Mr Garcia
“Fucking hell, Garcia,” Spencer whispers. “You’ve aged me by fifty years.”
“Right?” Julian mutters into his coffee.
“Did you find out anything more?” I ask them.
I called them both last night when everyone had left. We spent an hour on Google together trying to find out if it’s even possible to have an erection while unconscious.
“Nope.” Spencer sighs. “Just that it is possible and probable, if stimulated, to get an erection and blow while unconscious.”
I drag my hand down my face. “I have this really bad feeling.” I pick up my coffee with a shaky hand.
“It will be fine.”
“She’ll leave me.”
“April won’t leave you.” Spencer sighs. “She loves you.”
“I should have told her when it happened.”
“You didn’t know what it meant.” Julian huffs. “None of us would’ve ever imagined this could happen. Helena is lying, I’m sure of it. Stop worrying about it. You’ve got bigger fucking issues. Have you seen the news today?”
“There is no bigger issue than having a baby with my ex-wife,” I whisper angrily. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about my job. Imagine that… newly married while my ex-wife is carrying my baby. Do you really think that’s going to fly with April?”
Spencer glares between the two of us. “Helena's a bona fide fucking cunt.”
I put my head into my hands.
“How is April?” Julian asks.
“She’s acting fine. She’s strong. But I know as soon as this blows over, I’m getting it with both barrels. That’s if there is no baby. Can you fucking imagine if there is?”
“Well, if there is, you need to have her charged with rape,” Spencer whispers.
“Ha.” I scoff. “And everyone would believe it, wouldn’t they? It’s my ex-wife. Her word against mine, and we all know how this fucking looks.”
“Christ almighty,” Julian whispers. “This is a disaster.”
I walk through reception.
“Good morning, Mr. Garcia.”
“Morning.”
I walk into my office and lock the door. I put the code into the safe, and I go to my briefcase to take out the passport. I flick through it, seeing the name and photo of my beloved.
April Bennet
Without hesitation, I put the passport into the safe, slam it shut, and I relock it.
I need an insurance policy.
She can’t leave me. I won’t let her
April
The car pulls into the garage around 7:00 p.m.
Sebastian hasn’t called me once today. That’s a first. I know he’s probably busy being pulled from pillar to post, but with everything that’s going on, I would have thought…
I’ve made dinner and had a glass of wine.
I feel unusually nervous to see him. My heart hammers in my chest when he comes into view.
“Hello.” I smile.
“Hi, babe.” He bends and kisses me, and then pulls immediately out of my arms.
Oh.
He sits on the chair and rests his elbows on his thighs. His head hanging low, and he looks at the floor.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up as I watch him. Something’s up.
“I called her,” he says quietly.
I frown. “Who?”
“On the night I was drugged, my call register shows that I made an eight-minute call to Helena’s number,” he says softly.
Emotion rushes through me.
His eyes rise to meet mine. “And there were other things.”
My heartbeat pumps loudly in my ears. “Like what?”
“There was a…”
“A what, Sebastian?” I snap.
“A bottle of champagne with two glasses beside it.” He shakes his head. “But that’s standard practice, isn’t it?”
“And what about the bedsheets?” I whisper.
His eyes search mine as his nostrils flare.
My vision blurs, and I drop my head as pain sears through me.
“I… I didn’t think it meant anything,” he stammers in a panic. “It wasn’t even on my radar. I don’t—”
I step back from him as if hit by a physical blow.
“I swear to you, April,”—he shakes his head— “I don’t remember anything. I promise you.”
I get a lump in my throat as I stare at him, it's big and painful and hurts all the way down.
I thought he was the love of my life but he’s just like the rest of them.
A liar.
I need to get away. I can’t be here. I turn, and he jumps from the chair and wraps me in his arms from behind.
“Don’t. Don’t!” he begs. “April, please listen.”
We struggle as he tries to hold me against my will. I turn, and with all my strength, I push him off me. He goes flying back.
“Stop it!” I cry.
“Please,” he begs. “I don’t remember.”
“You remembered to lie to me, though, didn’t you? That was the one detail you did get right.”
“Because I love you. I thought it meant nothing.”
We stare at each other, me with contempt, him with fear.
“Well,” I whisper. “It looks like you might have your baby, after all. It just won’t be with me.”
His eyes well with tears. “What does that mean?”
My anger peaks. “It means stay the fuck away from me!”
33
April
I march to the bedroom to get dressed. I don’t know where the hell I’ll go, but I need to get away from him.