by Frankie Love
Emmy sits on the other side of me. “Claire, what is going on?”
“I just—I just spoke with .... Landon. And he knows everything.” I can’t control my crying. I don’t even try.
“Everything what?” Emmy asks.
I sit up, shaking my head, tears streaming down my cheeks.
“I’m married. And Landon just found out.”
I press my hand to my forehead, ashamed of my past, of my story. Wanting it to disappear. Not wanting it to be known. It’s safer to hide, to keep secrets. Because then there’s no judgment, no definitions of who you are or what you’re worth.
“What?” Tess asks, gasping. “Claire ... you have a husband?”
Emmy looks at me in shock.
I understand their surprise. I’ve never said those words aloud in my entire life. I could never even get myself to utter them to my own mother.
I take a deep breath, knowing I need to tell them the entire story.
“When I was eighteen and living with some friends, I met a man ... he wasn’t from Vegas, but was here for business. We went out a few times, and I don’t know why I ever agreed. From the start he was always rough with me, really demanding. I was too naive to realize it was abuse. I slept with him a lot over the course of a week, and one night we got really drunk, and ended up in a wedding chapel.”
“Oh, shit,” Emmy says.
“Yeah, I know. It was stupid, but he promised to take care of me. He had money and seemed so confident and in charge—that was what drew me to him. He lived and worked in Utah, but after the wedding, he got me an apartment here in Vegas. He’d fly in on the weekend, and I thought that was enough, that he loved me. But he didn’t.
“My mom was totally MIA back then, because she was basically a mess over my dad’s death, so I become really isolated. I didn’t even tell her I had gotten married. I wasn’t working, obviously. I didn’t even have a phone.
“I stopped everything, really, because he always wanted me to be in the apartment in case he decided on a whim to visit. Like, one time I was in the laundry room when he showed up at our place unexpectedly, and when I came back in, carrying a basket of clothes, he beat me up so bad I couldn’t stand for three days.”
“Claire, what are you talking about? Why are you still married to him?” Tess asks.
“It got worse. I was totally isolated. I wasn’t a prisoner; I was just so freaking stupid. He was my husband, right? We’d made a vow, no matter how drunk or dumb it was. Six months passed and he kept coming every weekend, and I thought things would get better—that if I was better in bed, or cooked him better meals, or kept the apartment spotless, then he’d be nice to me. But it didn’t work that way.”
“Then what happened?” Emmy asks. Her face is full of empathy, and that gives me the courage to keep talking.
“I got pregnant. For me, that was the turning point. The moment I took a pregnancy test, I knew I needed to leave. He was so brutal with me—I didn’t want him to hurt the baby.”
“Oh, Claire, that was so brave,” Tess says.
“It wasn’t. If I was brave I’d have left a long time before that. If I was brave, when I finally crawled home to my mothers’ house I would have let her call the police. I would have hired an attorney and gotten a divorce. But I didn’t do any of that.”
“You were terrified,” Emmy says adamantly. “And you wanted to keep Sophia safe. Claire, you were being brave.”
I start crying again. “No, I was being weak. And I’ve stayed weak for five years. It was only this year, with kindergarten starting, that I even let Sophia out of my sight. I’ve kept our profile so low because I was always scared he’d come looking for me.”
“Claire, you did nothing wrong,” Emmy says, bringing me tissues. “And Landon understands that. He loves you.”
“I know he loves me, I’m just so ashamed. I wish I were like you, Emmy—a girl who really was tough and strong. A girl who could take on a man like Grotto, and not let it break her.
“But I let my husband hold me captive for five years. I’ve never been brave enough to even go to the court and file the stupid papers. I just pushed the whole thing out of my mind and pretended it wasn’t real. A strong woman wouldn’t have pretended.”
Tess shakes her head. “Claire, maybe you just needed to meet Landon first. Maybe you needed to meet the man who could help you be the best possible version of yourself. And you have. You have him now. And he’s going to help set things straight.” She pulls me into a hug, and lets me sob into her shoulder.
“I don’t know if I have Landon.” I wipe my face with a tissue, my body shaking at the realization. “When I spoke with him, he was so pissed off. He doesn’t trust me.”
“He’ll come around,” Tess says.
I want to believe her … but she doesn’t know about the lies Landon and I built our relationship on.
“And besides Landon, maybe you needed to wait until you had us. Friends, real friends, you could confide in,” Emmy says, wrapping her arms around both of us, into a three-way hug.
“I don’t deserve you.”
“Oh, sweetie, you deserve all this and more,” Emmy says as we all sit back up.
“So is next week’s wedding cancelled?” Tess asks once my tears have stopped flowing so forcefully.
“Besides the fact that I’m still married, I really don’t know where things stand with Landon.”
“If that’s really how you feel, maybe hold off talking to him on the phone,” Emmy says. “Sometimes phone calls make everything worse. And especially don’t text him. That’s, like, asking for crossed lines of communication.”
“I can’t bear to talk to him anyway. What if he … doesn’t want me? I can’t live without him.”
“Oh, sweetie, I’m sure he has a plan,” Tess says. “I bet he’s already filing the divorce papers.”
Emmy agrees, “Yeah, Jack and McQueen are with him, Claire. There’s no way in hell that guy who hurt you is still going to be your husband after today.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Landon
When Eva finishes telling McQueen, Jack, and me the parts of Claire’s story that she knows, we shake our heads, stunned.
It doesn’t take long for me to realize Claire told me the truth on the phone.
I was an asshole when we talked.
Now that I’ve heard how badly she was hurt, I just want to scoop her up in my arms and keep her safe forever.
I can’t believe Claire has been hurt so badly, and been so brave in raising Sophia on her own. I hate that she carries her past around her neck in shame, when the truth is she is the bravest, most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.
“Who is this son of a bitch?” McQueen asks. “Because I’m gonna kill him.”
“After I get done with him, he’s all yours,” Jack says.
I’m speechless. I want to murder the man who laid his fingers on my fiancée.
“The old divorce paperwork is in my room; let me get it,” Eva says. “She tried to throw it out, but I went through the trash and got it. She signed it and everything, but was so traumatized she couldn’t take the next steps.”
“No doubt. This man abused her, and then made her feel like she had no voice. Men like him are weak and should be fucking punished. He’s a fucking bastard,” McQueen says.
I look at him, wondering what story is in his past that makes him stand up for women who’ve been abused. It makes me proud to call him a fucking friend.
Eva returns after a minute, with a folder. “Here are the documents.”
“His name is fucking Robert Mackle?” Jack asks. “Isn’t he a football player? Robbie Mackle? Think he’s the same guy?”
“Holy shit, you’re right,” McQueen says, taking the marriage certificate from Jack’s hand. “He played for the Salt Lake Runners for two years, until he injured himself a year ago.”
“Does Claire know that?” I ask Eva.
“I don’t think so. She said his name to me once,
and she said it was Bobby Mac. I had no idea.”
“Jack, do you think the security guys at your club might have any contacts who do private investigations?” I ask.
“Of course. I can have guys on this in ten minutes.”
“And then we need to go speak with Ace’s lawyer, Mark Denzel,” I say. “He’ll know the next steps. Claire will be a free woman soon.”
Five hours later, I’m drinking another cup of coffee, fighting to keep my eyes open; the day has been so long. I just want to get back to Claire.
I want her to know I don’t hold her past against her—but I also need to tell her that if she thinks we’re going to be … something, then she needs to trust me. No more secrets.
And once she agrees I’ll wrap my arms around her, hold her so close, and make love to her all night. I need her skin on mine, and need her to remember that I am her fucking man. She can trust me with anything.
But we still have a fucking shit-ton to deal with before I can get on a plane.
McQueen and Jack are rock solid. They have been all day.
Jack’s investigator found out pretty quickly that Robert Mackle, injured NFL receiver, spent a year in Vegas five years ago. Had an apartment in his name, along with the name of his wife, Claire Mackle.
When I saw the file the P.I. accumulated in a few hours, I thought I was going to be sick.
Claire and Sophia deserve better than that piece of shit.
Denzel takes it in stride, having our back without question. “It’s going to be okay, Landon. Mackle’s going to want to settle quietly, and I’ve spoken with Claire. She doesn’t want money; she just wants to get the divorce.”
I clench my jaw, pissed that Claire hasn’t returned my calls all day. “You spoke with her?” I ask Denzel.
He nods. “Yes, and she was very clear and straightforward about the divorce.”
“Good.” It gives me a bit of breathing room to know she was being honest about wanting to end things with Mackle.
“She was. In fact, when I asked her about settling for money she told me she didn’t want to do anything for money, ever again.” Denzel shrugs. “Whatever that means.”
I know exactly what that means. The deal she and I struck was all about money, about a big payday.
She doesn’t want that.
And now, she won’t answer my calls.
Maybe she doesn’t want me either.
“So then,” Denzel says, “all we need to discuss is this property you’ve purchased. You want to draw up an LLC?”
“Yes, and we need to get accounts set up,” Jack says. “Ace and I are both putting in fifty percent of the capital, and we need our GM to begin receiving a paycheck, stat.”
“Now, this is separate from the property, right?” Denzel asks. “McQueen, you invested in that as well, correct?”
“Right, Landon and I both did. But we’re sad fuckers, we gots no more dough. So. These guys are ponying up the money for the club.”
“And the General Manager is Landon. He needs a paycheck to show his woman he has a legit job,” Jack says, smiling. “Though when she hears you’re part owner of a strip club ... not sure she’s gonna be too pleased.”
“Oh, she’ll love this strip club,” I say, laughing for the first time all day. “Just gotta make sure McQueen here isn’t headlining when she comes.”
“Awkward much, right?” McQueen says, smiling.
The guys loved my idea for the business, and now we could get the hell out of Vegas and get home.
“I’ll be in touch the moment I hear back from Mackle’s lawyer. Probably in the next day. And as far as The King’s Diamond is concerned...?”
“Right,” Jack says. “Denzel, did you get the paperwork from Ace and Geoffrey?”
“Sure did. Looks like you’re both really expanding your portfolios,” Denzel says. “Now investors in The King’s Diamond as well.”
I swallow my pride. I wish it was me with the money to invest, me with the money to save my dad’s business. But I’m grateful that Jack and Ace are willing to help float them until they consolidate a dozen storefronts and go with my idea of less stores, more luxury, celebrity sponsors and exclusive branding at the new club.
The company will be saved, just at a different scale than Geoffrey was trying to go. We’ll become more niche, less mainstream—and we’ll find the right customers when we switch gears. I’m sure of it.
With our plan to salvage Dad’s business, I can have the penthouse situated about The King’s Diamond Vegas location.
I have a home. A job.
But I’m not sure if I have my woman. She deceived me, and now I’m getting the cold shoulder.
Just when I thought I had it all, it started to fall apart. I can’t fix everything, but I can move forward. I can show Claire how I’m nothing like the man from her past.
I can show her I’m the fucking man of her dreams.
“I’ve never been on a plane,” Sophia says loudly. “I’m scared, Gram. So scared.” She clutches Eva’s arm.
“It’s fine, sweetie,” Eva says, reaching into her bag for Sophia’s blanket. “It might be a long flight, boys,” she says to us, smiling. “I still can’t believe we are going to England. This is insane.”
I invited them along because Claire needs to know that being with me means being with family. I can’t ask her to start a life with me, and not have them there.
“Gram, read me a story, pleeeeeeease?”
McQueen looks over at me, smiling. “You gonna be able to handle that gig?” He tilts his head at Sophia.
I don’t know what to say. I fucking hope so.
“He’ll be fine. He’s always had a way with women,” Jack says raising his beer, smirking.
The plane takes off, and an hour passes while Landon and McQueen and I discuss the club. When a hand touches my arm, I turn and see Sophia standing a foot away.
“Landon, will you sit next to me?” she asks. “I’m scared, and Gram is sleeping. But Mama said you were her friend, so I feel safe with you.”
“Of course,” I say, trying to act as cool as possible, wanting to be the person she needs right now. “Perhaps I could read you a story?”
“I love stories. Stories about Kings and Queens who live in castles. Have you ever been to a castle, Landon?” she asks, as I lay her soft pink blanket over her knees.
“As a matter of fact, I have been to a castle. My mum and dad live in one, and when the plane lands, we’re going there.”
Her eyes are bright, alive—just like her mother’s—as I tell her about the gardens and the rooms, the parlors and the butler. Then she asks the question that only a five-year-old girl raised on Disney would ask.
“Does your castle have a princess?”
“It does. Your mum is there right now. She’s a princess—to me at least.”
Sophia smiles, nodding in agreement. Then her brows furrow as a question crosses her mind. “Will she get a happily ever after, my mama?”
“I think so, Sophia. I think so.”
Claire
The next morning I wake, determined to end the day with as much dignity as possible. I ended last night in a puddle of tears, for the truth of my past I had kept buried for so long.
Screw Emmy and Tess’s advice. I needed to talk with Landon, to see if he and I were anything. But I haven’t spoken to him. When I finally tried to call him, his phone went straight to voicemail. I couldn’t even bear to leave a message.
I just hope the fact that he didn’t answer means he’s on a plane coming back.
He’d ended our phone call yesterday so angry. I don’t know where we stand.
But regardless of whether he and I are over, now I need to be brave. I need to set the story straight, once and for all.
I can’t keep pretending.
My friends told me I didn’t owe anyone anything. But in my heart, I know I do. I want to move forward in my life with the whole truth, nothing but the truth, so help me God.
L
iving with shadows—secrets curling around my toes, keeping my feet tethered to the ground—isn’t going to get me anywhere. And I am ready to take a step forward.
After breakfast, I sit down with Helen, Arthur, Geoffrey, and Fiona. Emmy, Tess, and Ace are there as well, as my moral support, but they think my confession is centered on my marriage.
When the real confession is about the fake engagement.
“Is everything all right, Claire? I know yesterday was hard for you, with Landon gone. I hope you aren’t unhappy with us,” Helen says, generously.
“Oh, I couldn’t be more pleased with you. All of you, really.”
I look down at my hands, not wanting to see the look of betrayal across my friends’ faces when they hear how deceptive I’ve been.
“The truth is,” I admit, “I’m already married. And my engagement with Landon isn’t real. He didn’t really propose, he just wanted you to believe he had, so that you’d think he’d grown up. So that he could have a chance at being your successor, Arthur.”
They all have questions, of course; shame spreads across my face, floods my eyes. They ask why, they shake their heads, they don’t understand.
And I try to explain.
Finally, once I’ve laid it all out there—the marriage, the motives, the apologies—I look up, hoping they will see me as something besides the way I see myself: A cheat. A liar. A disgrace.
“I understand why Landon would put you up to this, why he’d think it would work. And I can let that go because, honestly, he seems happier right now than he’s ever been. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t get a divorce a long time ago, Claire?” Arthur asks. “You seem like such a smart girl.”
I suck in my breath, squeezing shut my eyes. When I open them, I make sure to meet everyone’s gaze. “Has anything ever happened to you, that you were so ashamed of? So embarrassed by, that you’d rather pretend to be something else entirely than deal with the facts?”
I don’t expect anyone here to understand. Landon’s family is this proper English clan, put together in ways I could never dream of being.
