent months planning shattered to the ground.
This marriage they spent even longer propping up, like the dead corpse it was, finally fucking rotted to the core.
“I loved you,” I growled, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince her, or myself.
“How could you?” she demanded. “How could you love me? I don’t even know who the fuck I am, so how could you?” Her voice rose even higher, echoing off the domed ceiling.
I ran up to her, as she looked about to faint.
“Get off me.” She shoved me, but her moves were lethargic. I took a step back.
“That’s enough, Lottie,” Lynette trilled. “You clearly need sleep.”
“Stop it,” Lottie said. “He’s not the father. No matter how many lies you shove down my throat.”
Mrs. du Lac’s nostrils flared. “Then who is?”
“Jack! The love of your life, Jack!” She screamed it at her mother and swayed. Suddenly, Snitch was there, holding Lottie. “You fucking know it already, and I know you know it. I told you Grayson couldn’t be the father, I told you what happened, and you told me to say I shoved it up my—”
Mrs. du Lac held up her hand, letting out a stuttering laugh. “Okay, that’s enough. Grayson, Lottie clearly has had too much sun.” Both Lottie and I looked at the overcast sky. “She needs rest. Tomorrow we can forget all about this.”
“Stop doing that. Stop steamrolling over what I say. Stop shoving all the ugliness under the carpet. If it wasn’t for Story, I probably would have lived a lie—”
“You knew?” My glare slashed to Story.
Story looked like she’d been hit with a pie. “I didn’t—”
“She had no idea, Grayson. She just…gave me strength.”
Nine months washed over me. Nine months of hating myself, of barely being able to look at her because I hated myself so much. Of wondering if I was going to be my father, if I was going to have to choose between being that man, or keeping Snitch safe.
“I wish you were fucking dead.”
Lottie threw up her hands with a bitter laugh. “Get in line.”
My eyes landed on West, and I pushed through any remaining family to get to him.
“You.” I shoved him against the wall. “You fucking snake.”
He threw his arms out. “For the first time, this was all my sister.”
“You expect me to fucking believe that?”
“I swear on Team Eskimo Bros.”
I pushed my arm deeper into his neck. “Your entire family is fucked.”
My eyes locked with Story, still helping Lottie stand, and I pushed off West.
Fuck this. Fuck all of this.
We were free.
My mother grabbed my arm. “Grayson, wait. We should talk about this.”
I put up a hand. “I don’t want to fucking hear it.”
“Be present when we decide how we deal with this. How we…” my mother said through a clenched