The Trouble With Us: A Second Chance Love Triangle (The Forbidden Love Series Book 2)

by Kat T. Masen

Aunt Nikki, or as I refer to her for professional purposes as just Nikki, suggested I join her for a meeting with the other attorneys. I welcomed any exposure, though I didn’t expect the meeting to run for over three hours. A room full of attorneys equated to one thing—plenty of aggressive behavior. Nikki is headstrong and will not back down when she thinks she is right, making her a shark in the courtroom.

  The remainder of the day was spent on case notes. It sometimes feels like my whole life revolves around reading, so no surprises, the strain on my eyes is beginning to become an issue. Austin jokes I need glasses, but perhaps I am in denial of my deteriorating eyesight.

  I close my eyes, resting them for just a moment. The case notes have been weighing on my mind. A husband and wife in the throes of a separation and two sons caught in the crossfire. They both cited irreconcilable differences but the deeper I delve into the case, the nastier it has become. There are accusations of marital affairs, money mishandling—the list goes on.

  And all I can think about is how two people who supposedly married for love, according to their statements, found themselves in the middle of a divorce. I can’t imagine bringing a child, or children, into this world and causing them so much pain.

  I’d been blessed to be raised in a household by two parents who loved their children unconditionally. Growing up, there were kids around me whose parents divorced, remarried, and their whole lives turned upside down. Mom assured me that raising a family takes a lot of patience and sacrifices. She admitted that she and Dad did not see eye to eye on many things. At times, this caused friction in their marriage, but they have learned the art of compromise and understanding over the years.

  When Austin proposed, Mom spoke of the trials and tribulations of marriage. It is not always a walk in the park and loving someone is not a Band-Aid to fix all problems. With Austin, things are easy between us. We rarely fight, and if we do—it is only over something petty.

  We’ve grown up a lot from high school, and I can’t imagine him not being by my side. Everything about us is so comfortable, and there is nothing wrong with comfort.

  I start to think about family dynamics, aside from my own. Andy’s family comes to mind. Not long after Uncle Julian and Aunt Adriana got together, they adopted my cousin, Luna. According to Mom, she was abandoned in some alley in South America. The horror to think that some woman could do this to a child. Someone was looking over Luna, and how blessed she had been to be adopted into such a loving family.

  And then Aunt Adriana fell pregnant with Andy’s younger sister, Willow. It was a miracle given that Aunt Adriana was told she could no longer have kids naturally, especially since she was forty-three at the time.

  I must have been around thirteen, from memory, but it was such a joyous occasion for our families. I still remember Uncle Julian’s face when he introduced the little chubby baby, wrapped inside the blanket. It was his first biological child, but even after all these years, you would never know. He treats all three of his children equally.

  We all have the ability to love each other no matter the circumstances, and after spending my afternoon and early evening reading these case notes, my emotions are compromised. I’m compassionate toward the family yet professionally—I need to grow a thick skin and remove myself from the emotional components. My job one day will be to stand up in court and legally represent people. When I think about this family, who is best for the children? The father with a gambling addiction or the mother going through a mid-life crisis with her personal trainer.

  I straighten my posture, stretching my back muscles while I roll my neck to alleviate the tension. The time on my phone says it’s just after seven, much later than I anticipated staying back on a Friday night.

  My phone begins to buzz, and Austin’s name is flashing on the screen.

  “Hey, babe!” There’s a loud noise in the background, making it difficult to hear anything. “Are you still at work?”

  “I am. Where are you?”

  “We had a drink off-campus, then Jonah drove us to some bar in Jersey.” His voice continues to increase in volume, no doubt from all the alcohol he’s consumed. “But now he’s square dancing with some old lady, so there goes our driver.”

  My lips press tight into a grimace as I collapse into my chair. There go my plans for tonight. It wouldn’t hurt Austin to give me some notice. This isn’t the first time Jonah has taken the boys on a wild goose chase and probably won’t be the last.

  “Listen, I’ll leave you be since you sound busy.”

  “You pissed at me?” Austin says loud enough that I’m sure the entire bar can hear him. “I’m sorry, Millie. It just happened.”

  There is no point in arguing with him. He won’t even remember this conversation tomorrow.

  “It’s fine,” I tell him. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I hang up the call with a heavy sigh. Perhaps it is for the best—today took it out of me. My muscles are all tense, and for some odd reason—my stomach is fluttering in anticipation. I’m not sure what from but assume it’s from the lack of food since I hadn’t eaten anything since midday. The jittery nerves are most likely from all the caffeine. I’ve lost count of how many cups. If it keeps me functioning—that’s all that really matters.

  It’s time to call it a day since the office appears deserted behind my closed door. I shut down my computer and grab my purse and phone. As I exit the room, I glance down the long corridor toward Nikki’s office. There is a faint light beneath the door, nothing unusual since she always stays well after hours.

  With every step toward her office, the air becomes cooler, causing my skin to break out all over. Tapping gently on the door, she calls to enter, and as soon as I open the door, my phone slides out of my hand and straight onto the concrete floor.

  The sound of the glass against the concrete is enough to make me cringe. Shit. I bend down and pick it up off the floor. As predicted, the screen is smashed with one crack straight down the middle. I run my finger along the jagged glass, tracing it while wincing. It appears irreparable, broken with no chance of being pieced back together to perfection.

  I should have listened to everyone who told me to protect it, use one of those screen protectors. But of course, stubborn me thinks nothing damaging will ever happen to me, just like when I was a kid, never considering the consequences.

  I draw a breath, and my eyes gravitate toward the tanned leather shoes next to Nikki’s desk. Great—some client has witnessed my clumsy behavior. I’m drawn to the black socks with the Armani logo. Who the hell wears designer socks? Your dad does, idiot.

  The evenly hemmed navy pants sit just above the shoe, and as my eyes slowly draw upward, the familiarity of the sitting position quickens my pulse unwillingly. Confused at the sudden rush within me, my eyes snap up towards the face of the one and only Will Romano.

  My head draws back quickly, unable to break my gaze from the ocean blue eyes which watch me so intently. With a hard swallow, my throat closes in as my skin tingles. I try to get a grip of myself until my stomach hardens like I’d swallowed a lead weight.

  He is sitting in front of me, living and breathing, looking as devastatingly handsome as he did all those years ago. In the back of my mind, I had always wondered what this moment would feel like, half-expecting it to feel nostalgic like a childhood toy you’ve found at the back of your closet.

  Seeing him should have brought back good memories, but as I focus on his face, I can’t help but notice how much he’s changed, slightly aged from the last time we saw each other. He’s wearing reading glasses, black though not overly thick nor nerdy, and probably designer of some sort. How could glasses frame a face so differently and make someone look even sexier? Don’t answer that.

  His chiseled jaw is covered in a beard, nothing like the freshly shaved-faced I’d remembered. I don’t know how long I stand there staring, unaware of time passing until Nikki clears her throat.

  “I thought you left?” she questions, eyeing the two of
us. “It is Friday night, after all.”

  I open my mouth to speak, aware my throat is raspy. “I um…wanted to finish up some things.”

  “Well, since you’re here. I’m sure you remember my son.” She snickers, raising her brows.

  Will stands up, tall and commanding the room just like always. Despite wearing my black pumps, I feel incredibly short compared to him. His suit, perfectly tailored as always, is navy blue with a faint pinstripe. The vest he wears sits on top of a crisp white shirt, rolled up to his elbows. My weakness, his arms.

  I tear my gaze away from him, trying to get a handle on myself. I pray to all the gods above he doesn’t attempt to hug me with him standing not too far. Social distancing with an ex is always a good idea.

  “Yes, I do,” I reply, lowering my head. “Hello, Will.”

  “Please, take a seat and join us,” Nikki offers.

  I glance around uneasily, taking each step toward where they sat as if I’d been stepping on hot coals. When I finally get close enough to him, I quickly take a seat to avoid any physical contact.

  “Let’s clear the air right here,” Nikki asserts with a stern gaze. “Amelia is working for me between her studies, and Will is back in Manhattan for good. Now that everyone is caught up to date with everything, are we all adult enough to be amicable? After all, the two of you are family.”

  My hands rest on my lap as I force a smile at Nikki. “Yes, it’s fine.”

  Nikki turns her attention to Will, who hasn’t said a word since the moment I walked in. I bow my head with a jittering foot against the floor. Unknowingly, I bite my lip in anticipation. When the silence continues, I figure he has nothing to say, and perhaps I had been overthinking things. Maybe he’s moved on, realized I was some distraction all those years ago.

  “Well then, I guess—”

  “You forgot to mention the engagement of Lex Edwards eldest daughter?” His voice brings back so many memories, like a melody I’ve long memorized. But unavoidable is his arctic tone.

  My eyes fall toward my lap, glancing over to the ring nestled on my finger. The tightness inside my chest makes it difficult to concentrate. I cross my arms, purposely burying my hand beneath my arm as if this will all go away because the ring is not the center of attention.

  “Will,” Nikki warns, only to be distracted by the sound of her phone.

  The continuous ringing is annoying yet is perfect in its timing. Nikki answers the call, only to pause moments later.

  “Sorry, I need to take this.”

  “That’s fine,” I tell her with a pressed smile. “I was just leaving.”

  I don’t even acknowledge Will again, leaving the office in a rush and straight to the elevator with my purse and phone. I press the button repeatedly, knowing my panicked state will not make the elevator move any quicker. The door pings open; my entrance quick, praying I’ll avoid any encounter with him. Again, I press the button repeatedly with trembling hands. As the doors begin to close, I part my lips, letting out a slight moan until the sudden movement of the doors springing wide open stills my racing heart.

  No…

  I can’t do this.

  Will steps into the elevator, purposely standing on the other side to me. A wave of nausea threatens me in this confined space, and suddenly the air becomes thick and unbreathable. I need to calm down. Nothing good will come out of me being so anxious.

  “So, who is the lucky man?”

  My gaze lifts straight to the eyes which have haunted me in my sleep.

  “What does it matter?”

  “Because we’re family, according to my mother. Surely, I would be owed the respect of knowing who the man is to steal the heart of Amelia Edwards?”

  I keep my expression blank, trying to ignore the anger beginning to fester within me. Why is he so fixated on who I am going to marry? Is the answer any better if I said the guy who serves hot dogs on the corner of Madison and Fifth?

  “It’s Austin.”

  He cocks his head with a hard smile. “Austin, right. The love of your life. The high school sweetheart, correct?”

  “So much for being amicable,” I mutter beneath my breath, crossing my arms in defiance. “None of it matters, Will. It’s been four years. Everyone has moved on, and your mom was right. We are family, so there’s no point dwelling on the past. All is forgotten.”

  The doors open, and without a goodbye, I walk out wishing this night never happened.

  What Mom said is right—the hardest part about seeing an ex is when you’re unprepared. Emotions are out of control, it’s hard to even swallow because you’re caught in this vicious cycle of past and present.

  My steps are quick, desperate to escape him.

  “Amelia,” he calls.

  I stop mid-step, paralyzed on the spot. My hands clench into fists, anticipating his words designed to crush me. I wait for him to tell me he is seeing someone else, or better yet, about how he’s fallen into old habits and is screwing his assistant.

  My chest rises and falls, the beat of my heart irregular and distressed while waiting in anticipation. I close my eyes, building a wall to protect me from his words. Nothing he says should hurt me. After all—I’ve moved on.

  “I never forgot about us…” he tells me, lowering his tone. “So no, all is not forgotten.”

  And the wall I had built begins to crack.

  Straight down the middle.

  On the verge of falling apart, just like we had all those years ago.

  6

  WILL

  The plane hits the tarmac with a loud roar as the brakes kick into gear.

  I stare out the window, looking at the familiar surroundings. I’d been back in the States for close to two months now, barely stepping foot inside my home state. The majority of the time had been spent in Seattle, with a brief stint in Chicago. Things refused to slow down, and my presence elsewhere was needed more than I would have liked.

  The only saving grace is my mind being occupied with business. We were merging two well-known companies and expected the announcement to shake many investors. It is the perfect time for growth. However, it is imperative to move quickly. Dominating the tech industry is still my number one goal. No one is going to stop me, not now, or ever.

  If I want something, I will make sure it damn well happens.

  The pilot announces our landing and thank god for this private jet. I sold the one in London, used the funds to purchase this one, never ever wanting to fly commercial again. I didn’t bode well around people, especially screaming kids.

  The SUV is parked on the tarmac with the driver waiting. I exit the plane and hop into the car, using the time to respond to emails. There’s a text message from my mom, asking me to drop by whenever I have a chance over the next few days to discuss Dad’s upcoming birthday.

  Spending time with my mother is draining. The woman is a ballbreaker, but since it is for Dad, I decide to make an effort.

  “Jeffrey, I would like to take a detour to my mother’s office, please.”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  I sit back in the leather seat, resting my head in an effort to de-stress and relieve my worries. It’s Friday night, what many people considered the perfect time to unwind after a long week. I don’t remember the last time I did anything social—everything revolves around work. If I was at an event, it was to network or to make an appearance for business associates and clients.

  And since I’d been back in the city, I’ve been staying at the Four Seasons. My apartment is being leased to a college friend of mine, and even if I ended the lease, a part of me doesn’t want to go back to where it all began. The memories are still raw, a hard lesson I learned when I drove past Times Square not long ago.

  It is on my agenda to find a permanent place to live in, which prompts me to text my realtor to schedule some showings next week. As for tonight, with nothing else holding my attention, meeting my mother for a quick discussion will be like ripping a Band-Aid off—I need to get it over a
nd done with.

  We pull up at the familiar office. I ask Jeffrey to wait around, then exit the car and head straight into the building. It’s been a long while since I visited her at the office, yet nothing at all has changed. The building is still exactly the same, and no doubt she will be pleased with my impromptu visit.

  The receptionist is a cute blonde, introducing herself as Natacha, with a C as she so keenly put it. Between batting her eyelashes while dipping her chest so I was privy to her tits—the flirtatious introduction does nothing to stir any sexual desire within me.

  “Is Nikki available?” I ask, already bored with her antics. “Please let her know it’s her son, Will.”

  “Oh, you’re her son?” Natacha straightens her posture, only now attempting to act professionally. “Please go in. Her office is—”

  “Down the corridor on the left,” I interrupt with a forced smile.

  I don’t stick around to converse any longer, making my way toward my mother’s office. There’s a slight chill in the air; it catches my attention, if only for a moment. With a knock on the door, she yells for me to come in. As I enter the room, her face brightens at the sight of me.

  “Who is this handsome man visiting me tonight?” She stands up from her leather chair, extending her hands until I place my own in hers. “Look at you, all grown up.”

  “I was all grown up the last time I saw you, Mom. And that was only a month ago.”

  “But now you’re wearing glasses,” she points out with a knowing grin. “The ladies will get their panties in a twist over this.”

  I tilt my head with a cocky grin. “Hmm, like Natacha with a C?”

  Mom rolls her eyes with a pinched expression. “I should have hired someone with a regular spelled name, so every person who walks through the god damn office doesn’t have to hear it.”

  “C’mon, Mom,” I muse, “you’ve been in the game long enough. Rookie mistake.”

  She purses her lips, letting go of my hands to caress my cheek, then motions for me to take a seat. I’ve always admired Mom’s office, much like me—she’s a minimalist. Every single item on her glass desk is strategically placed down to her pens being aligned beside her diary.