If It's Only Love (Lexi Ryan) novel Chapter 22

Shay

June 3rd, ten years ago

I’m exhausted. I got home yesterday from my month in Paris. Mom drove to Chicago because she wanted to be the one to pick me up from the airport and the first to hear all about my trip. We spent the evening hanging out at one of her favorite lakeside restaurants as she regaled me with questions and demanded to know every detail.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about Easton. My memories of our night and day together are so precious, and I want to keep them locked away like rare, ancient tomes whose pages can disintegrate with human touch.

Then last night I fell into bed, convinced I’d fall comatose for twelve hours, but I could barely sleep. After tossing and turning for six hours, I gave up, made a pot of coffee, and wished I didn’t have this horrible, aching worry in my chest regarding Easton’s silence.

When I can’t handle it anymore, I text him.

Me: Are you free? I need to talk.

Easton: Give me two minutes and I’ll call.

I set my phone down on the coffee table and squeeze my eyes shut. Just two minutes.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over me, and I lean back on the couch and put my hand flat against my chest. I just want to go home—my Jackson Harbor home, not this Chicago rental I share with three other girls. I want to curl up in my own bed and hide under my own blankets. I want Easton to find me there, crawl in bed beside me, and tell me it’s going to be okay. Tell me he hasn’t been avoiding me.

Easton texted me when he got home, but then his messages became . . . sparse. He said we’d talk when I got home from Paris, that he didn’t want to bother me during my trip, but something felt off.

My phone buzzes, and I jerk upright, reaching for it. Easton’s face grins back at me from the screen. It’s a picture I took of him when we were eating gelato in Montmartre. He’s grinning and has a smudge of chocolate on the corner of his mouth. The picture fills me with conflicting emotions so intense that I feel like I might be torn in two. Joy, because that was the best day of my life. And longing, because whatever we had in Paris is already slipping away.

It vibrates again, and I swipe the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Shay. What’s up?” His voice is all gravelly from sleep.

“I’m sorry. Are you awake?” Idiotic questions for five hundred, Alex. I flinch when I look at the clock. It’s before eight here, which means it’s not even five in the morning in L.A. “I mean, obviously you are now, but I . . .”

“No, it’s fine. I normally get up at five anyway. Are you okay?”

No. You’ve barely talked to me since you left Paris. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” I hate the sound of the sob in my throat.

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t called. I came back to a mess here and I just had to deal with everything. I’m glad you texted. I was planning to make this call today.”

This call. Like it’s one very specific conversation he needed to check off a list and not one of hundreds he plans to have with me. “Wha—why? What’s going on?” But I already know. I hear it in his voice. We can’t be together in the real world.

“It’s Scarlett. She’s . . .” He blows out a breath. “I can’t get into details. She’s a very private person, but she needs me right now. I think . . .”

“You think what?” My voice breaks. I already know. I’m going to make him say it anyway.

“I think I need to be here for her. I need to help her.”

“Okay . . . but that doesn’t mean you can’t call.”

“Shit,” he mutters, and I imagine him scrubbing his hand over his face. “Shayleigh, I’ve always known you were too good for me.”

“No.” Tears roll hot down my cheeks. “Don’t give me that.”

“Why not? Isn’t it true?”

“No. It’s not true, and it’s a lame excuse. If you’re freaking out about what happened between us when we were in Paris, then that’s on you. Don’t try to pretend that you’re pushing me away because I’m just so great. Don’t try to pretend you’re doing me a favor.”

“East?” I can barely make out the small voice in the background. Feminine, worried. “Who is that? Are you coming back to bed?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he says.

Nausea roils. I feel like my insides have just been pulverized. “By help her, you mean fuck her? Is that code or something?”

“Jesus, Shay, it’s not like that. She’s . . .” He blows out a breath. “Scarlett is pregnant.”

For a minute, I’m sure I’ve misheard him. I’m positive this cannot be happening.

“Shay? Are you still there?”

“She’s pregnant.” Saying the words doesn’t make them any easier to swallow. How? Fucking how could this work out like this?

“Yeah.” I press my hand to my stomach, and I’m almost surprised not to feel blood seeping out on my fingers. She’s pregnant with Easton’s baby. All I can hear is the soft whoosh of his breath through the phone. He’s breathing as hard as I am.

“I grew up without my dad around. I always promised myself that if I was ever a father, that would be my first priority. Do you understand?”

I nod, even knowing he can’t see me. Yes, I understand. I know that Easton wants to be the kind of dad who’s there for everything—who always puts his kid first. He’d never walk away from a child he knew about, and being put in any sort of situation where he felt like he had to would destroy him. Yes, I understand too well.

“Shay?”

“Congratulations, Easton.” The sob rises up my throat, and I choke it back. “I know you’ll be an amazing father.”

Easton

I followed Shay to the parking lot, but she was already in her car and driving away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I’m going to have to track her down. We can’t leave it like this after what just happened. But first, I need to deal with the woman waiting for me at the bar.

“Easton! Surprise!” Scarlett slides off her barstool and pushes through the crowd that’s gathered around her. I’ve developed a good relationship with my ex-wife over the years, but I’ll never understand her need for surprises. And tonight’s visit to Jackson Brews is definitely a surprise.

She wraps her arms around my stomach and hugs me tightly. Jake and Carter watch every move. Jake looks a little pissed. Carter looks confused.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Scarlett, pulling out of her hug. She’s an affectionate person, and while I know she hugs everyone, I don’t need Shay’s brothers thinking this means we’re patching things up. When I decided to come back early from our Chicago house hunt, I was under the impression that she was going to keep looking without me. Kinda hard to look at Chicago homes when you’re not in Chicago.

“I was thinking—why buy a place in Chicago when I can buy a home here and be closer to you and Abi?”

I squeeze the knot of tension at the back of my neck. “Why don’t you stay in Jackson Harbor for a few days before you make that decision?” Chicago is too “small-town feel” for Scarlett. Jackson Harbor isn’t going to be her thing.

She beams and flips her long red hair. “Is that an invitation?”

“It’s not my town, Scar. Do what you want.”

“I mean, are you inviting me to stay with you and Abi until I make my decision?”

Oh, hell no. Not only do Scarlett and I get along a thousand times better when we don’t live together, but I wouldn’t do that to Shay. “Nope. You could stay in a hotel or get a temporary lease, but you and I don’t work under one roof, remember?”

She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. “So says you.”

I look at my watch. Every minute that passes is a minute Shay has to decide we made a mistake. I reach into my pocket for my keys. “I need to get out of here. Talk to Jake or Carter about the best hotels nearby.”

***

Shay lives in a third-floor walk-up a couple of blocks from the bar. I know this thanks to Mrs. Jackson, who was pleased to hear that I wanted to swing by and bring Shay some dinner, since she’s been working so hard lately. To make good on my promise, I grabbed pizza and a six-pack of beer on my way over.

But when I get there, no one answers.

A gray-haired lady opens the door across the hall. “She’s not home yet.”

I swallow. “Do you know where she is?”

She shakes her head. “Hardly ever sleeps here, far as I can tell.”

Because she’s with George? Is that where she is now? Jesus. I can’t believe this night. “Here.” I hold out the pizza. “You like pepperoni and jalapenos?”

She takes the box and pulls a piece from inside before backing into her apartment. “Thanks. I’ll tell Shayleigh you came by.”

I stand outside her apartment like an idiot for at least ten more minutes. When she doesn’t come home, I text.

I never chose Scarlett over you. She would lose that matchup every time. I chose my daughter over myself.

Shay

“I slept with Easton,” I blurt when Teagan opens the door.

“I’m sorry—what?” She makes a few fish faces like she’s trying to talk and is failing. “You . . . slept with him.”

I cringe. “Maybe ‘sleeping’ isn’t the right euphemism. There was no sleeping. And no bed.” I thread my fingers through my hair and tug. “Just a wall and some very athletic fucking.”

Her eyes are wide. I’ve been shocking her right and left, it seems. “Okay. Well, that’s not exactly what I had in mind when I told you not to make any decisions.”

“I know.” I rub my head. “I really do. It’s just . . . Oh my God, Tea, my life is a mess. I broke up with George, then Easton threatened to kiss me until I talked about us, and I pulled him into Jake’s office and practically demanded he do me against the wall.”

“I’m sure that was very difficult for him. Should we go down to Hallmark and get him a card?”

I didn’t even mention the worst part. I just realized I’ve been sleeping with a married man. Nausea turns my belly, and I push past her, down the hall, and into the powder room by the garage. I throw my purse on the floor and barely turn in time before I vomit up the little lunch I was able to choke down. I hear Teagan behind me, running water in the sink.

She sweeps my hair to the side and puts a cool, wet cloth on my neck. “Is this always your reaction when you have athletic wall sex?”

I spit and flush before leaning against the wall and closing my eyes. “Don’t know. That was a first for me.”

“Wait. Scarlett Lashenta was at Jackson Brews?”

“Your words, not mine.”

“We were in the office and heard Carter and Jake looking for Easton and saying she was in the bar.” My cheeks heat when I remember. I’d just had him inside me, begged for harder into his ear. And then I heard her name. “I did not handle it with grace.”

“He said the ring was a family heirloom he was taking to the bank.” I press the back of my hand to my mouth as another wave of nausea hits. “But it turns out he’s a liar, so who really knows?”

“That’s not even all. There’s also the part where Easton heard George talking to someone on the phone and calling her Buttercup, and then George was kissing me and called me that, which he’s never done before.”

“It’s worse than that,” I whisper. “He was cheating, but not on me. With me.”

“No, Tea. I’m the other woman. George is married.”

“Shay, you’ve noticed your symptoms lately, haven’t you? The queasiness? Aversion to alcohol? The constant exhaustion?” She points to the toilet. “The puking.”

I wave a hand. “No worries, Mom, I’m on the pill.”