Chapter 41

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

LUNA

I hate wrapping Christmas presents.

Mostly because as someone who can paint and is good artistically, folding paper in a pretty way has always escaped me. And it pisses me off.

But I could wrap Zach's presents in a trash bag and I'd still love the process. In fact, I could wrap all these presents in front of me repeatedly: the "Boss Babe" flask I bought for Kate, the "Grow Your Own Garden" kit I got for Felicity, and the "I Love My Wife" coaster I got for Jon. Silly gifts but things that mean so much because of the people they're for. It makes me wonder how much my dislike of wrapping was born out of those I was gifting to rather than the process itself.

I pick up the box of skincare I bought for my mom. I was hoping to give it to her in person before I left for Seattle, but since she didn't answer my calls, I figured she wouldn't want me showing up on her doorstep. So I bought a duplicate online and mailed it to her. I know she got it, not that she messaged but because the tracking notified me.

Looking at the tree, her gift to me sits underneath it. I should really wait until tomorrow, but I also want to open it alone, and since Zach's out, I find myself walking over and picking up the perfectly wrapped gift in her trademark plain red paper with a gold bow.

But the thing is, my mom doesn't really know me at all, and this present just confirms that. I'm a creature of habit, someone who feels safe with what I know. Sure, I can be a little off the wall at times, but I'll never wear this perfume. She does though, and I know this because as I open the box and spray some into the air, Mom could be sitting right next to me.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I've never cried as much as I have these past four months, but this time it's the realization that my mom and I will never be aligned. I'll never have that close bond so many daughters have with their moms, no matter how much I've clung to hope that we could be. I also feel guilty and ungrateful for hating the present. It's expensive, but it means nothing. No that's a lie—it does mean something. Just the opposite of what I wanted it to.

Placing Zach's and everyone else's gifts neatly under the tree ready for when we deliver them later tonight, when Jon and Felicity are hosting a Christmas Eve dinner, I pad into the kitchen and begin fetching out ingredients to make a frittata for lunch because, apparently, we don't eat them for breakfast in this house.

I'm busy stirring the base and singing badly to Shania Twain when there's a knock at the door.

Close friends and family use the elevator since they have the code, so immediately, I head to the bedroom and throw one of Zach's Scorpions hoodies on over my tiny crop top, and I switch out my sleep shorts for a pair of black leggings. The hoodie smells of him, and momentarily, I'm distracted by my borderline crazy urge to stand and inhale his scent and ignore the door.

But the knocking steps up to more of a thump.

"One second!" I shout from the other side as I take a deep breath and pull the door open with an ounce of trepidation.

Amie's satisfied smile is the first thing I note. That and the glamourous stroller parked next to her in the hallway. How did she get past security? I guess she probably has a history downstairs, so it wouldn't be hard to convince them.

"Santa is here to deliver your gift," she drawls. Turning the stroller around, she uses it as a battering ram, running it straight over my feet as she pushes past me and into the living space.

Flipping around, her snarky smile turns evil, and I know answering the door will probably be my biggest regret this Christmas. Whatever "gift" she's delivering is not going to be one I immediately want to unwrap.

"Where is he?"

"Out," I say, inwardly wincing at the throb in my left foot.

"I can wait," she says, throwing herself down on the couch.

I peek over at the sleeping baby in the stroller. I can only make out his face since he's wrapped in blankets. But I know he's a boy since they have been all over social media. She named him Justin. When I read it the first time, I wanted to throw my phone against the wall, but I was too busy saving Zach's from the same fate. And the kicker—she then posted her "inspiration" behind the name: someone who will "always remain in her heart."

"I want you to leave." I stare down at her as she makes herself comfortable.

"You know, I forgot how amazing this couch is. I've spent so many nights on this thing."

"When he found out you were cheating, I assume?" I throw back, making my way to the kitchen to continue making the frittata. I want away from her, but at least I can still see what she's up to in the open-plan space.

"No." She laughs mockingly. "He really enjoys horror movies, and we'd be up alllll night watching them. I'd get scared, so we'd cuddle before he'd carry me to bed."

The blade from my knife slips down the bell pepper I'm cutting as I almost hit the floor at what she said. I thought those moments I shared with Zach were special. The movies, the fact that he'd hold me while I was scared shitless.

I narrowly miss my thumb as I blow out a relieved breath, and l look up to find her scrolling through her phone. "Amie. You need to leave. I guarantee whatever gift you have, he isn't going to want it."

Still looking down at her phone with delight, she stands from the couch and saunters over to me. "Oh, the gift isn't for him babes. It's for you. I mean..." She stands on the opposite side of the counter. "...technically, it's not a gift now, but in six months' time you'll probably thank me."

I don't respond. What the fuck is she talking about.

"Well." She blows out a resigned breath and sets her phone on the counter, pushing it across to me. "Ideally I wanted Zach to be here too since he's probably better at explaining all this than me, but I guess as you want me to leave, now will have to do."

As I pick up the phone, the screen is lit with messages, and as my eyes focus on what they say and who they're from, I want to hurl.

Back and forth, back and forth, messages between Zach and Amie. My heart screams at me to drop the phone and walk away, but my body defies it, my thumb continuing to scroll relentlessly. Some of them are pure filth, making it seem like they've been sleeping together for months since he got back to Seattle. Others are "I love you" and "I need to break things off with her, but I don't want to hurt her. I had fun over the summer, but it's not a long-term thing."

Don't cry. Do not cry, Luna. That's what she wants to see.

He wouldn't break me like this. Not Zach.

I know he wouldn't.

"I know what you're thinking." She leans her elbow on the counter and rests her chin on her palm. "Not Zach. He wouldn't do it to me."

With her other hand, her red fingernail taps the screen a few times, taking me all the way to the bottom of the conversation.

Zach

Baby don't come over tonight. She's here, and a week earlier than expected. I promise I'll find a way to see you before Christmas. I miss you x

"There's no way. This is all fake." I steel my shoulders and push the disgusting lies back across the table.

Snatching the phone up, her voice is way sharper now. She narrows her eyes at me. Searching for any hint of weakness. "What are you saying? That I'm some sort of crazy person making this all up?" She scoffs. "I don't have the time or the know-how to create such a thing."

My head still at war with my heart, I work to convince myself she is exactly that. Twisted.

I point over at the stroller. "Aren't you concerned that your baby boy will be left without a dad when all this comes out? Because that's why you're here, isn't it? To out your affair and split me and Zach up. What happens when Alex finds out? He must be a pretty good dad, having all that time now that he doesn't play hockey."

She looks to the side and shakes her head.

"Huh?" I huff out aggressively. "All I see is someone screwing themselves over."

Still facing away from me, she stares off down the hallway that leads to our bedroom. The door is wide open, and I know she can see my clothes all over the floor when I rushed to get changed.

Casting her eyes up to the ceiling, she nods twice and then slowly her bottom lip starts to quiver.

Is she…crying?

"I'm not with Justin's dad."

I don't miss the absence of Schneider's name.

I should probably keep my nose out. But since she's trying to fuck with me, in our home, I have zero regard for her privacy. "Who is the dad, Amie?"

"You don't know him."

What?

"But I thought it was between Zach and Alex?"

"Neither of them is the father," she whispers.

"Amie," I say as calmly as I can. "Have you and Zach really been sleeping together?" Given her vulnerable state, I sense this is my best chance to get the truth.

Her head whips up to me, making eye contact for the first time in several minutes. A satisfied smile pulls at her lips. "Yes." Her voice is full of conviction, and her eyes give nothing away.

I bite the inside of my cheek so hard that I taste blood. So, I bite down harder, rage and bitterness overpowering me. Through clenched teeth and with my voice low so the baby, who's beginning to stir, can't hear, I say, "Then get out of this fucking apartment before I do something I really will regret."

"Oh, don't worry. I'm gone." Turning her back on me, she swaggers back to the stroller before turning to look at me once more. "Justin's due a feed anyway." She takes a bottle out of the side pocket of her diaper bag and hands it to him. "Welcome to Seattle, Luna."

And then she's gone. Out the door and leaving me in an apartment that twenty minutes ago was my happiest place on earth. The place my heart orbited. But now…now I feel like I'm floating with no tether to keep me safe.

ZACH

Frittata ingredients cover the counter when I walk back into the apartment.

I only went out for a couple of hours to pick up Luna's last present, but everything feels so different—the atmosphere, but mainly the fact that my girlfriend isn't here.

"Luna?"

Checking each room including the bathrooms, I come up empty. All her stuff is here, her sleep shorts are thrown on the bedroom floor, and my hoodie from the back of the chair in our bedroom has gone. Has she gone out? If she did, then it was in a real hurry.

Something doesn't feel right. I know on instinct.

Walking back through to the living room, I take a seat on the couch and pull out my phone but quickly stop scrolling for her number.

There's something familiar, like a feeling of déjà vu.

Amie.

I couldn't miss that strong perfume anywhere. It took weeks to wash it out of my bedding, and in the end, I gave up and tossed the lot out. A chill trickles down my spine as I start to piece together that Luna not being here has something to do with my ex-girlfriend paying her a visit earlier.

Frantically, I'm back to scrolling for her number and immediately I hit dial.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

Four rings.

And then I get her bright voice, but it's not the way I want it. I don't want her voicemail.

Shit.

I try calling again, but this time, I hear the faint sound of buzzing, and I stand to see her phone by the refrigerator.

Adrenaline kicks in harder than it has during any game. Do I head out searching for her or wait here and hope she comes back?

Is she okay?

"Fuck!" I feel like I've come full circle from earlier this year—pacing my apartment. What the fuck did Amie say to her this time?

I blocked her number months ago and ended up changing mine to stop her messages, which was a fucking nightmare updating everyone, but it was worth it for the peace.

But with no idea where my girl is and what fucking lies have been told, I pull up and unblock the one contact I never wanted to dial again. I know this is what she wants. But this needs to end. Today.

"Slightly later than I expected, but hi," she purrs down the phone.

I'm fucking raging. "What the fuck have you said to her?"

"You mean she's not there to tell you herself?"

I pull at the roots of my hair. "No. Fuck, Amie. Why are you doing this? First, you insult her, then throw your drink over her, and now this?" I shout. "You're toeing a very dangerous line."

"Oh? And what line would that be Zachary?"

Her patronizing tone only enrages me further. "You don't get it, do you?" I've never used my position, platform, or contacts in this city against anyone, but I'm out of options. "I'll go public with the way you treated me after our relationship ended. The way you've blown up my phone and harassed me for months, the way you've behaved toward Luna behind closed doors." Fuck knows how, but the wine incident didn't make it onto social media, or at least it didn't start trending. Maybe others missed it; maybe Luna got out of the way of cameras in time. "I'll dismantle your influencer platform and bury it six feet under in hours."

"You're threatening me?" she spits down the phone.

"No threats, Amie. Just promises. Now tell me, what the fuck did you say to my girlfriend."

A long stretch of silence passes between us, and I'm certain she's considering her options.

Better make the right decision Amie.

My phone buzzes in my hand, but I know it can't be from Luna since I have hers in the other.

"Well?" I snap, running out of patience.

"I told her we were back sleeping together, and you wanted to get back with me."

I'd already guessed it would be some bullshit like that, but it doesn't stop the way my heart splits clean down the middle.

Why would Luna believe her word?

"And she bought that bullshit?"

"Not initially, but when I showed her all the messages we'd been exchanging, it made more sense."

"Amie." I shake my head in disbelief. "We haven't spoken over the phone in months."

"It's easy to fake." She laughs evilly. "I'm kind of disappointed that she fell for it so easily. She really has some insecurities that girl."

"Why?" My voice cracks. "Why would you do that?"

"No one. And I mean NO ONE gets to reject me. I poured my heart out to you, begged for your forgiveness, and you couldn't even pick up the phone. Then you go and block me from your life and change your number? I thought I meant more to you than that. I love you."

My phone buzzes again.

"No, you don't, Amie. You never did either. And you know what?"

"What?"

"Neither did I."

A sob breaks down the phone. "Don't say that."

"It's true. I thought I did, but honestly, I had no idea what love was until I met the woman you just fucked with. So let me put this to you straight and like I asked you months ago. Lose this number you now have, leave everyone I love and care about alone, and back the fuck out of our life. If I ever hear from you again, I'll start talking."

I hang up the call and take a deep breath, trying to steady the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I check the text that came through.

Kate

Okay, so I'm assuming you haven't made the biggest mistake of your life and done what Devil Girl is claiming. I have your girlfriend here. She forgot her phone when she raced out in a panic, and she wants you to know she's okay.

BUT IF YOU HAVE. I SUGGEST YOU DO NOT COME TO MY PLACE. BECAUSE IT WILL NOT BE PRETTY.

I huff out a relieved laugh. Despite being threatened by the scariest woman on the planet, I know where I need to be to fetch my girl and sort out this whole fucking mess.