The look he gives her is of such profound betrayal that she sighs and squares her shoulders, facing Moore again.
Together. Stand together. Talk to Lindsey’s friend before this goes any further.
“My husband is right. We need to speak with counsel before any more steps are taken that might share the full details with the media before we are ready for that to happen.” Then, softer, “You understand, we’ve had too many shocks. We need some time to wrap our heads around all of this, and we have to make sure Park is protected in case one of these women decides to… I don’t know…talk.”
“And say what?” Moore asks, looking genuinely intrigued.
“I have no idea,” she snaps. “But it’s time for us to go. We’ll be at our home if you need to speak with us again and will let you know if anything else happens.”
She stands, feeling much less brave than her words imply, and Park follows suit, face stony.
Moore waves a hand toward the door in dismissal. Park grabs Olivia’s arm and practically drags her out of the room.
In the parking lot, they confer in heated whispers. Where to go. Who to talk to. Olivia knows their reaction to the cop wanting to release their names to the media made them look furtive, guilty, though they’ve done nothing wrong. And Park had nearly exploded at the news of Melanie’s pregnancy. Another pregnancy.
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
He shakes his head. “We’d already broken up when she went missing. No way it was mine.”
“I believe you. Let’s get with Lindsey. She’ll know what we should do next. She already was planning to talk to the crisis management lawyer.”
They call Lindsey, and when she doesn’t answer, Olivia says, “Let’s try her admin.”
“She’s not in, Mrs. Bender. She took the afternoon off. Said something had come up and she’d see me tomorrow.”
“Thanks, Jennifer.” Olivia hangs up, glances at the time on her phone. She’s going to be late if she doesn’t hurry. “I have a therapy appointment.” At Park’s anguished look, she says, “You should come with me.”
“This stranger who broke into your build, who might have broken into our home, is out there, the police and the media are breathing down our necks, and you want to go to therapy? Aren’t you worried about me at all?”
“Of course I am. I’m sick at heart right now, Park. And I have exactly zero ideas how to handle things. Come with me. At the very least, we’ll be able to make a plan, get some tools—”
“Screw tools. Olivia, for God’s sake.” His voice cracks, and she touches his cheek despite the outburst.
“This is definitely one of the worst weeks of our lives, Park. Don’t attack me. I’m trying to work with you when all I want to do is slap you. But I am meeting with Dr. Benedict whether you are coming or not. Because I might be strong, but you are breaking me in two right now.”
“I’m sorry,” he says hoarsely, tears in his voice. “I hate to hurt you like this, Liv.”
“Then stop doing it.”
“Are you going to call the clinic?” He blurts out the words, and she flinches.
“I already did. I talked to Brigit.”
“I mean, are you going to make an appointment to see the doctor? We should talk next steps, shouldn’t we? We’ll have to start planning—”
“Park. Now is not the time. We have enough to deal with.”
“Don’t you even want to talk about it?” That mournful tone sends a combination of pain and impatience through her. She’s beginning to feel manipulated, a place from where all their worst fights start.
“No. I don’t want to talk about IVF right now. I’m not ready. I might not ever be ready again.”
She gets in her Jeep and turns over the engine. Park stands by the car, looking like she just stole his puppy. Despite her anger, her instinct is to comfort him, but they’re past that. They can fall apart later, once they know the whole story and have a plan to handle what’s going to be a huge mess. My God, to think about trying to set herself up for another failure in the midst of this chaos? He’s out of his mind.
“Later,” she says through the window, and he nods, turning away to his own car.
The way he looks at her, it’s like he’s finally realizing the schism between them is irreparable.
Why does that spark the tiniest bit of relief inside her?
Because Perry is coming and you want to see him. You traitorous bitch.
22
THE BROTHER
They say you can never come home again, and walking through the Nashville airport, Perry Bender agrees with the sentiment. It’s changed more than he could have imagined. This place used to be tiny, two halls and only a few regional flights, local musicians playing the BBQ joint, and now it’s full of duty-free brands, multiple terminals, and direct flights to and from the UK and Europe, including the one he’s just disembarked from, Heathrow to Nashville. Not a bad flight at all, though he couldn’t sleep so he half dozed, half watched four movies, but look at this place. All grown up, just like him. He can only imagine what the rest of the city looks like.
You’re an idiot for coming here, his mind helpfully chastises him for the hundredth time. What do you think’s going to happen? Nothing good, aside from a few days with Lindsey, who he’s missed. It’s not like Park will want to see him. He hasn’t spoken to his twin in years. Perry stopped trying after it became just too damn hard to be rebuffed, again.
Olivia.
Her name is a stake to his heart, still. She will always be his first love. Maybe his only true love.
He has never understood what happened between them, how it went so south. Yes, he’d stolen her from Park, but Park had done that to himself. Cheating on her, and not even being subtle about it, the little shit. Perry thought he and Olivia had something solid, something real. Yes, they were young, yes, she’d just gotten her heart broken. But they’d had several weeks together between prom and his trip to Oxford, several glorious weeks when they truly connected, and he’d opened himself to her in ways he never thought he could. She blossomed, seemed so happy. Park was off with that girl…what was her name? Oh, it didn’t matter. Park abandoned them both, and Perry knew the fissure between them was permanent.
And Olivia hated Park then. No one can pretend that convincingly. They’d been having problems anyway, she suspected him of cheating, and Perry was so relieved to have it out in the open, not having to cover for his jerk-off brother anymore. What an idiot he was to throw Olivia away.
Perry thought he was enough for her.
She promised to be his, always.
She’d begged him not to leave, to defer the Oxford scholarship, but he’d spent everything he had to get there, and though he considered her pleas, there was no way. He had to take this chance. He had to get out of Nashville. It’s what his mother wanted for him; it was what she’d put into play for him before she died.
He’d written Olivia every day—every bloody day—and she’d written him back faithfully, for quite a while. They talked when he could afford to call, but it was the letters where they pledged themselves. Young love is a ridiculous thing, full of such highs and lows that no one should ever take it seriously, because it can never maintain such a high temperature, burns away eventually, but theirs seemed destined for success. He believed in her. He believed in them.