Chapter 51
I woke with my cheek against Blake's warm chest. His bare body under the covers was strong and bulky compared to my petite figure against his – and I could not get enough of it. As the events of last night flooded back to my sleepy mind, I nuzzled closer to him. I couldn't believe it. I just woke up with him, in his bed, and we had amazing sex several times last night (including when we finally showered).
A few minutes later, Blake squirmed in his sleep. He gently shifted onto his side, surrounding me in his arms and holding me to his hairy chest. So warm, so comfy... and all mine. Well, all mine at least privately I guess. No matter how beautiful last night was, it didn't change my brutal reality.
Blake eventually whispered under his breath. "You up?"
"Mhmm."
"I am so fucking sore," he said in a groggy voice.
Curled against his chest, I smirked. "Well, we don't have to be as rough next time if you can't handle it."
"I'm sore from falling off a damn horse, remember?"
"Sure, sure, whatever you say."
He leaned up on his arm and slid the comforter down, revealing his hip. Christ, he wasn't kidding! The morning light seeping in from behind the closed blinds allowed me to see an elongated black and blue splotch. It stretched all the way from his hip to his thigh!
"Fuck," I gasped, sitting up on my arm. It was the most massive bruise I had ever seen.
Him also seeing it for the first time made a scoff leave his lips. "Yeah, it hurts. Just means I'm a tough guy that lives dangerously though," he said, glancing up to me.
"Yeah, such a badass, falling off a horse." I sighed, gently resting my fingers against the huge bruise. "You're going to be sore for days."
He pressed his lips to my cheek and whispered against my skin. "It won't slow me down any. Want me to prove it to you?" Then, I felt his fingers slide up and down my thigh.
Chest fluttering in love and excitement, I dramatically grabbed the covers, threw them back over us, grabbed him and pulled him over me. We chuckled against each other's lips when I started kissing him. Wrapping my bare body against his, I nipped his bottom lip, his hairy chin, his neck, and then his nose with a snicker. It made him roll us more, getting wrapped and tangled in the covers.
But over our moans, laughs, and kisses... a loud ring reached the air. Lovely. It was my phone. And it immediately struck a chord of fear in me. Sighing, I rolled us onto our sides and strained my arm to the bedside table to snag my phone. Yup. Every right to be scared. It was dad. Each call concerned some type of new drama. Meeting Blake's eyes, I pursed my lips.
"It's going to be okay," he said, grazing his fingers along my side.
I answered, pressing the phone to my ear. "Hey dad."
"Hi hon, I finally, finally have some positive news. Ready for it? I did it. You can head home. August finally answered my calls and we actually had some meaningful dialogue. He claimed if you hold up your end and completely expose everything that happened, he will end his revenge plan against you. I've arranged for you to meet up with him tomorrow."
His tone was proud and boastful. For this being a game changer – basically a life changer – I understood why. Thanks to my dad, all this shit, this drama with August, would finally end. He wouldn't frame me, he wouldn't ruin my life, it would be all over. But my god, all I could feel was my blood turning to ice. This meant I would be telling Blake everything by tomorrow.
I had to look away from Blake's eyes. "That's... that's great, dad."
"How soon can you get home? I want to go over everything with you."
"Um, we're not that far. I can probably reach you within a few hours if you'll be home from work by then."
"Okay, good. This is real good, honey. I know it will be difficult, but I promise you, it's the right thing to do and it will allow you a fresh start."
"I know. I'll call you when I'm close," I said before hanging up.
It felt like I was pulled out of a long and beautiful dream. My surroundings were the same. We were still in the cottage, still laying together and tangled in the sheets. But that magical and free sensation... it all dulled. It was time to face all the bullshit I blocked out, and it created an ache in my chest. We had to go home... and I had to tell Blake everything.
***
The entire drive back was torture. My mind was wearing thin. My heart hurt. I would have to tell him. That's all I knew; I was going to tell him tonight and I didn't fucking know how. Blake would never look at me the same. He knew something was up too; he knew there was more I wasn't sharing. He was worried by my silence, my glances to him, my lip-biting and palm-rubbing behavior. But he also knew it was serious enough to not pry or ask.
Dad was able to tell I was tense too. By the time I parted with Blake and headed to dad's, I felt nearly sick. That feeling only got worse the more dad the plan for tomorrow. During the meeting with August, I had to make a deal with him. I would arrange to tell the truth, to both his family and mine, and in exchange he would leave me alone. I planned on asking him if this could stay out of court, but I highly doubted it. Not like I cared at this point. All I could think was that everyone – my ex, my kids, my family, and the man I loved – would never see me with the same eyes.
While he laid it all out to me, I was fairly quiet. It didn't matter that my stomach was it knots. It didn't matter how I felt because this was something that had to be done. Dad and I both knew that. However, just as I said goodbye and was about to walk out the door, my dad managed to surprise me.
"Ruth?"
Pausing in opening the door, I turned back to where he stood a few feet away.
My dad's thin face and brown eyes behind his glasses displayed curiosity. "Are you going to tell your landlord?"
I swallowed. "Yeah. When I get home from here actually."
He looked away, nodding slowly. "Listen... nobody else knows the terrible thing you did except for me. I'm still here in your life, aren't I?"
My dad rarely showed concern for my emotions, especially after all the trouble I've put him through. It didn't make me feel any better, but those simple words of reassurance meant a lot to me.
"You never seem that happy about still having to deal with me," I said in amusement.
He offered me an endearing smile, something I was not accustom to seeing from him. "Can you blame me? With all your dumb drama I have to deal with? Christ."
I smiled. It was a sweet moment between us, one that wasn't likely to happen for a while again, but one I really appreciated.
Unfortunately though, no amount of comfort or love could heal my nervousness. By the time I was driving home that evening, smoking a cigarette, my insides felt rotten. I might not have lost my dad in my life, but I was still probably going to lose Blake. I was going to lose the man I loved tonight. My chest was twisting and hurting and soon, my throat was stinging from the intense need to let it out.
When I got home, I wiped away the tears I shed before heading inside. I tossed my still packed luggage in my room, smoked another cigarette, and paced the house. I shut the blinds since I was back in stalker territory, but the orange setting sun still bled in. How? How was I going to do this? I wasn't ready. Where the fuck do I even start? Ugh, I would give anything to rewind a day and be back in paradise.
Fuck, I just needed to get it over with. The more I thought about it, the more sick I felt. I just needed to do it. So, I took several deep breaths and sat down on the couch. Picking my phone up from my dusty coffee table, I texted him. Can you come over?
He didn't respond; it almost made me hopeful that he didn't get my message. However, after a few minutes, there was a knock against my door. The sound echoed through my nerves and I closed my eyes. Well... here we go. I dreadfully opened the front door and turned back to the couch before I could even take him in. "Hey," I said as lightly as I could.
I could feel his eyes on me as he closed the door and slowly walked in. Blake already knew something was up from my withdrawn behavior earlier – and his concern only amplified after I sat down on the couch and stared at the wall. I couldn't speak, do anything, couldn't hide how tense I was. I just had to figure out how to do this. Dear fucking god, I honestly didn't know. I couldn't even look at the guy!
"What is it?" he asked quietly after a long moment, sitting down next to me.
I took a moment to respond. I soaked in my orange living room and the hum of the AC. Shifting my body in his direction, I finally met his eyes. The gentle blue and love in them was painful to see, but I had to focus. "I'm about to tell you everything I've been scared to tell you. Like everything and I am just so terrified right now. I don't even know how I am going to get through this," I said, shakily exhaling. "And I don't, I-I don't—"
"Whoa, hey, it's okay, it's alright," he said soothingly, resting a hand on my leg. "Like I've said, I will be here no matter what. You don't have to tell me everything if you are not ready. We have time for you to open up."
"Blake... I'm out of time."
"What do you mean?"
His simple question reminded me of how much he didn't know. I left him in the dark about so much. Truly, sincerely, I did not know where to start. I didn't know if I could emotionally handle this either. Searching his eyes almost fueled me to somehow speak though. He deserved to know everything after all this time.
"I'm out of time because... all the things I've kept hidden is going to be revealed to everyone starting tomorrow. I want you to be the first to hear it."
The lines in his forehead creased. I wasn't sure if he was more worried for my sake, worried about what I was going to reveal, or worried because he still had no clue what that meant. But he realized how huge this was and gently grasped my hand between his palms.
"Um," I said, fighting away the emotions. "Do you remember what I said awhile ago? That I deserved what August was putting me through?"
"Yeah."
"He was not the bad guy in all this. I was. Yeah, he... he wanted revenge and to get back at me. But it was entirely justified because I destroyed his life."
"Suing a guy because you fell and got hurt in his establishment doesn't mean—"
"I fell and got hurt on purpose. That story I told you... is just false. I ruined his life and it was unprovoked and had nothing to do with him. Suing him was just a side-effect."
He stared at me, pursing his lips. "What's the real story then?"
"This happened actually before I got into the wreck with the kids, so I was still drinking heavily. Matt tried multiple times to get me to stop and I just didn't. But after putting up with my drunk selfish ass constantly, he threatened to finally leave me – and he meant it. The type of guy he is, I knew he wasn't bluffing, ya know? It scared me so much, the thought of losing him, that I actually did quit. I stopped drinking for about a month. He was so proud of me too and it always meant so much to hear that from him. Yet, I didn't even think twice – didn't even pause – when me and my friends went to Belladores one night."
"That was August's restaurant, right?"
"Yeah. I remember that night it was packed too. We... We, um, had dinner and then headed to the second floor where there was a bar. I had that 'fuck it' attitude because it felt like forever since I had any fun. I avoided going out with friends for a while because it usually meant drinking. Matt trusted me though when I told him we were going out. He trusted I wouldn't drink. But... the second we got there, I didn't care. I didn't think about my husband, kids, or even my progress. I just bought a drink like any other time, but... it was not like any other time."
For a night that was hazed in alcohol, the memory was so clear. The dim lights, the bar in the middle of the room, the faces of my friends, and the mainstream music in the background. "One drink led to another and we were having a good time. We sat at the bar for a while, talking and laughing, and we even danced a bit too. Well, at one point, I needed to go to the bathroom. My vision was a little rocky at this point and I was wearing some impressive black heels. Like more impressive than you've ever seen me wear before, it was a very tall heel," I scoffed, catching Blake's focused eyes. "Anyway, I was already stumbling pretty bad. But when I headed into the bathroom, I stepped wrong or something. My heel slid inward and I tripped forward and basically... I face-planted the side of the sink." I cringed, recalling the cold and hard pressure that hit my face.
"Was it bad?"
"No, not like 'hospital' bad. When I looked at it in the mirror, I could tell I was going to receive a pretty serious black-eye. I was always a clumsy drunk and received some hefty bruises because of it in the past. So, Matt would know right away that I had been drinking if I came home with a bruise like that. That's why I remember just... immediately coming down from that drunken-careless mindset and freaking out on the inside. I needed some excuse, some kind of lie, some story of how I got this black eye."
Pausing for a moment, I stared down at Blake's hands holding mine. I use to block out the specifics because it made me emotional, facing what I had done. Now being forced to recall the dirty details... ugh, it added like five pounds to my chest and a lump in my throat.
I continued speaking, diving painfully into what happened... and it allowed me to relive that night.
After smacking into the counter, I remember just standing in the empty yellow bathroom, facing the mirror. I remember my short black dress that had lacy sleeves. I remember analyzing the red spot that covered my bottom eyelid to my cheek. It was getting more swollen with each second. Definitely was going to get a black eye – and no amount of make-up would be able to hide it. Fuck, all I could think was that Matt was going to leave me. He would too. He would leave me; he said one more slip up and this absolutely qualified.
I sighed, staring at my face in the mirror. Staring at my flushed cheeks, the anxiety in my drunk pupils, and my make-up that stayed resilient despite my now puffy eyelid. What the fuck was I going to do? Ugh, why did I have to slip? It was this stupid tile floor. Paranoid, I accepted that I was done drinking for the night. Nope, not done, because I didn't drink at all tonight. I didn't drink or do anything wrong.
After putting on my sunglasses to hide what I did, I headed out of the bathroom – and nearly ran into a man that was standing directly outside the ladies room. As if he was waiting for me. Wonderful. Another loser that was going to try and hit on me.
"Ma'am? May I have a word with you?"
"No, you cannot." I brushed passed him.
His voice stopped me in my tracks. "Miss, I apologize, but I am going to have to cut you off for the remainder of the night. This is my establishment and I've been made aware by my staff that you were exhibiting some disruptive behavior."
Spinning back to him, I met his eyes through my dark lenses. "I'm not drinking, sir, and I mean... I haven't had anything all night. So you don't need to worry about me having more."
He gave a soft smile. "Whatever you say. Now, before I let you return to your friends, would you mind coming with me for a moment?"
Jesus. What the hell did this guy want? I didn't have time for this. Through the people, I followed the man past the bar, down a hall, and into a tiny office. He asked me to take a seat and that he would be with me shortly. But for what? What did he want? It made me more irritated and paranoid over Matt finding out I was drinking. Plus, why here? There was a messy desk, some chairs, and no room for anything else.
Sitting in basically a closet, the man returned a moment later. The ceiling lights were bright, showing me his face more. He had brown hair and tired eyes (probably from not having a life and cutting people off all day). Surprisingly, he was carrying a plastic bag of ice. Pulling up a chair, he sat down and handed it to me.
"What's this for?"
"Your eye. Your sunglasses don't do the best job hiding it."
Ugh, great. Just great. It was so swollen, not even my big Chanel glasses could hide it. I was going to look so awful – hell, I already did! "My eye is fine," I mumbled, looking away.
"You weren't drinking at all tonight and you didn't give yourself a black-eye now?" Sitting back, he spoke in a caring tone. "Put some ice on it. You don't have anything to be ashamed of."
"Oh, trust me, I'm not ashamed." With a huff, I took off the sunglasses and pressed it to my face. "If anything, you should be ashamed. You're the owner, yet the desk takes up half of this mini-closet that you call an office."
My attitude made him chuckle under his breath. "I am going to guess that's the alcohol that's not in your system talking."
Oh, jokes now? I rolled my eyes. "May I fucking leave now?"
"I want you to just relax for a minute. Take it easy and ice your face. Your friends know where you are."
"Oh yeah? Did you cut them off too?"
"Your friends didn't spill drinks on other people or get as loud as you. They also didn't somehow fall and get hurt while in the bathroom." Shifting forward and turning his chair to face mine, he gave me another smile. "You are more than welcome to stay and have some water and sober up more. Or I would be willing myself to give you a ride home—"
"Look, I'm married, alright? Don't try anything with me." A ride home? Yeah, I doubted it.
It was about time he felt as appalled as me, but his considerate tone was still there. "Miss, I am just being a good person. I'm not trying anything and you know that. I'm concerned and am even tempted to get an ambulance—"
"No, no, please, I-I'm fine."
"I'm just worried for your well-being, but if you say so. Now, would you like to do? Do you want me to take you home or to sober up with your friends?
"I would love to return to my friends before I suffocate in here."
"Sure. Stay here and ice that for just a few minutes first before you head back to your group. It will just make me feel better if you at least do that. I'll be right back." Then, the guy stood up, left, and closed the door.
All I could do was sigh and try to calm down. My head was pounding. The stinging skin around my eye pulsed. At least I had some quiet time to think. I had to figure out what I was going to do. Could I say that I simply fell? Naw, even Matt would not believe that, not if it occurred 20 feet from a bar. Something had to have been done this to me, caused this, something pretty major for him to buy it. And I needed to figure out what before I got home tonight.
That's when I saw a couple tools on a cluttered shelf above his desk. One of those tools was a large hand-held screwdriver. Being the impulsive person I was... an idea clicked. It fit what I needed and, like earlier, I didn't think twice. I just did it.
Standing up, I maneuvered around and behind his desk. It was worth a try anyway. It was definitely worth trying. After I grabbed the screwdriver and turned back around, I was able to see his computer screen. Ignoring the background picture of his family, there was live footage from his security cameras on about half of the screen. The cameras displayed the first floor, the second, the back kitchen, and the exterior of the restaurant. Not for long though.
It was an easy system he had set up – one that allowed me with a few clicks to turn off all recording setting to the cameras. Shoving the tool into my purse, I sat back down with the ice. Hey, it will either work or it won't, but it's worth trying! Looking back on that decision... I truly do not understand how any of that was worth it to me.
The man returned, holding a glass of water. The lines under his eyes were deep, but I didn't care or pay any mind. Handing me the water, he smiled and held the door open. "Thank you for icing that, it put my mind at ease a bit, but I won't hold ya back here any longer. My name is August by the way, and I hope you have a good and safe rest of your night."
Standing up, I slid my sunglasses back on. Then, I dropped the bag of ice, sipped the water, and just... so simply, without any care, just walked out. I was so annoyed at the time, and it was not at all justified. None of this could be justified.
Those few minutes of being in his office only came to bother me later on. Like how sweet and nice he was. How caring he was despite my snotty bitch attitude. And looking back... those lines under his eyes made it so much more tragic. He was hardworking, putting in all this time and care, putting up with bitchy people like me, and yet remained a happy person.
By this point, I was grasping Blake's hand hard, unable to keep the tremble out of my voice. I couldn't hold back the lump in my throat or the rolling tears. As I spoke, every moment hit like a cold slap in the face. Staring down at my lap, it was hard not sobbing through my words.
"H-He... He was so caring. Kinda like you. Just happy and easy-going. And I was so mean and so up my own ass, and even then, he didn't seem to mind. He was only worried about me, a complete stranger. And then...." Breathing uneasily, trying to calm my tears, my chest started to shake. "Then, I returned to my friends and made sure I sobered up before I did what I did. I mean I was just so paranoid about Matt finding out. I made them swear not to say a word about me drinking. I didn't even tell them about my eye and they thankfully couldn't see it like August could. I was just so scared of my marriage ending. Yet, there was... no regret of my actions at the time. I just regretted slipping and falling, not the drinking. It's-it's- entirely fucked up." Swallowing, I pushed on through my heavy tears. "Anyway, after I sobered up, I went down the stairs to the first floor restaurant. It was late a-a-and there... there really weren't a lot of people left." I had to pause, turning my head away as I started to break. Pull it together, pull it together.
Blake's palm found my damp cheek. He tilted my head back to him. There was nothing but a calm expression. I couldn't tell if he was done with me or not yet. He just wanted me to continue, but that alone was enough to help.
Looking back down to our hands, I tried calming my shaky breath. "The bathrooms on the first floor were actually tucked behind the open stairway, so I was able to step behind the stairs. It was dark, not many people were around, and the steps were just polished wood. So... even my dumbass managed to unscrew several nails and screws."
I remember only thinking about myself. I needed to do this, make it convincing, and not get caught. Christ, I didn't know the last time I even used a screwdriver, but it was taking forever! I remember standing in the shadows, trying to remove different screws and stuffing the successful ones into my purse. Some budged, some did not. It felt stupid, pathetic, but it was worth a try – and when I worked on the supports around the 10th step, I felt relief. With my tired arms working above my head, my screwdriver removed all but one screw from the back of that step.
Reaching up, I was able to even grab the step itself and rock it back and forth on the one remaining screw it held onto. Perfect. And if this didn't make me fall, I could make myself fall. That's how desperate I felt. I would throw myself down these damn stairs and claim that was how I busted my face if it means saving my marriage. Turns out, the step itself would do all the work like I wanted.
Coming out from the 'bathroom', I walked out from behind the descending stairs towards the base. I could see a few people scattered around the dining area still. They were consumed in conversation and far enough away to not fully notice me. Well, until I come crashing down. I had to make it convincing, after all.
Taking a deep breath, I walked up the steps at a normal pace. The only difference was that I put a lot of pressure and weight down with each step. The fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh step: not even a budge under me. Shit, maybe this idea won't work. These steps aren't loose or ev— snap!
The 10th step snapped and fell to the ground, and with it went my balance. Contained in a blurry five seconds, I tumbled down the stairs, body smacking into the edges of each hard step before I hit the ground on my side. Jesus, that was fast and definitely hurt. Hurt more than I wanted. Rolling onto my stomach with a groan though, all I could think was 'thank god it worked.' That fall earned me so many more bruises, but my paranoia and fear faded. This was now how I got my black eye. I fell down this unsafe and loose staircase and that was it.
The clatter and grunts from me falling down the stairs earned much attention. People rushed over, showed their concern, and I didn't need to play up my pain. It hurt like a bitch when they helped shift me to my back. And the next thing I knew... there was the sweet owner again.
He immediately called an ambulance and was by far the most concerned person there. Of course, it didn't even occur to me how my stunt would effect him. I knew Matt would analyze what happened, come in and see the broken step, and he would know it wasn't my fault. That was the end of my concern. It didn't occur that the consequences would fall to this man... who cleared out the people, told his staff to close the restaurant, and took care of me.
He lifted me to my feet gingerly and took my weight, escorting me to one of the booths against the far left wall. He laid me down on one of the bench seats and pulled away the table, sitting down on the other. Propping my back against the wall, I declared that I didn't need to go to the hospital. The deed was done, I did what I had to do... now I just wanted to go home and get on with my life despite my severe soreness.
"Listen, just let me call someone to come and get me. I'm fine and just want to go home. I know nothing is broken, trust me," I sighed, meeting his eyes.
He faced me with a look of complete stress over my health. Which I didn't understand. I was fucking fine. I was able to move and was just sore, but nope, let's make a huge deal of this whole thing since it took place in his restaurant!
"Legally speaking, I have to call an ambulance, miss. Regardless, that was a huge fall and I'm making sure you are okay. I'm just... I am so sorry about what happened. I don't know how that happened to the stairs, but—"
"It happened because you're cheap and built a shitty staircase," I scowled, looking over the red marks on my legs. "The least you could fucking do is let me go home after you did this to me. My legs look like shit already. My arms hurt. And I smacked my face into one of the steps on my way down," I said, lightly grazing my fingers over my swollen eye.
"What are you talking about? You got that when you fell in the bathroom."
Committing fully to the lie, I stared into his eyes. "No. I fell down your staircase. I haven't been drinking, haven't talked to you before this, and I didn't give myself a black eye in the bathroom. I fell down your weak-ass staircase and now you have the balls to call me a liar?"
He cocked his head back, completely caught off guard and confused. "Is your head okay? Do you not remember earlier? Listen, you don't need to deny the truth. I'm just here to help you."
"Then understand: I did not drink. I got a black eye from falling down your stairs."
It was at that point the ambulance rushed in and attended to me. All the while... August stayed quiet, clearly unsure of what I meant or my intentions. He would only learn of them when his restaurant closed down. He would only figure out everything, including why I was lying, when we went to court and I spewed even more lies.
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Sorry about the huge delay in updating. Like I mentioned before, it's been a very hectic time lately. However, I hope this was worth it! It's fun diving into the past a bit and finally revealing what exactly has happened. What do you guys think so far about what she has kept hidden this whole time? Let me know and there is more to come! I will be updating the next chapter much much sooner than previously as well so keep an eye out.