Misadventures with My Ex Page 15

“Not as much as she needs to hear my mother can be a lying bitch.” I nudge her aside. “Excuse me.”

  As I approach Eryn, she lifts her chin and finally looks at me. Her eyes flare. I see tears form.

  She turns and darts down the hall. Maybe I should care who’s watching this drama play out. I don’t. I have no idea what’s going on. And that needs to stop.

  The slamming of the door tells me she’s retreated to her bathroom—the one place I’m not supposed to violate her privacy.

  Goddamn it.

  The snick of the lock sets off all my instincts.

  “Open the door, Eryn.”

  “No.”

  “Open the fucking door so you can tell me what’s going on and I can explain.”

  “There’s nothing to say.”

  I hear the catch in her voice. She’s crying.

  “The hell there isn’t.”

  I’m past caring if this will cost me ten thousand dollars and a new door. I kick the damn thing open. Wood splinters. The knob bangs off the opposite wall. The heavy wooden slab hangs lopsided from one hinge.

  And Eryn stands before me looking devastated.

  My chest seizes up as I rush to her side and grab her shoulders. “Whatever my mother told you, it isn’t true.”

  She dips her head. “I want to believe that, but…”

  “But she made it sound good. I know. She has a talent for twisting the truth for her own purposes, but whatever bullshit she fed you on a silver platter…it’s still bullshit, honey.” When Eryn doesn’t respond, I sigh. “Let me guess, I don’t really love you, according to her.”

  She nods.

  “Am I cheating, too?”

  Eryn hesitates. “Probably.”

  “Of course. And?” Silence. “What else? I can’t tell you all the ways she’s wrong if I don’t even know what she’s accused me of.”

  “I need to figure out what’s real and what’s not on my own. And I need to decide what happens next.”

  Next? Whether or not Eryn is going to marry me? The possibility she might not terrifies me.

  “You do.” I want to pull her close so badly, it hurts. But Eryn isn’t braced for that, and she’ll only resist me. “But if you’re going to make up your mind, shouldn’t you hear both sides of the story?”

  Slowly, she lifts her head. I hold my breath, waiting, until our stares meet. There’s that zing between us. Of course I see her hurt and confusion, but nothing dilutes our chemistry.

  “Thank you,” I breathe. “Now tell me… Who am I cheating with?”

  “Olivia Martin. But in the future, it could be any woman who’s in a position to help you and Quaid Enterprises get ahead.”

  Immediately, I see the tactic my mother took. She used my history with Eryn to create a narrative that feeds all of my fiancée’s worst insecurities.

  “I’ve never touched that woman. Olivia Martin is a board member. She came by my office…”

  Over the next ten minutes, I explain everything, including the fact that Uncle Eddie has been consoling her horizontally in the hopes of getting her vote tomorrow.

  “All right. But why were you late tonight?”

  “The latest financial data came in, and it was too good not to include in my presentation. I was in my office alone. You could have called. I would have answered. I would have assured you that I love you. Only you.”

  Eryn’s expression says she’s hearing me…but she’s afraid to believe. On the one hand, it’s frustrating that she’s still so mistrustful. On the other, I’ve worked past her prickly outer shell to the real woman she hides underneath. I’m seeing the broken, scared parts of her she never wants anyone to see. That she’s willing to be vulnerable with me says she hasn’t totally convicted me in her mind. If she had, she would have already packed and left.

  Thank god I still have a chance.

  “Honey, ask yourself this: why would I have tried so hard to win you back if I didn’t love you? If you weren’t the woman I want to spend my life with? If I only wanted someone who could help me or the company get ahead?”

  Finally, she blinks and softens. “I kept asking myself that question. It’s the one thing that stopped me from breaking our engagement and leaving. But you can care about someone and still cheat.”

  With a clench of my jaw, I shake my head. “Maybe other guys can. Hell, maybe my father even did. Is that what my mother told you?”

  “Yeah. She said like father, like son.”

  Clenching my fists, I try to count to ten and hold my tongue. There aren’t enough curse words in the English language to adequately reflect my fury right now. “I was young when my dad died, so maybe it’s true. But I am not him. I wouldn’t do that to you. And we’ve come too far to let my conniving mother come between us again. Did she also tell you that our past breakup was none of her doing?”

  Eryn nods.

  “Yeah, she’s a saint.” I shake my head, anger so close to bubbling over. But I have to continue tamping it down and focus on the woman in front of me, the one I want to love forever. The bitch I wish I could strangle right now will have to wait. “And she somehow made me out to be the lying dirtbag because I didn’t tell you the real reason we started dating, right?”

  “Well, you didn’t.”

  “I own up to that. But my mother wasn’t in the truth-and-virtue camp either, I promise. The only reason she wanted to tell you was because she hoped it would split us apart. If not for that, if she had approved of you as a daughter-in-law, she wouldn’t have given two shits about being honest with you. She would have smiled at the wedding and tried to be your best fucking friend so she could manipulate and control you. Don’t be fooled by her pretty face and innocent act.”

  “Everything she said made so much sense, West. I—”

  “Of course it did. She thought about what she wanted to say before she arrived, and I can almost guarantee it was rehearsed. My mother may seem quiet and ladylike. She can even pull off kind and supportive when she’s really motivated. But she’s like a snake. She sheds her ‘friendly’ skin and turns into a slithering viper when there’s money and power involved.”

  Eryn looks away pensively. “I don’t know what to think. I didn’t want to believe anything she said…but for every objection I had, she—”

  “Had a perfectly logical explanation for why she’s right and I’m an asshole. Honey, she’s only trying to come between us again. Please don’t let her.”

  “I need to think tonight. Be alone.”

  That’s the last thing Eryn needs.

  “I’ve given you time to yourself, and you’re only more confused and upset.” Finally, I take her in my arms. She’s stiff…but she allows me against her body. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

  “Because I want to believe everything you say, and I thought if I watched you and observed, really paid attention to your actions, the truth would become clear.”

  “And it isn’t. Because the vote is tomorrow, I’ve put in a lot of hours at the office this week. That’s stressed you more because the wedding is in thirty-six hours, which didn’t leave you a lot of time to decide what to do. Not knowing if you’ll be speaking vows to me on Saturday or packing your bags and leaving is tearing you up, right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “Wait here.” I kiss her forehead, then dash back through our bedroom and fling open the door.

  Everyone is congregated a few feet away, like they’re waiting for us to emerge. At my sudden appearance, the low tones of their conversation fall immediately silent.

  “Does anyone need anything else tonight?” I ask them.

  No one says a word.

  “Look, help yourself to whatever is in the refrigerator. If you want something substantial, there’s a great restaurant downstairs. Menu is in the first drawer in the kitchen. Put it on my tab. There’s booze in the bar, the TV remote is on the coffee table, and Hayes, there are blankets and pillows in the closet in Echo’s room. I’ll be with Eryn, and
we’d appreciate some privacy.”

  Ella steps forward. “But my sister—”

  “Is mine right now. Good night.” I shut the door.

  That makes me a terrible host, but repairing my relationship with Eryn is way more important than being polite.

  When I turn, Eryn is behind me, arms wrapped around her middle. God, I can’t stand to see her like this. She’s never looked so torn, defeated.

  Fuck this. I refuse to let my mother win again.

  Suddenly, it doesn’t matter that I haven’t eaten in seven hours and I really want a hot shower. I want Eryn happy way more. My own comfort can wait.

  “Come here, honey. Let me hold you.”

  She approaches—slowly, with small steps, swallowing down her nerves.

  “I won’t hurt you,” I assure her.

  “Maybe you won’t mean to.” She blinks up at me, and I see worry and strained hope teeter-tottering on her face.

  God, she has such a hard time believing people won’t shit on her. I could blame her absent parents—and I kind of do—but I have to blame myself, too. She went out on a limb and believed in me three years ago. And I flushed all her trust away. Now my shrewd mother is using my stupidity and Eryn’s own skepticism to drive us apart.

  I cup my bride-to-be’s face. “I won’t at all. Ever. I’m going to be here, be yours, and be faithful. I promise.”

  When I risk kissing her, she doesn’t shy away. A glide of my lips over hers turns into another. Then another. And another still.

  Her little whimper tells me she’s reeling, perched on the precipice of surrender. I hold her tighter and whisper, “I love you, honey. So, so much.”

  Finally, Eryn melts against me and throws her arms around me. Her tears flow as I slowly lay her down, peel her clothes away, and assure her with my words and my body that there’s no other woman for me and I will never let anyone come between us again.

  When I finish making love to Eryn, she’s clinging and sobbing, silently conveying how confused she’s been and how contrite she feels. I kiss her, reassure her again. I hope she wakes up tomorrow determined—happy, even—to marry me on Saturday. But I’m worried she may still be worried and wary, that we’re in danger of hitting a dead end.

  I hold her against me until she drifts off, but sleep eludes me.

  Finally, I throw on a pair of sweat pants, grab my phone, and head to the kitchen. Carson and Ella have retired for the night. Echo and Hayes are sitting in front of my big screen, watching a Thursday night football game. Her head is on his beefy shoulder. He’s wrapped his arm around her petite frame. Their body language is speaking volumes, and I wonder why neither of them seems to be hearing it.

  I grab a protein bar, some baby carrots, and a bottle of water, then stalk to my office, shut the door, and wolf some down as I dial my mother. It’s after eleven, and she’s probably in bed. I don’t give a shit.

  She answers on the first ring. “West. It’s good to hear from you.”

  “Drop the act. Eryn isn’t with me to hear it. What the fuck is wrong with you? I love this woman, and you seem determined to screw me out of marrying her again. Why? Because you didn’t choose her?”

  Miriam laughs. “Nothing like that. Though it would have been nice if you had consulted me.”

  “Why would I ask my mommy who I can marry?”

  “Because I have better taste than you, clearly.”

  Her answer sets my teeth on edge. “Eryn is perfect.”

  “You’re blinded by lust. I guess that means she’s a good lay. Probably creative in bed, too. I’m sure those trailer-park girls are. But I assure you, she’s not perfect. Even Olivia Martin, whom I really don’t like, would be a better choice. At least she could bring something to the marriage.”

  “I’m not marrying Eryn for her money or connections.”

  “Obviously.”

  “That’s not what’s most important.”

  “How naïve of you to think so. You were born into a life of diamonds and champagne. Eryn comes from pennies and beer. Please think bigger and better.”

  “You saying she’s not good enough for me?”

  “That should be apparent, even to you. That table she set for dinner was a joke, West, and you know it. Olivia is only thirty-one, but if you’d like a younger, more suitable wife, James Warren’s daughter just turned twenty. That would help shore up a vote you’re missing on the board. And Blair is very sweet. Attending Vassar. She’ll inherit lots of money. Marrying her could open doors for both you and the company. I bet she’s a virgin, so if you like that kind of thing—”

  “You’re vile. What I want with Eryn is a marriage, not a business transaction. And I have nothing more to say to you until after the wedding. I know you’ll vote for me tomorrow because it’s in your own financial interest. Uncle Eddie would only scheme to get you off the board and out of his hair once and for all. I won’t—unless you force my hand. In return, don’t you dare speak another word to Eryn until I give my permission. And Mom, that may be never.”

  Chapter Ten

  Eryn

  “Morning, honey,” West murmurs as he kisses me awake.

  As my lashes flutter open, he’s above me with a smile. “Hi.”

  “Sleep well?”

  Fitful dreams. Nagging worries.

  “Decent,” I lie. “You?”

  “I always sleep better beside you.” He brushes his lips across my forehead. “I have to get ready for this circus—I mean board meeting—but when I come home…it will be our last night as singles. I think Ella and Echo have some sort of bachelorette party planned. And I’m pretty sure Flynn wants to get me shitfaced.” He rolls his eyes. “Don’t forget to pick up your wedding dress from the dry cleaner this morning.”

  “I did that Wednesday afternoon,” I answer automatically.

  “Excellent. I can’t wait to see you wearing it again, this time as you come down the aisle to be my wife.” With a last kiss to my cheek, he eases out of bed and heads toward the his bathroom on the left side of the master suite. I rise and head for the massive closet in the palatial hers.

  Insecurity still plagues me this morning. I can’t seem to quash all my fears, and I don’t understand why. West and I talked last night. He made love to me tenderly. Afterward, I felt a lot better about us. In fact, I felt sure he loves me and would never hurt me. But when he rolled away to sleep and I closed my eyes, all the doubts came tumbling back.

  I hate sounding like an anxious, overdramatic teenage girl worried about whether the cute guy at school likes her. I need to put this mistrust behind me. What else could West possibly do to prove that he loves and wants to marry me?

  I’m not sure, but I already know logic isn’t going to bury my niggling worries. Maybe our last wedding is haunting me. Three years ago, the day before our nuptials, I thought—with the exception of West’s grandfather having cancer—that everything was perfect. Now, barely more than thirty hours before we’re supposed to exchange I do’s again, I’m nervous as hell. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. In the back of my head, I wonder if I’m making a mistake.

  After sliding into some yoga pants and a T-shirt, I brush my teeth and head to the kitchen for coffee. Echo and Hayes are on the patio, laughing about something. For years, I’ve been waiting for them to realize they’re more than friends. But no. Hayes continues to date a string of skanks, and Echo goes on pretending to be really into skateboarders with a cause. Neither of them ever seems to be in a serious relationship, and I have to wonder why neither looks at what’s right in front of them.

  As my brew drips from the machine, Ella heads straight for me and wraps me in a hug. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “West seemed angry last night.”

  “Not at me.”

  “Oh. Good. Did you two get everything worked out?”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  “That’s not a good response, considering the wedding is tomorrow. Do you want to marry him?” />
  “Yes. But only slightly more than I worry he’ll someday break my heart. I know he loves me…in his way. I just don’t know if that’s enough. He’s always going to be rich and in the spotlight. There will always be women willing to sleep with him for money or their fifteen minutes in the tabloids. Quaid Enterprises will always be toward the top of his priority list because he’s ambitious and thousands of people rely on him to make the company super profitable. He’ll always be the golden boy born with the silver spoon, and I’ll always be the latchkey kid from the strictly middle-class neighborhood. Given all that…are we a recipe for disaster?”

  “I think you two will be great. But you need to decide what you’re going to do quickly. The big day is tomorrow, and—”

  “Says the woman who was deciding whether or not to marry her husband as she walked down the aisle.”

  Ella shoots me a self-deprecating grin. “Do as I say, little sister, not as I do.”

  “Nice.” I pick up the cup of coffee that’s finally finished brewing. “In my shoes, what would you do?”

  “Take a chance.” She shrugs. “First, it worked for me. Second, if you don’t, if you call it off this time, he won’t come back. And I think you’ll always wonder, what if…”

  Yeah, I’ve considered that, too. I’m just not convinced it’s a good enough reason to pledge my life to someone. I take promises seriously. Divorce isn’t something I ever want to experience myself. Obviously, no one does, but growing up I told myself I’d only marry if I was madly in love and truly believed it would last forever.

  Well, I’m madly in love…but I’m not convinced West and I are destined for eternity. Half of the equation is up to him, and all his pretty words aside, I don’t know if he’s being honest. After all, he hasn’t always been honest with me. What if he can’t put our marriage first once the vows have been spoken?

  My sister and I fall silent when Carson emerges from the spare bedroom, kisses his wife, and starts his own coffee. Echo and Hayes dash inside, both looking for a java refill. Conversation about the day starts in earnest. I have a mani-pedi scheduled today, a consult with a makeup artist and hairdresser. And I have to call my parents to tell them I’m getting married. Until now, we’ve kept the event quiet. First, so it didn’t leak to the press. Now because…what if I get cold feet?