Reluctantly, I glance at the screen. There’s a picture of a burly guy with his arm around an attractive woman holding up a diamond the size of a semi-truck trailer on her ring finger. Both of them wear beaming, white smiles. “Um, I have no idea who or what you’re talking about, bro.”
“Sera!” The footballer announces like I should know this. Mind you—I’ve never met this man before. “My best friend’s little sister. She’s marrying this idiot and everybody’s so damn happy about it. It’s driving me fucking crazy.”
“You like her or something?” I ask. I’m not sure I want to get any deeper into this dude’s misery—because I’ve got problems of my own. Clearly.
“Are you for real? Sera is annoying. When we were kids, she would tag along everywhere with her brother and me, and involve herself in all my business. She is annoying, I tell you. But…” he exhales heavily. “It’s just that…there’s nothing worse than standing by while a good woman ends up with a bad man.”
Nope. He’s wrong. There’s nothing worse than being that bad man. Being the man to break a good woman’s heart. I hate that this random as hell conversation is reminding me of that.
Ever since quitting my job at Kingston Realty and firing my daughter’s newest nanny, things have been exceptionally quiet in my house, even with Callie around.
The place just feels lonelier without Jessa there, especially in the evenings. I’m not sure how it happened, but the woman became the anchor of our home. Almost as soon as I was released from prison, Jessa moved in, taking over my master bedroom and my freaking mind. Now, nothing feels right without her.
Callie and I can usually find enough to keep us busy during the day, but after dinner, it hits hard. Everywhere I turn, I’m met with another reminder of what once was. Around every corner, I’m met with another reminder that Jessa is really gone.
She’s not standing by the stove, wooden spoon in her hand, beaming grin on her face as she prepares dinner. She’s not sprawled out on the living room floor, tickling my daughter while I handle the cleanup. She’s not sitting next to me at the kitchen island in the dark, arguing over which cake to stuff my face with next. Or warm and naked and curled up in my bed, stealing the twisted sheets away from me in her sleep.
It’s just…quiet.
Every night, I’m hit by this emptiness, overwhelmed by loneliness. I always thought I didn’t mind solitude. I liked that my house was on a secluded part of the family property. In prison, I mostly liked keeping to myself. But this? This is fucking different.
This isn’t just ‘being alone’. This is being lonely.
I glance at the footballer sitting next to me. “Look, I’m just trying to drink this beer and escape my own problems. I’m in no position to give anyone romance advice.”
He shoots me a sidelong glimpse. “What’s your deal?”
“I fell in love with the nanny,” I mumble. “Then, I broke her heart.”
After everything he just confessed to me, this crazy person has the nerve to throw me a judgmental look. “Bro—that’s majorly fucked up. What kind of asshole stomps all over the nanny?”
From the horror on his face, I can tell he’s probably picturing some little old lady with a ball of yarn in hand, reading glasses perched on her nose and a cup of hot tea on the side table as she rocks back and forth in an old-fashioned glider chair. I don’t have the energy to explain to him that Jessa Robson is young and juicy and hot as fuck. And that she betrayed me first.
He throws me one last scornful glare before rising from his seat. “This is clearly not the right seating choice for me tonight…” He grimaces. And then, he’s gone.
Yeah, that’s it. It must be the seating. Maybe the vibe is less demoralizing on the other side of the bar.
I grab my drink and trudge across the club.
Walker is going around with his cowboy hat and a surly look on his face. He’s aiming his camera at every famous person he can find. Apparently, Penny gave him a list of celebrities she wants him to try and get pictures of tonight. He has a big task ahead of him. The place is crawling with superstars.
Jude and his teammates are huddled together on the edge of the dance floor and from the intensity on their faces, it looks like they’re discussing football strategy.
I saw Iowa Paragons captain, Maxwell Masters sitting with his wife at the bar. Knox O’Ryan, the Paragons star running back, is here, too. There are film stars and pop singers and TV personalities and other beautiful, successful people everywhere.
And all I can think about is Jessa. With her sweet face and her sweet body and her sweet tooth and the way she introduced sweetness and fun back into my life.
How am I supposed to get over this woman?
Finally, I spot Cannon seated at a high-top table with a guy I vaguely recognize from some of the business magazines I used to read back in the day.
My brother claps a hand on my shoulder. “Bro, you’ve got to meet Liam Kline, hot shot young financier. He’s the owner of the Paragons football team and one of the major real estate developers here in Sin Valley.”
“The major real estate developer here in Sin Valley,” the man corrects my brother with a surly expression. He extends a hand to me and I shake it. “Eli Kingston, right?” he asks, his attention carefully scanning my face and from his expression, I know he recognizes me, too. He’s heard the stories about my arrest. My shitty reputation precedes me.
Cannon answers for me. “Yes, this is my brother, Eli. He’d be CEO of Kingston Realties if I could get him to stay on-board for more than five minutes.”
After a few pleasantries, the men forget about me and return to their conversation.
“If you ask me, Red River doesn’t seem like prime real estate for a resort town but hey—it’s not my money circling the drain.” Cannon wears a snarky expression as he speaks.
The man gives my brother a brash shrug. “What can I say? I’ve got a few billion dollars to play around with. I’ve got to do something with all the money I make off of owning the Paragons.”
Cannon cracks up. “You were always such an asshole.”
The men continue discussing small town property development opportunities and business expansion. I quietly slink away from the table. I’m in no mood to witness their billion-dollar pissing contest.
I run into Walker as I’m on the way out of the club. He’s still going around taking pictures, looking weary and exhausted as he does it. “P. Diddy is here,” he tells me lethargically. “Penny loves P. Diddy. I’m going to see if I can get a picture with him.” He shakes his head. “The things a man does for love…”
I say good night, yanking off my tie as I go. Alone in the elevator, I ride up to the penthouse suite Jude booked for the night. There are five bedrooms, one for each of my brothers, plus Dad and me.
When I step into the suite, I find my father slouched on the sprawling sectional sofa in the living room, fast asleep. His phone is clutched in his hand. When the door clicks shut, he wakes with a start.
I give him a nod. “Hey, Dad.”
He straightens up on the couch’s soft cushions. “Hey.”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” I ask.
Disoriented, he glances down at his phone. “Your mother and I fell asleep video-chatting.” He scrubs a hand down his face and chuckles. “Thirty-eight years and I can’t fall asleep without having her nearby. Even if we can’t be in the same room, I still need to feel that she’s close. It’s sort of pathetic.”
Jessa would argue that it’s romantic. Maybe she would be right. Silently, I imagine what it would be like to have a relationship like that with her, what it would be like to need each other so intrinsically that we couldn’t even fall asleep without being connected somehow.
I guess now I’ll never know.
“How’s the bachelor party going?” he asks.
I drop down near him. “I’m not sure me being at a nightclub is the best idea. I was going out of my mind in there.”
Dad chuck
les shortly. “I don’t know why Jude is torturing the poor groom-to-be like that. Walker isn’t a nightclub kind of guy. If Jude really wanted your oldest brother to have a good time tonight, he should have just organized a team of guys to go help him clean out the pig stalls or something.”
I nod my agreement. “That sounds about right.”
After a long, quiet moment, my father scans my face. “I heard about you leaving Kingston Realties,” he mutters, sounding disappointed.
I sigh. “Yeah, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you guys. I just realized it wasn’t the right fit for me. No hard feelings against Cannon though. We’re probably closer when we don’t have to work together.”
Dad snorts. “What are you going to do now?”
“I’m still figuring that out,” I say honestly.
“Well, in any case, I’m proud of you, Eli.”
My head whips around. My father stares at me, a genuine look on his face.
I chuckle. “I can’t imagine why. I’ve made some shitty choices and I’m not exactly a contender for the Son of the Year Award.”
“Maybe not, but I’m proud of the way you put your daughter first. You’re a good dad. I’m proud of how you’re taking charge of your life and making your own path. I’m not sure any of your brothers could go through what you have and still come out the other side.”
All I can manage is a small nod because I know I didn’t emerge from this on my own. I know I had a good woman by my side from day one and she had my back when I was sagging under the weight of my resentment and my anger. She got me steady on my own feet.
And how did I thank her? By discarding her at the first sign of imperfection, at her first mistake. With Jessa, I was thriving, and now, I’m back to barely surviving.
I think Dad can read it all on my face. He pauses. “Are you happy, son?”
My throat clenches hard, and I clear it several times. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I was, I think. But then…”
“Then you fired that girl.”
Shit...
“Yeah,” I croak. We sit in silence for a long moment, and I appreciate my father not grilling my ass. “Nothing feels right since she left. Jessa was more than a nanny, dammit. She was part of the family.”
Dad nods. “She really loved Callie.”
“And Callie loved her.” My eyes drop to my hands. “I…I loved her, too.”
My father’s brows shoot up. “Did you tell her that?”
“Fuck, no,” I mutter. “Do you have any idea what she did to me? She betrayed me. She made me look like a fool, Dad.”
“Okay. So you’re punishing her. How does that make you feel. You feel vindicated? You feel like a man?”
Nope. The truth is, I feel like a turd the dog walker abandoned on the edge of the neighbor’s lawn.
My dad sighs. “Sometimes, you have to fight for the life you want. You have to put your anger, your resentment, your sense of betrayal aside. And just choose love over everything else. Because who cares if you’re right if it means spending every night alone? Who cares if you’re right if it means losing the woman who makes you feel complete?”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “It’s too late, Dad. I pushed her away. I ended things. I’ve been horrible to her.”
“Then talk to her again,” he says simply. When I hesitate, he continues. “I’ll give you the same advice I gave Walker when he was dragging his feet with Penny…You could be one conversation away from the life you really want with the woman you really love. All you’ve got to do is open your mouth and dare to tell her how you feel.”
When he says that, my heart starts beating fast. I’m overwhelmed by the idea that I can end all the misery I’m feeling by simply manning up and speaking my truth to Jessa. Could it really be that simple?
I shoot to my feet, blood pumping through my veins. I know what I need to do. “I’m…I’m leaving. I’m going to drive back to Crescent Harbor, straight over to Cannon’s house and talk to her.”
I only make it two steps before my dad’s tone has me skidding in my tracks. “Well, son. I’m sorry to tell you this but I think you missed your window. Cannon and Lexi said she left.”
Air rushes out of me so quickly, I feel I’ve taken a steel toe boot to the gut. “What?”
No. That can’t be. It hasn’t been that long since she was standing on my doorstep. How could she be here one day and gone the next?
“She moved out of town for some new job,” Dad tells me. “She’s already gone.”
My eyes fall shut as I process this news.
I’m such a goddamn idiot.
She’s gone.
She’s gone.
She’s gone.
I need some air. I need to go break something. I need to get outside before my father witnesses me exploding.
I just want to go have a boxing match with a lamp post on the street corner. I’m pulling my hair out at the roots. “I can’t…I don’t…What am I supposed to do now?”
The sound of someone clearing their throat fills the room. Dad and I glance down at his phone. Mom is wide awake now, staring bright-eyed at the screen, and the look on her face says it all. She’s been sitting there a long time, eavesdropping. As usual.
“Dammit, Ma. Were you listening to everything?”
Her expression is unapologetic. Her eyes dance. She brandishes a piece of folded paper, waving it like a winning scratch-off ticket. “Good thing I’ve got Jessa’s new address…”
58
Jessa
The techno music is pumping. I weave my way through the half-naked, gyrating bodies, getting jostled and bumped into more times than I can count.
You’d think I was taking advantage of my single lady status at the club. But no, this is me, just trying to find my way across my new apartment to get to the microwave.
My obnoxious male roommates are throwing a party. Again. Though this one may be bigger than the last. I was able to drown out the heavy beat of their music last time with my white noise app. Nothing’s going to work tonight.
Is a quiet bubble bath and microwaved dinner too much for a girl to ask after a long day of working with screaming, energetic kindergarteners?
I should be grateful for the comically cheap rent I was able to secure, especially on such short notice. Living with my ex and his two idiot friends is not ideal but I had to take what I could get. I needed a roof over my head so I could start my new job ASAP.
Maybe I should grin and just be thankful. But good God, these living conditions are going to break even the most patient saint. My rented room is basically a closet with a tiny round window. And speaking of closets, I don’t even have one of those. The whole house smells like dirty socks and moldy pizza.
I’ve already started looking for my own place but pickings are slim. Especially on a beginner kindergarten teacher’s salary. I saw an apartment in the classifieds that looked promising but during the virtual tour, a cockroach strutted merrily across the bathroom wall. That apartment was a ‘no’.
Anyway, I manage to squeeze my way into the kitchen, finding the TV dinner in the freezer with my name on it. Utter relief smacks me that no one already took it.
I try to ignore the loud music. I try to ignore the naked girls dancing on every flat surface. I try to ignore Michael’s shouts from the other room, as he tries to convince me to join him. I hate that he’s drawing attention to me and making it impossible to ignore the weird, mohawk-wearing twins who are hitting on me as I wait for the microwave to beep.
And side note—what the hell is that white shit under his nose? Oh my god. Has he been coked out this whole time? Well, I guess that would explain his weird behavior all along.
I’m stirring my steaming plastic plate of food, as the shirtless guys flex next to me, when I hear my name again.
“What?!” I yell, wishing Michael would just leave me alone. He has to know this isn’t my scene. At all. Only, when I turn, I see that it’s not Michael at all. “Eli?”
My jaw hit
s the floor as I take him in. His hair is neatly combed, and he’s wearing a full suit, standing in the middle of the hallway of this dumpy house, at this trashy party. His tie is crooked but his stubble gives him just the right amount of edge. He clutches a bouquet of flowers and a file folder in his fist as he elbows his way past the mohawk twins.
I try to remind myself that he hurt me, I try to adopt an icy facade but the moment he utters my name, my chance of survival is no better than a pile of slush on the sidewalk in mid-July.
“Hello, Jessa…”
59
Eli
With her arms folded protectively across her chest, she leads me down the hallway to get away from the noise. I don’t know how she’s been living under these conditions. Hell, I just walked in here and I already have a splitting headache.
I’m not just sweating bullets. I’m sweating rockets, projectiles and spaceships. The idea of forgetting all the lines I practiced on the drive here is making me nervous. Too much is riding on this. I love this woman but I hurt her. Badly. Now, I really need to get this apology right.
I loosen my tie as we enter the bedroom. Here I am, former corporate CEO who negotiated million-dollar deals with pompous business tycoons and presented in front of packed conferences. Yet, this tiny woman has me completely out of sorts.
“What the fuck is this?” I blurt, glancing around the little room when she shuts the door and drops down on her tiny bed. The walls are shaking with the annoying music. I literally have just enough space to crab-walk around two sides of the bed, and that’s it.
She shrugs. “I needed something…affordable, until I receive my first paycheck.”
Cringing, I glance around again. She’s here because of me. In a tiny room of a vibrating house full of weirdos. I owe her a lot more than an apology.
Her thin shoulders heave. “Why are you here, Eli?”
I focus my attention on her beautiful, perfect face. “I needed to talk to you. You asked for an explanation about my conviction, and I want to give it to you.”
Mister Bossy (Bad Boys in Love Book 4) Page 28
