The Love Hater: Chapter 44

My hands shake, creasing the envelope that’s clutched so tightly in my palm that I swear my skin will have nail marks in it by the time I let go.

The elevator doors slide open, and I step out, heading to Sullivan and Molly’s door. A route that’s so familiar, yet feels so alien to me today. This is the last time I’ll come here. Once my signed letter cutting all ties with Liberty Records is received, then that’ll be it.

I will no longer have any reason to talk to Sullivan Beaufort.

And every reason to still love him and his daughter so much that my body physically aches at their loss from my life.

I could have taken the letter to Kyle Drayton. That would have been the sensible thing to do. Sullivan might own the label now, but I don’t know how involved he is with the actual running of it. Besides constructing contracts and tours to get ex-girlfriends out of the city and away from him, that is.

But something told me I had to do this. Delivering this last confirmation that we are over is what I need. A sort of closure, even though I know it’s going to hurt like hell.

I want Sullivan to look me in the eye one final time as I leave his life for good. I need him to understand that even though he did this, that I’m okay without him. That I. Will. Be. Okay.

Taking a deep breath, I reach to knock on the door, but the sound of notes drifting from inside halt me.

He’s playing Chopin’s Funeral March. The foreboding notes ring out like deep bells, signifying the end of something.

His despair seeps through the door like a living breathing entity until my legs go weak and I have to reach out to steady myself.

I clutch the envelope to my chest as I listen. Each note rings out sharply like he’s striking the keys so hard they’re in danger of splintering from his touch. The piece isn’t complete before the notes merge into one another un-ceremonially like they’ve been slammed all at once.

I sink back against the door as silence engulfs the air in a thick cloud.

The only sound is my shallow breaths and pulse in my ears…

…and crying.

Swallowing hard, I turn my ear to the door and strain to hear the faint muffles.

Sullivan’s crying.

It’s barely audible, but it’s real.

My heart flies to my throat and I force back a sob. This isn’t anything to do with me. Whatever he has going on the other side of this door is his private business. He closed me off from being a part of it months ago. If I was ever really a part of it to begin with.

I bend and push the envelope underneath the door, my breath coming in tightly drawn tenses of my lungs. This is nothing to do with me.

I stalk back to the elevator, hitting the button harshly. I wrap my arms around myself, rubbing at the goosebumps that have skittered up over my skin.

The doors slide open, but my feet don’t move.

I whip my head to his door. Maybe it’s Molly. Maybe something happened.

My heart’s in my throat as I race over and scan my thumb to let myself in. Relief sags my chest as it unlocks with a click. He hasn’t shut me out completely. Not yet.

The envelope crumples beneath my feet as I step on it in my haste to get inside. I ignore it, leaving it sitting on the floor like a ruined scrap of something worthless.

“Sullivan?”

I head into the living area, but it’s deserted. The piano sits in silence like a dark, oppressive mass, its stool upended on the floor.

The sounds of choked whispers spills from somewhere close by and I follow it on autopilot until I come to a stop outside Sullivan’s closed office door.

“I’m so fucking sorry. She’s lost her mom now… I can’t do this without you.”

There’s no other voice, only his.

I breathe in slowly and open the door.

Blue eyes meet mine, stealing my breath. As long as I live, I know I will never be able to forget the way he looks in this moment. He’s sitting on the floor, propped up with his back against his desk like he’s collapsed there and doesn’t have it in himself to get up again. He’s wearing his usual shirt and suit pants but lacking the suave sophistication that usually fills out the designer fabric.

It’s like seeing a shell of the man he is.

“Sullivan?”

Tears course down his cheeks and he shakes his head.

“T-Tate? I don’t… I c-can’t…”

I fall to my knees, pulling him to me without an ounce of hesitation. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

His phone drops from his hand, thudding on the plush carpet as he puts his arms around me and grips me hard, sinking his face into the crook of my neck.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, fighting to keep my own emotions from bubbling up at seeing him like this.

Wracking sobs shake his torso, and he falls apart in my arms.

“Molly’s mother is dead. She died of an overdose. I gave her the fucking money. I wanted her gone. And now she is. I took Molly’s mother from her.”

“What do you mean, you gave her the money?”

“She came here looking for Molly. She was drunk and I wanted her as far away as possible. I gave her two million dollars to never come back. And now she never will.” His voice cracks. “I k-killed her.”

“No,” I say with force. “No, you didn’t.”

Sullivan’s told me about Molly’s mother’s addictions. And as awful as this is, he needs to understand this wasn’t his fault.

“Sullivan? Look at me,” I urge.

He pulls back and the broken man I see makes my heart bleed for him.

“I didn’t know that’s what she’d do. But I should have. I should have seen it coming. I should have protected Molly from this happening.”

“You did protect her,” I say, begging him to believe me. “You could never have known what would happen. You were doing what was best for Molly at the time.”

His face crumples. “Her mother’s gone, Tate.”

“And I am so, so sorry about that,” I say, meaning every word. I know Sullivan never forgave Molly’s mom after the way she abandoned her. But she’s still her mother. This must be a horrible shock for him.

He crushes himself against me even tighter, and I stroke his heaving back as he struggles to catch his breath.

“I’m supposed to protect her,” he utters.

“You do,” I soothe, reaching up to stroke the hair at the nape of his neck. “No one loves and protects her like you do. You’re an amazing father.”

My words cause him to suck in a sharp breath, and he pulls away from me.

“I’m not.”

Any remaining light in his eyes extinguishes as he looks at me. My heart breaks for him. No matter what’s happened between the two of us, I can’t stand by and not feel like my soul is falling apart seeing him like this.

“Sullivan,” I plead softly. “Don’t do this to yourself. You told me Natasha had her struggles. This isn’t your fault. She chose to go down that path a long time ago.”

“Don’t make excuses for me, Tate.” He blinks away lingering tears, his eyes taking on a cold detachment. “This is on me. I failed.”

“You didn’t fail.” I search his eyes, begging him to see what I do, what everyone does. A loving father who will always put his daughter first.

He breaks my gaze and reaches for his phone. I sink onto my heels in front of him, not wanting to move any further away, because despite him regaining his composure momentarily I can see he’s dancing on a knife’s edge of losing it again.

I know him better than he thinks, and I can see when it’s taking everything in him to hold it together.

His brow furrows as he unlocks his phone and hands it to me. As I close my fingers around it, our skin touches and a bolt of energy bites me low in my stomach.

“Call it.”

“What?”

“Call it,” Sullivan repeats.

“Call what?” I look down at the phone, but only the screensaver image of Molly in her bunny onesie with a big grin looks back at me.

“You know what.”

Something about Sullivan’s voice makes my stomach sink. I open up his call history. The number with no name is listed line after line, filling the screen.

“I know you’ve seen me call it. But you’ve never pushed to know who it is. If you had, I’d have lied to you about it, anyway.”

His eyes are on his phone as I look up at him in shock.

“You’d have lied?”

He grimaces. “I wouldn’t have had any other choice.”

My throat thickens and I hover my thumb over the number.

“Call it, Tate,” he urges in a hoarse whisper. “I don’t have to lie to you anymore.”

A stupid, small part of me wondered if this was a number for another woman. It was a fleeting thought, probably brought on by Brandon cheating on me. But I never thought that was something Sullivan would do. Not with the way things were between us.

But then he left that key out for The Lanceford for me to see.

Maybe we were always more to me than we ever were to him.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

“You will.” He reaches over and presses the number for me, lifting my hand to my ear as the phone connects the call.

“Hey, you’ve reached Slade. I’m probably jumping out of a plane right now and freaking out my brother. But if you leave a message, I’ll call you back.”

Sullivan holds my gaze as the message ends. Emotion swirls in them as I end the call.

“He sounds just like you, only…” I swallow down the word happy before it leaves my lips.

“Younger?” Sullivan quirks a brow, and that small, simple hint of himself shining through his grief is a lifeline I want to cling onto for dear life.

“Three minutes and fourteen seconds younger. Although Slade would talk about it like I was ancient compared to him some days. Especially because I didn’t share in his thrill around taking unnecessary risks.”

A rare, bittersweet smile forms on his lips before he frowns at the phone.

“I’ve paid my dead twin brother’s phone bill for almost three years, just so I can hear his voice and leave him messages he’ll never return.”

“Sullivan,” I breathe.

He stares back at me with shining eyes, his neck contracting like he’s trying to hold back the onslaught of thickness that comes to your throat before you cry.

“I don’t want to not hear his voice anymore,” he confesses quietly.

I reach for his hand and intertwine my fingers with his. The warmth of them brings back a rush of memories that I push down straight away. This isn’t about us right now.

“It’s okay if you need to call it. No one’s saying you shouldn’t. There is no right way to grieve. And you can trust me. I would never tell anyone about this. You don’t need to worry about that.”

“Tate,” he murmurs with a sad smile. “That’s not why I didn’t tell you who I was calling.”

“It isn’t?”

“No.”

He strokes my hand with his thumb. Back and forth. Slow and gentle. Calm and in control. Barely.

I study his face. Study the deep frown lines that are back on his brow. Study the way his cheek clenches and his eyes pinch like it physically pains him to consider the words he’s about to say.

“Natasha left Molly on my doorstep with a note,” he says in a thick, measured voice. “And even though she walked away from her own daughter, I’ve spent every day terrified of the thought that she could come back and take her away again.”

I hold back my argument of him being her father and Natasha not being able to just walk back into Molly’s life and do that. Sullivan knows as well as I do that he has the means to protect Molly legally. But knowing it, and keeping the faith in it, are two different things.

Instead, I squeeze his hand in reassurance, and after a beat he squeezes mine back.

“I was terrified. It would keep me up at night, thinking of all the ways it could happen. As long as my family supported me, and I stayed strong, the chances were kept to a minimum. But then…”

“But then?”

He looks straight into my eyes. “Then I met you.”

“Me?”

“I haven’t been in a relationship since the day Molly came into my life and Claudia left it.”

“I don’t understand what that’s got to do with me.”

“It has everything to do with you.” He shakes his head. “For the first time Molly was at risk because I met someone who I didn’t want to lie to. I met someone who I allowed myself the indulgence of picturing a future with. I let myself imagine how you’d look the day we got married. I let myself dream about you taking my hand and putting it on your stomach so I could feel our baby moving inside you. I let myself hope, Tate. I knew better, yet I still did it anyway. Everything I put you through as a result is my fault, because I was selfish.”

“Are you saying you were lying to me? Sullivan…?” I press when he says nothing.

He blinks, fresh tears escaping from his lower lids.

“She’s not mine,” he whispers. “Molly isn’t mine.”

His grip tightens on his phone, drawing my attention to it again. Suddenly the magnitude of his grief takes on a new, deeper significance.

“She’s—?”

“Slade’s,” he confirms in a husky breath. “She’s my brother’s. He died, never even knowing she existed.”

He taps something into his phone, then turns the screen toward me. I’ve seen photos of his brother before when I searched Sullivan up online. But they were press shots, and ones taken at business events. The one Sullivan’s showing me is of the two of them sitting together with drinks in their hands and the sunset behind them, painting the sky a vivid orange. Slade’s hair is longer and his physique more muscular, but he still looks so much like Sullivan and vice versa.

Twins.

“The last photo of us. He died the following day.”

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, knowing nothing I can say will help.

Sullivan winces as he studies the image. “They say losing a child is one of the hardest things to endure. And I’d have argued that losing a twin was on the same level. He was my brother. I was created from the same cells as him,” he chokes. “But then Molly came along, and I became a father. And despite missing him so much that I didn’t want to wake up some days, I understood. Losing a child really is the worst thing someone could endure. And every time I saw Natasha’s name flash up on my phone, I wondered if that was the day I’d finally lose everything.”

“I had no idea,” I say, unable to stop my own tears from falling.

“Molly gave me a reason to keep going. It’s like Slade brought her to me the exact moment I needed her. I was so close to giving up. And I swore the second I read Natasha’s note telling me she was his, but that now she heard he was dead that Molly was my problem, that I’d protect her with my own life. She’s family. She’s his. And that means she’s mine too. I wouldn’t have survived without her.

“I’ve never been able to understand how a parent can abandon their child like Natasha did. She left Molly with me. With a stranger.”

“You’re not a stranger,” I say, cradling his face so he’ll look at me. “You’re her daddy.”

“I’m…” He blinks at me before screwing his face up and sobbing.

I pull him to me again, wrapping my arms around him. Although this time it isn’t only Sullivan who’s crying, it’s me too.

“She’s lucky to have you. I’ve never met such a loved little girl. Such an amazing little girl. You’ve done an incredible job.”

“Thank you,” he whispers.

I pull back and look into his eyes. My heart’s beating so deeply that I feel it through every fiber of my body.

“You’re an amazing father,” I breathe.

I run the pads of my thumbs over his damp cheekbones. He’s always been a beautiful man. But now, with fragments of his soul laid bare in the remaining tears coating his dark, thick lashes, he’s breathtaking.

I lean closer and press my lips to his in a gentle kiss. His breath stutters, and he kisses me back softly. Tenderly. So heartbreakingly gentle.

“I couldn’t give you what you deserved, Tate.” His soft words mix with our slow, light kisses. The kind of kisses that you know can’t go any further, but yet you aren’t strong enough to hold back from giving, because they spill from you like whispered promises and shared secrets.

Carrying the weight of everything with them.

Sullivan rests his hands on my hips as I position myself in his lap and continue to stroke his face and press delicate kisses to his mouth.

“DNA tests will show that I’m Molly’s biological father because we were twins. Natasha knew the results coupled with her behavior meant she would never get near Molly without getting herself clean first. But for me to have a future with someone it would have meant telling them the truth. It’s why I kept away from relationships. Only my family know the truth. I lied to Claudia and told her Molly was mine because of the way she reacted when we found her. And I decided I would never fall in love, because it would mean I’d have to tell someone the truth. I’d have to trust them. And if something happened one day. If they changed their mind and decided bringing up another woman’s daughter was too much for them, like Claudia did, then it would be Molly who paid the price. My word against Natasha’s was one thing. But the possibility of someone else knowing and telling someone? Having people look into it and ask questions? It could have meant me losing Molly forever if the truth had come out.”

“And yet, somehow you still think you’re not an amazing father,” I say through tears. “Everything you do is for Molly. I understand that. And I admire it. I grew up with just my dad looking out for me for most of my childhood, remember?” I take a deep breath and look him straight in the eye. “All those decisions you’ve made for Molly… It’s okay to have made them. Every single one.”

The breath leaves his chest in a sob.

“It’s okay,” I repeat gently.

He pulls me to him, and our lips crush together in a single, bruising kiss before he rests his forehead against mine.

“I had to ID Natasha. I had to⁠—”

“Shh.” I kiss him again.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way.”

“It’s okay,” I whisper.

“I wanted to trust you so much, Tate. More than anything, I wanted it to be different with you. I used to keep everyone from getting close to me.” He winces. “I had a hotel suite and… the only time I’ve been there since we met was to be alone. And I hated myself more than ever when I went. I never want to set foot in it again. I… wanted to trust you…”

I press a finger to his lips. “You could have trusted me. But we’ll never know how things might have been now, because you didn’t.”

He pulls my hand away, his pupils flaring. “I was too scared to try. It could have blown up in our faces. I’ve woken up thinking it’s just another day, and then witnessed my life get torn apart in front of me and been unable to do a fucking thing to stop it. I’ve seen destruction. I’ve lived in nightmares.”

“And I’m so sorry that you have. I really, truly am. I’m not saying it to be hurtful. It is what it is. And I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

“I had to protect Molly at all costs. And I was scared of what it would do to me if you left. Even if you never told anyone. Just the thought of you leaving us, I…”

I kiss him again, silencing the wounded noise that rumbles from deep inside his chest.

It’s heartbreaking seeing him like this. But it finally makes sense. Why he pushed me away like he did. Why he told me he couldn’t love me the way he wanted.

Why he encouraged me to walk out of their lives and live my own.

It all makes sense. But answers don’t make it any less tragic.

I pull back and look into his bloodshot eyes. “When did you last sleep properly?”

“The last time you were here,” he confesses in a voice so quiet I swear my heart disintegrates.

I stroke back the dark hair from his eyes.

“We should do something about that.”

It’s growing light outside, spilling a thin crack of sunshine through the drapes in Sullivan’s bedroom. I press a kiss to his forehead, making him stir. His exhaustion won over the moment we climbed onto his bed. He’s still wearing his shirt and suit pants.

Nothing happened.

He spent the night sleeping with his head resting on my chest.

I spent the night awake, watching him frown and mutter as his dreams tormented him like demons in the dark.

“Tate?” he murmurs sleepily, his arm tightening around my waist.

I check my watch. It’s almost six a.m.

“It’s okay,” I soothe, extracting myself from his grip and climbing gently from the bed.

He looks at me. I smile softly and he smiles back. But neither of us speak.

There’s nothing to say. Not right now.

Sullivan told me the truth, because Natasha died, and he was freed of the fear of her taking Molly. I meant every word I said about understanding why he chose to do things the way in which he has.

But it doesn’t make it any easier.

He’s told me the truth because now he can.

And as freeing as that might be. It’s also made something else glaringly obvious.

Sullivan Beaufort needs to grieve. For his brother, his mother.

And for Natasha.

It’s hit him hard that Molly’s mother is gone. She might have been a terrible one, but while she was alive there was a possibility that she could turn things around. That she could sort her life out and be a healthy and valuable part of Molly’s life.

As much as Sullivan won’t admit it, even to himself, I believe a small part of him hoped that one day Molly might have had a relationship of sorts with her mother.

Because he’s a good man. And an amazing father.

And right now while wounds are fresh I could be a distraction that keeps them open and bleeding.

He needs his family right now. And that’s not me.

“Can we…” He clears his throat. “Can Molly and I see you again soon?”

I look back at him from the doorway.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Can you? Are you ready for that after everything?”

His silence as he looks back at me still steals the air from my lungs even though I expected nothing else.

“It’s okay,” I reassure him. “I’m not sure I’m ready either.”

I open the door.

“Tate?” he calls.

I swallow, not turning around.

“I’m sorry.”

I swallow past the thick lump in my throat, my eyes burning.

“I know. Me too,” I whisper.