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Chapter Thirteen
Corentina
Walking in through my front door, I sigh as soon as the chilled air from my apartment hits me. I shut the door and take a few steps, drop my keys into the bowl on the table in my hallway, and head into the kitchen.
I open the fridge and pull out a chilled wine spritzer. It’s something I haven’t seen in ages, but somehow, I was able to get it here in New Orleans. I went into a liquor store last week and found it in the imported section on a whim. Needless to say, I bought three bottles. I didn’t want to risk not finding it again.
I open the bottle in my hand and take a glass from the cupboard, pour it into the glass, and take a much-needed sip. Alcohol is the only thing that’ll make this day easier. Between the stuff with Rémy and my sister, I can’t win today. It’s already gone down the toilet, and I have no choice but to deal with it.
God, Ursula. The whole situation with her just makes me nauseous, makes me nervous but in a different way than how I feel with Rémy. But of course, it would be different. It shouldn’t be remotely the same. One is a lover who’s hurt me, and the other is my sister. She’s the person who’s always supposed to have my back, but in reality, all she wants is money. I don’t blame her for it, which might sound odd. We grew up poor, and I busted my ass to get out of the situation we were in. It was on a whim that burlesque was something I did, and it was something I was phenomenal at. Meanwhile, Ursula had tried so many jobs that didn’t work out at that point.
I was the one who asked her to be my manager. I think I even said something about not being able to trust strangers because people were always out to get the other. Well, now look at me. I can barely trust my sister. I love her. Truly, I do . . . but neither of us would be able to deny that we’re toxic for one another. I know where I went wrong, though. I shouldn’t have ever asked Ursula to be my manager. I should’ve kept work separate from our personal lives, then at least we’d have a somewhat normal relationship. Maybe it could’ve even been where we saw each other a few times a year, and that was it. I know I’m daydreaming, but one day I want us to build up to that. Just because I told her to leave me alone doesn’t mean I don’t love her. She’s the only person in this world who understands what I’ve been through.
We grew up in a small village in Germany, and if it weren’t for our grandfather passing away and leaving enough money for the two of us to go to a good private school in Munich, we wouldn’t have ever left. Ursula and I were as thick as thieves, and she was my best friend. Everything changed after private school, and I wish it would’ve changed for the better.
I gnaw on my bottom lip and know there isn’t anything I can do to change the past. I end up going into the living room and snuggling up under a blanket. Before I know it, I’m gone like the wind into a deep sleep.
I awake randomly and sit up, glance around my living room, and stretch. I yawn and spot the glass in front of me. Bringing the cup to my lips, I take another sip of the fruity wine, and a rap comes to my door. My phone lights up, and it’s almost one in the morning. I wait for a moment, thinking it was my imagination before it happens again. I walk over to the doorway and peep through the sight hole. Well, I didn’t think he’d show up here.
Rémy.
I unlock the deadbolt and open the door. I won’t be some weak woman who gives in. I need to stand my ground, otherwise, he’ll walk right over me. “What’re you doing here?” I ask him, but then my senses kick in. “Actually, I don’t want to know.” I go to push the door shut, but Rémy sticks his foot in the doorway.
With pleading eyes, he stares me down. “I need to explain. I promise you on my family’s life, Cora, this isn’t as bad as it looks. I will tell you every detail, and I’ll answer any question you might have.
Gosh, this is laughable. “Explain what, Rémy? I’m obviously the other woman. I’m the side chick, as you Americans say.” Saying it out loud makes my stomach twist in tight knots, worse than the way it was when I heard his brother call this woman his wife.
“No, you’re not. Look, I was dumb. I made a stupid mistake—”
“You got that right,” I interrupt him, furious he’s even trying to give me an excuse like this.
He scoffs, and I can tell he’s trying to hold back from rolling his eyes. “Cora, would you just let me finish what I have to say, and would you mind letting me come in to do it? I’m not exactly looking to blast my problems to the world here.”
“I don’t want to let you in.” I’m honest as hell with him. Why would I want to let him in after everything that happened today? It would be stupid as hell.
“Fine, then I’ll say it all here. I got drunk off my ass in Las Vegas and married her. I’d just met her that night, I fucked her, then in the morning I woke up and realized what happened. We both agreed to get the marriage annulled because it was a mistake. Fast forward a bit, and now she’s saying she never agreed to it, how I’m the love of her life and all this other shit. She’s a psychopath, Cora. She’s even telling me she’s pregnant with my kid, and I know that isn’t true.”
“What?” All emotion floods from my face. He didn’t just say that to me. He didn’t. I take a couple steps back and end up walking over to the couch. I need to sit down. Today is one bomb drop after another.
Rémy comes inside my apartment, shuts the door, and secures the deadbolt before coming over by me. He takes a seat on the other end of the couch, giving me some much-needed space. “The kid isn’t mine, Cora. Deep down I know it. If you ask me, she married me, agreed to get the marriage annulled, and then it sparked some curiosity. I think she looked up my family and then decided I’d be a free ride. She’s nothing but a gold digger. That’s the only thing she wants out of this. She just wants money because I’m sure she thinks I’m gonna pay her off. In her fucked-up mind, she thinks I’m stupid enough to believe her ass and pay her to keep it quiet.” Rémy shakes his head in disbelief, and I don’t miss the way he’s clenching his jaw.
“Are you certain this baby isn’t yours? Like, how do you know?”
“I used a condom. It was on the floor next to the bed.” Okay, so he used a condom. That’s good.
“Doesn’t mean it worked,” I point out. “She could’ve put a hole through it to get pregnant, or it could’ve broken. You don’t know.”
Rémy nods, and somehow, I’m starting to believe him. I know it’s stupid. I know I shouldn’t . . . but I want to give him the benefit of the doubt, even if it will mean I end up getting my heart broken.
A few minutes of silence pass between us before I speak up again. “Have you seen any sort of pregnancy test or sonogram?”
“She showed me a photo of a sonogram, but it didn’t have her name on it. It was blank, and I’m not an idiot. I know she faked that shit.”
I swallow and remain silent, not sure what to say. What can I say? She could be faking this . . . or she could be pregnant with his kid. Regardless, I don’t know what to do, and this entire situation is only causing me to stress out. I was falling for him, and now I’m terrified to get closer.
