The Devil Series Books 1-4 (Devil #1-4), page 100
I guess I haven’t squashed all the hope after all.
“Sorry we kept you waiting,” I tell the woman sitting on the exam table the next afternoon. I’m fifteen minutes late, which is what happens when you’ve got double the number of patients any doctor could squeeze into a three-hour period. “I’m Dr. Connolly. What can I help you with today?”
She smiles. “I’m Ally. We’ve actually met before. Last winter. You were outside Native Planet with Drew Bailey. I guess you don’t remember. It was pretty early in the night, like nine.”
I gulp. She’s referring to the night I married Graham which is, obviously, quite a blur. And she’s claiming we were still in LA at nine. So how the hell did we get to Vegas before midnight? “Oh, sorry. It was kind of a crazy night.”
She nods. “It was. Anyway, right before the fight with your boyfriend—Graham, I think?—you told me I should get this mole looked at, so here I am.” She stretches out her forearm, and I know immediately that Drunk Keeley was right.
“Do you see how the borders are irregular?” I ask. “We need to do a biopsy.”
She shrugs. “Sure, whatever.”
I turn to the nurse assisting me and ask her to get the lidocaine.
“So are you still with that guy?” Ally asks, glancing at my stomach.
My throat tightens. I wait for the sadness to pass, knowing it won’t, entirely. “Um, no. But given that you saw me fighting with him even last January, it’s probably for the best.”
“Oh…I meant the fight he got in, when that guy tried to kiss you? Man, I thought he was going to kill him.”
I’ve just inserted a needle into the lidocaine but stop to stare at her. “I don’t remember that.”
She tilts her head, dumbfounded that I could have forgotten. My ability to appear sober when I’m not strikes again. “Remember that guy just grabbing you? He, like, threw you against the wall, and Graham had him on the ground in seconds. It was crazy.”
I smile weakly as I return to what I was doing. I’m a little embarrassed both my nurse and my patient are aware of this story, especially when I’m not. I must look extremely classy right now. “Yet somehow, I managed to notice a mole on your arm. One-track mind, I guess.”
“I wanted to talk to you about it but you guys went around the corner, and then like two seconds later, Drew grabbed you both and pushed you into a limo.”
I stare at her. I should play this off and act like I remember, but I’m too stunned. “She did?”
Even as I ask the question, though, I’m starting to put some things together. Like Drew telling me how “relieved” she was. Like how she’d “heard an earful” from her husband, but “all’s well that ends well”.
Like the fact that we were still in California at nine but somehow got to Vegas well before midnight…which we could only have managed by private plane.
Something Drew would have on speed dial.
Drew calls me back within the hour.
“I heard about you and Graham. I’m so sorry. You guys were so cute together the other week, at Ben’s house. I really thought it was all going to work out.”
Maybe it’s my imagination, but she sounds guilty.
“Actually, this is related: that night, the night we went to Vegas? I don’t really remember how we got there.”
She is very quiet, for a long moment. “I’m so sorry,” she finally says. “You seemed okay. I mean we were all drinking, but according to Josh, I was the drunk one. You don’t remember anything?”
I run a hand over my face. I can no longer claim I regret getting that drunk because I wouldn’t have this baby coming if I didn’t. But it’s probably going to remain embarrassing for a good long time. “Very little. Did you…get us a plane?”
She sighs. “Yes. Fuck. I took care of the plane; I took care of getting you to the airport before you’d even agreed. I even had my assistant arrange everything in Vegas. I was drunk and felt like I was playing fairy godmother, and it wasn’t until I woke up that I realized it might have all been a really bad idea. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It wasn’t your fault. I mean, clearly, I was the one pushing to marry a stranger.”
“Oh,” she says. “Not really. I mean, you were on board, but the whole thing started with Graham.”
“Graham?” I repeat. That can’t be right. Graham Tate was coerced into this nonsense by me and me alone, possibly with Drew’s assistance.
“Wow,” she says. “You really don’t remember anything, do you? It was so cute. He said he knew he was going to marry you the first time you ever spoke on the phone.”
If things hadn’t ended the way they did, I’d think that was the most romantic story ever. But they did end, so now it’s just really sad.
And really confusing.
44
GRAHAM
“Graham,” barks a sharp voice. I’m sweating profusely and a little disoriented from the run I just finished—excessive exercise is the only thing keeping me going these days.
I wipe my face with my t-shirt and pull my earbuds out as I turn to find my sister-in-law stepping out of her car in a suit and sky-high heels. Her sunglasses are on, and her cheekbones look like they could cut glass. I’m far taller than Gemma, but if I weren’t…I’d probably be a little terrified. Given how much she must hate me, I probably should be a little terrified anyway.
“Is Keeley okay?” I ask immediately.
Even behind her sunglasses I can tell she’s rolling her eyes. “No thanks to you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “You can yell at me all you want, Gemma. You can’t make me feel any worse than I already do.”
“Do you honestly think I don’t know what you’re doing?” she demands. “My husband and I have been together nearly two years, and he has never asked me once about Keeley. Now he’s asking me multiple times a day, detailed questions he wouldn’t even know to ask, about her blood pressure and the baby and her job and if all the furniture’s arrived and if the car seat was installed. You two are idiots!” she says, throwing her hands in the air. “Why the hell aren’t you just asking me directly? Why aren’t you just asking her?”
I push my hands in my pockets. “She’s not speaking to me. I assumed you weren’t either.”
“I shouldn’t be, but my friend is devastated and it’s your goddamn fault, so you need to pull your shit together and fix it.”
“Do you think I wouldn’t fix it if I could?” I demand. “She kicked me out and told me not to contact her! She’s seeing someone else anyway.”
She groans loudly. “Did you honestly believe that? Who exactly do you think she suddenly started dating?”
Ethan. He’d take her back at any point, I’m certain. It was written all over his face. “I figured it was someone from before.”
“You smitten asshole, even if she was willing to date someone at this point in her pregnancy she wouldn’t, and you’re the only person whipped enough to think one of her exes is going to date her when she’s eight months pregnant.”
Maybe she’s right. It’s one of the things I found too painful to even contemplate fully…and thus all the working out.
“I still don’t know how to fix it.”
“By telling her why you did it, Graham. Why you really did it. And by telling her you know her better than that.” Gemma pushes her sunglasses on top of her head and brushes at her eyes. I’ve never seen Gemma tear up before. I sort of thought she wasn’t capable of it.
What I’ve done to Keeley is that bad.
“You know why this is so hard for her?” she whispers. “Because you took everything she hates about herself and everything Shannon told her she was and you put it on paper. That’s what she saw when she looked at that contract: that the guy she fell in love with only saw the side of herself she hates and nothing more.”
“Gemma, I’m—”
“Don’t,” she barks, pulling the sunglasses back on and opening her door. “Do not fucking apologize to me. Fix it.”
She climbs into her car and drives off, leaving me sick to my stomach.
I’ve been so focused on how Keeley must feel about me that it never occurred to me how this must have made her feel about herself.
And I can stand a lot of things, but not that.
45
KEELEY
I lumber out of my desk chair, forcing myself to go get lunch, though I haven’t had much of an appetite since the whole thing went down with Graham.
“You don’t look so good,” Trinny says as I walk out.
I blink. She’s right. I feel…not ill, but off. As if something has disrupted the balance inside me in a way even growing a human in my stomach has not. “I’ve had better days,” I tell her.
“Maybe you should go to the hospital?”
I shake my head. “It’s not…I just don’t feel good. Maybe I should go home.”
She grins. “Of course you should. You’re thirty-six weeks pregnant, and Dr. Fox has a very light schedule today. I’m sure she won’t mind being double-booked.”
I laugh wearily. “Yeah, she kind of has it coming, doesn’t she?”
I’ve just reached my apartment when Graham texts, and even the sight of his name hurts.
Graham
Can we talk when you get home?
I figured this was coming. At some point he was going to want to discuss custody. I’d like to put it off, but I guess I need to know what I’ll be fighting him over in a few weeks.
I’m already home.
My phone rings immediately. The picture I took of him pops up. In it, he’s on my couch, reading and trying to appear irritated with me, but fighting a smile. I swallow hard. He didn’t hate me. I’m still sure of it. So how could he have done what he did?
“Why are you home?” he demands as soon as I pick up, his voice sharp. “Is everything okay?”
I put my feet up on the coffee table. “Why? Are you going to run to a judge to tell on me if I just wanted to go home early for once?”
“Jesus Christ, Keeley,” he says. “Of course not. I’m just worried.”
I’ve heard that before. How many times have my father and Shannon said the same?
“I’m fine,” I reply. “Why are you calling?”
“I…was just following up on the email I sent.”
I sigh. Here we go. I assume it’s a contract of some kind, or an email a lawyer wrote on his behalf, suggesting a custody arrangement that works best for him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I sent you an email last night. I knew I should have texted you. You never check your email.”
“Yes, because I’m not a hundred years old.”
“Can you check it, please?”
I’m in no mood for this. “If it’s about your contract, I think you know where you can shove it. If this is about custody, just send it straight to Gemma.” I’d worried once that she might be on his side, since he’s a relative. Instead, I think she’s angrier at him than I am. It was a little too much like the bullshit her dad pulled on her mom, and she can’t deal with seeing me sad.
“I tore that contract up the second you walked out for your date. And it’s not about custody. Please, Keeley.”
Sighing, I reach across the table for my laptop and click on the message he’s sent.
“It’s a letter?” I ask quietly. “Should I just read it and call you back?”
“It’s not a lot,” he says. “I can wait.”
I set the phone down and pull the laptop closer.
Sept 9, 2022
I don’t know how to begin, so I’m just going to say it: I fucked up.
I can’t fix anything at this point. I’m putting it all on paper simply because I hate that I hurt you. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, which is really saying something.
I was thoughtless and I was irresponsible, but that’s nothing you don’t already know. So just let me tell you the rest:
After my father died, my mother started refusing to come out of her room. I tried to feed Colin myself and spilled boiling formula on us both. Colin wouldn’t stop crying, so I called 911, which led to Colin and Simon being placed in emergency foster care. It took three months for my mom to get them back. She still can’t look at baby pictures of any us…that’s how raw it is for her even now, decades later.
I have never wanted the responsibility that came with having a child, and when I found out you were pregnant, I panicked. I can’t defend my actions. I made assumptions I shouldn’t have after one night in your apartment, and that’s when I had the contract drawn up. As soon as you said you wanted to be a parent, I set it aside and never considered it again.
I doubt you’ll believe any of this. I know it won’t change anything. I just wanted you to know I love you, and there’s no one alive I’d rather have raise our daughter than you. She’ll know more about The Jonas Brothers and the cast of Dawson’s Creek than any child should, but she’ll also be loved in a way only you love the people you care about. Being one of them, briefly, was the happiest time of my life.
Graham
I’m crying by the time I’m done reading. Poor Graham, holding all this in and blaming himself. He’s such a worrier. I can picture it: a crying baby, a burned arm, the chaos of it all. How it must have made him panic. When he was eight. Barely past being a baby himself.
I get it now. I just wish I could stop crying long enough to tell him this.
“Shit,” I whisper then jump up from the couch. “Oh, shit.”
“Look,” he says, and I vaguely process how disappointed he sounds. “I don’t expect anything. I know I dropped a lot on you at once, and if you’ve moved on with someone else, I’m not going to—”
“Graham, it’s not that,” I say, barely audible as I stare in shock at the large stain where I was just sitting. “I think my water just broke.”
46
GRAHAM
I wanted to be with her for this, but I also accepted weeks ago that I might not be, so I already had a contingency plan in place.
I call Paul’s cell. He will drop everything to get her safely to the hospital, and I don’t trust this to some Uber with two other passengers and a driver who can’t follow directions.
He has her in his car within three minutes. Mark comes along, too, just in case they need help.
They make it to the hospital in record time, but it takes me far longer. Traffic is snarled, and I’ve now got texts from Mark, Paul, and Jacobson—keeping tabs from his post at the building until his replacement gets in at nine—asking me where the hell I am.
I arrive at Labor and Delivery, frazzled and worried sick. Yes, I want to be there when our daughter is born, but mostly…I just want to see my wife again. The past two weeks have felt like a lifetime. Mark and Paul both leap from their seats and join me at the front desk. An Indian doctor standing there turns when he hears me ask for her. “You’re the father?” he asks with a small, quizzical smile. “That’s good. That’s very good. I’m Dr. Patel. I was just up here checking on her.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“This isn’t my area, but I’m sure one of the nurses can take you back and get you some scrubs. Rachel?”
A nurse pops up from a chair, and I nod to Paul and Mark. They nod back, worried and hopeful at once.
She waits while I change into scrubs, then walks me down the hall to Keeley. “She’s not quite thirty-seven weeks,” I tell the nurse just before we enter. “How big a deal is that?”
She shakes her head and gestures to the room, which is full of laughing hospital staff. “As you can see from these idiots, who are violating the rules and should not be here, it’s not a big deal at all.”
I shove my way through, expecting to find Keeley cracking jokes and holding court, but her gaze is strained when it meets mine…and relieved, deeply relieved.
She needed me here, and she needed me while we were apart. God, I hate the way this has all unfolded. I hate that the past two weeks ever happened at all.
“Hey,” she says, her voice quieter than I expected, her face less joyful. Keeley, who loves drama and celebration more than anyone I know, is pale and tense.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Her eyes close and she shakes her head. “I’m about to have another contraction, and they’re really bad. I thought women were kind of overdramatizing things, but…they weren’t.”
Only Keeley would think centuries of women were exaggerating the pain of childbirth.
She squeezes my hand, her eyes fall shut, and her mouth moves as if she’s silently counting.
“You’ve got this, bestie!” shouts a woman in scrubs. Someone else cheers. I think I’m going to fucking kill all of them.
Her breath explodes when the contraction finally ends and her grip eases. She looks exhausted as her gaze meets mine.
“Do you actually want all these people in here?”
“Well,” she says, “no, but they just want to celebrate and—”
I stand. “Everyone? I’m this kid’s father. Nice to meet you. Now get the fuck out unless you’re assigned to this room.”
People glare at me and glance at each other, undoubtedly thinking “what did Keeley ever see in this asshole?” I don’t blame them. It’s a question I’ve asked myself many times.
But they leave, and once the room is empty, aside from a lone nurse currently taking Keeley’s vitals, her sigh is pure relief.
“They’re all going to hate you,” she says. Her eyes fall closed. It seems early in the process for her to be this tired.
“Like I give a shit,” I begin.
“You need to give a shit,” she says with a too-small smile. “We can’t piss them off in case we ever decide to have another one.”
My heart stops. I didn’t write that letter hoping to change her mind about us, but that she wants me here and is talking about a future us has me hoping for it anyway. “You mean…together? We’d stay together?”
