Can't Go Without Read online

  “Tri-stand, Kathryn and Dre are getting married tomorrow,” Piper starts.

  “Why in the world would you do something as dumb as that?” I ask. “She pregnant?”

  Adrian looks away, shaking his head.

  “No Tristan, Kathryn is not pregnant,” Piper continues. “They’re just that much in love.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand what that means,” Adrian says, lying on the bed, throwing the small decorative pillow in the air and catching it again. He’s not even looking at me, not even glancing my way.

  “I did you a favor man. When are you gonna let it go?” I ask, rounding Piper and facing off against Adrian.

  “A favor?” he sits up abruptly, winging the pillow at the lamp, sending it crashing to the floor. “A fucking favor? Are you kidding me,” Adrian asks, angrily. “You fucked my fiancé. You screwed my fiancé for months while we were planning a damn wedding—our damn wedding. The wedding you were supposed to stand next to me in.”

  “You didn’t want to marry that cunt anyway, and you know it,” I say, stating the obvious. “Waverly Harrington is a first class bitch. She’d already be bleeding you dry with child support, alimony, and plastic surgery bills. You should be thanking me—not blaming me. She was a lousy lay anyway—which I’m sure you know.”

  “THAT’S NOT THE POINT! You’re my brother! She was my fiancé, you asshole!”

  “Whoa! Whoa! Whoa,” Piper says, pushing Adrian back and whispering in his ear again. When in the Hell did Piper become The Adrian Whisperer?

  “You’re right,” Adrian says, nodding at Piper. “You’re right.”

  “Tristan, Kathryn, and Dre would love it—”

  Adrian coughs.

  “Okay… they would like it—”

  Adrian coughs again.

  “Fine… they would tolerate it minimally if you came to their rehearsal and rehearsal dinner tonight… and… and… to their wedding tomorrow,” Piper announces.

  Looking at both of them, I realize that this is how it’s always been—the three of us trying to get along—but never really knowing just how to do so. Our parents certainly never fostered any sort of sibling love and camaraderie between us.

  “Sure, I’d love to,” I agree, smiling smugly.

  Walking to the door, Piper says, “I’ll text you the address of everything. The rehearsal starts tonight at 6:00 p.m.”

  “Wait up,” I say, stopping them at the door. “Who’s the best man?”

  Piper’s head drops. Adrian looks at me, staring sadly at me, and says, “Rory. Rory’s my best man. Always has been.”

  “Oh my word! Is this the most beautiful place you’ve ever seen?” I swoon, taking in every last nook and cranny of the Ariss’ Oyster Oasis.

  “It really might be,” Samuel agrees, looking around.

  Kathryn told me all about this place and its owner, Lanette Ariss. I knew I’d love it, but I didn’t realize how much I would fall in love with it upon sight. Lanette is everything Kathryn described as well. Upon meeting us, Lanette enveloped Samuel and me in her arms. She has a special way of making people feel at home; she felt like home. I hadn’t had a motherly, loving hug like that since—well since my mom used to hug me and embrace me in her arms, burying me in her warm, fluffy belly. That’s exactly how Lanette felt.

  The second I saw The Oyster Oasis, I wanted to create something to put on display, to accentuate the beauty and mystery of the place. The outdoor patio, lit up with tiny twinkly fair-berry lights, was breathtaking. It was fantasy and reality—all rolled up into a dream come true—like a snow globe coming to life. It was no wonder why Adrian and Kathryn chose to have their rehearsal and wedding reception here. There was no other place more perfect and magical.

  Agreeing to close down for the weekend just proved how important Kathryn and Adrian were to Lanette. They were family—chosen family. Sometimes family doesn’t have to share blood, but instead would choose to bleed with you if you were wounded and hurt. I got the feeling immediately Lanette would do anything for Kathryn and Adrian.

  “Leah, Samuel, it’s so good to see you guys. Thank you so much for coming all the way here. I’m so sorry we didn’t get time to chat at the church,” Kathryn apologizes, hugging us. Whispering in my ear, she says, “Don’t freak too much, but Tristan is in town.”

  Stepping away from her, my stomach swirls into knots, I say, “Kathryn will you walk with me to the bathroom—please?”

  “Sorry love, I wish I could, but there are too many guests to greet,” Kathryn explains. “If I step away for even a second, you know Dre’ll think it means we don’t have to stay, and he’ll hightail it out of here. He hates this kind of display.” Hugging me again, she whispers, “We told Tristan that he could come, but he didn’t show up for the rehearsal. I doubt he’ll actually show.”

  I nod, feeling like I’m going to hurl as I watch Kathryn greet more of her friends. “Hey Babe, you okay? Need a drink?” Samuel asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Please. Two. Get me two very strong, very large drinks,” I beg. “I need to go to the restroom. I’ll meet you back at the table.” Chuckling, Samuel walks away as I bolt for the bathroom.

  This is so not good. This is bad, bad, bad. Samuel and I need to get out of here. I can’t face him; I cannot look Tristan O’Donnell in the eyes, knowing what I did to him and his family. I need to fake some sort of illness, make up some story about Jill back home, and get on the next plane out of here. How could I be so stupid? Adrian had made it seem like he was completely estranged from his family since the stunt we pulled a few years ago in his backyard during their “lovely Sunday brunch.” I’d assumed that Piper would be his only family member in attendance at this wedding. Actually, I didn’t even assume; Kathryn swore that no other O’Donnells would be here. As soon as she made that vow, Samuel and I booked our flights.

  Exiting the bathroom, I’m distraught. The toasts are starting, and everyone has taken his/her seats. Samuel is sitting at our table with his back to me. I cannot even motion him to meet me at the door. I need a fast, easy getaway, an escape from the lies I’ve told and hidden.

  Walking quietly to the table, Rory begins his speech. The toast is filled with jibes at Adrian and how much Adrian played the field in college. Laughter fills the room. Adrian keeps jabbing Rory in the ribs in attempt to shut him up. It’s all in fun. The mood is light and airy—even Kathryn seems to roll with it. It’s blatant how secure she is in their relationship, how sure she is of them.

  Glancing at Samuel, I know that we’ll never have that unconditional love, but we will support one another and complement one another unconditionally. That’s enough—at least for the two of us—it’s enough. Leaning over, I whisper, “We gotta go. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Now?” Samuel questions, looking around. “The blessing is starting. We can’t walk out during a prayer.” I glance around as all the heads bow. I know he’s right. I slink defeated into my seat, bowing my head reluctantly.

  The second the prayer ends, servers surround the tables, placing salads and breadbaskets on the tables. Lanette is timely, too punctual, if you ask me. I text Samuel under the table, explaining why we need to bolt. Reading it, he laughs, and says quietly, “We’ll sneak out after dinner. I’m starving. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?”

  I can almost see the gods lining up, taking that challenge, preparing for my public humiliation. As if on cue, I glance up just in time to see Tristan walk through the door and beeline straight for the bridal party table. I’m too close; he’s going to see me. Abruptly, I stand not realizing a waiter with a tray full of salad plates was right behind my chair. The tray topples over, crashing to the ground, sending lettuce and various other vegetables careening to the floor.

  All eyes are on me, including the pale blue eyes I’ve seen a million times before—in my dreams, in my fantasies, and even in my nightmares. His face mirrors mine in shock and mortification. I back up unable to break the gaze that pierces th
rough me, wishing I could pierce him as equally so with just one look.

  “Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” I say to nobody in particular. I head straight out the front door as the tears start falling immediately.

  I cry for my mistakes. I cry for the sordid past I created. I cry for who I became. I thought after I’d taken so many wrong turns in high school that the paths in my adulthood would lead to wise choices, paths that would lead me to feel a sense of pride and happiness. I thought I was on the road to bettering myself and creating a future worthy of the Franchetti name.

  The bottom line is that I’ve been a disgrace since the day I went out with my friends after school even though my father and sister told me to come straight home. We went to the mall, flirted with guys, and persuaded those same boys to buy us smoothies. While I was out gallivanting around town with my friends and flipping my hair and batting my eyelashes at upperclassmen, my mother was taking her final breaths as my sister and father held her hands, saying their “goodbyes” and ensuring that no words were left unsaid.

  From that moment on, I’ve let down and disappointed everyone in my path, leaving regret and remorse in my wake. I can claim all I want that Tristan O’Donnell deserved what he got—that the whole O’Donnell family deserved what they got. But did they? Money isn’t the root of all evil. People are the root of evil—only people can nurture it, water it, and watch it grow into a vicious, life-ruining thing. Evil only breeds when people allow it to do so.

  Tristan O’Donnell was just doing what he does best—turning on the charm and hitting the road after he got what he wanted. I knew what I was in for when I agreed to go home with him. What I did to Tristan, to his name, and to his family was unforgivable.

  I thought, I childishly believed, I could just pay back the money and be done with it—feel the lift of the burden. But the truth is, as soon as that money was paid, the reality came barreling back. I’ll never rid myself of the guilt or the lies. It wasn’t about the money. It was never about the money. It was my shattered ego, my desecrated self-esteem. I wanted to be more than just “any old fuck.” And when I wasn’t, I retaliated, never backing down until Tristan felt the weight of my hurt and betrayal. I wanted to destroy him—just as he destroyed me.

  But you cannot destroy an innocent man. You can try, but in the end, you only keep shattering yourself and the lies keep coming back to haunt you. For two years, I’ve dodged Tristan O’Donnell, never having to face him or the truth. Ironically within 36 hours after paying his family the money I extorted from them, I’ve come face-to-face with Tristan twice, proving once again that you cannot hide from who you really are. You must face your demons and mistakes head on.

  “Hey, can we talk?” Kathryn asks, sitting down next to me on the waist-high wall that separates the sidewalk from the parking lot. I’m sitting close enough to the building that the steady rain is barely touching me. Kathryn leans closer, sharing her umbrella with me.

  “I’m sorry to have run out and caused a scene,” I lament, leaning under the umbrella.

  “Oh please, I would’ve done the same thing,” she admits. “I get it though. We all participated in a pretty shady venture.” I nod, realizing that it was possible that Kathryn and Adrian felt as equally guilty for the antics we pulled. “We needed to get Piper out of there. We would’ve done anything to get her out of their claws.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I agree.

  “And Tristan is a jerk. Jerks need to be taught lessons, so they can learn. Sometimes jerks need to be taught the hard way,” Kathryn states. Eyeing me curiously, Kathryn says, “But something just doesn’t add up—never has really.”

  “What?” I ask.

  “Why do you care so much about teaching this particular jerk a lesson?” Kathryn asks sincerely. “I mean we all got what we wanted, so that’s good. But why Tristan? What about him made him the scapegoat in everything? I’ve always wondered that.”

  “I don’t know what you mean—”

  “Awww come on. I’m the bride-to-be; you can’t hold out on me,” Kathryn probes. “I would think your one-night with Tristan wasn’t your first rodeo. Am I right?”

  “Are you asking if I hooked up with guys before—had other one night stands?” I ask, clarifying her question. Kathryn nods and shrugs. Sighing, I confirm, “Yes, many. Too many too count.”

  “So that’s what I mean. What about him was the final straw? Why’d he have to bear the brunt of your fury?” Kathryn wonders.

  “I don’t know. I just—”

  “Come on Leah. Excuse me if I’m not justified in what I ask, but can’t you just admit what you’ve been afraid to admit for three very long years now,” Kathryn says, bumping up against me in friendly, joking way. “Ain’t nobody that torn up over a bang and bail that took place three years ago, unless—”

  “Unless what? I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Fine,” she says, standing up, smoothing out her lime green dress with one hand. I take the umbrella, so she can fix her dress. “I won’t make you say it. Just know that I get it. I really get it. I would’ve done anything to keep Dre… and… and I would’ve been beside myself if I couldn’t have him.”

  Leaning in to hug me, she adds, “And I probably would’ve done anything to make him pay for breaking my heart.”

  Handing her back the umbrella, I say, “He didn’t break my—” I start, knowing that she’ll never believe me. I change my mind and take the conversation in a different direction. “I paid them back.”

  Kathryn stops dead in her tracks and turns around slowly. “What did you just say?”

  “The money,” I say, walking over to her, ducking back under her umbrella. “I stopped at O’Donnell Industries yesterday afternoon and paid them back every last penny.” Kathryn’s eyes widen, and her jaw drops. Continuing, I say, “I even looked up how much a normal bank loan’s interest would be on that sum of money… for that many years. I paid them all of it.”

  “Are you effing kidding me?” she asks, incredulously. Oh yes, the non-cussing Kathryn uses ‘effing’ instead. I laugh to myself. Then she adds, “So it was never really about the money, then? Holy crap, I was right all along. I told Dre. I freaking told him.”

  “Told him what?” I ask, feeling panic starting to set in.

  “That you were trying to break his bank, because he broke your heart,” she says, smiling triumphantly, spinning the umbrella like a child. “But this is quite the surprise. Looks like that heart isn’t broken at all, now is it? That heart still beats pretty dang hard, doesn’t it?”

  What the Hell? I’ve avoided Leah Franchetti at all costs for two years—three if we’re dating all the way back to the night we hooked up. And now, I see her two times in two days, what the Hell is that all about? Christ, I know my dad or Adrian have got to have something to do with this shit. There is no way this is a damn coincidence. What is it—some kind of penance for the girls I’ve hurt, screwed over, or used in my life? It’s like a bad remake of A Christmas Carol, having my past come back to haunt me, remind me of what an ass I am. Fine Dickens, I get it. I’m a total dick.

  Just as my eyes fix on hers, my stomach rolls, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. There’s nothing like a little regret stirred up with fear and self-revulsion to make a stomach churn. I walk out the back gate, trying to make a quick getaway. What I stumble upon is amazing.

  “Jesus, wow,” I say aloud, because I really can’t help myself.

  “It is—isn’t?” Adrian replies behind me. “Saw you walking out here.” Adrian looks around—looks everywhere but at me.

  “What is this place?” I ask, staring at the waterfall, ignoring the rain.

  “It’s the outside patio of the Oasis. We wanted everything to be out here, but the weather kind of fucked us,” Adrian scowls. “Kathryn’s so pissed. She had her heart set on having the rehearsal and reception here.”

  “Of course she did, look at this place,” I marvel. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

&nbs
p; I really haven’t either. It’s like something out of a children’s book. The people in our parents’ circle of friends pay gardeners to create picturesque landscaping and patios for an escape—an oasis from the monotony that is their lives. They could pay those gardeners every penny they ever earned and never recreate the beauty that is back here.

  Continuing, I say, “Shit, I couldn’t figure out how this place was getting away with being called an ‘oasis.’ I stand corrected. Jeez.”

  “Yep, Lanette and her husband really outdid themselves,” Adrian explains. “Sometimes, I worry it’s too much for her to handle alone. But she never stops surprising me. She’s a tough, old cookie. I’ll have to introduce ya.”

  “Actually, I’m on my way out,” I admit. “Thanks for letting me crash, bro, but it looks like it’s time for me to go.” As I start to walk away, I add, “Good luck tomorrow, Adrian. “

  “Tristan, you don’t have to leave,” Adrian says, ducking out of the rain and under the awning.

  “Thanks man, but it’s time to go,” I say, shaking my head and running my fingers through my wet hair. “Ya probably should’ve told me that Leah was going to be here. Ya know that right?” I ask, not really expecting an answer. “Nobody wants to see the asshole who raped her. Fuck, the least I can do is get the fuck out of here—let her be.”

  Adrian stares at me. I can’t make out his features; the rain and darkness masks whatever’s on his mind. “I think you should talk to her T. It’s time you talked to Leah—probably way over time.”

  “Oh yeah, that’s the first on my list of things to do,” I say sarcastically. Yesterday, I desperately wanted to catch her in the stairwell and apologize for all the suffering I caused her. Today, I can’t get out of here fast enough. I must’ve been out of my mind seeing her at the office, feeling like I needed to talk to her. Luckily, I’m in my correct frame of mind now—with the right idea—flee.

  “No T, the least you can do is apologize to her,” Adrian says, before walking back into the restaurant without another word, reminding me once again why he always pisses me off with his ‘holier-than-thou’ attitude.