Second Chance with Her Billionaire

by Therese Beharrie

  She laughed softly, too tired to fight off her first instinct. ‘So of course you’re going to ask me about it.’

  ‘I didn’t say I was going to be polite,’ he said with a sly half-smile. It faded. ‘Are you okay?’

  She heaved a sigh, pulling the hat from her head and patting her hair. ‘Yeah. It’s just been a hard day.’

  He frowned.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You...answered me.’

  ‘Don’t act so surprised, Montgomery,’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘You asked me a question; I answered.’ Then she realised what she’d said. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to call you that.’

  ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I didn’t say I didn’t like it.’

  ‘Oh.’

  There was a pause, and thankfully she didn’t have to fill it when they reached the table. They were forced to sit in the only two vacant seats at the end. Her parents had wanted to sit next to one another at all meals, so they’d hired a long, rectangular table that extended wide enough in breadth for two seats to be at the end.

  It was fine for them, since they were the anniversary couple. Though they probably regretted the decision now, she thought, taking in the tension between her parents. The seats were even more awkward for two ex-spouses. Especially after one spouse dropped a bomb on the other.

  ‘I am surprised though,’ Wyatt said after a moment, speaking quietly so that the guests closest to them wouldn’t hear. ‘You’ve been more cryptic this weekend than ever before.’

  ‘And you thought I wouldn’t be honest because of it?’

  He gave her a look. ‘The very definition of cryptic contradicts honesty.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure cryptic means obscuring the truth. That’s not the same as not being honest.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  His eyes pierced through her. It was as if he knew about the conversation she’d had with her mother. As if he knew she’d realised keeping the truth from someone was the same as lying to them. But did he know that she’d kept something from him? Did he know about the affair? And how it had contributed to the end of their marriage?

  For a second, she panicked. It took a long few minutes to realise she was overreacting. Her mind slowed down, giving her a moment to figure out what was happening.

  When she’d asked for the divorce, she’d told Wyatt she needed to focus on her business. She hadn’t mentioned that she’d much rather focus on their marriage. That she would have loved if he’d focus on it, too. But beyond asking her if she was sure, Wyatt hadn’t done anything to indicate he wanted to fight for their marriage. In fact, he’d accepted the divorce so easily it was almost as if he’d...expected it.

  Because of the pre-nuptial agreement he’d insisted on even though they’d eloped, things had been tied up fast. Just as quickly as Summer had found herself being a wife, she had been a divorcee.

  ‘I don’t think we should talk about this here,’ she said quietly.

  ‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Why talk about it here when you can postpone it till later and hope I forget?’

  ‘I won’t forget,’ she promised. He looked at her. ‘I haven’t forgotten about the comment you made earlier about your parents.’

  Wyatt’s face immediately tensed. ‘I didn’t mean anything by that.’

  ‘Now who’s not being honest?’ she asked lightly.

  ‘Not fair.’

  ‘I thought we already agreed things between us weren’t fair?’

  The waiter interrupted his answer by pouring them both a glass of champagne. Before he left, she got his attention.

  ‘Sorry—is this non-alcoholic?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘Could you bring us some?’ she asked easily. ‘Two glasses, please.’

  ‘Of course.’

  The waiter slipped away, and she looked back at Wyatt. There was gratitude in his eyes, but before he could say anything, one of her mother’s friends, Pamela, who was sitting to their left, leaned over.

  ‘No champagne for you, Summer?’

  Summer smiled. ‘Not today, no.’

  ‘Any specific reason?’

  ‘Like what?’ she asked, frowning.

  Pamela couldn’t possibly know that she’d asked for non-alcoholic drinks because Wyatt’s mother had been an alcoholic and he preferred not to drink. She hadn’t wanted him to do it alone. It was always less conspicuous when two people weren’t drinking, as opposed to one.

  ‘Well, dear...’

  Pamela’s face turned knowing. After a few more minutes, Summer realised what she was talking about.

  She burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh, heavens no,’ she said between peals of laughter. ‘No, I’m not pregnant.’

  ‘I don’t see what’s so funny about it.’ The woman sniffed. ‘You and Autumn are at that age where—’

  Summer immediately stopped laughing. She had to stop herself from growling, too.

  ‘I don’t think that’s appropriate to say,’ Summer said with a stiff smile. ‘Our childbearing abilities are no one’s business but ours and the people we choose as our partners.’

  Pamela blinked, her face splitting into a polite smile though her eyes were both embarrassed and annoyed.

  ‘Of course, dear. You and Wyatt have seemed so close these last two days. And now both of you aren’t drinking... I thought he wasn’t drinking in solidarity.’

  ‘Easy mistake to make,’ Wyatt interjected, speaking for the first time. He sent her a look: Let me handle this. ‘Summer and I made the decision not to drink when we were married, it’s true. But since we’ve fallen into a friendship and the habit has stuck.’

  There was a brief pause, during which Summer noticed they’d caught the attention of the couple sitting opposite Pamela. The Van Wyks were old school friends of her father’s, who were apparently also interested in her childbearing state, taking their disappointed faces into account.

  ‘I swear I saw you drink a glass of champagne at the picnic,’ Mrs Van Wyk said with a shake of her head.

  ‘Really?’ Wyatt offered her his most charming smile. Summer was willing to believe anything he said next herself. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Oh, yes. She took the bottle—’

  ‘You know,’ Summer said, deliberately taking the baton in the imaginary relay race she and Wyatt were running. He had more to lose than she did. ‘It’s entirely possible that I am pregnant.’

  She nudged Wyatt’s shoulder with her own, trying not to laugh at the expression on his face. ‘Friends sometimes do favours for other friends,’ Summer added, winking at Pamela, since she’d asked the intrusive question in the first place. ‘Anyway, we’ll know in about two weeks. That’s when I’m supposed to get my period.’

  Summer made sure her face was perfectly pleasant and innocent, ignoring the shocked faces of her listeners. Saving them all from having to speak, the waiter arrived with two new champagne glasses, which he filled with the non-alcoholic champagne before removing the other glasses from the table.

  Summer stood then, because, for the life of her, she wanted to make her mother feel good if only for that moment. It was a bonus that it meant the people around her would stop prying into things that were none of their business.

  She picked up her fork, did the cliché tap on her now non-alcoholic glass of champagne, and prepared to give a toast.

  * * *

  She was amazing. Somehow, Summer had managed to put someone in their place politely, ensuring that they would never ask her—or anyone else, he bet—the dreaded When are you having children? question again. She’d also managed to refer to friends with benefits, sex, and her period while she did, all the while being perfectly respectful.

  She absolutely deserved being called amazing.

  He sat back as she clinked her glass, noting the way her fingers gri
pped the stem and knife tightly. It told him she didn’t want to be giving a toast, and made him wonder why she was.

  ‘Thank you, everyone,’ Summer said with a smile that made her look as if she were a harmless little kitten.

  Personally, he missed the claws.

  ‘We’re all here to celebrate my parents’ anniversary. Thirty years together, no less.’ She paused. ‘Normally, I would leave this kind of thing to Autumn. Oh, don’t pretend to be surprised by that,’ she told the guests, and they laughed. ‘We all know who the more charming sister is.’

  Another wave of laughter went around the table, though Wyatt didn’t see what was funny about it. He was perfectly charmed by Summer.

  ‘But I couldn’t let the second day of our celebration go by without at least saying on behalf of all of us—particularly from my sister and me—congratulations, Mom and Dad. Your love for one another is beautiful.’

  She looked directly at her parents. Though his gaze had been on her before, Wyatt now looked at Lynette and Trevor. Both of them looked more touched than such a toast should have warranted, though there was tension there, too. He couldn’t explain any of it, yet Wyatt wasn’t surprised.

  ‘Here’s to another thirty years.’

  Summer lifted her glass, tilted it towards her parents, and sipped. Everyone at the table followed. Summer lowered back into her chair and let out a shaky breath. She immediately looked around, but the rest of the guests had turned their attention elsewhere. Except for him, of course, and she rolled her eyes when their gazes met.

  ‘Glad that’s over with.’

  ‘So I see.’ He angled his head. ‘This is hard for you.’

  She swallowed. ‘Well,’ she said with a strained smile, ‘I wouldn’t have minded some alcohol.’

  ‘Why?’ he asked, ignoring her comment. ‘Why is this hard for you? I’ve never seen you struggle like this before.’

  ‘I—I’ve never struggled like this before,’ she admitted. ‘At least not for other people to see.’

  The sincerity, the pain in her eyes made him want to know more almost as much as he wanted to change the subject. Because he was keeping that as the question he wanted to ask her, he focused on the latter.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said sincerely. ‘For doing what you did with the champagne. You didn’t have to.’

  She waved a hand. ‘It’s not like I’m a big drinker anyway.’

  ‘You used to enjoy a glass of wine now and then, if I recall correctly. And—’ he lowered his voice ‘—you did drink that champagne yesterday.’

  She took her napkin and flapped it open, spreading it over her lap. It was another few seconds before she replied.

  ‘I needed the courage yesterday,’ she said, sending him a sly look.

  His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. ‘I don’t think so. You’re one of the bravest people I know.’

  Her hands pressed against the napkin in her lap. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘You know exactly what I’m talking about. Starting a business outside of the Bishop name takes courage.’

  ‘You can hardly call—’

  ‘Standing up for someone when you don’t have to takes courage.’

  ‘You did it, too,’ she said, brushing off his compliment. He wasn’t surprised. She tended to do that. ‘When you tried to save me from Pamela—’ now her voice dropped ‘—and her inquisition.’

  ‘I was offering you help because you were helping me out.’

  ‘No, you weren’t,’ she said with a roll of her eyes. ‘You were helping because that’s what you do. You help people.’

  He frowned, unable to reconcile that view of himself with his own. When had he ever helped anyone else? His entire life had been about trying to help himself out of the situations his parents’ decisions had got him into.

  ‘Wyatt,’ she said on an exhalation of air, ‘from what you’ve told me...’ She hesitated. ‘Most of your childhood was trying to make sure you and your mother were okay. You helped her even though you shouldn’t have been responsible for that. You shouldn’t be surprised by that.’

  Except that he was surprised. When he and Summer had still been together, they’d never had a conversation like this. The night he’d told her about his parents had been tense and quick. He’d said what he’d needed to say and that had been that. He hadn’t given her the opportunity to ask any questions; she hadn’t tried. Then they’d pretended it hadn’t happened—at least, they’d never spoken about it again—and so of course he’d never heard her opinion about how he’d taken care of their family after his father had left.

  And how he’d had to make sure no one had known about his mother’s alcohol problem. His mother had made that clear.

  ‘Keep our business private, Wyatt,’ she’d said with that mean look she got on her face when she was drunk. ‘As long as I’m alive, we’ll be okay.’

  Which, he supposed, had been the reason for his help. He’d made sure nothing happened at school to make anyone suspect his mother had a problem. He hadn’t invited friends over in case they’d see her drunk; he hadn’t participated in after-school activities in case he got home and his mom had passed out. He’d been a star pupil at school, then he’d come home and made sure his mother kept breathing.

  He’d done that for four years until he’d come home later than usual because of a compulsory school event. He’d found her passed out in her own vomit. That was when social services had become involved. After that, his mother had been in and out of rehab—had been sober and drunk almost as many times—and he’d been bounced back and forth between home and foster care.

  How could Summer see that as helping?

  His hand fisted on his knee. Moments later, Summer’s hand curled over his, coaxing his fingers to relax. He looked down at it, then looked up into her eyes. They locked gazes, and he felt that tug in his chest. The one that told him she saw him. She understood. That was what had convinced him taking a chance on Summer would be worth it.

  Look how that had turned out.

  He broke the contact—of their gazes and their hands—and focused on the starter that had been placed in front of him.

  ‘If it makes you feel less awkward,’ she said, looking at her own food, ‘you didn’t help as much as you could have when we were married.’

  ‘What?’

  She offered him a smile he knew was meant to show him she was teasing. But her next words made that hard to believe.

  ‘You were never home to help.’

  He had no answer to that, so he left the conversation there. But all through his meal, he couldn’t let it go. Then he remembered he didn’t have to. He could ask her. Not now, he thought, nodding when the woman to his right offered him a smile when he looked up and directly into her gaze.

  When she turned away, Wyatt leaned over to Summer and whispered into her ear.

  ‘Do you want to take a walk on the beach after lunch?’

  Her face angled towards him, confusion straining the beautiful lines of it, but she nodded.

  ‘Sure.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  ‘MAYBE WE DIDN’T think this through,’ Summer commented after they’d taken their shoes off, and were forced to put them back on when the sand burnt their feet.

  That was what she’d been talking about when she’d said it, but she realised the words worked for agreeing to walk with Wyatt at all. Particularly when her control had slipped and she’d told Wyatt he’d never been home to help her.

  She’d known something had happened while they’d been looking at each other, their hands touching. It was probably the reason she’d lost control. Then his expression had gone cautious. Which would have been fine. They were divorced, after all. But the problem was she recognised that expression from long before their divorce. He’d worn it throughout their short relationship.

&
nbsp; So why did it sting so much now?

  It was the universe telling her to turn around and run away from him, she thought. Except, as it always was with him, she’d lost her ability to listen to warning signs and logic. To try and protect herself. Knowing that should have had her not only running, but sprinting.

  Instead, she was walking on the beach with him.

  ‘If you don’t mind walking in your shoes until we get to that cliff—’ her gaze followed to where he was pointing ‘—there’s shade over there.’

  ‘Sure.’ When it sounded too eager, she cleared her throat. ‘I mean, I’m in if you are.’

  He gave her a strange look but nodded...

  And held out his hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  She took it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Oh, no, the sane part of her mind groaned, reminding her of how awkwardly tense things had been between them during lunch. Pamela and the Van Wyks had given up on making conversation with them. Summer hadn’t minded, but it had made the silence between her and Wyatt more awful. She wasn’t sure where the silence had come from, or why, after it, he’d asked to walk on the beach with her.

  Or why she’d agreed, and was now walking on the beach with him, holding his hand.

  She angled her face up to the sun, hoping the heat of it would slide into her body and soothe the parts that were jumping up and down with protest posters in hand. Or perhaps she was hoping for a measure of the peace she’d felt earlier that day on the boat. Though she wasn’t sure whether that had come from the sun, or from the fact that things between her and Wyatt had seemed less complicated then.

  She almost snorted.

  ‘What?’ Wyatt asked from beside her.

  ‘What what?’

  The side of his mouth pulled up. ‘You looked amused with yourself.’

  ‘I am,’ she said, grasping at the first appropriate thing she could think of as to why. ‘I was thinking about what I did in there. With Pamela.’

  The other side of his mouth curved up, too. ‘It was spectacular.’