Page 56 of All That Lies Between Us

ADDISON

Startled awake, I blink my dry eyes open. I need eye drops. Or more sleep. Or a strong black coffee since a cocktail is out of the question.

Rolling over, I snatch my phone from the side table, the bright screen causing my temples to pound. There’s nothing worse than the hangover that comes from bawling your eyes out for hours on end. Add the pounding at the door on top of that, and I feel like my head is in a vise.

It’s nearly six in the morning. I spy the notifications of missed calls and texts from Olivia but scroll past them, surprised to see one from Drake sent around midnight.

Drake: Chase is losing his fucking mind, Addi. Olivia is worried. So worried that she called me, which you know is saying a lot. Tell me you’re okay, pls.

An hour later, he sent another.

Drake: I won’t tell him where you are.

And then another.

Drake: Pinky promise.

My head lolls to the side, and I eye the front door with a grimace.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

This time, the knocks are harder and more impatient, their harshness yanking a groan out of me. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about making Chase wait, which is the only person I can imagine would be pounding on my door this early in the morning. My brain feels foggy and I’m still reeling. I’m not sure I’m ready to face him quite yet.

He’s married. Fucking married.

No matter how many times I play it over in my head, it still doesn’t seem possible. He wasn’t wearing a ring at Snowcap, and even though he was a little reserved when we first met, he never let on that he had someone waiting for him back home.

The harsh realization that I had unknowingly been turned into the other woman starts to heat my blood to a boil. Last night I was hurt, but now I’m angry.

The fire burning in my chest has me dragging my heavy limbs out of bed in a rush. I swallow down the bile that crawls up my throat, threatening to ruin the outburst I have planned. I don’t even bother looking in the crooked mirror hovering over the dresser. I can imagine what I look like, but I’m not in any position to care.

Anger fueling my bravery, I unchain the lock on the ancient motel door and allow myself one deep breath before flinging it open. I open my mouth, fully prepared to lay into him with a string of expletives and a wave of words so hot it will burn us both, but instead of his dark eyes, I’m met with a blue pair that almost matches my own.

My mouth slams shut. In front of me is not the conniving asshole whose child is resting deep in my belly. Instead, it’s the woman from the bakery.

“Hi,” she says simply.

Without a smile on her face, she looks much older than she did yesterday, less vibrant. Today, she looks tired and frail, like she might blow over if I so much as breathe too hard in her direction. Her skin is pale, her eyes chock full of worry.

“Are you okay?” I ask, the concern clear in my voice.

She nods, her head rising just an inch, but her lips don’t move from their tight pinch.

So, I barrel on. “I’m sorry, I’m... confused. Did I tell you I was staying here?”

“Uh,” she says, stopping to clear her throat. “I’m Chase’s wife.” Her voice is small, but it rushes through the air like a bullet.

I narrow my eyes, tightening the skin between my eyebrows while pain wraps itself around my skull.Instinctively, I take a few steps back into the room, and she reaches out to stop the metal door from shutting in her face. I walk over to the mini fridge and flounder to get the door open.

My eyes blur and I blink repeatedly to try to focus them. With jerky movements, I finally manage to get it open, jostling the entire thing. A bottle of water lands at my feet, and I snatch it up in a rush. I uncap the bottle and take a few harsh gulps, enjoying the cold as it slides down my throat and into my churning belly.

I suck the water down until the bottle is empty, then fight for breath. Suddenly self-conscious, I turn to eye myself in the mirror in front of me. I see myself as Emily sees me. The tear-stained cheeks. The tangled hair. Even the drool marking my chin. I look like I haven’t showered in days, which might actually be the case at this point.

My throat is in my stomach as I meet her gaze in the mirror. I allow myself to take in the sadness and pity looking back at me, then quickly turn away. Hanging my head low, I grip the edge of the dresser and break the silence. “I didn’t know he was married.” When our eyes meet again, a fresh set of tears threaten to spill down both our faces. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

She’s moving toward me now, her legs eating up the space between us. I flinch, preparing myself for the wrath I deserve, but she surprises me by wrapping her small arms around me. She’s half a head shorter than I am, and her arms are so thin that it feels like they’ll break if she hugs me any tighter, but I react instantly, lowering my head to her shoulder and letting the sobs break free.

Her silent tears join mine, dampening the front of my shirt as she whispers comforting words. They don’t register in my mind, but her voice is calm and kind, and within minutes, my shoulders relax. With a final sniffle and an embarrassed laugh, I pull away.

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