“When are you gonna get your heart broken? Don’t you know pain is beauty?” I say to him, avoiding all talk of his heartache from Paige.
“Girl, I’m fucking fabulous. This face is pretty enough. No need to get it broken.” His face is strained with a forced smile, but you can see the lie behind his eyes.
“If you say so.”
“I do. And so do all the girls who suck my cock.”
“Eww.” I shake my head as we walk back inside to find Winter at the table with her iPad. “You could have one like her,” I say and nudge him with my shoulder.
“Nope, she is enough for me, thank you very much. My sperm do not swim for anyone.”
“You’re a manwhore, you know that, right?”
He smiles proudly. “I just can’t keep the ladies off me. What can I say?”
“How about ‘no’?”
“I only like to use that word in the office.” And he’s right, all the staff are scared of him. Beckham is a powerhouse in the office.
I often wonder, though, where he would have gone, who else he might have been if Paige was still here. I have a feeling we would have a lot nicer Beckham than what we have.
Chapter 19
August
Mary is sitting on the front porch when I get back, a drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She hardly smokes. But when she does, it’s either because she’s stressed or drinking.
Which is both right now.
She eyes me as I make my way up the steps.
“It’s always been her. Even for Anderson, it was always her. Though I am not comparing you two, it was the same.” She blows out a heavy breath and picks up her glass, putting it to her lips.
I can’t offer her words of comfort because she’s right.
It has always been Rylee.
It will probably always be Rylee.
“I don’t think I can do that again.” She puts the glass to her lips and drinks.
A car pulls into the driveway, and we both turn and watch as a familiar figure slides out. Blond hair and dressed in a suit, he walks toward us, his angry eyes falling to me before they land on Mary. “Jacinta,” he says, his tone not to be messed with.
“It’s Mary now, Anderson.”
He nods, then steps closer, but not close enough that I can touch him. “You’ve been hiding. You’ve done well keeping my kid from me,” he spits.
“Do you blame me?” Mary says back to him, hardly fazed by him at all.
Anderson grinds his teeth in response.
“I mean, you did try to rape a girl in the woods, did you not? And you expect me to just what? Let you come near our son?” She laughs heavily, throwing her head back. “You really are fucked up, aren’t you? Did you have a fucked-up childhood to make you this way? Or does it come naturally?”
“You shouldn’t have come back,” Anderson says to her, then looks at me. “You shouldn’t have come back either.”
“And what … do you plan to make me leave?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. “The last person who did that…” I leave that hanging in the air, and he takes a step back.
“I know who you are, August. I know what you did.” He bites his lip.
“I know what I did too, and I’m not ashamed of it either. Are you?” His fists bunch up at his sides and Mary steps in front of me.
“Maybe it’s best we speak in a public area.” Her hand comes into contact with mine, she weaves our fingers together, and he doesn’t miss it.
“Why are you here together?”
“August is my husband,” Mary says proudly. She wasn’t so proud moments ago.
I watch as the news registers on Anderson's face. It’s like watching a horror movie. First, his brows bunch up in confusion, then it slowly moves to a sly smile.
“You didn’t come back for her?” he asks. “Even though she had your kid.” He smirks. “I guess she wasn’t worth it for you after all.” I go to take two steps toward him to knock some real sense into him when Mary tugs at my arm, pulling me back.
“You should leave,” Mary says.
“Yeah, maybe I should. Even go and pay Rylee a visit. Would that be okay, August?”
“Leave,” Mary says louder, her nails now digging into my hand as she holds me in place.
He salutes me as he walks backward. “I’ll be seeing you all.” He looks back to the house then to Mary and asks, “What did you name him?”
“Oliver. His name is Oliver,” she tells him, but I don’t know why.
Anderson walks to his car and gets in, and we watch as he drives off. When I turn around, Mary reaches up and kisses me. She tastes like bourbon and cigarettes.
Her hands circle around my neck, and she pushes her body into mine, her lips almost bruising me. She doesn’t stop, not even when I don’t kiss her back, not even when my hands push her away. She stays where she is, her lips on mine until she can no longer keep them there, then her head comes to lay on my chest.