Page 123 of Wicked Beautiful (Wicked Games 1)
Compared to living, it’s an absolute breeze.
THIRTY-EIGHT
~ Parker ~
When faced with the inconceivable, the human brain has a tendency to immediately do one of two things.
One: release copious amounts of the stress hormone cortisol into the bloodstream, kick-starting the fight-or-flight response so important decisions can quickly be made.
Two: go completely blank.
After hearing the impossible, incredible, and outright horrifying story told to me by Tabby and Darcy, my brain opts for number two. I stand staring at them, blinking rapidly, my body as numb and lifeless as all the gray matter in my head.
Then blankness turns to denial. I say no more times than I can count.
“I’m sorry, Parker, but it’s true.”
Tabby is subdued now. I suppose admitting my employer had conspired to ruin her lover’s life in history’s most tragic case of mistaken identity, love-obstructing parents, selective obliviousness and revenge romance would put a damper on my spirits, too.
It’s Shakespearean in scope. My mind is simply failing to wrap itself around the truth.
I protest weakly, “Victoria doesn’t even look like Isabel.”
It’s all I can come up with on short notice.
Tabby sighs. “Fifteen years make a big difference. Especially when you’ve grown a few inches, had your nose and teeth fixed, ditched your glasses for contacts, started wearing couture, and started earning millions of dollars a year. And changed your name. And invented an entirely new history for yourself. And—sorry—were supposed to be dead in the first place. It’s no wonder you didn’t recognize Victoria as Isabel. She really wasn’t Isabel anymore.”
I think of the feeling of familiarity I always had around Victoria. The way she’d tuck her hair behind her ear, the way she felt when I held her, the constant sense of déjà vu.
This is crazy. This can’t be happening. I’m having a bad dream.
“Isabel’s mother would never have told me Isabel killed herself just because I broke up with her.” I shake my head. “That makes no sense. It’s too cruel. Why would she do that?”
Tabby and Darcy exchange another of their loaded glances. I instantly know whatever I’m about to hear will be worse than what I’ve heard so far.
Still, when it comes, I’m totally unprepared.
“Because Victoria—Isabel—was pregnant when you left.”
My knees buckle. The room narrows and starts to go black. I feel Connor’s arm supporting me, leading me to a chair, helping my dead weight fall into it, but I can’t feel or hear anything else.
I also can’t breathe, which is inconvenient, because the urge to scream is overwhelming.
Connor rushes to the sink, pours me a glass of water from the tap, rushes back to me and thrusts it into my shaking hand. “Drink,” he orders. His voice booms and bounces around inside my vacant skull. I manage to choke down a few swallows before I lose my grip on the glass. Connor, catlike reflexes on full display, catches it before it hits the floor and shatters.
I manage to gasp, “Pregnant? She had…she had an abortion?”
Tabby does this thing with her face that’s part grimace, part prevomit cringe. “Well…not exactly.”
And the horrible day I’d been having proceeds to get worse.
* * *
“Parker. Say something. What’s going on inside your head?”
Connor’s tone indicates he’s not entirely convinced I’m hanging onto my sanity.
Which makes two of us.
