CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX: BROKEN ONCE MORE TIME.

MEREDITH:

The questions, the flashing of cameras, and the never-ceasing tension made me need some fresh air. To add to that, my stomach ached, rumbling without mercy. Maybe I ate something bad, or it was the aftermath of anxiety. I needed privacy to catch my breath and to release the gas caused by this mayhem. I know, pretty girls don't fart. Well, this one is realistic, and I do. Sorry to disappoint you. But not in front of this large crowd.

Excusing myself had been worse. All eyes were on me, cameras on me, and the door had never seemed so far, with me never approaching it. I wonder how I managed to get there without tripping over. Finally, I was out. The first thing I did was head over to the ladies' and take care of my business. I felt better. Relieved. My clothes crumpled a bit. It wasn't difficult to straighten them out before the full-length mirror in the ladies', adjusting my makeup.

All better, I found my way back to Miles. On my way to the entrance, a young lady who had coincidentally the same outfit as mine bumped into me, splashing her drink over my heels. Luckily, I was quick to jump back, avoiding the substance from getting on my clothes. She seemed pretty drunk. After so many apologies from her, I had to go back to the ladies' to clean the offending scent of alcohol on my heels.

Peering my head into the hall, Miles was still preoccupied with attending to the never-ceasing questions. The longer I stay away, the better it would be for me to meet the end of the conference. Reluctantly, I made one more trip to the ladies', cleaning each shoe with wet paper towels.

Time went by when I finished, and my exit from the ladies' met Miles and the aggressive reporters at the entrance this time. I expected him to make his way to me, hugging and kissing me excitedly like he always does. That wasn't the case. His body language and facial expression told me that there was trouble. When he stormed off, leaving me to fight my way to the car, my concern grew. I was right to have been worried because here we were, my phone in my hand and my eyes overseeing a heartbreaking headline.

Words failed me to explain or coax him to be reasonable. Tears seized. Emotions stalled. For him to think I would give him away to the press was painful. The lack of trust in me was excruciatingly disappointing. Still, I wanted to try again. I wanted to fight for us. For this. Except for Christian, I have never felt someone unconditionally love me like that. With Alan, it was always like I walked on thin ice throughout those seven years. I didn't want to lose Miles. Lose what was mine.

I shut the phone, turned, and faced him completely. He wouldn't even look at me, and the song playing wasn't helping matters. Gathering courage, I reached for his hands, placing my palm over his.

“Miles, how could you think so low of me? Is that how hungry I am for attention? I would never do this to us. To our relationship. I don't know how the news got out, but for you to pin it on me is hurtful. Please. Believe me.”

I strained every word in my sentence, hoping it would reach the core of his heart.

Miles withdrew his hand. He moved away from my reach like I was an infectious disease. He kept his face in a hard frown. So hard you could crack something with it. Without blinking, he tilted his head and stared into my soul.

“Meredith, I want to believe you. But, sitting here, lying when I expected some form of truth from you, makes me hate you more. You are disgusting.”

He scoffed and jerked his head in disappointment. With all seriousness, he said, “we need some time apart. Once we get in, kindly gather your things and leave. I don't care where you go. Just leave and never return.”

Even Brandon felt the heat. I caught sight of him in the mirror, gripping the wheel a bit too tight. He tried to say something but kept quiet because he knew his place.

My heart shattered like I had been stabbed, and my heart plunged out of its place.

“Miles, please, don't --”

“Enough, Meredith. Quit the drama. You are worse than a gold digger. You know how perfect your acting is. How determined you are to trick one's soul. If I hadn't seen you making that call, if I hadn't heard you, maybe I would have been stupid enough to believe you.”

“What call? What are you talking about?” My voice became a high-pitched octave from anxiety.

“You are a terrible person, Meredith. With what you are doing, I never want to see you anywhere near me. You are fired. I am not just taking some time away from whatever we have going on. It is over. Get your shit and leave my fucking house, you whore!”

He stormed out of the car without waiting for Brandon to kill the engine, shutting down whatever I was trying to say. Ignoring whatever apology I had. Whatever defense I was trying to make.

My strength failed me. My will to do anything; move, breathe, or even get out of the car was gone. I found myself sobbing. Tears were running like a stream. Those weren't tears. They were blood from my bleeding heart. I didn't realize how deeply I had fallen for him.

Brandon killed the engine and I heard his door open, but I didn't look up.

“Meredith,” Brandon's stiff voice called out to me, using my first name for the first time. I didn't take note that I wasn't alone, and I wasn't alone in the car.

“Yes?” I whimpered harder, inclining to what he had to say.

“I do believe something is going on. You aren't that type of girl.”

“Thank you for believing me.” It was relieving that somebody knew what I was capable of. Still, it wreaked me more, knowing that the person I wanted to have that faith in me didn't. “Miles doesn't seem to agree with that,” I sobbed, cleaning my eyes with the back of my palm.

“However, I think it is better for you to leave. The girls and I will help you to pack your things. I will drive you to one of our outlets until you can get your own place for you to move in. Maybe the time apart will make things right,” he comforted.

“Sure. Do I have a choice?” I gave Brandon a reassuring smile that I was okay and wasn't going to jump off the bridge. He exited the car but stood still at his door. Following his eyes, he was intensively staring at something, his jaw tickling. His shoulder muscles heaved. What was there?

Running my hand through my hair to make sure I didn't look like a wet raccoon, I opened my side of the door. My eyes immediately saw what Brandon saw, but it didn't make much sense to me. In the driveway, a pink BMW was parked there. Definitely not Miles's usual taste. Was this one of his numerous gifts for me? It didn't matter. The car looked new, but the tires were scratched. Someone reckless must have ridden it.

I tried to take steps toward the house, but Brandon blocked me off. He acted as if he was shielding me from something.

“Miss Tate,” he resorted to a professional demeanor. “I think it is best to take you away now. You can come back to get your things.”

My head bent back. Why was he determined to keep me away from the house? Was there something going on? Was it really Miles's car?

“Brandon, I will be fine. I just need to try again. I need to talk to Miles. I can't leave us like this. I need him to tell me he doesn't want us one more time. If that happens, I will disappear from his life,” I said, with so much pain in my heart.

“You don't understand. Please, just leave.” He opened the back seat for me. “I will drive you.” He was desperate to keep me away. If Brandon was everything I had seen, he wasn't a man of desperation. His eyes never pleaded. His face never showed emotions. Tonight, all those things were showing. His wall of unreadable emotions had been brought down by that pink BMW.

The more he pushed, the more I wanted to get into the house he was keeping me away from.

“Brandon, I can't do that. Don't try to stop me,” I warned, storming toward the entrance. I heard him heave a sigh of disappointment before muttering something to the guys. Nothing made sense to me. Not even my powerful steps to the door.

At once, I flung it open, stepping through the living room to find Miles. What I saw was so unbearable that it would have been better if someone actually shot me in the head. My eyes went wide. My jaw dropped to the floor, and my body shook like I was convulsing. A big lump dominated my throat, making it impossible for me to swallow. My palms became sweaty. Tears blurred my vision.

On the sofa, lying down, was Louis with Miles on top of her, passionately kissing her mouth and fondling her breast. He devoured her like a sandwich he had missed having. She moaned with satisfaction, pleading for more. Their eyes darted at me without breaking their kiss. Still, they ignored me and continued what they were doing. Louis chuckled, giggled, and writhed under him.

This was what Brandon was trying so hard to protect me from. The pain. The pain. Oh, it was too much. Someone, please kill me.

Immediately, I dashed outside, running into Brandon's arms. I hugged him tightly. Thankfully, he didn't pull away. He also didn't touch me. He just stood like a teddy bear, immobile.

“Please,” I shrieked against my tears, “please, take me away. Take me anywhere. Just take me out of here. Please.”

Brandon nodded, leading me to the car. I got in, and he did, driving me away from what was once my life. Something and somewhere I had begun to think more of. Something and someone I thought was here to stay forever. I couldn't make out what hurt more. Him making out with Louis? Or, the fact he didn't believe and trust me? I didn't look back. My hope was for this car to take me to where I wasn't feeling suffocated.

Ignoring Brandon's presence, I let go, shattering like broken glass, screaming out my pain.