The First Rule by Nicole S. Goodin

19

Darcy

Jacob lookedat me like I was pathetic when I told him that I wouldn’t be sharing the master bedroom with him like I used to, but he didn’t put up a fight as I wheeled my suitcases down the hall to one of the guest rooms.

I guess he doesn’t really give a shit what happens behind closed doors. This whole thing is about public appearances after all – he likely doesn’t want to share a bed with me any more than I want to share one with him. And thank God for that; the thought of laying my head next to his makes me want to jump off the balcony.

I close and lock the door behind me and flip one of my suitcases on its side. I took one of Ryan’s t-shirts, the one he was wearing yesterday. I couldn’t help myself. I needed a part of him with me.

I grab it out and bring it up to my nose, inhaling deeply. This might have been a mistake. It smells like him and that makes me want to cry. I’ve been reduced to sniffing his clothes when only last night I had the real thing next to me.

There’s a knock at my door, but I make no move to answer it.

“I’m going to work.” Jacob’s voice comes from the other side. That’s all he says before I hear him walk away.

That’s it. He doesn’t care if I need anything. He doesn’t care if I’m hungry or comfortable. He doesn’t care about me at all.

And he never will.

I curl up in a ball on the bed as sobs begin to rack through my body. I’ve never hurt like this before.

Jacob leaving me at the altar was nothing compared to this. I don’t need tequila to feel numb this time – I feel numb all over, as though I’ve been detached from reality.

I feel like my entire world has been ripped out from underneath me. Everything that made me smile... everything I loved is gone. Everything except this baby.

I rub my stomach and feel as the baby moves around inside me. “It’s just me and you now, Peanut.” My voice is hoarse from all the crying, but the tears haven’t stopped, they’re still flowing freely down my cheeks, and I doubt they’ll stop anytime soon. I have nothing worth stopping for.

My phone rings, and I roll over to see who’s calling. It’s Steph, but I’m not sure I can face her right now, so I let it go to voicemail.

She’s probably calling to tell me about breaking one of her newly painted nails, or about how loud Mark snored last night, and I don’t have the energy to care right now. I don’t even have the energy to pretend to care.

The ringing stops and then starts again immediately.

I ignore that too.

A text comes through

Steph: What the fuck is going on?

Steph: I went to your house to drop off that bag you wanted.

My heart sinks.

If she went to the house, then she would have seen Ryan. I can’t even imagine how he would have looked – how completely broken he would have been.

Another text comes through.

Steph: Call me now before I call the police.

I groan and hit call. Talking to anyone is the last thing I want to do, but I know Steph and I know she’s not kidding. She’d have the police around here, banging the door down within the hour, and I doubt that would please Jacob.

He lectured me the entire drive over here about the perfect little wife I needed to be, the minute I set foot outside of the door. The idea makes me sick. I wonder what he’d do to me if I just flat out refused to leave the apartment. I hate being stuck inside, but it’s certainly preferable to pretending I can stand the sight of him.

She picks up after only one ring. “Are you okay?” she demands.

“I’m okay,” I reply through a fresh wave of tears.

“Oh, D,” she says, her tone compassionate. “Talk to me. What the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Start with why you left the man of your dreams broken in a heap on the floor.”

Pain shoots through my chest at her words. I hate that I’ve hurt him. I know how much this will be killing him.

This is all my fault – if I could take his pain as my own, I would, but unfortunately that’s not the way the world works. People like me and Ryan... good people, we don’t win. We just get ruined by the Jacobs of the world.

“I didn’t have a choice,” I reply.

I don’t know what to tell her. Jacob didn’t give me instructions on how to handle my friends. I don’t know if I’m meant to tell her the nonsense public version of events, the one where we had some time apart, but couldn’t cope without the other... the one where our unborn baby brought us back together... or if I’m meant to tell her the truth and swear her to secrecy.

“Darcy Shearer, I swear to God, if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on right this minute, I’m going to get Mark and his friends to come over to that palace and take you out of there, and if you think security cameras and guards will stop them, you’d be wrong.”

Part of me wants to let her do it – because I know damn well she isn’t kidding, and much like Liam Neeson’s character in Taken, Mark and his ex-Secret Service buddies all have a ‘particular set of skills’. But I know damn well that won’t last. I’m not going to go into hiding with this baby. If Jacob wanted to find me and bring me back again, he would. So, I’m stuck here.

The least I can do is be honest with my best friends. I know they won’t talk – not when they know what’s at stake. So that’s exactly what I do. I spill everything... every last detail to Steph.

I’m bawling again by the time I’m done.

I didn’t know I could cry this much.

“Oh, D...” I can’t be sure, but I think she’s crying too. “I could kill that cunt.”

I snort a laugh. I hate that word, it’s not one I approve of, but in this particular situation I think it’s fitting.

I sniff. “I don’t think Mark and his friends would approve of you doing that.”

I’m not actually sure that’s true. I get the feeling Mark has lived through a lot of things that would keep people up at night, but the last thing I need is Steph getting any outrageous ideas. She’s already obsessed with murder documentaries; I hate to think what tips she might have picked up.

“What are you going to do? He can’t just leave you locked up in a gilded cage.”

“He can and he will. I guess I just have to wait it out. Maybe one day when he’s taken control of the business, he might let me go. I’m sure he’s only doing this for his father’s approval. He wants the CEO role more than anything, and Conrad is all about appearances.”

“He does realise this is real life, right? This isn’t some movie where you can keep women as slaves.”

“I’m not sure he cares.”

“You could go to the media,” she suggests after a few beats.

I don’t have the heart to tell her that she’s not likely to come up with any lifesaving scenario that I haven’t already thought of, because I’ve thought of them all and still managed to come up empty.

“He’d just take me to court,” I reply.

“You know, there’s nothing to say they’d side with him. You’re the mother – and no one can debate that... that baby is going to be coming out of your hoo-hah.”

“The best I could hope for is joint custody. That means leaving my baby alone with a man who I’m willing to bet doesn’t actually want anything to do with him or her. I’m not doing that, Steph. Where this baby goes, I go. Even if that means being miserable for the rest of my life.”

She’s quiet for a long time. I can just hear her moving around quietly.

“I still say we off him,” she finally says.

I laugh. It’s all I can do. I’m afraid if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry, and God knows I’ve done enough of that already.

* * *

“Jesus,is it like this everywhere you go?” Freya demands as she glares out the window at the photographer that followed us all the way from the car to the door of the restaurant.

It’s not always like this at all. Jacob and I only used to get photographed at public events or parties, but ever since I moved back into his apartment two weeks ago, I’ve had cameras hot on my heels every time I’ve walked out the door.

It’s ridiculous. I know damn well that Jacob is behind this – in fact, I’d be surprised if he isn’t paying these photographers out of his own pocket. At the very least, he or his minions are tipping them off.

Images of me and my noticeably expanding bump have graced the pages of four of the most popular gossip columns this past week alone.

I don’t know why anyone gives a shit. I’m a nobody, and Jacob sits behind a desk all day. I bet if he were ugly, no one would care less. Unfortunately, he’s far from ugly – on the outside at least – and the women of this city are eating this shit up.

Apparently, people go nuts for a ‘second chance love story’.

The idea makes me want to puke. I just hope like hell that Ryan isn’t seeing any of this garbage.

“Don’t get me wrong, D, I like being the centre of attention, but that shit is too much, even for me.” Steph flips her hair over her shoulder before sending the middle finger to the woman with the giant camera who will no doubt sit and wait for us to come back out.

“I told you we should have got food delivered to the apartment,” I mumble as we slide into a booth, as far away from the front window as possible.

“We shouldn’t have to,” Freya argues. “Does she just wait around all day, waiting for you to do something?”

“Her or someone else. The other day I was craving bagels and when I came out onto the street there were five of them just sitting around. I went back inside. Still haven’t had my bagel.” I pout. It’s about the only thing I’ve actually been excited to eat.

“You look like you haven’t had anything. Are you gaining weight? I swear you look thinner in the face.”

I shrug. “I eat when I remember. I’m not really hungry most of the time... I forget. I’m sorting it out.”

I know that it’s not good, but it’s true. My appetite has virtually disappeared these past couple of weeks to the point where I can go an entire day without eating and not even notice.

Thankfully, I had a doctor’s appointment yesterday and she knocked some much-needed sense into me. My baby can’t grow without the nourishment I provide. I know this, but I’ve fallen so deep into this depressive hole, that I’m not sure it had really registered until I heard someone say it out loud.

I set two-hourly reminders to eat in my phone’s calendar as soon as I got out of the appointment.

I have to admit, I do feel better today than I have in days.

Steph and Freya exchange a look. “I’m ordering you two of everything,” Steph tells me, her tone leaving no room for argument. Not that I’d bother. I don’t care anymore.

I’ll eat if they tell me to eat. I’ll do what they tell me I should do. It’s no different with Jacob. I’m basically a trained monkey at this point.

“Did you get a dress?” Freya asks me softly, her hand landing gently on my arm.

I shake my head. “I can’t find anything suitable to fit over this bump, and I don’t have enough time to get something made.”

“What do you need a dress for?” Steph questions.

“Jacob wants me to go to the business awards ceremony with him.”

“Have you tried that little store we went to last summer?” Freya asks at the same time that Steph says, “Tell him to shove it up his arse.”

That gets a small smile out of me. My two best friends are polar opposites sometimes.

Freya ignores Steph and carries on, “I’ll take you there after this, the saleswoman is the best. She always knows what looks best on someone’s body type.”

I nod.

I can’t think of anything worse than attending this awards ceremony with Jacob, but I know I’ll do it. He’ll make my life hell if I don’t.

I’m entirely at his mercy and he knows it.

“Darcy.”

I’m pulled from my thoughts by Freya shaking my arm and saying my name for what I’m guessing isn’t the first time.

“Mmm?”

“She wants to know if you’d like a drink?” She points at the waitress standing next to me, whose presence I hadn’t even noticed.

I’d kill for a huge glass of wine right now, but of course, I’m in no state to be indulging. “Just water for me, thanks.”

The waitress disappears again, and I see Steph and Freya exchange glances again. They’re having one of those ‘no words’ conversations, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the subject is. Me. They’re worried about me.

I don’t blame them.

I’m worried about me too.