The Six Month Lease (Southern Hearts Club Book 2)

by Melanie Munton

  “After tirelessly working multiple jobs through a rigorous flight school program and earning his pilot’s license,” Mother continues, “he took a job in the tourism industry in 2015 and has been offering helicopter tours in this community ever since. Now, he’s working to branch out on his own in the form of Charleston Charters, the region’s first helicopter charter business, servicing areas all over the Lowcountry. And after getting to know this ambitious young man myself, I can personally guarantee that once Charleston Charters gets in the air, you’ll be in the best of hands while flying high in the sky. Please join me in congratulating the 2020 Annual Charleston Society Foundation donation recipient, Mr. West Devereaux.”

  Oh, God.

  I’m going to be sick. I’m going to be sick.

  The room breaks out in uproarious applause. While I hear nothing but the furious racing of my own heart and the rushing of blood through my constricting blood vessels.

  I’m almost too afraid to look at him. But nothing could stop the magnetic pull of my gaze as it seeks his out. And what I see absolutely shatters me.

  So many emotions fight for dominance on West’s face. Shock, anger, hurt, devastation, embarrassment, betrayal.

  It’s those last two that really gut me. West has made it clear on multiple occasions that he doesn’t accept charity or handouts. Born with an implacable work ethic, he’s adamant about earning everything himself, with his own two hands. And in the span of about three minutes, his years’ worth of hard work and effort has gone up in smoke.

  Not to mention, it’s quite obvious that every other person in this room is looking down on him from their pedestals of superiority. By receiving this donation, they perceive West as a charity to be patted on the back, possibly even pitied. They think he’s lesser than them.

  And they have no idea how much better he is than all of them put together.

  But that look of betrayal as he silently demands an explanation from me is the kill shot.

  He thinks I did this.

  How could he think that? I would never disrespect him like this.

  Uh, because you’re standing right next to Satan. Guilty by association.

  “Mr. Devereaux,” Mother says cheerily into the microphone. “Join us onstage to say a few words, won’t you?”

  With indescribable pain coating his features that’s all targeted at me, West pivots on his heel and stampedes toward the exit.

  I have no choice. Without so much as a glance in Mother’s direction, I pick up my dress and run after him. I’m barely aware of my movements as I rush down the stairs and across the room. Barely register all the perplexed expressions of the people watching me curiously, still clapping. Barely notice Dan’s troubled face as I fly past him, following the path West took out the door.

  “West, wait!”

  I’m grateful when he actually listens and stops in the middle of the palatial lobby. Marble pillars, marble floors. I think the designers of Caesar’s Palace gave the contractors who built this place a few notes.

  He still doesn’t turn to face me after I reach him. His shoulders remain tense, the rest of his posture rigid.

  “What happened in there,” I say, choosing my words carefully, “that wasn’t what you think.”

  “What I think?” he snaps. “So, you’re telling me I should be thinking something different than what every other person in that room thought? Which is that you helpfully gave your mother the idea of generously donating money to my adorable little non-company?”

  “I swear to you, I would never—”

  He wheels around, sending air whooshing past my face. His eyes are flinty and dangerous, his hands balling at his sides. “Did you think you were helping me? Do you expect me to be grateful that this Foundation of rich snobs has graciously found me worthy of their pity money?”

  My mouth opens and closes in my best impression of a fish, but nothing comes out.

  “Those people were humoring me tonight by giving away money they probably scrounged up between their couch cushions. Am I supposed to thank you for humiliating me like that?”

  My eyes well up with tears, but I somehow force them back. “I had no idea that was going to happen. She never said— Do you honestly think I would do that to you?”

  Bitter laughter escapes his lips. “You weren’t exactly refusing to stand by her side up there. And yes, I think that if you convinced yourself you were only helping me, you would. That once I had the money in my hands, I would look past where it came from.”

  I can’t work out what that says about his opinion of me. Too many thoughts are scrambling my brain up like my eggs at breakfast this morning.

  “And here I thought you actually knew me,” I murmur, the distraught coming out loud and clear in my voice.

  His mouth twists condescendingly, the image making my stomach roil once again. “So did I. But I’m seriously starting to doubt if I ever did. Because I didn’t think we were the type to keep secrets from each other.”

  “Look who’s talking about keeping secrets,” I cut in before I can stop myself. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened the night of Shae’ birthday party?”

  That knocks him back a step. He clearly wasn’t expecting to be taken off-guard by that revelation, though it doesn’t take him long to recover. “Would it really have made a difference if I had told you at the time? Would you have believed me?”

  I pause.

  Because my automatic response is to scream, “yes!”, but I recall my earlier conversation with Shae. How misguided I realized I’ve been when it comes to her. I want to say I would have trusted my boyfriend no matter what. But I can’t say with all confidence that I would have believed the man I’d been dating for two weeks over my best friend of fifteen years.

  My silence says it all.

  “That’s what I thought,” he says resentfully. “Me telling you the truth about that night wouldn’t have done any good. You needed to see for yourself what kind of person Shae is. Of course, all that waiting for you to come around was for not.”

  Begrudgingly, I have to admit he’s right about that part. Everything with Shae is all on me. If I’m solely to blame for our breakup, then I’ll accept that. I’ll apologize for my comments and behavior and vow that she will never come between us again.

  But he opens his mouth before I can utter a single word.

  “And you’ve got some damn nerve to accuse me of keeping secrets.”

  Here it comes. I’m not ready.

  I’m not ready.

  “What are you talking about?”

  He scoffs. “Give it up, princess. Pretty sure all our shit is being laid bare tonight. You might as well fess up. You never had any intention of leaving the Foundation, did you?”

  If I wasn’t looking directly at him, I’d have thought I’ve never met the man standing before me. His voice is so cold. His eyes are so flat. Actually, they’re worse than flat. They’re dead. Zero emotion left in them.

  “Why would you say that?” I whisper.

  “Dan shared your happy news.” He quirks an eyebrow. “A seat on the Planning and Preservation board, huh? Pretty impressive. I guess you’ll be in the big leagues now. Right under the tutorage of mommy dearest.”

  I’m struggling to keep track of this tangled web of lies. And who has been spinning what in whose ear. I don’t know where I stand with Mother now. Even if West doesn’t accept the money, she could still reject his applications. And even after everything that’s happened tonight, I will still take that position if it means West gets his business. Even if this is the end for us, I’ll obey her demands so he can at least have his dream.

  One of us ought to.

  Plus, he wouldn’t even be in this nightmare if it wasn’t for me.

  “Nothing is set in stone,” is all I can think to say.

  I won’t waste my breath trying to explain the deal I made with her. Somehow, I don’t think it will improve the situation, if he even believes me. Apparently, he’s not taking too mu
ch stock in my word at this point.

  His nostrils flare as he shakes his head from side-to-side. “You’re damn right I thought I knew you, Harper. I thought you were someone who was finding her courage. Someone who was starting to speak up and stand up for herself. I thought you were on the verge of finally giving your mother the middle finger, not becoming a sell-out.”

  I flinch, that word verbally slapping me in the face.

  “But you’re going in the exact opposite direction,” he continues. “Sinking even further into that damn world. Trying to drag me with you by treating me like a fucking charity case. Didn’t you know that was giving your mother the perfect opportunity to hold something over my head for the rest of my life? Knowing that she was basically responsible for launching my business? How in the hell could you not know that would bother me?”

  Another flinch.

  I guess that part is on me, too. Because even though the money wasn’t supposed to come in the form of a charitable donation, he probably wouldn’t have appreciated an anonymous handout either. And God forbid, he’d ever found out it was a personal handout directly from my own mother.

  Yes, I screwed up.

  I just…I didn’t know what to do. When she threw those threats in my face, I just reacted. I did the only thing that made sense in my mind at the time, under pressure. Because money or no money, he wouldn’t be able to even operate a business if I hadn’t agreed to her demands. It’s well within her power to reject every application he submits for a local certification.

  It’s still in her power.

  No matter what happens after tonight, she can still screw him over.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Because I am. For reasons he’s not even aware of. I’m sorry for hiding things from him, for putting him in this position, for having the mother I have. He was humiliated tonight, and I know that’s where a lot of this anger and defensiveness is coming from.

  But he’s also hurt.

  And I did that. By not taking his side four months ago. By letting my mother get away with her bullshit. By not confiding in him when I should have. I’m just so beyond ready for everyone to stop meddling in our goddamn lives and leave us the hell alone.

  He huffs out a breath. “I don’t get it. You know what she’s like. You’ve never had a good relationship with her. Hell, she’s made you doubt yourself time and again ever since you were a kid. It’s like you let the worst people walk all over you. First Shae, now your mom. Why?”

  Saying that I don’t want to sever the only parental relationship I really have—since my father is always out of the country for his job—even if it’s an unhealthy, loveless, dysfunctional mess of one, doesn’t seem like a good enough answer.

  So, I don’t give him one.

  “And there it is,” he grates out, his voice dripping with bitterness. “I couldn’t get through to you about Shae four months ago, and I can’t get through to you now. I would never ask you to make a choice between me and them. But you’re making it all on your own anyway.”

  I shake my head in denial even though I have no recourse. I don’t know where to go or what to say to him to keep him here. I don’t know if I can tell him the truth, even though this would be the opportune moment to come clean. Even if he believes me, Mother can still destroy everything he’s worked for if I don’t do what she says.

  All I really know is, I don’t want him to walk out of my life.

  I need him. I want him. And at the risk of sounding dramatic, I can’t picture my life without him in it anymore. I need to convince him that we can work through this. That somehow, I’ll find a way to help him get the money for his business and make sure he gets all of his certifications.

  I just need him to stay.

  “I’m not choosing anything,” I croak, choking back a sob. “I’m just trying to figure everything out. Please, give me a chance to—”

  “Maybe we’ve used up all of our chances.”

  There’s a finality in his voice that makes my heart lurch against my ribcage.

  No. He can’t mean that.

  “But let me tell you this.” He shoves his face right up against mine. “That woman will sabotage every chance you get at happiness. Because if you have someone in your life, then you’ll no longer be her little puppet she can control.”

  With those words ringing in my ears, he takes a step away from me.

  And another.

  And another.

  All while keeping his dead eyes trained on mine.

  “And you’re going to keep pushing away any man who could make you happy until you figure that out. Just like you’re pushing me away right now. But this time, princess, it’s the last damn time.”

  The tears finally spill over.

  Then he turns his back on me and walks away.

  Oh, God, wait! Please don’t leave!

  I want to cry out those words, scream them at his retreating back. But nothing comes out except a strangled sob, which he can’t hear because he’s already pushed through the lobby doors.

  When the pain of his exit slams into me with the force of a head-on collision, all I can think is—

  I deserve it.

  Every. Heartbreaking. Bit of it.

  “I think we need to consider the possibility that your mom might be the Anti-Christ.”

  The woman on the yoga mat next to Gretchen’s gives my friend an obnoxiously long shhh.

  Gretchen waves her off like she’s shooing away a fly.

  I want to laugh at Gretchen’s matter-of-fact words, but I don’t have the energy. This yoga class was supposed to center me, calm me, allow me to get my thoughts back on track. Instead, all it’s managing to do is add to my exhaustion.

  I’m holding Bow-With-Cat pose as still as I can, but it’s a monumental struggle. It’s not even that difficult of a position—I’m holding my leg up behind me by the ankle, while kneeling on my other knee and holding myself steady with my hand on the floor. It should be a piece of cake, but my balance has been off all morning. Physical and mental.

  I sigh. “Odds are in her favor.”

  “You want me to cut her?” Quinn offers much-too-happily.

  True friends offer to maim and kill for you.

  That’s got to be on a bumper sticker somewhere.

  “If anyone’s cutting her, it’ll be me,” I counter as the instructor at the front of the studio moves into Camel pose. “I just don’t understand how she could do that to me. Why she would do it.”

  “Other than innate evilness?” Sloane asks from my other side. “It’s just like West said. She likes being the puppet master pulling all your strings. The more serious you got with West, the higher the likelihood of you eventually quitting the Foundation and making your own way apart from her. So, she hatched a plan to keep you under her wing and used Shae as her little minion. And since she was obviously born without any maternal instincts, the fact that you’re her daughter was irrelevant.” She winces. “No offense.”

  “Maternal instincts, my ass,” Gretchen blurts out. “All demons are born with are horns and hooves.”

  The same woman next to Gretchen clears her throat loudly, purposefully.

  Gretchen shoots her the bird when she’s not looking.

  “But why did she do that last night?” I ask, voicing one of the many questions that has plagued my brain over the past twelve hours. “If she wanted my cooperation, why did she throw away her only bargaining chip?”

  “Probably because she wanted to break you and West up once and for all,” Sloane suggests. “Because then, you’d have nothing left but her and your job. And she could still threaten you with rejecting West’s applications. So, she really didn’t lose any leverage by cutting West out of the picture.”

  “She just eliminated her biggest roadblock,” Gretchen adds.

  “My theory is that you and Shae were switched at birth,” Quinn grunts from a wobbly Locust position, making me almost pee myself in laughter. “She and your mother were cut from th
e same satanic cloth.”

  Quinn’s made no bones over the years about despising yoga. Being the type who’s always got to be active and moving, playing sports or riding her horses, yoga is akin to torture for her. Yet she bailed on those horses and her job at the mysterious estate this weekend to come console me. Or to be my alibi in case I decide to track down Mother and kill her.

  Sisterhood.

  The grief over Shae’s betrayal floods me all over again in waves. It’s not as sharp as it was last night, but I imagine it’s still going to hurt for some time. I mean, God knows our friendship wasn’t perfect, but how could she just throw away years of memories all for a few possessions? We’ve shared so much together, so many experiences, and I’m having a hard time not seeing it all as a…complete waste.

  “I just can’t believe her,” I find myself saying. “I would have done anything for her and have. For years. How can someone be that selfish?”

  Quinn snorts. “Which one are you talking about?”

  “Both, I guess.” And isn’t that just depressing.

  “If I can offer a little armchair psychology here,” Gretchen speaks up. “I happen to be an expert in Bitchology.”

  I wave her on. “Please. I don’t think it can hurt at this point.”

  “You’ve been Shae’s sun since you were kids,” she says. “Her world has always revolved around you. In the beginning, you were her only friend, her hero, even her savior, to a degree. She probably wanted to be just like you because, from her tainted perspective, you had the perfect life. Especially when all she knew was druggie mothers and bullies.”

  I’ve been vacillating from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other over the last twenty-four hours. I want to cry for the lost little girl Shae was once—and still is—and I want to slap the adult Shae across the face. Then I want to kick my mother in her lady gonads.

  “Then as she got older,” Gretchen goes on as we all move into Mountain pose, “she started growing resentful of the fact that she couldn’t be like you and couldn’t have the nice things that you had, the fancy life. All the girls wanted to be your friend, all the boys wanted to date you. She got angry because no matter how hard she tried or how close she got to you, those things weren’t coming easily to her.”