Memories That Still Haunt Us

Chapter Forty-Nine:

Somehow, I manage to park along the curb outside of Lake's apartment. I'm far too drunk to have driven here, but I feel as if I'm going a bit mad. Every man in the bar looked like my drunk father, and I got plenty of confused stares from people who recognized me, wondering where I'd been and why I had dried blood on my hand, and nobody offered to buy me a drink because I kept laughing to myself like a complete mad hatter until eventually tears escaped my eyes.

The bartender cut me off, and I told him to fuck off before getting into my car and driving here. It's hard to tell what I'm feeling right now. A complete mix of so many emotions.

My vision fades in and out as I fight to pull the keys out of the ignition. I'm disgusting, and I don't care. I'm tired of caring. I have Ellis now; why do I need to impress anyone?

There's a knock at the window, and it makes me jump. I look and see Lake standing there, and roll down my window. "Hi." I say, but it sounds like I've just woken up from a deep sleep.

He arches his eyebrows. "Hi? What are you doing here?"

"Um," I look around as if the answer to his question lies before me amongst the shrubs and maple trees that are beginning to slowly shift colors.

"Are you drunk?" He asks, making me look back at him.

"No..." I attempt again to take the keys out of the ignition. "Why are you up so late?"

"I just got off work."

"Work?" I ask.

"Yes, I work full time now."

"What about your art?"

A stone-cold expression forms on his face. "I'm done painting."

Something about that shocks me. I was never supportive of his art. I never believed it would become anything, and I believe on an occasion or two I told him so. It was almost annoying to me. Having someone in my life who was good at something, knew it, and knew what they wanted to do, whereas I was completely stuck and talentless, but now that he says he's quit painting, it almost makes me a bit sad. Just adding to the list of emotions I feel right now. I'm becoming a complete sap. What is wrong with me? Why am I feeling so much?

"Why would you be done?" I'm growing frustrated at how hard it is to talk. I wipe under my eyes and realize my makeup has smeared.

"Reign, what the hell are you doing? You show up at my apartment unannounced and drunk after I told you I'm done and don't want to talk to you." He gives me an impatient sigh. "You fucking drove completely intoxicated; what is wrong with you?"

I manage to get the keys out, and I fold a fist over them as if they might run away before I turn my body towards the door and lean my arms out of the car towards him. "Lake, you can't quit your painting."

He rolls his eyes. "Now you care? I thought I was wasting my time with my horrible art."

"Did I say that?"

"Among other things." He grumbles. "Look, it doesn't matter. Where are you staying tonight? You're not seriously going to drive all the way back to Boston shitfaced, are you?"

"I don't know. I just wanted to tell you I didn't send that video. I wouldn't do that."

"It sounds exactly like something you'd do."

My mouth tightens into a frown. I'm not used to him speaking to me in this way. "Well, I didn't. I never recorded us having sex, and I never sent it to your parents."

He folds his arms across his chest and turns his body sideways away from me, eyes pointed towards his apartment door. "I'm not going to let you drive home tonight, so do you need to crash here?"

I nod and allow him to help me out of the car and up to his apartment. My feet stumble over one another, and when he lets us into the apartment, he helps me down onto his bed, where I kick off my shoes. Everything is as it was. Minus my limited items.

It smells the same. There's a slight ache in my heart that I am no longer here. It's a strange feeling, and I hate it. I slip my bloodied hand under my leg, hoping he doesn't see and question what happened. "I'm in love." I blurt out, and I'm not sure why I tell him. Do I want him to be happy for me? Do I want him to see that I'm maturing and doing okay? Or do I simply want to hurt him some more? Perhaps a mixture of all those.

His face flinches. "That's great, Reign." His words aren't sincere, and he takes off his work shoes, placing them inside the closet that once was ours but is now just his.

"I really am. I really love him, and I know I won't love anyone else. I'm going to spend my life with him." When Lake doesn't respond, I keep going on. "He's kind to me. He doesn't judge me either."

"Fantastic." Lake grumbles, and I wonder if he's even listening to me or tuning me out altogether as he comes out of the closet in his lounge clothes.

"It's the man I work for, Ellis." I admit, and this makes him stop and look at me.

"Are you serious?"
"Yes."

"He's married, Reign, with a kid, and you live in their guest house."

I tuck my hair behind my ear and lick my lips. They're so dry. I need water or more wine. Definitely more wine. The judgmental look on Lake's face ignites this instant irritation in me. It's the look I know so well. The one he'd give me every time he disapproved of something I did. The one he'd give me when he knew I'd just slept with another disgusting man. The look I despise with all my being. "I'm finally happy." I tell him.

He scoffs. "I honestly have nothing nice to say to you right now, so I'm just going to go sleep out on the couch."

"Do you hate me now?"

I can tell it's hard for him to look at me. He keeps his eyes cast downwards as he raises his arm and rubs behind his neck, a strained expression on his face. "No, I don't hate you. I hate how you treated me and how I put up with it for so long." He pauses for a moment. "I hope you know what you're getting yourself into. You're breaking up a family, Reign."

"His wife is horrible. She's the one who sent the video! She's the one who recorded us, Lake, I swear. She's trying to ruin my life."

"Well, I wonder why." He snaps at me. "You're fucking her husband. She probably knows, Reign. You have no idea who these people are. You're going to get yourself hurt, and now you're dragging me into your drama. If it was her, she's probably been recording and watching you the whole time. Be fucking careful." With that, he leaves the room, shutting the door behind him.

I release a heavy breath, then slip under the covers of the bed.

Lake's words replaying in my mind.