I thought one last time about handing the phone over to him, but I couldn't bring myself to. I just couldn't.
Without a word, I nodded my head. He stared at me for a moment, as if shocked that this was happening. With a shake, he stormed out of the room, closing himself in his studio. In a few moments I heard him playing his guitar. It was chaotic and violent, even more so than when I had walked in earlier today.
I turned on my phone and the picture popped up, mocking me. I could delete it now and give the phone to him, but I knew the damage was done. He would never trust me after this. Our bond that we had formed was shattered forever.
I walked around the apartment, gathering up the clothes that I had left scattered around the house. Most were in the guest room, but there were items hiding in several other rooms. I knew that I had left some clothes in the studio, but I was too sick to my stomach to try and get them. I put on another pair of jeans and a sweater that I brought instead. I felt numb the entire time that I packed up, tears occasionally dropping from my eyes but not really crying.
When I finished, I went to knock on the studio door to see what I should do about a ride to the airport. I nearly jumped out of my skin when I saw James' limo driver standing in the doorway.
“Have you finished packing?” he asked.
“Oh, um... Yes, but I have to get something out of the studio.”
“I apologize, but Mr. Coleman does not wish to see you. Anything that you've left in there will be sent to you by mail.” He said it with absolutely no emotion in his voice. I wondered what James had told him. I wondered how often he had to kick girls out of James' apartment.
“Oh. Of course.”
There was a pause. “So are you finished packing?” he repeated. I nodded without saying a word. “I will drive you to the airport. Waiting at the ticket counter is a plane ticket back to New York. In addition, Mr. Coleman has instructed me to provide you with anything additional that you need in order to expedite your return and make you comfortable.”
Cash and a plane ticket home. The same thing that he offered me the last time he kicked me out. I had at first refused it, then grudgingly accepted it. I was mad at him last time, but this time I was only mad at myself. I nodded my head and grabbed my luggage and purse. He handed me $200 and held the door open for me. I took one last look inside, realizing that it would be the last time I ever saw this apartment.
Just before the door closed, I heard one, last, mournful wail on that guitar before his soundproofing cut off the rest.
Chapter Eight
The ride to the airport was uneventful, just as the last one had been. It felt eerily similar, but more painful. My bag was my only company this time. That, and my shame.
I pulled out my phone and just stared at the picture that had cost me my relationship with my the man of my dreams. Then, I pulled up my sweater, touching my bare belly. I knew a child was growing inside of there, and I had no idea what to do about it. Everything had been turned upside down in my life these past couple weeks, and I had no idea what to do to straighten it all back out.
Soon, I'd be back in my dorm room. I wondered what I would do when I saw Nicole. Then, I thought with just a hint of disgust, I wondered if suddenly she'd be making trips to Boston. It was clear that he wanted to get with her, and now that I was out of his life, there was no reason not to.
Well, almost no reason. I'd have to murder her, of course. He might not want that on his conscience.
I pushed those jealous thoughts out of my head. I had driven James away all on my own, and whatever he did with his life from here on out was his own choice.
When we got to Logan International Airport, the limo pulled up in the drop-off zone. For a Saturday evening, the place wasn't very busy. The driver was out in an instant, and my door was held open for me before I even had a chance to grab my bag. I stepped out into the cool evening air, pulling my sweater down quickly.
The driver closed the door quickly. “Mr. Coleman finds this distasteful, but he called me and he would like you to sign a non-disclosure agreement concerning the events of the last few weeks.” He pulled out a sheaf of paper.
I felt even more sick. Three weeks ago, when he had obviously felt bad about throwing me out of his life, he had sheepishly asked that I keep quiet about it without signing a non-disclosure agreement. I had a feeling that this was the more standard way that he got rid of girls that he didn't want around anymore.
“And what if I refuse?” I asked.
The driver shrugged. “Mr. Coleman advised me that absolutely nothing adverse will happen to you if you refuse to sign it. However...” He trailed off for a moment. “Knowing what I know about the two of you, it is clear that if you were the source of certain rumors about the two of you, he would be forced to sue you for slander or libel.”
I was shocked. “Slander or libel.” I repeated back to him.
“Slander if it was spoken, libel if it was written,” he clarified.
“Even if it what I say or write is the truth.”
“Even if it's the truth. Mr. Coleman has a huge legal team as part of his tech company, and the damage that those rumors would cause to his billion dollar company would force his shareholders to act. It would be an expensive suit to defend against.” There was a pause. “Mr. Coleman has anticipated your reluctance and has authorized me to offer you one thousand dollars in order to legally guarantee your silence.”
So this was it. I was being paid off and told to never talk about this again. Whether I signed the NDA or not, my life would be ruined if I talked about my billionaire stepbrother's baby. Whether I signed the NDA or not, I was out of his life forever. Whether I signed the NDA or not, my baby could never know who his or her father was.
With a heavy sigh, I said, “If his first offer is a thousand dollars, he has authorized you to offer up to five thousand dollars. I'll cut that in half and sign it for twenty five hundred.” If I was already going to be labeled a gold digger in his mind, I might as well get paid for it. I would need it to support his child.
“Mr. Coleman actually only authorized me to offer up to two thousand dollars. He is apparently a better negotiator than you thought. However...” He trailed off just as he had the last time. “He owes you that much. He's mad right now, but I'll change his mind. If I can't, I'll cover the other five hundred myself.”