Page 66 of I Would Stay Forever
“So, uh, what is actually happening between you two?” Sebastian asked, nodding toward Dean, who was sitting next to his sister on the ledge.
I laughed and wiped away the last of my tears. “It’s a really long story. I can tell you it tonight—just so long as you tell me what’s going on with you and Nora. And don’t say you were just ‘driving around.’”
He grinned. “Okay, so maybe it was a bit more than a drive.”
I mirrored his grin, almost without realizing it. “Tell me everything—starting with what happened to you and Tiffany.”
Sebastian sighed. “Is this you looking for a chance to say I told you so?”
“Only if it comes up naturally,” I said with a small shrug, even though it was pretty much exactly that. “Because seriously—why on earth would you get back with her?” Almost as an afterthought, I mumbled, “Even if it did last less than a week.”
Sebastian shook his head. “It was that stupid party.”
I thought back to last weekend, before he and Tiffany had gotten back together. I couldn’t remember if he’d gone to a party on Saturday night, but I did remember the one from Friday. It was the night Tiffany had come up to me and insisted that she and Sebastian would get back together, right before she went to suck Ashton’s face.
“She dug her claws into you, huh?” I asked. That would be just like her, to kiss Ashton then turn around and ask Sebastian to get back together with her.
“Not exactly. I’m the one who went back to her.”
I gaped at him, not sure exactly what to make of that. Then I punched him in the shoulder.
“Ow!” He rubbed at the spot. “What was that for?”
“You went back to a girl who cheated on you a week after promising me you wouldn’t?” I snapped. “Are you kidding me?”
Surprisingly, the anger and betrayal I’d been feeling until now wasn’t there anymore. Instead, it all just seemed… ludicrous.
“It’s a very complicated story,” Sebastian said. “But it was never about Tiffany, okay? It was always about Nora.”
I raised my eyebrows and glanced down the road to where Nora and Dean were sitting together. This was certainly a story I wanted to hear.
thirty-two
I stayedup half the night, first talking to Dean again and then catching Sebastian up on everything that had happened in the last few weeks. I’d fallen asleep somewhere around three a.m., which was rather unfortunate because I’d forgotten I’d set an alarm for the next morning since I’d promised to drive Imogen to Dad’s—a promise that felt so much worse in light of everything that had happened yesterday.
I’d kept this part of what was happening hidden from Sebastian, deciding that it was still ultimately Imogen’s secret to tell. She’d asked me not to tell anyone and I wouldn’t betray her trust in the same way that I was sure Sebastian would do if he were in my position. It still didn’t make me feel any better about it as we silently got in my car on Saturday morning, though. Imogen must have sensed my tension because she kept asking if I was okay every five minutes. The first few times, I told her I was fine, but as we pulled up to the address she’d given me, I sighed and turned in my seat to face her.
“Look,” I said and a flash of worry crossed her face. She probably thought I was going to tell her not to do this. And a small, selfish part of me wanted to. I would have loved nothing more than to be able to turn around and drive home withouthaving to confront what was on the other side of that door. The sob-fest I’d had yesterday was enough to tell me that I was not, and may never be, over what happened with Dad. Airing everything out with Sebastian felt good, but it wasn’t enough to undo the damage. The only thing that might help that was time—and preferably, a lot of distance.
“I’m not going to say you can’t see Dad. That’s up to you. But I just want you to be prepared for what could happen here. He walked out of your life once—and it’s great that you’re willing to move on from that and hear him out. I just want you to be prepared for the possibility of it happening a second time. And if it does, it’s probably going to hurt a heck of a lot worse.”
Imogen’s eyes dropped and she fiddled with her hands. “I know,” she whispered. “I’m scared of that. But I think it would be worse to never know if we could have fixed things.”
There was no fixing this, of that much I was certain. There was moving forward and maybe even forgetting, but there was no fixing the damage that had been done by this. But Imogen didn’t need those blunt words, not when she was already worried. I sighed and reached across the seats so I could grab her hand and give it a squeeze.
“Then maybe this is the right choice for you,” I said. “That’s okay. As long as you’re prepared for whatever outcome may happen.”
She swallowed. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in? I’m sure he would love to see you. He wanted to talk to you when you came to the hospital, you know, but he didn’t want to overstep and?—”
“He tried talking to me,” I told her. “I refused to speak back, other than to tell him where you were.”
Her face fell and I realized that he told her a different version of the truth for a reason. He didn’t want to seem like a villain for not talking to me, but he also didn’t want her to know howI was pushing him away. He probably thought she would be influenced by me and push him away as well. If only it was that easy.
“I have no interest in rebuilding a relationship with that man,” I told her honestly. “I’m happy for you that you do, but I don’t and neither does Sebastian.” That was something we’d talked about last night. If anything, Sebastian was even more steadfast against it, having lived with the truth of Dad’s infidelity for so long. “I’m not sure about Ainsley, but I need you to promise me that you won’t pressure any of us into trying, okay? We all have to deal with this in our own way.”
Imogen looked disappointed but she nodded. I had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time we’d have to talk about this, but I was glad she at least understood for now. The real difficulties would come at special events—would she invite him to her high school graduation, even if Ainsley didn’t want him there? Would she want to see him on her birthday and holidays? The next couple of years would likely be awkward ones for us all as we tried to navigate what our family structure would look like with Dad half in, but we’d find our way.
Imogen bit on her lip as she looked up at the red brick building in front of us. I’d asked her if she ever came here before this, but the time on her bike had been her first time trying. The building itself was pretty ordinary, about four stories high with one flat per floor, but it felt oddly imposing as we sat before it. Not just a regular building, but a portal into another version of our lives.
