He doesn’t get any further because I’m in his arms and kissing him to death, my mouth grinning so hugely it’s hard to kiss without our teeth clacking together.
“You could have said something, Vincent,” I say later, after some really intense love making—oral only for the time being, thanks to Doctor Barrows. “I’ve been all wound up and miserable. I even painted a gloomy landscape!” I accuse, slapping his chest.
He chuckles and pulls me back to his chest, his fingers running through my hair in a comforting caress that lulls me.
“I haven’t answered any of your other questions, so let’s clear a few more things up before you fall asleep, dove. Yes, I love you, wholly and completely. Of course we’re still getting married; that’s never been up for debate. We won’t move if you don’t want to, and though those leads on Brennan did not pan out, I will find him, even if I have to do it myself.”
I fall asleep a few minutes later after a toe-tingling kiss, a smile on my face and the sudden idea for a new piece swirling at the edges of my consciousness.
Chapter Twenty Six
“Oh, my God. Who elected me to walk down the aisle in lieu of a bridesmaid?”
I giggle at Parker and turn away from the mirror to see him sprawled across the sofa in the little room I’ve been allowed to use to get ready for the ceremony.
Mama and Daddy have flown in for the little service and the wedding breakfast, along with Justin and Bee. While I still consider Bee a friend, I haven’t been that up to a reconciliation, so that’s left Parker as my only pal, and thus his recent designation of bridesman, my take on the modern manmaid.
He’s dressed in a white tux, his only consideration to my color scheme a bright yellow rose, pinned rakishly to his lapel.
“Me,” I say, giggling when he scowls and eyes the bouquet I’ve gotten him.
“Can I at least ditch the flowers? Jesus, Sis, if your wedding pictures leak to the press I’ll be a laughingstock.”
“Nope. I want you strolling your sexy ass down that aisle holding those flowers as if you were born a freaking queen. This is my day,” I warn, my eyes daring him to naysay me.
It’s something I have to do. Not because I’m some sort of sadistic bitch or anything, hell no, that designation belongs fully with Julia, the woman I’ve convinced to attend my wedding in the hopes of setting Parker up with his long lost love.
Her reception had not been warm till I’d let it slip that Parker was performing bridesman duty. That she’d loved, a lot. To the point that I’d had to listen to her chuckle for a full two minutes before she’d whammied me.
If Parker carried a bouquet, she’d be there with bells on. And she’d go so far as to give ‘the asshat’ a chance to convince her of his worth.
The things I’ll do for love are just plain weird, so I’d agreed and spent the next two days bullying Parker into accepting the inevitable. He’s gonna walk me to my guy, carrying yellow roses like a pro, or I’m gonna drag him there by the roots of his hair.
“Christ. Fine. But you’re gonna owe me big for this,” he mutters, glaring at the roses with a baleful sneer. “You sure you’re ready for this? If you’re not, there’s no shame in pulling a runner.”
“No. God. I’ve told you a million times, I want to get married to Vincent. Now quit your griping and come fix my train.”
My dress is a simple off the shoulder gown that pools in loving layers at my pump-clad feet. It reminds me of those dresses from the medieval period, only it has no sleeves, and it’s got a short lace train that trails at the back.
“Sooorry! I just don’t see what the rush is, not that—” he breaks off suddenly and looks away, his face so guilty.
“Calm down, Meryl Streep,” I say when he starts babbling apologies. “I’m not gonna have a nervous breakdown just because you mentioned it. I’m fine,” I assure him, checking my hair one last time. “But yes, we were getting married before because of it, and when that…didn’t work out, well…” I say with a shrug. “We still love each other and want to get married.”
I’d told Parker everything about my ultimatum and Vincent’s response, though I’m not exactly thrilled by his dubious attitude to Vincent’s sudden declaration.
Okay, so maybe there was a tiny little voice in my head questioning his sudden capitulation, when I know that Vincent has always been the kind of guy to ignore emotional entanglements…
A knock on the door interrupts us, and I watch as Mama bustles in, her eyes shining with tears of happiness when she sees me in my wedding dress, all dolled up and looking gorgeous, if I say so myself.
“Oh, Sissy, you’re a beautiful bride. Daddy is so happy he’s pure busting at the seams to walk you down the aisle. Come on slow pokes, let’s go get you hitched.”
The rest of it is a joy-filled blur as I meet my father at the set of double doors and watch Parker keep his end of the bargain, his hips swinging wildly as he sashays his way down the aisle.
I giggle and feel my father laugh when Parker sees Julia and almost trips over his own feet, he comes to such a sudden halt. He makes it to his spot—by sheer force of will on his part—and then I’m floating toward Vincent on Daddy’s arm, my eyes misting over when he winks at me and stands taller.
The vows go quickly, and soon I am kissing my husband and accepting the well wishes of everyone in attendance—Bee’s included, as I’m not a total monster.
When we’re finally seated and eating a late breakfast in a reserved suite at the Carlton, I look over and just enjoy the sight of all the people I love together, their laughter and conversation sending a warm flood of pure happiness to my heart.
“Happy, dove?” Vincent asks, placing a reverent kiss to my hand right over my wedding band.
“Very,” I sigh, smiling contentedly. “That was the perfect wedding. I was half afraid Mama would go rogue on me and pull together one of those society fiascos she’s been dreaming of since I was a little girl.”
“She felt that we deserved a break after…the loss,” he murmurs, running his stubbled cheek along my knuckles.
The reminder fizzles some of my euphoria, and I just nod, looking away to fiddle with my cold eggs. While I’ve forced myself to move on and not dwell on something that wasn’t meant to be, it rips me up every time I see his sadness.
Vincent…well, he’s taken this a lot harder than I have, and some days I catch him staring at me in that inscrutable way he used to, as if he’s seeing something that disturbs him.
A few times he’s started to tell me something, something I think is important, but he never quite gets there and ends up changing the subject.
It makes me antsy, but as I’ve said, time is what we need right now.
“Sis, come on over here and tell Julia about your new series. She didn’t get to buy any of those from the last exhibition, and she wants dibs on one from the next.”
I roll my eyes at Parker—really, the man’s practically jumping through hoops to impress the woman—and shuffle over with a smirk, shaking off the melancholy from Vincent’s words.
By the time I’ve told her everything there is to know about what I plan to do next, and have practically signed a promise in blood, Vincent is nowhere to be seen.
“Hey, Mama, did you see where my husband ran off to?” I ask, bending down to wrap her in a quick hug.
“No, baby. Beau is also MIA. Maybe try one of the bedrooms? They’re probably taking calls already. You know how these businessmen are,” she says with an eye roll.
“Yeah, but no business or work at my wedding breakfast,” I mock growl, giving her a kiss before going in search of my errant husband and his partner in crime.
The soft murmur of voices pulls me down the passage, and I shake my head with a laugh, thinking ruefully that there’s no changing a tycoon. Pausing at the door to the master bedroom, I slowly push down that handle and inch in, not wanting to cause a stir in case one or both of them are on a call.
“You deserve this, son. You did everyth
ing I asked and more. I couldn’t have chosen better for my Sissy girl.”
I stop dead in my tracks and duck to the right, my breath stalling as I plaster myself to the wall behind a thin, decorative bookcase at the door.
“As you said, sir, she needs a strong hand. Now that we’re married, I can guarantee Cecilia won’t be running wild in the streets of New York.”
“Good, good. I’ll transfer my shares in Blake’s over to you immediately, as well as my proxy. That should get you enough of a controlling share to shut those bastards down.”
The words become a blur of smug crowing and backslaps that stutter through my heart with resounding force. I’m frozen, numb as I half listen to what they’re discussing, my blood frozen in my veins as the extent of their duplicity finally sinks in.
This… I can’t even compute what this is, but as they talk it all comes down to one thing: Vincent and my father are in cahoots. Daddy has used me, trapped me with a man whose only interest in me is—
“You son of a bitch!” the word explodes from me as I come away from my hiding place and glare at them, my heart breaking so hard it’s difficult to catch my breath. “You used his interest in his family’s company…you…”
I can’t finish, not when I look up at Vincent and see the truth in his cold green eyes. I see nothing there anymore, no trace of the lovingly attentive man he’s been. Only calculation and a satisfaction that makes bile rise up in my throat.
“You never loved me. Did you?” I ask, feeling the sting of tears and deep humiliation.
The hard look, that coldness that has managed to seep straight into me wavers, and he shakes his head regretfully.
“Let me explain, dove.”
Chapter Twenty Seven
“Yo, Lily, order up, girl.”
As Nico dings the little bell at the window and pushes two orders of eggs over easy, bacon, toast, and lamb sausage my way, I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow and huff out a wired breath.
“You okay, Lil?”
“Fine, Nic, just tired. My section’s busting at the seams, and I still have to cover half of Ginger’s tables. Fucking college brats aren’t making it easy, either. Just don’t screw up their order, huh? Those rich idiots are already making my life a misery.”
He grins at me and hocks back, waggling his brows at me in a yay or nay move that makes me laugh and shake my head. The brats may be working on my nerves, but no one deserves a booger sandwich, and I say so.
“Your call, babe. Not me who has to serve the little assholes.”
I snort and grab the order, walking away with a bright smile plastered on as I deliver it to Earl and his wife Pearl and trudge back to get them coffee.
The last three and a half months-not that I’m counting—have been…enlightening. After confronting Vincent and my—Beau, I’d run out of the hotel wearing a ten grand wedding dress and nothing else.
I couldn’t go home because right now that was Vincent’s house, and I had no money, ID, nothing, so I’d grabbed a cab and begged the cabbie to use his phone.
Parker had answered on the first ring, and after explaining the situation and begging him not to let on that it was me on the phone, I’d begged him to meet me at the park and to bring some money—to pay the cabbie and to help get me out of the city.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: why run? Simple. Because despite being a twenty-eight-year-old adult and having the power to say no, I have this weakness were love is concerned, and I’d known that if I gave Beau or Vincent the slightest encouragement, they’d convince me that everything was just a misunderstanding.
Parker had given me twenty grand and hooked me up with a little place in Georgia, a little two bedroom house in the middle of nowhere that had belonged to his maternal grandmother or something.
It was not a luxury home or anything, but it suited my purposes just fine. I’d spent half of the money on a second hand car at a dealership just dodgy enough not to require my licence, and the other half I was keeping as an emergency fund.
That’s why I’m currently working nine-hour days at the diner to put food in my belly and keep the electricity on.
“Hey, waitress! Where are our burgers?”
Stifling the urge to tell them to go to hell, I smile sweetly instead and hotfoot it over to Nic, my eyes begging him to fill the order now, even if they’d only ordered five minutes ago.
“Please get that shit ready so I can be done with those little pricks.”
He nods once and gets down to business, handing me three double cheeses and an order of fries five minutes later, his copper cheeks red from the heat of the grill.
“Don’t look at the pickles too closely and you won’t hurl, babe,” he crows, winking slyly as I grab my tray and load it up. Chances are those pickles aren’t the only thing green on the burgers.
“Christ.”
By the time I’ve delivered their order and eaten more shit, it’s noon and coming up on my break.
“Take it now, toots,” Viola yells at me, tossing a bottle of water in my direction from her place behind the counter. “Lunch rush’ll start in about ten minutes.”
With a heavy sigh I chuck my apron at her and beat feet to the back, my muscles relaxing only when I get outside to the picnic table overlooking the little stream that runs behind the diner.
There I enjoy my cold bottle of water and the turkey sandwich Nic makes me every day.
It’s also where I go, every day, to think about the fact that I’m married to the richest, most powerful man in New York City, and that one wrong move on my part will have him breathing down my neck so fast my head will spin.
Funny that despite three months and so many miles later, I still can’t outrun the pain of it. I feel raw inside at Beau’s betrayal and even rawer knowing that I’d bared myself, my fucking heart and soul, to Vincent, and he’d used that weakness to get what he wanted.
I can’t say that Beau had sold me or that Vincent had bought me, that…I can’t even figure out what it is that they’d done, but I know that I’d been nothing more than a casualty in a deal, a goddamned business deal, and that I meant so little—
“Yo, Lil, your lunch regulars are arriving, doll.”
“I’ll be in in a minute, Vi!”
After a thumbs up and a wink to let me know that the brats have left, she turns back and leaves me alone. I need, hell, I don’t know what I need anymore, but an hour’s worth of sleep after last night’s marathon painting session seems like a luxury that I can’t afford right now.
This is why I don’t think about Vincent often—or as often as my pathetic brain will allow—because I know that if I fall asleep anytime soon, I’ll be dreaming of him and waking up with tears all over my pillow.
Bastard.
“Hey, Doolie, what’ll it be today?” I ask five minutes later.
My regulars all grin up at me—Doolie especially—with their wrinkled old faces and sparkling eyes.
“Just the usual for us, honey. And a kiss from the sweetest girl in Georgia.”
“Sorry, Dool, I’m afraid I have to hold out for a ring and babies. Wouldn’t want to give the milk away for free. Who’d buy the cow then?” I tease, watching them crack up at my usual line.
Truth is that I’d sunk so low that a little flirting from seventy-year-old Doolie makes my goddamned day. Every day.
The thought makes me sadder, and a whole lot mad, and it takes my best efforts to get through the lunch rush without crying or throwing shit around to soothe my temper.
By the time five rolls around, I’m dead on my feet and praying for relief.
“Ah, honey, go on home. Tash’ll be in soon enough to take over. You look plain beat,” Viola murmurs, eyeing the dark circles beneath my eyes that no amount of concealer can hide.
“Thanks, Vi, but I don’t think that’ll make much differnec. Too early to turn in.”
Not that that’s the problem. I’m avoiding home like the plague because I know that no matter how tired I am,
I’ll end up in front of the canvas. It’s become my own personal enemy since I arrived here.
All I paint now is dark shit, sometimes ending with a canvas filled with black swirls from corner to corner. I can’t face it tonight without losing my shit and I know it, so picking up another shift, despite my exhaustion, is what I’d planned to do.
“Get your sweet ass home and to bed, Lilly Tom, or I’ll get you there myself. And have Nic cook you up a nice burger before you leave,” she orders, giving me the stare that I’ve come to recognize as her ‘do not gainsay me or I will fuck you up’ look.
There’s no arguing, so I toss my apron at her, grab my tip jar, and skip to the kitchen. When I get there Nic already has a burger and side order of fries wrapped and ready and is wiping down the grill.
“You eat that when you get home, Lily darlin’. You’ve dropped too much weight recently. Oh, and take this, my mama said it’ll put you to sleep in a wink.”
What he gives me turns out to be a medium sized bottle of clear liquid. When I turn the cap off and take a whiff it leaves me spluttering.
“Jesus. That burned my nose clear off. What the heck is it?” I cough, turning the cap on quickly.
“Mama calls it Night Rescue. It’s her version of sleeping pills, but you don’t wake up with a hangover. Try it, Lil.”
He says it so earnestly and with so much concern—well, as much concern as a fry cook with problems and a life of his own can—that I just nod and promise to take at least one swig.
If I die of liver disease from one mouthful, all the better. At least I’ll go with a smile on my face.
Chapter Twenty Eight
The ring of the phone greets me the minute I walk through the door, and I pause for five breaths, my booze and burger balanced precariously before I snatch it up, the only sound I make that of a slight stutter in my breath.
If it’s Parker, well, he knows the drill. He speaks first or I end the call and start running. This is only one of the safety precautions we’d agreed to since I’d booked it out of New York.
JACE (Lane Brothers Book 3) Page 26
