“No thanks. I’ve got better things waiting for me in the car,” I say with a lift of my chin. I then step to the side so she can see Rylee.
And so Rylee can see her. Understand why we’re here. That I listened to her, heard her, and am trying to get some answers. I just hope like hell Ry stays put so I can up the ante. Take the pot and finish this on my terms. Because I need to do that.
“Oh.”
Yeah. Oh. Glad we got the fact I’m still married out of the way. Happily. Now, back to business.
“Tell me about the tape.” Images flash in my head: Ry crying on the phone with Teddy, Ry on the patio all by herself, the vulgar comments made beneath the video on YouTube about what other sick fucks want to do to her.
“What tape?” She shakes her head back and forth, eyes narrowed in confusion.
“Cut the crap, T. I fell for your lies once upon a fucking time, and I’m a little short of change to buy them now.” I cross my arms over my chest and raise my eyebrows.
“I’m sorry, Colton, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I’m not buying the innocent routine. “Did you watch TV at all this week? Go to the store? Read People magazine? Anything?”
“My son’s been sick for the past few days so unless you mean Scooby Doo on TV, no. Why? What’s going on?” she asks, tone defensive, and I purposely don’t answer. I want to use the silence as a way to make her nervous. She fidgets, shifts her feet, works her tongue in her cheek.
Goddamn it. Ry was right. She knows something. Fuckin’ A.
“Shit, I haven’t seen Eddie in over four years,” she finally says.
I stare at her, eyes determined to find some kind of deception in her words but all I see is the woman I used to know, curves a little fuller, clothes messy, and eyes tired.
And I don’t care how rough it seems life has been for her. Looks can be deceiving. I still don’t trust her. Not one bit. Not after what she did to us way the fuck back when and what I’m pretty sure she had a hand in now.
“Video footage has surfaced of Ry and me from six years ago. You’re the only one who knew where we were and what we did that night.” I let the comment hang in the space between us. She tries to hide her reaction—a lick of her lips, a quick look to the car driving down the street—but once you’ve had a relationship with someone, you can read them like a clock. Tick fucking tock. And I know she has more to say. “The Kids Now event. When Ry and I had sex in the parking garage. Footage of us is plastered all over the media, Tawny. You’re the only one who knew.”
She forces a swallow down her throat. A glance behind her where there are Hot Wheels all over the floor. A shift of her feet. A bite into her bottom lip. All done before she finally has the courage to meet my eyes again.
“Care to change your answer, now?”
“Oh my God,” she murmurs more to herself than to me. And something about the way she says it bugs me. It seems genuine, full of surprise, real. I call bullshit. She’s just playing the part without dressing up for the cameras. “I completely forgot about that video.”
“You forgot?” I sneer, sarcasm rich in my voice. “That’s awfully convenient.”
“No, really,” she says, reaching out to touch me, and then stopping presumably when she remembers my reaction the last time she tried. Smart woman.
“I’m losing my patience,” I say between gritted teeth.
“That night after I left the party, I met up with Eddie. We had some drinks. Too many. I told him about the charity event, seeing you and Rylee there, and what she had said about you guys on the hood of Sex. I was feeling angry, rejected, and didn’t think twice about it until after he was fired. That’s when he called me, livid and unhinged. Said he knew the perfect way to get back at you and that he had gotten hold of a video from that night. Had it in a safe place.”
Bingo. Dots connected. A confirmation. Now let’s try to complete the picture.
“And you never thought to tell me?” I shout. My hands flex as I resist the urge to grab her shoulders and shake her in frustration.
“It was a different time. You fired me shortly thereafter and I was furious, ashamed, disowned by my mother . . . so no, I’m sorry, Colton, I didn’t. I was so busy worrying about myself, being selfish.” She sighs, clasping and unclasping her hands in front of her. And I fucking hate when she looks up at me with clarity in her eyes I’ve never seen before. I don’t want to see it but I can’t ignore it either. “I was a different person back then. Time . . . things . . . kids, life, it changes you.”
“Kids?” I snort out, holding my anger in front of me like a shield as I remember her shocking blindside all these years later. “You mean like the baby you lied about and tried to tell me was mine? Used as a pawn in your fucked-up games?” I take a step forward, fists clenched, anger owning me.
“Yes, as in that one,” she says her voice barely audible. “I . . . I’m so—”
“Save the apologies, Tawny. Your bullshit lies and accusations almost made me lose the most important person in the world.” The acrid taste of revulsion hits my tongue. “That’s something that doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”
My words hit her like a one-two punch—hard, fast, and bruising. Does she think her quivering bottom lip will win me over? Make me forget the past?
Not hardly.
“I know,” she says giving me whiplash. I expected denial and defiance, attitude and arrogance, and she gives me neither. Our eyes hold for a long moment and fuck, all of a sudden I feel like I’m seeing her for the first time in a different light. Don’t fall for her act, Donavan. People like her don’t change. Can’t. It’s not possible.
But you changed.
The voice in the back of my head so very quiet, barely audible, sounds like a scream, causing me to bite back the snide comments as the unwelcome tang of doubt replaces them.
The look on Rylee’s face flashes in my mind from the day Tawny came waltzing in the house to tell me she was pregnant with my baby. A manipulative game by one of the masters. Too bad for her I was a master at it myself. Had no problem going up to the plate against her curveballs. But Rylee . . . she didn’t even have a bat in her hand.
I hold onto that thought—Ry’s tears, the nasty fight, the break we took—all of it, and tell the tiny ounce of pity I feel for Tawny to take a fucking hike. She brought this upon herself. Not me. Not Rylee. Just her.
Tawny starts to speak and then stops. “If I had known that Eddie really had a tape . . . or what he was going to do, I would have told you.”
I stare at her, leery of the sudden decency that doesn’t fit with the memory of the woman I used to know, and deliver a visual warning: You better not be fucking with me.
“Tell me what you know.” My voice is gruff, incapable of believing her or that the years have changed her enough she’d actually look out for me. She’d have told me, my ass.
Would she have?
Does it really fucking matter, Donavan? Get as much info as you can, turn your back, and walk away. You don’t need to know if she’s changed, wonder if life has been rough for her, because the only thing that matters is the woman sitting in the car behind you.
“Honestly—”
“I’d like to believe that honesty is something you’re capable of but you’re not the one dealing with . . .” I let my words fall off, catch myself from letting her have a glimpse into my private life. Don’t want her to know about the butterfly effect this video she knew about is having on everything in Rylee’s life. Because if she’s playing me and is behind this—somehow, someway—then she’ll have gotten exactly what she was looking for: hurting Rylee, which hurts me. And while I may be sympathetic at times, it’s only toward my wife, only with the boys, and only with those I care about. Tawny and I may have a past together, but she is most definitely not any of those people.