How I Became Mrs. Watts ✓

How I Became Mrs. Watts (50)

CHAPTER 50

I awoke when I saw a flash of light. I recognized it as a camera flash. I immediately jumped up, waking Andrew up in the process. My sister was holding the camera. “Sara, I thought you said it was okay! Please don't do this!” I begged her, knowing that she was going to blackmail me with that picture.

“No, no it was not okay, ever! Don't you understand that, Ella?” she almost screamed at me.

“Sara, I said I was sorry!” I said.

Matt came running out, placing himself between us, for Sara looked like she wanted to throw me out the window. “Ethan?” he mouthed to me. I nodded. “Sara,” he said gently, “Sara, it's okay. Ella said she was sorry, though it wasn't even her fault.”

“Not her fault?! She ruined my life!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.

Oliver started crying. “Go. Go, Andrew,” I told him. He nodded and went to take care of Oliver. He went outside, trying to calm his son.

Matt hugged Sara, trying to restrain her. It usually worked. It didn't this time, but then again it usually wasn't this bad. She must have really cared about Ethan.

“Let go of me!” she struggled free from our brother and charged towards me. Andrew blocked her. How he got here so fast without me noticing and where he put Oliver down were two questions that remain unanswered.

Our parents came out of their room at this point. “Everybody freeze!” our father said. Nobody moved. “Good. Now someone explain.”

Matt began, but Sara interrupted and made her way over to our parents. She thrust the picture into Dad's hands. “Ella didn't sleep in her own room last night,” she said,

I am so dead! I thought, I'm going to be grounded for life, even though I don't live here!

“It'll be okay,” Andrew whispered, rubbing my back. Him saying that made me wonder if I had really spoken my thoughts out loud.

My father looked at Andrew like he had when we first arrived. He obviously wasn't happy. “How do you explain this?” he asked, trying hard not to yell.

“Sir, I know it looks bad, but nothing happened. I give you my word,” Andrew said.

Now I knew that Andrew telling the truth to my father from the very beginning was the right move. I wished I would've thought of it earlier. Andrew's word meant more than anything right now. I knew my father believed him, because he relaxed. He looked at the two of us, then over to Sara. He had more of a reason to believe Andrew than he had Sara.

“Okay,” he finally said. He put the picture in the paper shredder. The room was suddenly not tense anymore. I had never experienced anything quite like it, and I knew that it all had to do with Andrew.

I squeezed Andrew's hand, telling him that he did well.

“What?! NO!” Sara was outraged. “But-but they...” she trailed off.

I felt it was safe enough to go give her a hug. She didn't hug me back, which wasn't all that unusual. “I'm sorry,” I told her once more. I hoped she listened this time.

She didn't. That wasn't the only thing she did to ruin Christmas Eve for us all. A few minutes after Matt and our parents had gone to bed she slipped a picture into my hands. It was a picture of Andrew kissing her. “I can explain,” Andrew said, almost begging me to listen to him.

“Don't even bother,” I said casually. “I know that you wouldn't do that to me, at least not willingly.”

He nodded and I knew that he was glad I understood, “She sabotaged me.”

“I know,” I said. I took a final look at the picture, realizing why Sara had given it to me. She had wanted us to break up, or at least have a big fight. That plan had backfired on her, just like her plan this morning.

I ripped the picture in half and threw the pieces in the trash. There was a short period of silence. Finally, I said, “I'm sorry.”

“For what?” Andrew whispered, pulling me onto his lap.

“For my family. You probably hate me now, don't you?”

“What gave you that idea?” he asked, with a frown.

“My family is made up of freaks,” I said.

“Isn't everyone's?” he asked. I laughed quietly, which was what he wanted. “My family is worse,” he said.

“How?” I asked, “How can they possibly be worse than this?”

“Oh, you'll see,” he said.

“I'd like that,” I said. He looked at me, not understanding. “You said I'll see that you're family is worse, implying that I would get to meet them.”

“Of course you're going to meet them, though you'll probably hate me once you do,” he said the last part mostly to himself.

“Hey, you said you didn't hate me,” I countered.

“True. I don't hate you. In fact, the opposite is very true. I love you, Ella.”

“I love you too, Andrew,” I said. He pressed his lips to mine and we shortly fell asleep, apparently forgetting all that went on this morning, or not caring, I wasn't sure which.