Page 4 of The Summer We Kept Secrets (The Destin Diaries #4)
She clenched her jaw, regret and shame rolling over her like tidal waves over the fact that she’d slept with a man who cared for her so little. What had she been thinking?
“Well, it is yours,” she ground out. “And all I’m doing in this conversation is informing you?—”
“It’s your problem, Meredith,” he spat back. “And you cannot tell anyone…”
As his voice faded out, she inched closer, not comprehending this despicable reaction.
“You’re really saying that to me right now, Trevor? Are you serious?”
“I don’t want a baby,” he said. “And I don’t want this turning into some huge thing. Look, do what you want, but leave me out of it. I need to be as far away from this as possible.”
“What is wrong with you?” she hissed, her whole body clenching. “You don’t even care? You’re not even going to ask if I’m okay?”
He flinched. Then his jaw tensed. “Because I can’t care.”
“Why not?” she snapped back, pain and anger rising in her throat.
He looked at her plainly, dark eyes flashing as he swore under his breath.
“Trevor?” she pressed.
“I’m married.”
The words hit like a punch to the stomach, stealing any breath and sanity she had left. “You’re…” she drew in a ragged breath. “ What ?”
“I have a wife,” he said, eyes darting around. “In Chicago.”
She stared at him, mouth open. She slammed it closed as bile rose. “Tell me you’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
She gripped the metal armrests. “You have a wife ?”
He looked away. “Yes. And her family…” He glanced over his shoulder at the coffee shop.
“Funds your franchise,” she guessed, puzzle pieces suddenly falling into place. It wasn’t his family money that kept his business growing. It was his wife’s.
Meredith tried to breathe, but it felt like her lungs weren’t working. Nothing was working—her brain was locked, her heart was cracking, and she was definitely on the verge of throwing up.
“I can’t believe this,” she managed to say. “You just lied ? You told me you were single. You told me you bounced around different cities and could never commit to anyone because you were opening new shops and?—”
“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t serious. It was just—it just got away from me, okay? And if you need anything—like money or?—”
“Stop.” She tried to swallow, but nausea choked her. “You’ve degraded me enough. I don’t need anything except assurance that you’ll stay out of my life and as far away from me as humanly possible.”
“I’m, uh, actually out of here at the end of the week. Next store is in Portland and that’s going to be a bear.”
So was this pregnancy, but it was obvious he didn’t care.
“Well, good luck with that.” She stood, and he got to his feet, too.
“Meredith,” he murmured. “You cannot bring my name into this. I’ll give you what you need, but no paperwork, no tests, nothing. Ever. I’m out.”
She flattened him with the most vile look she could muster, grabbed her purse, and took off.
She couldn’t get home fast enough, where she fell on the sofa and wept.
She wasn’t sure how long she slept, but when Meredith opened her eyes an hour or so after collapsing there, she knew her crappy day wasn’t over yet.
Her whole life, she’d trained herself to get the most annoying or difficult tasks out of the way first. She’d never understood the appeal of procrastination…until now.
She couldn’t put this off any longer. She’d never made any major—or minor—decision in her life without consulting Eli Lawson. She’d probably talked to her mother a lot, too, but her memories of that woman grew dimmer every year.
She’d been thirteen when beautiful Mommy died, and sometimes she barely recalled much of life before the plane crash. Meredith remembered snippets, moments, snapshots of time, but mostly it was a blur.
Only one thing remained clear, calm, and stable—her father. From the day her mother passed away until this very minute, Meredith had leaned on Dad’s strong and steady shoulders, and he’d never let her down.
“Oh, Dad. I wish I could say it went both ways.” Because she was about to let him down, and hard.
It wasn’t that he’d get mad—the man didn’t have a temper. He’d be hurt and so deeply disappointed. He’d pray and beg her to do the right thing and never make her feel like the failure she was—which would only make it harder.
With a grunt, she fished out her phone, tapping Dad’s name. That brought up a profile picture of him beaming at her on the day she graduated from college, so proud of his little girl.
The very same one who was about to break his heart.
Without giving herself time to think, she pressed the call button and speaker, taking a steadying breath as it rang two, then three times. Please no voicemail. Please no ? —
“Did you call to gloat?”
She drew back from the phone, the words and voice making no sense for a moment. “Jonah?”
“In the flesh,” he said. “Dad’s on baby duty, and he left his phone on the sofa.”
Baby duty. The words pressed on her chest. “Well, that’s fine. I want to talk to you. I’m so sorry, Jonah. I can’t believe what happened.”
He didn’t answer, the silence stretching between them.
“Are you okay?” she ventured.
“I’m figuring it out,” he said, as vague as Jonah always was with her.
It was maddening, to be honest. Before Mom died, she remembered being close to him—well, as close as a brother and sister born seventeen months apart could be when they were pre-teens and teenagers.
But they were cool—they played video games and watched movies and did hours of studying at the kitchen table, just two years apart in school.
After Mom died? No one was close to Jonah. No one.
“How’s Atlas?” she asked, uncertain of where to take this unexpected conversation.
“He’s…twenty-three days old.” His voice cracked and it did something unthinkable to her heart. “And I don’t know what the hell I’m gonna do.”
At the sound of a strangled sob, she put her hand to her mouth so she didn’t cry with him.
“Oh, Jonah. I’m so, so sorry. This is awful. But you have family.”
“He’s an orphan, Mer,” he said gruffly. “Just like we were.”
“We weren’t orphans,” she corrected. “We had Dad. And Atlas has you.”
“For whatever that’s worth,” he said glumly, sounding completely different than the last time she’d talked to him, the day after Atlas was born. He’d been so upbeat and funny, ready to go back to Destin to get his culinary arts degree, then be a good father to his new baby.
He said Carly had been fierce during labor, and he loved her and believed they’d get married.
“It’s worth a lot,” she said, trying to reassure him. When he didn’t answer, she rooted around for more information. “What does Dad say?”
“He says…we’re going to do whatever we can to keep the baby, but I know Carly’s parents want to raise him.”
“No!” She was a little surprised at her vehement reaction, but it was genuine and sharp. “He’s your son, Jonah.”
“Yeah, I know. Dad seems to think we’ll just tell them we want the baby and that’ll be all it takes. He’s, you know…praying.”
She fought a smile at the thought. Her father was alone in his deep faith, but it was one of a million things she loved about him. And another reason her news would gut him. And on top of a custody battle?
“Do you want me to have Dad call you?” Jonah asked. “Or give him a message?”
Not this message. It certainly wasn’t something she wanted Jonah to tell him—in fact, she didn’t want to drop this bomb over the phone.
Sitting up a little straighter, she stared ahead, her brain whirring through the open projects and client issues at Acacia Architecture. Did she have to handle all of them in person?
They had the world’s most efficient office manager and several of the architects worked remotely. Dad was spending the summer in Destin—couldn’t she? Suddenly, Meredith wanted that more than anything.
She needed family. She needed Dad. And from the sounds of it?
“You need me, Jonah,” she whispered.
He snorted. “To come and wrap us all in spreadsheets and a to-do list?”
She ignored his sarcasm, forcing herself back a decade and a half, to a den where two kids played Rock Band , singing and laughing until they hurt. Everything about the Lawson family was different back then, and right this minute?
Meredith just wanted to capture that security and happiness and sense of home. She needed it more than she needed anything. And she could tell Dad her news in person.
That was so much better.
“Is there a place for me to sleep?” she asked.
He didn’t answer and she braced herself for his rebuff, a snarky comment about how she didn’t sleep because she was so busy conquering the world. And then she’d tell him how badly the world had beaten her up today.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice gruff.
“Really?” She was more surprised by his response than the fact that the crowded house had room for her.
“I’d love you to be here, Mer.”
She nearly folded in half. “Then I’m on my way, big brother.”