Sledgehammer (Hard To Love Book 2)

by P. Dangelico

Memories barge in uninvited, dragging me back to my childhood. “I used to think she hated me. She was always correcting me, criticizing me. She thought that changing me would make my life easier.”

  “What happened today?”

  I burrow closer to him and still I’m not close enough. I want to get so lost under his skin that they have to send a search party to find me.

  “She’s getting worse. She doesn’t remember me.” Disembodied, my voice sounds far away, as if it doesn’t belong to me. “She said some horrible things.”

  “She’s sick. She doesn’t mean it.”

  The weight on my chest is too much. It’s crushing the air from my lungs.

  “I know. But it’s hard…she’s the only person in my family that’s ever been in my corner, that’s ever…” My voice fades out of existence. I can’t say it out loud. I can’t. It’s too humiliating.

  “Ever loved you.”

  All I can do is nod, my face brushing against his undershirt while his fingers run through my hair, combing it back.

  “She might’ve been the first person to love you, but she won’t be the last.”

  Madness comes on. The lyrics ‘inadvertent hero, an angel in disguise’ rise above the rest. I can’t disagree with Alanis.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The time has come for the dratted birthday party.

  Me: I can’t go. I have nothing to wear.

  Needless to say I am decidedly uncomfortable with the idea of not only meeting his entire family, but worse yet having to pretend to be his date because he can’t manage to convince one little old lady that he is in fact not gay. I’ve never witnessed anyone coming out as straight. I’m not even sure it’s a thing.

  Fancy: I’ll have my personal shopper at Bergdorf send something over for you to choose. Problem solved.

  Me: I can’t afford Bergdorf!

  Fancy: I can.

  Me: Never mind. I’ll find something at the second hand stores.

  Fancy: No second hand stores. Stop fighting this. You wouldn’t want to look ungrateful after everything I’ve done for you, would you?

  I suck in a horrified breath. Man, he went straight for tender bits with that one.

  Me: You fight dirty.

  Fancy: Always. Don’t ever forget it.

  I step out my bedroom as he’s stepping out of his. Simultaneously we do an open inspection of the other. I have on the J Mendel mini dress the personal shopper sent over along with a pair of black high heeled Manolo Blahnik pumps. The dress is simple and stylish and all kinds of amazing. Audrey would approve; it’s purple. God knows what this thing costs. I’ve never worn anything this beautiful and expensive.

  Fancy looks like his usual hideously gorgeous supermodel self in a lean blue suit with a black tie.

  “You clean up nice, Vaughn.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself, Jones. You have your overnight bag ready?” I motion behind me and he moves past me to grab it.

  It feels like a date. It does. There, I said it. The whole dang thing is weird. I’m acting weird. He’s acting weird. We’re acting weird together. And yet, as weird as it is, it’s still the best time I’ve had in a decade and we haven’t even stepped out of the house.

  If we weren’t headed to this Vaughn family reunion I would actually be giddy with excitement. The night sky is bright with an infinite amount of stars. A beautiful man is opening all my doors. What more can a girl ask for?

  I slide into the passenger seat of his Audi while he watches me with a look of confusion, his hand poised to shut the door.

  “Christ, Jones, you’re an actress. How hard can it be to act like you’re interested in me.”

  What? Wait, what? Whatever he’s trying to communicate is not computing. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “That look on your face.”

  “What look on my face?”

  He closes my door and gets behind the wheel. “The one that says you don’t want do this. Look at it this way, if you can’t convince my eighty-five year old grandmother that you’re into me, then what hope do you have of making a career out of acting?” He starts the car and pulls out onto Madison Ave.

  “You better watch it, McButterpants, or you’ll get exactly what you’re asking for,” I warn with narrow eyes. “And I wasn’t looking like I don’t want to do this. I was just thinking that if I didn’t have to meet your entire family tonight, I would be having a great time already…and this dress makes me nervous. It’s too expensive.”

  There’s that baby v again, sitting smack dab in the middle of his brow. “You were?” He sounds suspicious.

  “Yes––I was.” Okay, maybe that came out a little churlish. At the deafening silence coming from my left, I’m forced to look over and I find him wearing one of his panty exploding crooked grins. Which of course makes me begrudgingly smile back at him.

  “The dress looks great on you.”

  My gaze swings out the passenger window to hide the flush scalding my neck. “Getting a stalkery vibe from you again.”

  Half an hour later the Audi pulls up to an elaborate wrought iron gate. He punches in a code at the security box and the gate eases open to reveal an honest to goodness estate.

  I can feel the corners of my mouth turning down. “Come on. Seriously?”

  “It’s just a dinner party, low key for her,” he explains with a smirk.

  I don’t really give a fig about money. Other than for the purpose of it buying fantastic legal representation if you should so need it. Nor do I care either way about people that have money. Parker’s family has money and it never mattered to me. However, this…this is intimidating.

  The butler meets us at the door. My eyeballs are going to get a serious workout.

  “Hello, James. Everybody here already?”

  “Good to see you, Mr. Vaughn. Not yet.” James takes our coats and we climb the marble stairs to the living room. Ethan’s hand has been on the small of my back since we got out of the car, consuming enough of my attention that I don’t have time to be nervous.

  “What does one usually discuss at these things? Whose great granpapy came over on the Mayflower?” His eyebrow twitches but that’s about it. That’s all I get from him. “I’m going to stick out like a sore thumb. I don’t know where my great granpapy came from. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he was a convicted criminal transported to the colonies.”

  As usual, Mr. Perfect is unfazed by my rant. “Just be yourself and you’ll be fine,” he nonchalantly states as we enter the room.

  Be yourself? Be yourself? Most of my life people have been telling me not to be myself––and this man wants me to be myself?

  Before I can give this epic event the thought it deserves, he pushes me into the massive living room. Thirty or so people mill about, talking and sipping cocktails. Every one of them turns to look at us.

  “Come on, I want to introduce you to my father.”

  “No, no. Fancy, wait,” I whisper shout.

  Little good that does. Removing the hand he has on my back, he laces his fingers through mine and drags me toward a group of men in a corner. If it wasn’t for the impeccable Turnbull and Asser suit, one of them could be mistaken for Paul Bunyan.

  “Dad.”

  Paul Bunyan’s smile is broad and bright. “Ethan, my favorite son.”

  Ethan smirks and embraces his father. Two stuffy looking middle aged men standing with Mr. Vaughn greet Ethan before they peel away under the guise of refilling their drinks.

  “I want to introduce you to someone.” Ethan moves aside to reveal me and with an outstretched hand I step forward. Mr. Vaughn’s hand swallows mine.

  “Amber Jones, nice to meet you, sir, I mean, your Honor.”

  His warm brown eyes turn into crescents, the only feature he and his son seem to have in common.

  “Lovely to meet you, Amber, but please, call me Harry.”

  No chance of that happening.

  “What time is dinner starting?” Et
han asks his father.

  “Norma’s still getting ready.” Father and son share a knowing look. While the two of them quietly converse, I’m happy to be forgotten, taking the opportunity to study the indigenous species. My favorite past time after watching movies is watching people and this scene is rife with entertainment.

  “We met through Calvin––”

  That garners my immediate attention. I find Ethan looking down at me with an amused twinkle in his eyes. He squeezes my hand, the one, I now realize he never let go of.

  “You’ll have to introduce her to your brother,” Mr. Vaughn says with an equally mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

  “Jake and Hope already met her.”

  Is that pride I detect in his voice? Probably imagining it. Probably.

  “Really?” Mr. Vaughn takes a sip of his whiskey.

  “Yeah, we ran into them last weekend at Chelsea Piers. You didn’t tell me they were coming.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “No, Dad, you didn’t.”

  “My bad.”

  My bad? The Honorable Harrison Vaughn says ‘my bad’? This species is very interesting.

  “Hello, friends and family,” a whiskey roughened voice drawls. A woman’s voice. Everyone turns. And there she is, standing at the foot of the stairs, the birthday girl. This is not what I expected. I expected snooty elegance. I expected a tight face in a Chanel suit. That’s not what’s floating into the room however. Nope. Norma Ellington is a hardcore hippie.

  “So, no love match with Daryl? And I was so sure you two would hit it off.” She pats Ethan’s face and I draw blood biting the inside of my cheek to keep the laughter from exploding out of me. Shortly after Norma appeared and greeted her guests, she made a beeline for Ethan.

  “There was never a chance of one because I am not gay.”

  Her curly white hair, swept back in a colorful silk scarf, dances as she nods in understanding. Or more precisely, feigned understanding. “There’s no need to hide anymore, Darling. It’s 2017, everyone’s coming out of the closet. And not only do I accept you for who you are, but love you even more for your bravery.”

  “Mrs. Ellington, I can assure you that your grandson is not gay,” I feel the need to say in his defense. I’ve never seen Ethan this close to losing his shit, but he is definitively almost there.

  “It’s okay, Dear, no need for you to continue the charade. I have you in two separate rooms. Just in case Ethan hits it off with Thaddeus, my hairdresser.” She wiggles her bejeweled fingers at him.

  And people think I’m too much.

  “I’m not gay, Norma. Don’t know how many times I have to repeat myself before you accept it.”

  “What makes you think he’s gay, Mrs. Ellington?”

  “Call me, Norma. Mrs. Ellington makes me sound old. Well, it’s been years since he’s dated anyone. We haven’t seen him with a woman since that unfortunate incident.”

  “You mean the incident where I brought my girlfriend home for Christmas and she broke up with me to marry my brother.”

  “Yes, Dear, that one. But in the end, it all worked out. You were free to explore your sexuality, and your brother is happily married.” Norma waves at someone in the distance, her gold bangles clanging. “Connie Sawyer is hitting the tequila hard. God help us all if she starts singing. She sounds like a pig in the midst of a death rattle.” With that, she departs, leaving behind the scent of sandalwood and vanilla.

  Hands stuffed in his pants pocket, Ethan watches her float away while my attention remains on him.

  “How much weed does she smoke?”

  “She grows her own,” he says in a flat voice.

  “And I thought my family was kooky.”

  Fifteen minutes later we’re escorted to a large dining room that holds a very long table. It’s lavishly decorated with heirloom quality crystal and china. The flower arrangements alone probably cost as much as my rent. Ethan pulls out the chair next to his for me.

  Jake and Hope who walked in only minutes prior take the seats directly in front of us. This should be all sorts of fun. Hope’s eyes dart back and forth between me and Ethan. After the quick examination, she’s done with us, not sparing us another glance. Jake says his hellos, his eyes turning to familiar crescents when he addresses me.

  Norma taps her glass with her fork and the entire room grows quiet. Raising a wine glass, she thanks everyone for coming and in return everybody wishes her a happy eighty-fifth birthday. Everything’s groovy––until this.

  “We’re pregnant!” Hope gushes. Jake smiles. The congratulations start. Cousins and long time family friends get up and start slapping backs and kissing cheeks. At some point they all direct awkward, tight lipped smiles our way coupled with shifty eye contact. Impulsively, I reach under the table and take Ethan’s hand and squeeze.

  I don’t know if he’s still in love with her, and frankly I don’t want to know. Because if he is, that would mean that while I’ve been fostering the world’s dumbest crush on the sweet guy sitting next to me, he’s been pining after his brother’s wife. Which would also mean that I’ve made the same mistake yet again, that I haven’t learned a damn thing.

  One glass of hemlock coming right up.

  My gaze slides over, and finds him watching me with a gentle smile on his face and what is indisputably affection in his eyes. Although I’ve caught glimpses of it before, I’ve never seen it living out in the open like this. The fire breathing dragon yawns and goes back to sleep.

  He lets go of my hand. Except he doesn’t really. Instead of dropping it, he places it on his thigh and covers it with his own. My heart gets a little bit bigger, swelling inside my chest ’til it hurts.

  The good times don’t stop with the baby announcement. No siree. The baby announcement serves as a springboard for all kinds of jokes at Ethan’s expense.

  “Remember when E took Jake’s fishing pole without telling him,” cousin number one serves up as fodder.

  “Yeah, E, remember the ass kicking you got for that,” cousin two adds, his inflection riddled with delight.

  “How ‘bout when E crawled through poison sumac to spy on us in the woods,” family friend number one feels the need to insert.

  “I nailed Pam Simmons that night. That was a great fucking party,” cousin number two cheerfully responds.

  Classy. This is a classy bunch.

  And all the while, I can feel Ethan stiffen, the muscle under my hand rock hard with tension, his grip on me tightening with every jab spoken.

  “What about the Christmas party in Sun Valley when Ethan brought Hope and she dumped him the minute she got a load of Jake?”

  The last one came from cousin number two, Brett, I believe this joker’s called, who happens to be conveniently sitting next to me. I’m ready to stab this dude in the throat with my dessert spoon. On the edge of my vision, Ethan remains as stoic as ever, noble in the face of all the asinine ridicule directed at him.

  “Brett, stop. That’s enough,” his wife, Jennifer, chimes in. The voice of reason. Although I am this close to asking her if she needs me to alert the authorities because there’s no chance anyone would willingly marry Brett.

  I excuse myself for fear of shedding blood all over the Irish linen tablecloth and go in search of a bathroom. On the way I find the french doors that open onto a patio and decide that a little fresh air may be in order, more helpful in calming the firestorm that’s brewing. I would love nothing more than to wipe the floors with this merry band of douchbags. The only reason I don’t is that I wouldn’t want to embarrass Ethan in any way.

  Outside the air is crisp, winter making a last stand. There’s a full moon out, the clear night sky littered with stars. I get a whiff of cigarette smoke and glance to my left. In the dark there’s a shadowy figure taking a drag. He blows out the smoke, shifts under a slash of moonlight and reveals his face.

  “I promised my wife I’d quit.” Lying sack of shit. “Can I count on you not to rat me out?”

&nbs
p; “Absolutely not. I’d love to rat you out, but she’ll smell it on you first.”

  “Probably.” He follows that with a crooked grin that’s almost identical to his younger brother’s…not nearly as beautiful, though. “I’m ready to pay the consequences,” he says, flippantly.

  Like the loud and proud bitch that I am, I see my opening and take it. “Speaking of consequences.”

  “Uh oh––”

  “Your bother misses you.” When that’s met with silence, I decide to go for the kill. “I sympathize. I really do. It must be awful to know that your little brother was balls deep in your wife over and over and over––”

  “Okay. Okay,” he says, and follows it up with a dry chuckle.

  “––long before you were,” I continue, talking over him. “But you knew that when you started something with her, didn’t you? I would think that family would mean more to you that your ego.”

  He continues watching me with a carefully neutral expression. The half finished cigarette drops to the stone patio under our feet and he steps on it. “You’re right. I let it get weird.”

  “It’s not weird, Jake. Everyone’s moved on but you. You’re the weird one. Hope seems fine with it. Ethan’s fine with it. He just misses his brother.”

  That said, I turn to make my way back to the dinner party. I get as far as the door when I hear, “Hey.” Stopping, I glance over my shoulder. “I’m happy for Ethan. Really––he deserves the best.”

  “Your opinion means nothing to me. How you treat Ethan does.”

  Chapter Twenty

  It’s official I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. I’m too bent out of shape over what happened at dinner. It’s my trigger. No mystery there, I recognize it for what it is. I can’t stand watching someone being systematically taken apart by the people that are supposed to love them most. Granted it was done in jest, but it still ignites an indescribable rage in me. He’s a grown man. And a lawyer, an accomplished one. Let’s not forget that. He can handle his own defense without any assistance from me. However, watching his discomfort set me on fire.