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CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: END IT

STACEY

When I walk into the front door, I immediately hear the sound of little feet.

“Mommy!” I grin as Millie comes barreling down the hallway toward me, beaming with excitement as she wraps her arms around my legs and hugs me tight. You’d think I was gone for months rather than a single night. She’s dressed in her pink footie pajamas, and has the teddy bear — officially named Princess Bear — clutched in one of her hands.

“Hey, baby girl,” I say, brushing my hand through her hair. “How was your night with Lilah?”

“Oh, Lilah left,” she shrugs.

Blinking, I stare down at her for several moments, not fully comprehending what she’s saying.

“Um… what do you mean she left?”

“Grandma came over earlier and told Lilah she could go home.”

“Grandma…?”

For a second, I think she means Gram. Then it sets in. No, she’s talking about my mom. Her grandma. Before her words fully set into my brain, my mom’s voice cuts through the air like a whip.

“Millie, go to your room and color. Now.”

I blink, startled. What the hell is Mom doing here? The plan was for her to come over later, after I’d had a chance to get settled and mentally prepared to let her spend time with Millie. Mom comes charging down the hallway, clearly angry.

Millie glances at me, hesitant, but I give her a reassuring nod. Whatever is going on, I don’t want her getting in the middle of the crossfire.

“Go on, sweetheart. I’ll come check on you in a bit.”

Millie turns and hurries upstairs, and once she’s out of sight, I turn to glare at Mom.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand to know. “And why are you speaking to Millie like that? We agreed you could come over and spend time with her, but that doesn’t give you the right to barge into my home whenever you want when I’m not even home, and it sure as fuck doesn’t mean you can dismiss my babysitter and order my kid around!”

Instead of actually answering me, though, my mom shoves her phone in my face.

“I came over as soon as I saw this!”

It takes me a moment to read what’s on the screen, especially because she’s got it so close to my face.

Is Weston Cheating on Richardson Before Their Wedding Day?

My stomach twists as I see a photo of Owen kissing me at the game, right next to a picture of him and a beautiful woman at some sort of fancy social event. He’s wearing a suit and she’s wearing a long green dress, and they’re posing together, smiling for the camera. They look… I hate to say it, but good together.

“What the hell is this, Stacey?” Mom hisses, her voice low but venomous.

“I don’t know,” I reply sharply. “But this is just media gossip. Whoever this woman is, they’re not together.”

“Not together?” she scoffs. “Don’t be stupid, Stacey. Look at them! According to the article, her father and Owen’s stepfather are friends. The two are a fucking power couple in Canada.”

I roll my eyes, but deep down, I feel a small quiver of doubt. I fight it away. I don’t want to give this any credence. I know Owen. He wouldn’t have lied to me if he was already with someone else.

But you lied to him about his daughter…

The vicious little voice in the back of my head startles me and I quickly try to shove it away.

“I believe Owen over some stupid gossip article,” I insist, thankful there’s no wavering in my voice, regardless of what’s going on inside me. “Whoever that woman is, she’s not his fiancee. I trust him.”

Mom narrows her eyes before spitting, “Oh? Is that so?”

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper that I instantly recognize. My heart stops. The letter. The one Owen wrote to me years ago. How did she find it?

“You went through my things?” Fury and frustration rush through me, and I latch onto them because they drown out that annoying tinge of doubt. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Mom?”

“You kept this,” she shouts, ignoring my outrage. “After all these years, you kept it.”

“That doesn’t mean — ”

“It means you knew!” she exclaims, cutting me off. “Some part of you has always known this man wasn’t worth trusting. You kept this letter to remind you of that so you didn’t make the same stupid mistake again, but here you are, letting him back into your life. You are being stupid!”

I stare at her, so angry I can hardly think straight.

“Get out,” I hiss.

She freezes and blinks, clearly stunned. “What?”

“I said, get out,” I say again in a louder voice. “I’m done, Mom. I’m done with your criticisms, your cruelty, your coldness… all of it. Get out of my house and don’t try to contact me again. If I ever decide I want to talk to you, I’ll reach out.”

Her nostrils flare her. Her face flushes.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” she cries. “You want to cut me out of your life? I’m your mother! You can’t just decide to be done with me.”

“Actually, I can,” I insist coolly. “I’m a grown woman, capable of making my own choices. I have a good life here, and I’m not going to let you ruin it. Besides, you’re the one who cut me out of your life first. When I was pregnant and needed you most, you could’ve actually been a mother to me and gave a shit. You chose not to, though, so this is on you, not me. This is karma, Mom, and it’s been a long time coming.”

“You’re really going to choose that two-timing son of a bitch over your own mother?” She stares at me in disbelief. “You’re going to fuck up your life all over again, Stacey.”

“What is or isn’t going on with Owen is between me and him.” My voice is steady. “It’s none of your goddamn business. Now, I’m not going to tell you again. Get the fuck out of my house.”

She doesn’t move for several long moments. Finally, she lets out a huff of breath.

“Let me say goodbye to Millie…” she begins, turning for the stairs, but I shut that argument down immediately.

“No, leave,” I order. “Millie’s been through enough and I’m not going to let your toxicity near her ever again.”

She stares at me, clearly shocked, but then grits her teeth and storms past me to the door. She slaps Owen’s letter in my hand as she goes by.

“You’re going to regret this,” she says in a venomous hiss. “When that man proves you wrong, don’t come crying to me.”

I keep my chin up and don’t move a muscle until the door slams behind me. Once I’m alone again, all my bravado vanishes and I let out a shaky breath as my knees quiver. That picture of Owen and that woman seems burned into my brain and I can’t stop thinking about it. There has to be some explanation for that article… I refuse to believe he’d lie and not tell me he was in a serious relationship like that.

My heart racing, I dig out my phone and shoot Lilah a quick text, asking if she can come back quick and watch Millie for a little longer.

I have to go talk to Owen, face-to-face, and figure out what exactly is going on.

When I get to Owen’s apartment building, clutching his letter in my hand, it’s nearly 7pm. A part of me thinks I should’ve just called, but I need to talk to him face-to-face because, as much as I hate to admit it, Mom’s words have gotten to me. I need to look Owen in the eyes when I ask him to explain so I can know for sure if he’s lying. Walking through the building’s main entrance, I head to the elevator only to find that it’s out of service.

Of course it fucking is.

With a huff, I take the stairs two at a time, fueled by adrenaline and anxiety.

Reaching his floor, I’m out of breath and sweaty, but I continue down the hallway toward his door. Just as I’m reaching it, I hear his voice echoing from inside his apartment. He sounds agitated and angry, and he’s speaking louder and louder until I can hear him clearly when I’m standing right outside.

“Fine, FINE! I’ll end it!” Owen’s words cut through the air, sharp and final.

My heart lurches. End it? End what? What’s he talking about?

“You will never have to worry about Millie ruining anything!”

I can’t understand what he says next - there’s a ringing in my ears, and it’s like I’m underwater, his voice sounding muffled and indiscernible. It feels like the floor drops out from under me and I stagger backward, away from the door.

He is talking about me. About Millie.

Oh God, what have I done?

Panic sets in. I can’t do this. I can’t face him if he’s about to break my heart all over again. Tears stinging my eyes, I turn and start running back down the stairs, my chest tight and my breathing ragged.

As I round the corner at the end of the hallway, I collide with someone, nearly falling onto my ass. The letter slips from my fingers, fluttering to the floor.

“Hey, aren’t you Stacey?”

I look up, and my stomach drops. It’s her. The woman from the news article. Elise Richardson. Her perfectly styled hair and designer clothes are unmistakable. Her eyes widen as she takes me in.

“No… no, get away from me,” I snap bitterly, dodging past her. “I hope you and your fucking fiance have a happy life. Tell him I never want to see him again.”

“Wait!” Elise calls after me, but I ignore her and continue on to the stairwell. I don’t look back. I can’t. If I see that beautiful woman, the one who Owen has apparently always been planning to go back to this whole time, I’ll lose my absolute shit.

I need to get out of here, away from her, away from Owen, away from everything. Elise’s voice fades behind me as I burst into the stairwell, gasping for air like I’m suffocating.