Whatever Happens Next (Triplets Book 2)

by Stacy Lane

  “She dates one.”

  “Wow. Awesome.”

  “I’m engaged to Nick. He’s a nobody, and I think he’s just as awesome,” Taytum snips, causing her fiancé to shake with laughter.

  “Nick’s better than awesome. He has no hair. Hockey players have too much,” I grin, leaning a hip on the edge of the table.

  I say leaning as if I did it on purpose, but I actually lost my balance.

  “You like a man with no hair. Good to know,” Trevor says.

  My smile was in place until I realized what Trevor was referring to.

  Gross.

  Is this what I have to look forward to when I start dating? Who says something like that? If we get naked and I notice you’ve manscaped, then yay for me. But don’t tell me about it beforehand. That takes the yay factor away.

  Not that I would be getting naked with this particular man. Between the foul cologne and the pack-a-day voice, that was not ever happening.

  Again. Gross.

  This is where being nice gets me.

  I step over to the small table with our drinks. Trevor follows.

  “Do you know much about hockey, Chelsea?” he asks, sidling up a little too close.

  “I do.” Glass tipped all the way back, I catch the few droplets left in the bottom.

  “Really?” He lifts one eyebrow with a doubtful grin. “How many games have you been to?”

  What does that matter?

  “More than you, I would bet.”

  “Nah. I’m from New York. I grew up with hockey.”

  “I’m Canadian. Does that make us even?” I’ve axed the nice and channeled Jo’s sarcasm.

  “Canadian, eh?” he laughs at himself. I don’t join him.

  Yeah, real original, eh.

  “In my experience, girls like you don’t follow much of any sport.” Trevor’s eyes wander below my neck.

  I’m aware of how I get looked at. Elegant or classy; rich and snooty. I may shop high-end, but that’s not what makes me stylish. I grew up with three sisters, no mom, and a dad that didn’t know the first thing about raising girls. He struggled to keep us fed and clothed. We shopped at thrift stores. My sisters swapped clothes on the regular, and I got the hand-me-downs. That’s how I learned to dress and make a killer outfit come together.

  I’m that ridiculous person who grocery shops at nine in the morning on a Saturday in heels.

  I draw attention. I’m a girly-girl. But I could sweep this douche under the rug with my knowledge of hockey.

  The only problem is I may be too drunk to appeal to the smarts.

  I keep drinking instead. I’m sure Taytum won’t notice some of her's gone.

  Trevor starts talking about himself. Not even pausing when he takes his turn. So when he does finally go silent, I glance at him to see why. My thoughts: Taytum got annoyed enough and threw the eight ball at his groin.

  “Holy shit,” Trevor whispers.

  Damn. I was counting on Taytum, but that wasn’t a painful mutter. More one of fascination.

  “Victor Matthias. Dude, you are so much bigger in person.”

  I go still.

  Vic stands behind me, tall and grisly with his massive beard.

  “Excuse me, I need to talk to my wife,” Vic says to Trevor who jumps away with a stricken expression.

  “Sorry, man. I didn’t know. She never mentioned that.”

  “That’s because we’re separated,” I replied mildly.

  “We’re still married. Even if it’s only for a little while longer.”

  Trevor scrambles away.

  If it were anyone else, I’d be thanking them for saving me from listening to that dweeb another minute.

  “I’m surprised you’re here,” Vic says, closing me in near the wall. It’s his move, a way to control the conversation by cutting everyone else off.

  “I ended our marriage. Not my social life.”

  The pulse in his right temple flares. That’s his tell. Every time I upset him, that vein would start a rapid tick.

  I used to shut my mouth at that point.

  That’s when I cared about doing whatever I needed to make him happy. I don’t care anymore.

  “I didn’t come out here to tell you who you can and can’t talk to,” he starts.

  “That’s exactly what you just did.”

  “You could at least wait until we’re divorced before you hook up with someone. If people find out who you are, it’ll fall back on me.”

  “God,” I laugh with annoyance. “That’s hypocritical considering why I’m divorcing you in the first place.”

  “We were at our end, Chels. If you hadn't caught me with another woman, I would have ended our marriage first.”

  Even in terms of a divorce, he has to make himself feel superior.

  “Well, damn. Guess I should have held out a little bit longer.”

  Vic takes a step closer at my attempt to throw attitude at him.

  Dammit, I want to be strong, but I cower nonetheless.

  “I signed the papers. They’re in the car. Here are the keys. Might as well take it with you now.” Vic slams the key fob down on the table beside me.

  In the settlement, I asked for the car. Not our house here, or the one in Vancouver. Those meant nothing to me. I wanted to start fresh in my own place. But the car, that I demanded.

  When we lived in Vancouver, I had my own car. He would check my miles to make sure the distance matched the places I said I went while he was away for work. Then we moved here, and he didn’t want me to have a car at all.

  My sister drew up the divorce settlement. She said to take him for as much as I can. He cheated on me, he wronged me, he verbally abused me, but Vic didn’t make me live that way. That was my decision to stick around waiting for times to be better.

  I wanted to start over, but not with the help of his money. That would make me feel like he still had a hold over me. Every month that alimony check came in, I would be sent right back to the old times.

  But the car, it was paid for. It was being signed into my name, I would get the insurance, I would pay for the gas. One day when I can afford something else, I’ll trade up. Just like I plan to do with him.

  “How long are you staying at Brooks’s place?” he asks, still towering above me.

  “A couple months.”

  “Don’t overstay your welcome. Brooks is my teammate. It’s not right.”

  “I think we’re done here, Vic,” I say, hating the quiver in my words.

  “Right. You’re not my problem anymore. I don’t know why I ever cared.”

  That’s rich. Looking back, I’m not sure he cared at all.

  “Chels?” Jo’s voice slides through the secluded wall that is Vic.

  I step out from the side, grabbing my purse and car keys off the table. Jo watches me with worry, Brooks standing right behind her.

  “I’m going home,” I say, faking a smile like everything is all right.

  “I’ll drive you.” She steps toward me.

  Waving keys in the air, I dangle the hoop from my finger and reply, “No need to chauffeur me around anymore. I have a car now.”

  “That’s great, but you’ve had a lot to drink. Let me take you back to the apartment.”

  “Oh. Right.” Damn, I do need a babysitter after all.

  Vic scoffs, laughing at me. I feel his disdain until he’s gone, safely inside his pen.

  “I’ll take her.” Alex steps forward.

  Cam stands nearby, too.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to halt the rush of tears flooding my eyes. I’m not embarrassed by Vic making me look foolish. I was used to that. These tears were ones of overwhelming gratitude. Vic came over to bully, but I had an army of supporters waiting to step in and stop him if I needed them to.

  Alex hands his key over to Cam. “My car will be here tomorrow so I won’t need the truck anymore. I can drive Chelsea back to Brooks’s.”

  “Thanks for making me have fun tonight.” I wrap
one arm around Jo and the other around Taytum.

  “This was just a preview. I say we throw you a divorce party next,” Taytum grins.

  I scrunch my face up with distaste.

  “We’ll table it for now,” she adds.

  Jo chuckles. Then goes quiet and asks, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, of course.” I almost believe my false boaster.

  One day his bullying will be a thing of the past. And I’m okay with that hope of promise.

  • • •

  THE CAR SMELLED like Vic. I’m getting it detailed first thing in the morning.

  Well, maybe not first thing. I have an appointment with the toilet bowl when I wake up.

  Alex didn’t speak as he drove us home. Which was fine by me since I could ignore him just the same. My buzz was still going strong, but the quiet ride and the soft music playing at a faint volume did start the beginnings of fatigue. I closed my eyes for a second. Then the car came to a stop in the parking garage below the apartment building.

  “Someone had a fun night.” Roberto, the night guard, whistled when we entered the lobby.

  “Rob, if Victor Matthias ever stops by, I want him immediately turned away,” Alex says from behind me.

  I stop and turn.

  “Yes, sir,” Roberto complies.

  Alex’s sharp gaze meets mine, but he continues on to the elevator.

  Now I’m following behind him.

  “Good night, Roberto,” I smile, passing his desk. I step in after Alex, cuddling up in the corner and laying my head against the cool wall.

  It’s not even his building, and he’s throwing out commands.

  That’s kinda hot.

  Shut up, drunkie.

  Vic will be leaving soon anyway. But I guess Alex banning him was thoughtful. And hot. Dammmmit man.

  “Sorry you had to drive me home because I was too drunk,” I mumble, eyes resting shut and listening to the hum of the elevator pressed against my ear.

  “Chelsea,” Alex’s sharp tone draws my eyes open. “Stop apologizing for every little thing.”

  Since I can’t apologize for that, I close my eyes again.

  “I thought I was imagining things,” he says, voice losing its edge. “I have never seen so much light inside someone as I see in you. Someone who smiles even when everyone else would be falling apart. Someone who can find the good in the worst situations. You glow, Chelsea. But when he’s around or when he’s in your head, the shine flickers out. Talk to someone if you have to, but don’t let Vic steal that away from you.”

  My head slowly lifted as every beautiful word fell from his mouth.

  “Who am I supposed to talk to?” I ask, lost in thought. Just lost, and wondering how Alex nailed it when no one else has.

  “Jo. Your sisters. I don’t know, but I don’t think you should carry the burden that he has put on you.”

  “What about you?” I ask, taking a leap of faith.

  Alex shakes his head. “I’m going to be his boss. I can’t get involved.”

  The doors open. Alex steps off first. I’m lagging behind when I hear him mutter one last thing before leaving me alone in the dimly lit hallway. He strikes another chord. This time proving I haven’t been imaging the chemistry between us.

  But also proving nothing will come from it.

  “I can’t get involved with you.”

  CHAPTER 9

  CHELSEA

  SATURDAY NIGHT I stood outside on the upper terrace of the Tampa River Center overlooking the Hillsborough River. The Labelle charity auction was being held here. The breezy evening air cooled my bare arms as I stared at the docks below, lost in a random thought.

  The hall held many events like this gala. Parties where people abused the open bar and drank beyond their limits. I gazed at the stretch of wood planks, wondering how many of those inebriated people fell into the river.

  A friendly reminder to keep my alcohol intake to a minimum. Not only did I prefer to stay dry, but being extra friendly got me nowhere the other night, and the taste of that hangover was still fresh in my mind.

  Typically I was always gung ho for a party. My day started with working on my first, real client’s home. Cheryl’s sunroom was empty and bright and had me itching to fill with it with relaxing vibes. After all the running around we did, I was exhausted by the time I got home to get ready for the gala.

  Cheryl is a sweet lady, but her style is all over the place. I showed up with the trunk of my car filled with curtains and pillows and rugs in the design scheme she said she wanted. One look and she determined that style wasn’t what she had in mind. We went on a shopping extravaganza for nautical decorations that began to fade into bohemian. I had no problem with mixing styles. My rule was eighty-twenty. One had to dominate more.

  The most natural part of my day was picking out plants. Once I left Cheryl’s, my trunk now full of fabric to make custom curtains, I went home to shower before Jo was set to arrive.

  I styled homes and people today.

  Since the day we bought our dresses for the gala, I had been holding Jo’s shoes hostage. I didn’t trust them not to go mysteriously missing before tonight. She came over to get ready with me so I could do her hair and makeup. Her long, straight strands looked gorgeous down and in waves. I added a crown braid at the top of her head to keep it out of her face.

  My hair was much easier to style. I pinned it back in a low updo, leaving shorts curls out to frame my face. The beauty of all my messy curls was that I could achieve a quick hairdo that seemed like it took me longer than it actually did.

  On top of my bones aching with exhaustion, I sought out solitude almost right after arriving at the event for another reason.

  When Brooks picked up Jo and me, refusing to hear I would drive myself, he caught Alex leaving in time to see him scurrying out of the apartment building carrying his tux. He noted Alex’s odd behavior. Then he stepped on and smashed a green grape beneath his shiny dress shoe.

  As covert as possible, I checked the area in the living room where I startled and spilled an entire bowl of grapes. The man who spooked me was the one who insisted on cleaning them up. He left a straggler behind.

  The spillage incident happened before Brooks got there. I finished our hair and makeup—Jo commenting I collect eyeshadow palettes the way some people collect books—and popped out of my room to grab a snack and a bottle of water.

  Going nonstop, I had no time to eat today. With just us girls at home, I walked out in my mid-length bustier and sleep shorts.

  As far as I knew, Alex was not there. From what he mentioned to his mom the other night, I assumed he was looking at houses. He left that morning before me, carrying a garment bag. My roommate shared none of his whereabouts with me. I told myself it was for the best that we didn’t try to be friends. Except I could not get his words from the other night out of my head. Telling me to confide in someone, hinting that he wanted me, but couldn’t go down that road. So much was unspoken, but I felt those words in the air, floating between us and waiting for someone to grasp them.

  If we had reached with bravery, maybe I would have gotten less sleep for a better reason than I did last night.

  I’m likely too screwed up after Vic to even travel, let alone drive myself down those figurative roads.

  Living with a man I was attracted to was complicated. Too bad Cam wasn’t the brother in need of a place to stay. He was flirty and gorgeously hot, but it did nothing for me. Alex, however, could step into a room with his entire focus on his phone and I trembled as if those fingers typing furiously on the screen were running along my naked skin.

  In the kitchen, I opened the refrigerator for the giant bowl of fresh cut fruit. I only wanted the grapes and started picking them out and tossing them into a small dish to take back to the room with me.

  Bowl in one hand and water in the other, I turned to head back. The bowl was lifted to my mouth, teeth clamping down on a grape when I felt the presence of eyes on me.

 
; My hand with the bowl of grapes went flying.

  Alex stood in the open doorway of the terrace from the living room entrance.

  Teeth clamped around a juicy grape, I slipped it inside my mouth and quickly chewed.

  “I didn’t know you were home,” I said.

  Dropping to the ground, I focused on nothing else but the scattered green blobs everywhere. I had completely forgotten about what little bit of clothing I walked around in. It was the deadly silence and lethal stare from Alex that had me following his gaze.

  My arm flung up to cover my chest to try and hide my indecency. A moot point as my breasts were all but protruding out of the cups.

  The bustier I purchased to wear under my dress was strapless, ivory, and transparent everywhere except my boobs. So technically I was covered. What made me feel exposed was how wonderfully crafted the corset was made to push the girls up.

  “I just got back,” he said, voice deep and husky.

  I pulled away from the smoldering steel in his gaze. Bending forward on my knees, I reached to clean up the mess.

  I had only returned two of them to the bowl when Alex barked, “Leave the fucking grapes.”

  My eyes danced from his pained expression to the fruit. “I can’t just—”

  “Chelsea, for the love of God, leave the grapes. I will pick them up. You…please…go.” Alex shut his eyes, using thumb and forefinger to rub them. To wash away the image of my boobs nearly spilling out of my bra.

  I hustled back to my room with a sneaky smile on my face.

  I ruffled his stiff, well-placed feathers.

  But I’ve been at the party for nearly an hour and haven’t seen Alex once.

  I stepped outside to wander around. Despite my unenthusiastic behavior so far, I did find it invigorating to come to a party like this alone. Flying solo hasn’t dampened my mood in the least. I’m not forced to make small talk or feel pushed to do what someone believes is required of me. There’s no rush to greet the “most important people” so we can cut out early.

  The wind picked up my long skirt as I turned to head inside. The blush pink gown flowed around my legs, a long slit up one side. The sequined, heart-shaped bodice sparkled in the twinkling lights draped around the outdoor patio.