by Lauren Dane
Daisy got in bed with her. “You’re going to get through this. I know it doesn’t feel like it right now. I know your heart is broken and you’re sadder than you’ve ever been. I love you. We all do, and we’re here for you. No matter what happens, you will get through this.”
“Go home. I want to be by myself to cry and go to sleep. Thank you for being here for me today; I mean that.”
Daisy kissed her forehead. “All right. But I’m coming back tomorrow. You will call me if you need anything. Even just a shoulder while you cry. If you don’t, I will be very mad at you. As you can tell, this is about me so don’t hate America, Mary.”
She managed a snort.
“I’ll be back. I love you.”
At least someone did.
She lay there in the dark, listening to the sound of the rain, feeling totally and utterly exhausted and empty.
23
Dude, we can hold off until this is all settled. Get your girl.” Paddy handed him a cup of coffee.
“I’m going to call Adrian shortly. They’re up, but he takes Miles to school early so I don’t want to catch him until after that.”
“Have you tried calling her from someone else’s phone?”
He looked up. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’re the pretty one.” Paddy handed him his cell phone.
“I’m going to let you get away with that one as a gift.” He dialed her number and she answered. Her voice was thick and hoarse, like she’d been crying and his stomach clenched.
“Curly, what is going on?”
She sucked in a breath and disconnected. He called back but it went straight to voice mail.
“She’d been crying. Sounded like shit.” He opened his laptop and the mail client.
She hadn’t replied to him. He poked around as he’d planned to last night. Most of it was crap. Until he opened one and noticed it was also cc’d to her e-mail address.
“Well, I think I might know why your lovely Mary did a runner on you.” Paddy looked at the screen over his shoulder. “What the hell, Damien?”
Nausea rolled over him. “What do you mean, what the hell? Nothing happened! You assholes were there with me.”
This reporter had sent these pictures to Mary precisely to fuck with her and make her think something had happened. After he dealt with this mess with Mary, he would be sure that reporter got payback. No one could be allowed to do this to her again.
“Well, you’ve got to explain. Get up there right now. We’ll come with you. I was there that night. Nothing happened. Though the lobby picture?”
“She tripped going up the steps; I reached out to steady her.”
“By putting her hand on your ass and her head on your shoulder?” Vaughan shook his head. “This angle does you no favors.”
She had put her head on his shoulder. At the time it had felt like an affectionate gesture, but in an old times sort of way. He’d just stopped her from falling after all.
Looking at her face now in this photograph, in all the photographs and he saw she may have felt differently. And if he could see it, Mary could.
He scrubbed his hands over his face. “I don’t even remember her hand on my ass. I swear!”
Vaughan moved him out of the way and enlarged the photo several times more, peering at it from several angles. “She may not actually be touching you here. I can’t tell for sure. But while her hand is over your ass, I don’t know if it’s on your ass.”
“Even so, what are you two doing in the lobby of the same hotel after the event? Can you not see how this would look to Mary?” Ezra was infuriatingly calm and reasonable.
“I saw her in the lobby for like a minute. Lots of people stay in that hotel. I saw her, paused long enough to say hey and then I went up to my room—alone—and called my girlfriend! She should know I’d never do this. And if I did it sure as hell wouldn’t be on camera. What about my feelings?”
“Should she know? You know you have a reputation. You can see these pictures. You’re with an ex in a situation that even to me looks hinky. What about you, Damien? This woman loves you or she wouldn’t have run the way she did. Seems to me this isn’t going to be the only time she sees this stuff. Though this reporter guy is totally trying to fuck you over.” Ezra shrugged.
He called Adrian’s place but it was Gillian who answered.
“You!”
“I take it you’ve spoken to Mary.”
“And I’ve seen the pictures of you with a panty model whose hand is on your bum! What have you done? She loves you. She trusted you.”
“Trusted? She ran away the minute trouble came up.”
“Did you see those pictures? Ask yourself how you’d feel if the situation were reversed? I can tell you from my perspective, I’m married to a man I know adores me and I see things sometimes that make me sick to my stomach. And you, old son, have some nerve to get cheeky with me. I’m on your side. You have no idea what it feels like to be on the other side of the country knowing what sort of buffet of temptation presents itself to your partner every moment they’re away from you. To have to trust, despite appearances, despite the gossip news, despite perhaps even a many-year-long history of that exact behavior being accused of, with photographic evidence. If you were her, if she had been a hard-drinking, hard-living woman who had men in every city, and you had seen these photographs, how would you feel?”
He blew out a breath. A shaky breath, because she was so right and he was sick, all over again, imagining how upset Mary must have been right then.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I wouldn’t. I love her. I want to tell her that but she blocked my number and now she’s not answering her phone when I call from anyone else’s phone.”
“If it makes a difference, she loves you. I shouldn’t be telling you any of this. But she’s my friend and she has relentlessly supported me over the years I’ve known her and I want her to be happy. But If I were you, I’d come up. I know you’re making a record right now—”
“That doesn’t matter. That can wait. She’s my priority. I’m coming up right now. And Gillian, thank you.”
“Don’t bollock this up and make me regret helping you.”
“I promise.”
He hung up and looked to his brothers. “I think I need Mom’s help.”
* * *
Mary looked at her phone and put it back on the nightstand. He sounded clueless. Maybe he had no idea she’d even seen those pictures so he thought his secret was still safe.
Damn him for making her miss him so much, even when she knew what he’d done.
She tried to go back to sleep and ended up going over and over it again in her head. Starting to doubt. Then getting down on herself for trying to talk herself away from the truth. She couldn’t allow herself to become one of those women who ignored the truth to keep from admitting her man was a cheater.
But what if it was something innocent and she had jumped to conclusions?
“Damn it.” She looked to her clock. An hour and a half had passed since his call.
She rolled from bed and headed into the shower. Avoiding looking at herself in the mirror, she made the water as hot as she could stand and stood in it until it started to go cold before dragging herself back out.
But when she walked out to her kitchen, Daisy stood at her counter, making coffee. “I know I’m not as good at this as you and Jules are. But living with Levi has improved my coffee-making skills. Jules sent along that bag there. Eat or I’m going to tell on you and she’ll have to leave Tart to come over here and browbeat you until you do.”
“You’re not nice.” Mary poked the bag open. Lemon tartlets, savory and sweet scones and cinnamon bread.
“I’m very nice.”
Mary grunted and pulled out some cinnamon bread and let the scent of brewing coffee wake her up.
“You look like you’ve been hit by a truck.”
“I drank too much last night. I’ve got a crying headache. My ey
es are killing me. I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“I brought Terms of Endearment over if you want to watch it.”
“God, you really do love me.” Terms of Endearment was her favorite weeper. But she’d cried enough. “I’m done crying.”
“You’re a liar. I heard you crying in the shower.”
She sighed. “Okay, so I’m trying to be done crying.”
The phone rang with a 206 area code showing. So it wasn’t Damien. She picked it up.
“Mary Whaley?”
“I’m not interested in buying anything.”
“No, this isn’t a sales call. I just wanted to get your comment on the story circulating about your boyfriend Damien Hurley reigniting his old flame with Elisa Jovavich?”
She slammed the phone down.
“What?” Daisy looked shocked.
“It was a reporter asking for my comments about Damien and his old flame.”
“Oh no, he did not! Next time that phone rings I’m going to answer it. Assholes! They’re the ones who started this rift between you and Damien and they have the nerve to call you about it?”
“I’m losing my sense of humor.”
Daisy looked at her, shock on her face, and then they both started to laugh. For Mary it was more of a hysteria-edged type of sound, but the situation was so absurd and she’d already cried herself into dehydration, so there was nothing left but a killing spree or crazy laughter. So she opted for the one that wouldn’t result in prison time.
“All right. So here’s a cup of coffee”—Daisy slid the mug her way—“and we can talk about next steps. What is it you want to do?”
“I want to have this coffee while I fantasize about shoving the panty model off a building.”
Daisy grinned. “Okay, let’s do that.”
And that’s when her mother showed up on her doorstep.
“I just got a phone call from some asshole reporter asking me about Damien cheating on you with a model. Mind telling me what is going on and where he is so I can kick his ass?”
Her mother barged in, slamming the door behind herself.
“Hey, Mom.” Daisy kissed Jeanne’s cheek.
“Morning, sweetie.” She turned back to Mary and narrowed her gaze. “You’ve been crying. So it’s true?”
Mary got herself some more coffee and a mug for her mother too. “I don’t know. I mean, I thought so yesterday. I saw the pictures. They’re pretty damning. I can’t . . . I don’t know.”
Her mother’s anger softened and she frowned, tucking an errant curl behind Mary’s ear. “I hate to see you cry. You barely even cried when you were an infant.”
“I can’t seem to stop. Even when I imagine driving a truck over that bitch.”
Her mother hugged her. “You’re my daughter, that’s for sure. Do you need me to fly to New York to do it for you?”
Mary laughed and it was a little easier that time.
She sat Mary down at the table. “I’m going to make you some breakfast and you’re going to eat it and drink that coffee and tell me the whole story.”
After she heard the story, she sat back down with a sigh and looked at the pictures.
“This boy sat at my dinner table and told me he loved you. I believed him. I don’t like being lied to.”
“Me either.” Mary traced a pattern on the tabletop.
“You’re sure he’s lying? I mean, I’m looking here and it’s pretty damning. But I hate being wrong about people. I have a very good sense for liars. I didn’t get that from him.”
She started to cry. “Damn it. I am so sick of crying! I hate him for turning me into this.” She pounded the table with her fist. “I don’t know. I’m afraid to believe. Afraid he’s lying. Afraid he’s telling the truth. Afraid if I believe him, I’m fooling myself.”
“If something is worth having, my sweet Mary Elizabeth, it often comes with some struggle. You’re a brave girl. A smart woman who loves with all her heart. Only you can decide if he’s worth your heart. I’m here to listen. I’ll protect you the best I can. I’ll cut anyone who hurts you. But I can’t protect your heart. I can’t and it hurts me more than you’ll know until the time you sit across a table from your little girl and she’s being torn to shreds and you can’t save her from it.”
Her mother took her hands. “I love you so much. I wish I could make this better.”
“You are. You did.”
“He’s here.” Daisy came into the room.
Mary stood and her mother did too. “Damien? Now?”
“He and an older woman just parked.”
“Shit, his mother? I’m not . . . I don’t . . .”
Her mother pushed her down into her chair. “I’ll handle this.”
There was a knock on the door.
“No. I’ll deal with it.”
“I’ll get it.” Daisy marched out.
Mary sighed and followed.
She pushed around Daisy and went to the door, opening it up. “Why are you here?”
He was so beautiful there she knew the tears would come. Blinked them back hard.
“Can I talk to you? Please.”
“No. Please, just go. This is hard enough.” Tears came and she hated them. Hated that weakness.
Sharon touched her arm. “I know what you think. Can we come in? Please, honey?”
“You need to take your boy out of here. He’s done enough damage.”
“You must be Mary’s mom. I’m Sharon. I’m sure you want the kids to work this out.”
Jeanne did a head whip and Mary knew they were in for trouble. She stepped between the two women.
But her mother was made of far sterner stuff and her baby was being threatened.
“Get the hell out of here. Take that skirt chaser with you.”
In the background she heard Daisy curse under her breath.
“What did you just say?” Sharon’s eyes narrowed.
“Mrs. Hurley, please go.”
“My son didn’t do anything with that girl. You know it. Deep down in your heart you know it. He loves you so much, Mary. Please, just hear him out. I know you’re hurting and embarrassed. But this reporter, he’s got—”
“Mom, let me.” Damien looked at her, really looked at her, so fucking beautiful she couldn’t bear it. “Will you give me a few minutes? Please let me explain?” He held his hands out, empty. Hands that had touched her so many times, never with anything but kindness. With love.
The fingers pressed over her lips couldn’t stop the sob from escaping.
“Mary. Please?”
Daisy touched her back and she turned. “What do you think I should do?”
“What do you want to do? When Levi came to me that day I . . . I swallowed my pride and I heard him out. And I’m with him. You love him. I think you should listen to what he has to say. If he’s lying, you’ll listen to your gut and you’ll know. But if he’s not.” Daisy hugged her. “Do you want to risk walking away from this love you have? You already have doubts. I can see it. I can hear it. Let him explain and if he’s full of shit, kick him in the dick and be done with it.”
Her mother stepped out onto the porch and Sharon took another step closer.
“Christ.”
“Go. I’ll handle them. I’ll turn the hose on them if they start to rumble.”
“Only you could make me laugh today.”
She turned to her mother. “Please don’t make the neighbors call the cops.” Mary kissed her mom’s cheek.
She walked down to where Damien was. “Start talking.”
He fell into step beside her as they walked. “Do you think they’ll be all right together?” He looked back over his shoulder toward their mothers.
“Daisy is going to watch them.”
“All right.” He walked at her side, reaching out to take her hand. “Can I touch you?”
She needed to hear what he was going to say. And maybe she’d need her hand to punch him with. If he touched her, she’d lose tha
t last little bit of her composure.
“No.”
He breathed out. “I want to.”
“Hm. I want lots of things. Tell me your story.”
“I saw the pictures. You know who she is, obviously. But that’s past tense.”
“Didn’t look past tense to me with her hand on your ass and her head on your shoulder. Oh, and that cozy little moment in the hotel after the event.”
“Okay, so I get that. But that was . . . we were on the red carpet. All of us. Vaughan and Paddy were right there too. She had on these really high heels and nearly tripped. I stopped her from falling. That’s all. She didn’t touch my ass. It just looks that way from the angle.”
She sighed.
“Mary, I love you. You. Not Elisa. If I wanted her, I could have been with her three years ago. Or a week ago in New York. There’s one woman I want in my bed. One. You. Mary Whaley, curly-haired goddess of the kitchen. Dirty talking, horny, cock hungry, beautiful, beautiful woman. Mine.”
He turned to her and she sucked in a breath. They stood face-to-face in her yard. He was close enough that she could smell his cologne. That she could see the dark circles under his eyes, the curve of his bottom lip.
“After the event we all went out to dinner and then back to the hotel. She was in the lobby as I passed through. Right before I went straight upstairs to call you. Alone. I did not cheat on you. I would not cheat on you. If I wanted to be with another woman, I’d break up with you. I have flaws, but I’m not an asshole. I respect you and I am not so shallow that I think with my dick.
“People will try to hurt me through you. I’m sorry about that. I’m sorry if what I was before gives you reason to not trust me now. I’ve never been someone to look back with regret. But that anything I did before you, anything that makes you cry this way . . . ” He shook his head, at a loss for words for long moments. “I’m so fucking sorry. It kills me to see you like this.”
She kept looking at him. Panicked. Desperate. So in love she didn’t know what to do, so she just froze.
“Say something.”
