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I can’t stopped seeing the ravaged expression on Beth’s face.
I recognized all of that because I’d felt it before. That same terror and horror when you find out the things that are most essential to your sense of self are all complete fabrications. I understood her devastation as she sat silently, staring at us while we made arrangements for our DNA tests.
I didn’t understand the way she flinched when I put a hand out to touch her when I was leaving. And how she’s kept her distance in the days since. I haven’t seen her once. And I’ve been in hell.
I haven’t set foot in a church since my father’s funeral. But in these dark days of silence and doubt, I’ve been to church every day. It’s been empty during the week and I’ve found peace in the sanctuary of the piano.
I decided that it wasn’t a coincidence that I was at church, playing the piano when Beth finally called.
It’s a sign that everything is going to be fine.
I hear the crunch of tires outside and I’m pulled out of my reverie. This is it. The moment we finally get to put this craziness behind us. I’ve already forgiven Beth for her doubt. I know how influenced she is by her father and that prodigal brother of hers, Phil.
At the thought of him, my stomach coils around itself. I haven’t seen him again and I don’t want to.
He tried to ruin my life. And took my money to do it.
I glance up at the ornate domed ceiling and read the words etched on the ceiling.
“Be still before the LORD and wait patiently for h
im; do not fret when men succeed in their ways, when they carry out their wicked schemes” Psalms 37:7
Another sign.
We’re going to be okay.
They won’t win. Her father and Duke set this up to foil us. I’m sure of it.
The door opens and light spills into the sanctuary. Beth is shrouded in it, her whole body surrounded by a halo.
“Hey,” I call out and stand up and head toward her.
The look on her face stops me cold.
“No,” I say, even though I know.
She nods, her lips twisting around themselves as she holds the envelope out to me with a trembling hand.
“It’s not true.” I snatch it from her and tear it up.
She moans, like she’s in pain. She wraps her arms around her middle and rocks slightly.
She doesn’t say a word, her face is pale, the port wine birthmark seems angry and darker than normal. Her eyes are red-rimmed and ringed by the dark purple evidence of her own sleepless nights.
I can’t stand this close to her, watch her suffering and do nothing. I pull her to me and she comes with a strangled sound that starts with my name and ends in a sob. She wraps her arms around me and I press my nose into her hair.
She weeps in my arms and I wish I was more than just a man. I want to pull the stars down and put them back the way we need them to be.
I hold her, and I am too stunned by the viciousness of this fucking twist of fate to even begin to comprehend my feelings.
“My heart is so broken, Carter,” she whimpers between her sobs and I pull back and cup her face.
“It doesn’t matter what that says. It’s not true. You know it’s not. No fucking way is that shit true,” I sweep my thumbs across her cheekbones, trying to wipe the tears that are spilling from her beautiful eyes. “It doesn’t matter.” I lean down and kiss her, rough, demanding, bruising. It feels like it always does - right.
She kisses me back, her arms wrap around my neck and mine go around her waist. Her tongue slides across my bottom lip and I catch it with my teeth and bite until I taste blood and then I suck it gently to soothe her.
I need to show her why that paper, whatever it says, can’t be right.
