If It's Only Love (Lexi Ryan)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Shay

June 3rd, ten years ago

I’m exhausted. I got home yesterday from my month in Paris. Mom drove to Chicago because she

wanted to be the one to pick me up from the airport and the first to hear all about my trip. We spent the

evening hanging out at one of her favorite lakeside restaurants as she regaled me with questions and

demanded to know every detail.

I couldn’t bring myself to tell her about Easton. My memories of our night and day together are so

precious, and I want to keep them locked away like rare, ancient tomes whose pages can disintegrate

with human touch.

Then last night I fell into bed, convinced I’d fall comatose for twelve hours, but I could barely sleep.

After tossing and turning for six hours, I gave up, made a pot of coffee, and wished I didn’t have this

horrible, aching worry in my chest regarding Easton’s silence.

When I can’t handle it anymore, I text him.

Me: Are you free? I need to talk.

Easton: Give me two minutes and I’ll call.

I set my phone down on the coffee table and squeeze my eyes shut. Just two minutes.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over me, and I lean back on the couch and put my hand flat

against my chest. I just want to go home—my Jackson Harbor home, not this Chicago rental I share

with three other girls. I want to curl up in my own bed and hide under my own blankets. I want Easton

to find me there, crawl in bed beside me, and tell me it’s going to be okay. Tell me he hasn’t been

avoiding me.

Easton texted me when he got home, but then his messages became . . . sparse. He said we’d talk NôvelDrama.Org: owner of this content.

when I got home from Paris, that he didn’t want to bother me during my trip, but something felt off.

My phone buzzes, and I jerk upright, reaching for it. Easton’s face grins back at me from the screen. It’s

a picture I took of him when we were eating gelato in Montmartre. He’s grinning and has a smudge of

chocolate on the corner of his mouth. The picture fills me with conflicting emotions so intense that I feel

like I might be torn in two. Joy, because that was the best day of my life. And longing, because

whatever we had in Paris is already slipping away.

It vibrates again, and I swipe the screen to accept the call. “Hello?”

“Hey, Shay. What’s up?” His voice is all gravelly from sleep.

“I’m sorry. Are you awake?” Idiotic questions for five hundred, Alex. I flinch when I look at the clock. It’s

before eight here, which means it’s not even five in the morning in L.A. “I mean, obviously you are now,

but I . . .”

“No, it’s fine. I normally get up at five anyway. Are you okay?”

No. You’ve barely talked to me since you left Paris. “I just wanted to hear your voice.” I hate the sound

of the sob in my throat.

“Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry I haven’t called. I came back to a mess here and I just had to deal with

everything. I’m glad you texted. I was planning to make this call today.”

This call. Like it’s one very specific conversation he needed to check off a list and not one of hundreds

he plans to have with me. “Wha—why? What’s going on?” But I already know. I hear it in his voice. We can’t be together in the real world.

“It’s Scarlett. She’s . . .” He blows out a breath. “I can’t get into details. She’s a very private person, but

she needs me right now. I think . . .”

“You think what?” My voice breaks. I already know. I’m going to make him say it anyway.

“I think I need to be here for her. I need to help her.”

“Okay . . . but that doesn’t mean you can’t call.”

“Shit,” he mutters, and I imagine him scrubbing his hand over his face. “Shayleigh, I’ve always known

you were too good for me.”

“No.” Tears roll hot down my cheeks. “Don’t give me that.”

“Why not? Isn’t it true?”

“No. It’s not true, and it’s a lame excuse. If you’re freaking out about what happened between us when

we were in Paris, then that’s on you. Don’t try to pretend that you’re pushing me away because I’m just

so great. Don’t try to pretend you’re doing me a favor.”

“East?” I can barely make out the small voice in the background. Feminine, worried. “Who is that? Are

you coming back to bed?”

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he says.

Nausea roils. I feel like my insides have just been pulverized. “By help her, you mean fuck her? Is that

code or something?”

“Jesus, Shay, it’s not like that. She’s . . .” He blows out a breath. “Scarlett is pregnant.”

For a minute, I’m sure I’ve misheard him. I’m positive this cannot be happening.

“Shay? Are you still there?”

“She’s pregnant.” Saying the words doesn’t make them any easier to swallow. How? Fucking how

could this work out like this?

“Yeah.” I press my hand to my stomach, and I’m almost surprised not to feel blood seeping out on my

fingers. She’s pregnant with Easton’s baby. All I can hear is the soft whoosh of his breath through the

phone. He’s breathing as hard as I am.

“I grew up without my dad around. I always promised myself that if I was ever a father, that would be

my first priority. Do you understand?”

I nod, even knowing he can’t see me. Yes, I understand. I know that Easton wants to be the kind of dad

who’s there for everything—who always puts his kid first. He’d never walk away from a child he knew

about, and being put in any sort of situation where he felt like he had to would destroy him. Yes, I

understand too well.

“Shay?”

“Congratulations, Easton.” The sob rises up my throat, and I choke it back. “I know you’ll be an

amazing father.”

Easton

I followed Shay to the parking lot, but she was already in her car and driving away.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

I’m going to have to track her down. We can’t leave it like this after what just happened. But first, I need

to deal with the woman waiting for me at the bar.

“Easton! Surprise!” Scarlett slides off her barstool and pushes through the crowd that’s gathered

around her. I’ve developed a good relationship with my ex-wife over the years, but I’ll never understand

her need for surprises. And tonight’s visit to Jackson Brews is definitely a surprise.

She wraps her arms around my stomach and hugs me tightly. Jake and Carter watch every move. Jake

looks a little pissed. Carter looks confused.

“What are you doing here?” I ask Scarlett, pulling out of her hug. She’s an affectionate person, and

while I know she hugs everyone, I don’t need Shay’s brothers thinking this means we’re patching things

up. When I decided to come back early from our Chicago house hunt, I was under the impression that

she was going to keep looking without me. Kinda hard to look at Chicago homes when you’re not in

Chicago.

“I was thinking—why buy a place in Chicago when I can buy a home here and be closer to you and

Abi?”

I squeeze the knot of tension at the back of my neck. “Why don’t you stay in Jackson Harbor for a few

days before you make that decision?” Chicago is too “small-town feel” for Scarlett. Jackson Harbor isn’t

going to be her thing.

She beams and flips her long red hair. “Is that an invitation?”

“It’s not my town, Scar. Do what you want.”

“I mean, are you inviting me to stay with you and Abi until I make my decision?”

Oh, hell no. Not only do Scarlett and I get along a thousand times better when we don’t live together,

but I wouldn’t do that to Shay. “Nope. You could stay in a hotel or get a temporary lease, but you and I

don’t work under one roof, remember?”

She sticks out her bottom lip in a pout. “So says you.”

I look at my watch. Every minute that passes is a minute Shay has to decide we made a mistake. I

reach into my pocket for my keys. “I need to get out of here. Talk to Jake or Carter about the best

hotels nearby.”

***

Shay lives in a third-floor walk-up a couple of blocks from the bar. I know this thanks to Mrs. Jackson,

who was pleased to hear that I wanted to swing by and bring Shay some dinner, since she’s been

working so hard lately. To make good on my promise, I grabbed pizza and a six-pack of beer on my

way over.

But when I get there, no one answers.

A gray-haired lady opens the door across the hall. “She’s not home yet.”

I swallow. “Do you know where she is?”

She shakes her head. “Hardly ever sleeps here, far as I can tell.”

Because she’s with George? Is that where she is now? Jesus. I can’t believe this night. “Here.” I hold

out the pizza. “You like pepperoni and jalapenos?”

She takes the box and pulls a piece from inside before backing into her apartment. “Thanks. I’ll tell

Shayleigh you came by.”

I stand outside her apartment like an idiot for at least ten more minutes. When she doesn’t come home,

I text.

I never chose Scarlett over you. She would lose that matchup every time. I chose my daughter over

myself.

Shay

“I slept with Easton,” I blurt when Teagan opens the door.

“I’m sorry—what?” She makes a few fish faces like she’s trying to talk and is failing. “You . . . slept with

him.”

I cringe. “Maybe ‘sleeping’ isn’t the right euphemism. There was no sleeping. And no bed.” I thread my

fingers through my hair and tug. “Just a wall and some very athletic fucking.”

Her eyes are wide. I’ve been shocking her right and left, it seems. “Okay. Well, that’s not exactly what I

had in mind when I told you not to make any decisions.”

“I know.” I rub my head. “I really do. It’s just . . . Oh my God, Tea, my life is a mess. I broke up with

George, then Easton threatened to kiss me until I talked about us, and I pulled him into Jake’s office

and practically demanded he do me against the wall.”

“I’m sure that was very difficult for him. Should we go down to Hallmark and get him a card?”

I didn’t even mention the worst part. I just realized I’ve been sleeping with a married man. Nausea turns

my belly, and I push past her, down the hall, and into the powder room by the garage. I throw my purse

on the floor and barely turn in time before I vomit up the little lunch I was able to choke down. I hear

Teagan behind me, running water in the sink.

She sweeps my hair to the side and puts a cool, wet cloth on my neck. “Is this always your reaction

when you have athletic wall sex?”

I spit and flush before leaning against the wall and closing my eyes. “Don’t know. That was a first for

me.”

“Well, you’ve been missing out.” She clears her throat. “I mean, I’m assuming you agree? Was it

good?”

I can’t look at her. I’m too afraid I might see what a mess I am reflected in the panic of her expression.

“It was great until his ex-wife showed up.”

“Wait. Scarlett Lashenta was at Jackson Brews?”

She’s silent so long that I realize it’s not a rhetorical question and open my eyes. “Teagan, focus. She’s

the bad guy in this story.”

“A bad guy with some really catchy tunes,” she says, then ducks her head at my glare. “Okay, okay. So

what happened after the evil pop star showed up? Did she catch you in the act? Oh my God, was she

pissed? Did you fight?”

I scowl. “You might be enjoying this too much.”

She snorts. “Says the girl who just had great athletic wall sex.”

“Teagan!”

“Your words, not mine.”

“We were in the office and heard Carter and Jake looking for Easton and saying she was in the bar.”

My cheeks heat when I remember. I’d just had him inside me, begged for harder into his ear. And then I

heard her name. “I did not handle it with grace.”

“Do I want to know what you did?” She grabs another washcloth from the vanity drawer, wets it, and

hands it to me.

“Thanks,” I whisper. I leave the first cloth on my neck and dab the second on my sweaty forehead. “I

told him we’re only good for getting each other off and stomped away.”

She nods as if this was a perfectly reasonable response.

“You’re the best, Teagan. And I’m not just saying that because you didn’t hide while I puked.”

She sighs. “About that . . . I’m not sure if you’re aware, what with how quickly everything’s been

happening, but as your best friend, I’m woefully under-informed here. Would you like to back up to the

part where you broke up with George, or go even further than that and explain your history with

Easton?”

“George. I guess.”

“Okay. So you told your mom you weren’t going to see each other anymore, but what happened

exactly? What was with the ring?”

“He said the ring was a family heirloom he was taking to the bank.” I press the back of my hand to my

mouth as another wave of nausea hits. “But it turns out he’s a liar, so who really knows?”

She nods slowly. I’m so grateful that she’s not freaking out on me about all this. “So George is a liar.

This is a good reason for a breakup.”

“That’s just it. I didn’t even know the truth when I broke it off with him. Everything’s too complicated

right now, and there are so many variables. I wasn’t sure I wanted George to be one of them.” I groan.

I’m annoying myself. “And he was kind of pissing me off by implying any future that didn’t involve an

academic position would be an immature choice.”

Teagan sinks to the floor and leans against the cabinet. “What a dick.”

“That’s not even all. There’s also the part where Easton heard George talking to someone on the

phone and calling her Buttercup, and then George was kissing me and called me that, which he’s never

done before.”

“You think he was cheating?”

“It’s worse than that,” I whisper. “He was cheating, but not on me. With me.”

She grunts. “Well, who gets to decide that if neither of you knew about the other?”

“No, Tea. I’m the other woman. George is married.”

“Wow.” She wraps her arms around her knees. “I think you’re more mature than I am. I’d probably be in

jail by now.”

“I need to tell her he was sleeping with me.” I draw in a breath. “It’s the only way I can forgive myself for

being involved with a married man.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You had no way of knowing.”

Intellectually, I know she’s right. This isn’t my fault. But when it comes to marriage and families, I’ve

always believed everyone is culpable. “I hate him. We weren’t even using condoms. If he’s really

sleeping around, God knows what he could’ve given me.”

Her eyes go wide. “You weren’t using condoms?”

“I’m on the pill, and he said he’d been tested. I thought the whole not-planning-to-fuck-anyone-else part

was implied.”

“Shay, you’ve noticed your symptoms lately, haven’t you? The queasiness? Aversion to alcohol? The

constant exhaustion?” She points to the toilet. “The puking.”

I wipe my forehead one last time then my mouth. “It’s the stress. It jacks with my stomach.”

“But you weren’t using condoms.”

I wave a hand. “No worries, Mom, I’m on the pill.”

“But—”

“And I haven’t missed a period.”

Her lips buzz with her dramatic exhale. “Thank God. Sorry, that’s the first place my mind goes.” Her

smile falls away. “But you do know you should get tested for STIs, right? Just in case?”

I wipe my face again. “I know. I’ll call my doctor.” My purse vibrates from the middle of the bathroom

floor, and I frown at it.

Teagan arches a brow. “Is that your phone or a malfunctioning sex toy?”

I roll my eyes but then lose my smile. “I’m afraid it’s Easton. I said some pretty shitty things to him, and

I’m not ready to be a mature adult and apologize.”

“Given that he threatened you with kisses and was coerced into wall sex, maybe it might be a decent

idea to cool off before you talk.”

I nod. This is reasonable. But I’m staring at my purse, willing it to do that buzz, buzz, buzz thing that

happens when someone sends one text after another. But it was just the one.

“Do you want me to look?” she asks. I nod again and watch with way too much anticipation as she pulls

my phone from my purse, unlocks it, and opens my texts. Her forehead wrinkles as she reads.

“Is it from him?”

“Yeah.” She turns the phone to me so I can read.

Easton: I never chose Scarlett over you. She would lose that matchup every time. I chose my daughter over myself.

My breath whooshes out of me, and the nausea comes roaring back.

“Okay. So there’s still a lot I don’t know about you and Easton, it seems,” Teagan says. She takes my

hand and squeezes it. “You know you can tell me the truth, right? I won’t judge you if . . .”

“If I was Easton’s mistress? If he cheated on Scarlett with me?”

She grimaces, probably because of my word choice. “I understand better than most people that many

situations are more complicated than they appear on the surface.”

“Like with you and your ex?” I don’t know everything about Teagan’s past—I guess we both have

secrets—but I do know she and Carter got together when he was pretending to be her boyfriend to

protect her from an old flame.

“Something like that,” she says.

“Seriously?”

“No,” Teagan says. “Not at all.”

“Tea, I wanted him to choose me over his child and then resented him for years when he didn’t.” The

shame of it makes me feel ugly, and I bow my head to hide my face. “Who does that?”

She makes a face. “Is that what you wanted, though? For him to choose you over his child? You didn’t

ask him to walk away and shirk his responsibility.”

“To Easton, asking him not to be with his daughter’s mother would’ve been the same as asking him to

walk away from his daughter. He didn’t have a family growing up. His dad was shit. He called when it

suited him but ignored East the rest of the time. He wanted better than that for his daughter.”

“But Abi isn’t even his kid, right? And didn’t I read that he knew she wasn’t his?”

I shake my head. “He didn’t at first. I don’t know exactly when he found out, but when he married

Scarlett, he believed she was having his baby. I think by the time he found out the truth . . .” I shrug.

“Easton’s a good guy, and I’m sure he’s a good dad. DNA wouldn’t change his love and sense of

responsibility toward his little girl.”

“Don’t beat yourself up. Easton made choices, and those choices affected you. You had every right to

be upset.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not. But I can’t change how I felt then, only how I act now.”

“Interesting.”

I know that face. Teagan has opinions and she’s not sharing. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

She bites her bottom lip and shakes her head. “I don’t know if you want to hear my thoughts.”

“I do. Seriously. I’m stuck with mine all day.” I tap my head. “I’m kind of making myself nuts and

desperate to hear someone else’s take on the situation.”

“It tells me I’m a mess and that the sixteen-year-old pathetic crush part of my brain hasn’t been

completely overridden yet.”

“Or . . . maybe you still have feelings for him.”

I might always love him. “I didn’t break up with George so I could date Easton.”

“But do you want to?”

“Date him?” My laugh sounds a little crazed. “Nothing I want from Easton could ever be that simple, but

I think for a minute tonight maybe I believed we could make it work. But then Scarlett showed up, and I

flipped out.”

Teagan stands and offers me her hand. “Another sleepover?”

“Is Carter working?”

“No, he’s just meeting some friends at the bar. He’ll be back soon.”

I shake my head. I don’t want my brother guessing at how messed up I am right now, not with his

relationship with Easton and history of protectiveness. “I think I’ll go home. It’s been a long day, and I

fly out to Oklahoma tomorrow for my Monday interview.”

“Shit, I forgot about that. You’re not going to cancel?”

“I don’t know what I want to do yet, so it would be silly to shut down my options.” I guess this means I

won’t see Easton until after he comes back with his daughter and moves in. I force a smile. “And

anyway, time away is probably good. I need to figure out how to apologize to Easton for Hulking out on

him tonight.”

And I need to figure out how I feel. Because when I got that condom from the desk, I thought maybe I

could try with him, and that confidence fizzled away when I heard Scarlett’s name. I need to figure out

what exactly I want from him, and right now I’m so scared to feel these old desires that I’m not sure I

can trust my judgment.