Fate Interrupted 3

by Kaitlyn Cross

  Brooke frowned and rested her hands on her ample hips. “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Tasha looked from Brooke to Evy.

  “Nothing,” Evy said, dragging the bag out of the way.

  “You’re not telling me something. I can feel it.”

  “Brooke, I know it’s hard for you to do but will you just please shut up for once in your life?”

  Brooke sharpened her gaze and took an ill-fated shot at fulfilling her sister’s request, drumming her nails against the table. “You found something, didn’t you?”

  Tasha turned to Evy. “Was it a gay porno mag hidden under his mattress?” She inhaled a sharp breath and covered her mouth with both hands. “I knew he was gay! I called that a long time ago!”

  Evy bent an eyebrow her way. “He’s not gay.”

  “Oh snap,” Brooke whispered coldly, rubbing her arms. “He handcuffed you to the bed and put it in your butt, didn’t he? Was it an accident or was it on purpose?”

  Evy released a heated breath and disappeared into the walk-in cooler. The refrigerated air felt good against her skin and so did the quiet. She stared at the cartons of eggs and gallons of milk, wondering if Megan was still at Dean’s place right now. And, more importantly, why in the world would he let her inside in the first place? She leaned her forehead against a narrow metal rack on wheels stuffed with trays of cupcakes and pies for an art exhibit they were catering tomorrow night. No way Megan was still there. Impossible. Even if she was, he wouldn’t touch that again with a ten foot pole. Evy knew him better than that. Then she saw Megan on her knees, Dean in her mouth.

  Evy grabbed a carton of eggs and a tub of butter and burst back out into the kitchen, swallowing a deep breath of warm air.

  Brooke watched her sister set the stuff down, pushing her lips into the side of her face. “Did he finally admit he doesn’t want kids? That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Tasha slapped the work table, dusting her palm with flour. “He’s in the mob, isn’t he? I fucking knew it! What an asshole.”

  Evy directed an apathetic look Tasha’s way. “What is wrong with you?”

  Brooke picked up a loaded frosting gun and shot a pink coil of homemade sweetness onto a chocolate strawberry chip cupcake that had already cooled. She glanced at Evy out the corner of her eye. “Where’s your ring?”

  Evy snapped her head around, now strongly considering the option of leaving early. “I lost it.”

  Brooke set the gun down and scuttled across the tiled floor in her black Nikes for a closer inspection of Evy’s finger. The tan line was there but the ring wasn’t. “Where?”

  “If I knew that it wouldn’t be lost.”

  Brooke’s eyes rose to find Evy’s. “Seriously?”

  “It’ll turn up,” Evy replied, violently cracking an egg against the inside of the mixing bowl.

  Brooke folded her arms across the hot pink stenciling that spelled Sugars on her apron. “When?”

  “In the middle of the night when I was scrambling to find my missing so-called fiancé.”

  Brooke honed her gaze to a razor’s edge. “What happened at Dean’s this morning?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why were you gone so long?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  Brooke sniffed at her sister. “I smell fish. Did you go back to the marina?”

  “She was looking for something,” Tasha chimed in, swiveling around on the stool.

  “Like what?” Brooke asked, keeping her eyes on Evy, who ignored both of them.

  “Clues.”

  “Clues to what?”

  Tasha shrugged limply. “A stripper threesome?” she suggested, biting into a cupcake and getting pink frosting on the tip of her nose.

  Evy grabbed another egg and threw it into the bowl, bursting into tears.

  Brooke’s heart slipped onto the floor. She swept Evy up into her arms and hugged her tight, burying her face in Evy’s neck. “I’m sorry, sweetie. We’re just being nosey.”

  “Well, well, well, looks like we’re just in time for a little girl on girl action!”

  They turned to see Jon waltz through the swinging door with Pam in tow.

  “Now’s not a good time,” Brooke said, rubbing Evy’s back.

  Jon thumbed behind him. “Why isn’t anyone up front? I could’ve swiped an entire tray of maple bacon cupcakes and you would’ve never known.”

  “What is wrong with you?” Pam scolded. “You know we would’ve taken the vanilla mocha tray.”

  Evy twisted away from Brooke and went to the sink to hide her tears.

  Jon traded an apprehensive look with Pam. “We’ll come back later.” Pam pushed Jon forward. He stumbled to a stop in the middle of the room and dug his hands into his pockets. “Listen, I just wanted to apologize for last night, Evy. It was all my fault.”

  Evy kept her back to him, trying to collect herself.

  “Well,” Jon continued, “some of it was Shaun’s fault, too.” He paused. “Most of it in fact, but it was wrong and I really am sorry, Evy. Dean had no idea about anything but the fishing part.” He looked down to his high top Adidas. “Truth is…Shaun and I have never been to a bachelor party without strippers before and we were just scared.”

  Pam elbowed him in the ribs.

  Evy sniffled one last time and turned to face them, a brave smile lifting her heavy lips. She nodded her understanding. “It’s okay, Jon. I just…” She rushed past them and burst through the swinging door, disappearing up front.

  Jon watched her go, open-mouthed. “She-it.”

  “She’ll be fine,” Brooke said, going after her. “She’s just under a lot of pressure with the wedding.” Brooke pushed through the door and vanished from sight.

  Jon and Pam exchanged silent glances and turned to Tasha.

  He cleared his throat and smiled. “Welcome back to town!”

  Tasha stuffed the rest of the cupcake into her mouth. “Thanks.”

  “Things will get better,” Pam said, helping herself to a cupcake. “They’re usually a lot more fun.”

  “I know.”

  “But this just gives a chance to get to know each other better.” Pam eyeballed Tasha as she chewed. “Let us take you out tonight and show you around a little. Our treat.”

  Tasha looked to Jon who nodded with an enthusiastic grin.

  “Yeah, we’ll grab some dinner and drinks at the Rumpus Room and see where the night takes us,” he said. “Get our drink on!”

  Tasha arched an eyebrow. “On a Sunday night?”

  Pam patted her hand. “It’s service industry night tonight. Best night to go out.”

  Tasha looked from Pam back to Jon. “Sounds good to me.” She looked up front where sunlight was streaking across the black and white checkered floor. “Anything to get away from this drama for a minute.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  When Dean woke up it was already dark out. He reached over and blindly searched for his phone on the nightstand. His hand stopped when it dawned on him that his phone was dead and wouldn’t be coming back. He found his sports watch instead and checked the time, squinting at the pale blue numerals, trying to believe his eyes.

  Just after two in the morning.

  He dropped the watch back to the nightstand and got up to take a leak and chug some cold water. On his way back to bed, he checked to make sure the doors were locked before falling into a deep sleep that would leave him feeling tired at work the next day.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Over lunch, Dean ran to a Sprint store around the corner and found a new phone that cost him four hundred dollars due to the nagging fact he wasn’t eligible for an upgrade yet. After that, he grabbed some Jimmy John’s for a lot less money and drove his sandwich and cell back to his office. At his desk, he stared at the sandwich before him, working up the stomach to take a small bite. He chewed slowly, his fingers scrolling through his contacts until he came to Evy’s number. He stared at the digits until they blurred, jaw barel
y grinding. Since he had stored his information in the cloud, the Sprint guy was able to transfer his contacts list and photos, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder what he would have done if he had lost that number forever. The phone book didn’t list cell phone numbers, making it that much more useless. Shaun was right.

  His thumb hovered over the call button as he rounded up his thoughts like he had been doing all morning. He had gone over it a thousand times in his head, covering every angle she could possibly take, coming at it like he would a contractual dispute at the office. It would work. He took a sip of Diet Coke and set the phone down, second-guessing himself all over again. He had been doing that all morning as well.

  The devil on one shoulder, an angel on the other.

  Why should he be the one to beg her for forgiveness? He hadn’t done anything wrong. In fact, he had done everything right, including forcing his friends into a boring bachelor party to appease her. And for what? To get shit on once again. Anger flared inside, stepping on what little appetite he had. Dean swallowed dryly, tired of her judging him on his past. The very same past he had left in the rearview mirror to be with her. Troubled thoughts of Clay and Mr. Ryder took turns tormenting him with sharpened knives, stabbing and slicing until he saw red. He had done more for her than anyone in his entire life and where had it gotten him? He hit the call button. It rang a few times and then answered.

  Slow breathing tickled the line. “I wasn’t sure if you’d ever dial this number again.”

  Dean took another small bite of his Billy Club. He flicked his watch out from his long sleeve. “Are you still sleeping?”

  “Not anymore,” Jon groggily replied, swinging his feet out of bed. “What time is it?”

  “It’s after one.”

  “Holy shit,” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “Last night got out of hand, yo.”

  “Tell me about it later tonight.”

  Silence for a moment. “Tonight?”

  “Yeah, you, me, and our favorite bars just like old times.”

  “Oh, hell no. What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you about it tonight. I have to get to a meeting.”

  More silence from Jon’s end. “Tonight?”

  Dean wiped his fingers on a napkin and leaned back in his tall leather chair, kicking his shiny black shoes up onto the desk. “I gotta get out of the house or I’m going to go stir crazy.” He took a long drink of pop. “Plus, I keep seeing Megan standing outside my patio door.”

  “Dude, that’s creepy.”

  Dean snorted. “Tell me about it. I actually had it happen yesterday.”

  “What!”

  “No joke, but why don’t you stop by my place for a beer around seven and then we’ll head out.”

  Jon exhaled slowly, his head thick and bloated. “Oh man, the one time you want to go out I don’t think I can ever drink again.”

  “Come on, Jon. You owe me after that stripper bullshit you pulled.”

  “I’m serious, Dean. Things got cray last night!”

  “Cray? What’re you fourteen?”

  “I think I’m going to be sick.”

  “You’ll be fine by seven. And Jon?”

  Jon sighed into the phone. “Yeah?”

  “Bust out the good underwear tonight, my man.”

  “Wow, would you listen to yourself?”

  “Hey, Evy wants something to be pissed about, I’m going to give her something to be pissed about. See you tonight.” Dean hung up and leaned back, interlocking his fingers behind his head. He stared out the corner office window through distant eyes, a shit-eating grin slicing through his two day-old stubble. “Lock up your daughters tonight,” he whispered. “The old Dean is back in town.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Brooke let go of Evy’s hand and glanced up front where Tasha was busy helping customers. “What a little bitch! She had that coming, Ev.”

  Evy leaned her elbows on the stainless steel island and rested her chin in her palms. “I mean, why would he even let her inside in the first place?”

  “He probably thought she was you, coming back to beg him for forgiveness.”

  A short laugh squirted from Evy’s lips. “He wishes!”

  Brooke swiveled her stool around to face Evy and took her by the hand. “My gut says there is a perfect explanation for it, just like there was with the stripper whores.”

  “I’m tired of thinking about it.”

  “Well, I’m glad you told me.” Brooke squeezed her hand. “Now, tell me what happened to your ring. The truth this time.”

  Evy looked to the pale circle on her ring finger and winced. The tan line reminded her of the bare spot on a wall where an old picture frame used to hang. But as far as she was concerned, Dean was out of the picture. No one could possibly be worth this much heartbreak in one year.

  “Evy?”

  She turned to Brooke and stared at her for a few seconds, the cash register dinging up front. “The bottom of the lake.”

  Brooke let go of her hand and leaned back like she had just gotten a whiff of spoiled meat. “What?”

  Evy tried rubbing away the tan line. “You were right, Brooke… This isn’t a fairytale, and no one lives happily-ever-after without a fight.” She looked up with a sniffle. “Well, I’m done fighting.”

  “Evy, you’re just getting cold feet with the wedding right around the corner. You can’t back out now. Dad already paid the florist!”

  Evy untied her apron and got to her feet. “I think I’m going to go home and take a nap.”

  Brooke frowned. “Which home? Dean’s?”

  “No, my apartment.”

  Brooke laughed. “Good luck finding your bed under Tasha’s stuff. It probably looks like a Target dressing room in there.”

  Evy cringed at the thought. She just wanted her old place back and some time alone.

  “Call him.”

  Evy hung her apron on a hook against the wall. “Call me if we get busy.”

  Brooke watched her disappear down the narrow hallway and then heard the backdoor shut. Ben came walking into the kitchen, looking back over his shoulder. “Man, she can’t even say hello. That girl is making a mountain out of a molehill here. Dean didn’t touch either one of those strippers.”

  “She caught Megan at Dean’s place this morning.”

  Ben shook his head like someone had just sucker punched him. “What?”

  “Apparently, Megan’s boobs were hanging out and she and Dean were holding each other tight.”

  Ben plopped down onto a stool that was still warm from Evy’s body heat. “That can’t be right.”

  “She saw it with her own two eyes, Ben, and now she’s having second thoughts about the whole thing…and so am I.”

  “Oh, come on! Take a deep breath and just slow down.”

  “I’m serious, Ben.”

  “I’m sure there was a perfectly rational explanation for it.”

  “Like what?”

  Ben shrugged, his Slipknot concert tee pulling tightly on his rounded shoulders. “Maybe Dean was trying to kill Megan.”

  “Then Evy picked a bad time to interrupt.”

  Ben gently ran a hand back and forth across his brown peach fuzz. “What’s your gut telling you?”

  Brooke’s eyes thinned as she drummed her nails against the table. “That’s the thing. I’m having a hard time picking up on anything.” Her manicured eyebrows lifted. “Which is never a good sign.”

  “No, it isn’t.” He mulled it over for a little longer, staring blankly at a sheet of chocolate chip cookies. “I’m not buying it. He hates Megan.”

  “I don’t know, Ben. The girl was half naked in his living room. The same girl that nearly destroyed our business.”

  “She’s obviously stalking him. I’m team Dean all the way. Your sister loves him and he loves her, but – for whatever reason – these curveballs keep coming their way and I don’t know why.”

  Brooke grunted. “I’m starting to think Tasha might be right abou
t these curses.”

  Ben grabbed a warm chocolate chip cookie, eating half of it in a single bite. “It’s not that bad.”

  “She threw her engagement ring into Lake Michigan.”

  His jaws stopped on a dime. “Oh shit, it is that bad.”

  Brooke leaned an elbow on the table and sighed, watching the second hand on the clock against the wall. “And here I thought they might actually have a baby before us.”

  “Sonofabitch,” Ben muttered, chewing slowly. “When Dean finds out she threw that ring into the lake he’s going to be pissed as hell.”

  “I seriously don’t think she cares.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The club was only at half speed and the music not yet loud. Dean wrote it off to being a Monday night. Still, he knew it wouldn’t be that difficult to pull. He had his best pair of designer jeans matched with a simple black, button down that showed off his biceps. He set his glass down and wiped the condensation on his pants, scanning the place from side to side. His slicked back hair set off his eyes as he casually swept the place like a machine. No, it wouldn’t be long now at all.

  “I still can’t believe Megan stopped by your crib.” Jon laughed. “You’ve got a stage five clinger on your hands for sure. You’ll never get rid of that crazy bee-otch!”

  “Thanks,” Dean said, tipping back his Jack and Coke.

  Jon lowered his voice. “If you could kill her and knew you would get away with it, would you do it? And, more importantly, how?”

  “That girl is the last thing I want to talk about right now. Are you going to tell me what happened last night or what?” he asked, knowing it was important to make it look like they were wrapped up in some deep conversation and not interested in anything else. That was player 101. As was sitting near the restrooms, where he could spin his web and catch them on the way out.

  “I told you, man, I’m not sure I should say anything yet.” Jon took a swig of his gin and tonic.

  “Yet? Come on, man! You’re just trying to make me more interested in your little story.”