Temporary Wife (Episode 2)

by St. James, Rossi

  “Sounds fun,” I lied. “Your parents still members at the Pinnacle Club?”

  “That they are.” Derek turned on his left blinker, the pinging filling the small space between us. “I think they’ve upgraded to the Gold Lifetime Diamond Membership by now.”

  I wanted to ask if he was truly happy, but I knew it was none of my business. Small talk with him killed me a little on the inside. It felt contrived and awkward. We knew each other better than that. I never imagined in a million years we’d be making small talk. We may as well have been discussing the weather.

  The deeper questions lingered on my tongue, but I refused to ask them. Though we were still good friends, we weren’t nearly as close as we used to be. I wasn’t in a position to pry anymore. I’d lost that privilege when I moved across the country and faded out of his life one year at a time.

  “What’s Charlotte up to today?” I asked. It was better than talking about the weather. I had to pick my poison.

  He scrunched his brows. “Um, I think she’s getting her nails done? Her sisters are flying in today.”

  “Sisters?”

  “Yeah, she has two,” he said. “And I think an old friend of hers is in town too. Some guy she used to date.”

  “Ooh, an ex?”

  “Yeah,” Derek laughed.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “Not at all.” Derek spoke with the assured confidence that was always engrained into his every ounce. It was a Saunders trait. He could be falling to his death with no way out and he’d still look and sound 100% confident.

  “Then why’d you say it like that?” I shouldn’t have pried, but I did.

  “Say it like what?”

  “Some guy she used to date…” I lowered my voice and did my best impression of him. I thought I was being funny.

  Derek snapped his attention my way as we breezed through the intersection. “You’re reading too much into things, Dess.”

  “No I’m not.” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to brush it off. Derek was seeing right through me though. I could feel it.

  “Ever since I told you I was marrying Charlotte, you’ve been acting weird.”

  “I have?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’re not…you anymore.”

  “Maybe I should eat a Snickers?” I joked. He didn’t laugh.

  “I don’t know what your problem is, but I really wish you’d let it go. Whatever it is you’re holding onto.”

  His words stung. I know exactly what he was talking about. “What is it you think I’m holding onto, Derek?”

  “Me,” he said.

  My heart jumped and my response caught in my throat. Maybe I was, but he could never know. Not now. It was too late. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  “You had your chance,” he said, pulling into the parking lot of the Pinnacle Club. “I told you how I felt nine years ago. And you brushed it off.”

  “I thought we had more time.” I stared down into my lap, picking at my nails, my voice barely an audible whisper. Suddenly Lincoln’s face flashed in my mind, reminding me that life goes on. “You’re right, Derek. I had my chance. I let you go. And now you belong to Charlotte. I’m happy for you. I am.”

  It was true. I was happy for him. But it didn’t change the fact that I was still mourning the loss of what might have been.

  Derek pulled into a parking space and climbed out of his Jeep, rounding the vehicle and popping the trunk to pull out our clubs. I climbed out and went to help him.

  “Let’s have fun today,” I said, plastering a smile on my face. “Just like old times. We’re still friends, right?”

  Derek stopped what he was doing and stared at me, his face expressionless for a moment and nearly giving me a heart attack. And then his full lips pulled upward at the corner, revealing the dimples I’d grown to love all my life. “Yeah, we’re going to have a fucking blast, Dess!”

  Just like that. Water under the bridge. At least at the surface-level. My stomach still twisted in knots, and I would’ve rather had an un-anaesthetized root canal than watch him get married. But I would. It was the right thing to do. I would stand up there with my best friend and watch him marry the girl who swept him off his feet when I was out doing my own thing. Opportunity knocked. I ignored it and Charlotte answered.

  Lucky girl. I just hoped she would never forget how truly lucky she was to be marrying Derek Saunders.

  We hit golf balls all morning, laughing and joking. Gossiping about old friends. Catching up on life. Reminiscing. And it wasn’t until we were driving to have lunch at Derek’s favorite sports bar, that a text message on my phone from Lincoln reminded me that I still hadn’t told Derek I was “married” yet. And now I didn’t know if I wanted to.

  I pulled out my phone and thumbed the picture message Lincoln had sent.

  “Oh, my God!” I yelled out loud.

  “What? What?” Derek whipped his face my way as he drove. “What’s wrong?”

  The text was a picture of an enormous, canary yellow diamond solitaire with a matching canary yellow wedding band filled with emerald-cut canary baguettes. All of it set in platinum. It was huge. It was gaudy and attention grabbing. And it was stunning on top of it all.

  IS THIS GOOD ENOUGH? he asked.

  IS THAT REAL? I replied.

  IT IS. UNLIKE OUR MARRIAGE. he said.

  “What’s wrong?” Derek asked again.

  “Nothing, nothing,” I laughed, unable to wipe the shit-eating grin off my face. “Someone sent me something about someone from work. It would bore you.”

  “Oh,” Derek turned back toward the road.

  WHERE ARE YOU? Lincoln asked.

  ABOUT TO HAVE LUNCH AT FLAMING HOOPS. WHY?

  ***

  No response. I waited. And waited. I waited until we were seated at the restaurant and even then he still hadn’t replied.

  “Um, miss?” the host said as he came up to our table. “Are you Odessa?”

  “I am.”

  “You have a phone call.”

  “A what? I do?” I laughed. Did people really do that anymore? I turned to Derek. “Excuse me.”

  Derek lifted his eyebrows and took a swig of his beer before turning back toward a 60” plasma on the wall in front of us. Typical guy.

  I followed the host toward the stand. “Where’s the phone?”

  “Um…” The host nodded toward the entryway, where there stood my “husband”.

  “Are you serious?” I said with a laugh, stepping toward him and playfully batting his chest. “You followed me here?”

  “I had to give you this.” He grabbed my left hand and splayed my fingers out, slipping the yellow diamond rings over my ring finger. “Perfect. I figured you were a six.”

  The rings fit like they were made for my finger. Not too loose. Not tight. I angled my hand back and forth, watching how the diamonds through prisms of light all over the walls as the natural light from the windows hit them.

  “You’re insane.” I couldn’t take my eyes off the damn things. “Certifiably.”

  “I have to go,” he said. “Have you told your friend yet?”

  “Well now I kind of have to,” I smirked. “He’s going to notice this rock on my finger.”

  Lincoln’s full mouth slipped into a wide smile and his eyes took me in from head to toe. I couldn’t remember the last time a man like him looked at me like that, and it ignited a whole flurry of butterflies in my stomach. “You look nice today, by the way.”

  “You’re just saying that because you have to,” I teased. “Because you’re my husband.”

  Before he had a chance to respond, I stood on my tip toes and kissed his mouth. I didn’t even think about it. I just did it. I supposed it felt right in that moment. My cheeks burned hot the second my mouth left his. Lincoln seemed shocked at first, and then he smiled.

  “Thanks?” he said with a laugh.

  “I’m just playing my part,” I said, holding my head high. “Don’t read into it.”r />
  Shit, what was I thinking?

  “I’ll see you tonight,” he said. “Back at the hotel. We can spend a little more time together if you’d like.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “I’m meeting a friend for dinner, but I should be back around seven.”

  “See you then.” I stood in the entryway, watching him leave, before heading back to my table.

  “Who called you?” Derek asked immediately, his eyes still glued to the T.V.

  I bit my tongue. The words were two seconds from forcing themselves out of my mouth on their very own if I didn’t come out and tell him. “My husband.”

  Derek’s eyes snapped to mine. His face fell for a second. And then he laughed. “You’re not married.”

  “I am.”

  His brows furrowed in confusion, and he cocked his head to the side. “You’d have told me.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you until after your wedding,” I said. “I didn’t want to steal your thunder, but yes, I got married recently.”

  “When?”

  Shit. We hadn’t picked a date.

  “Two weeks ago,” I said. “We eloped.”

  “So you barely know the guy.”

  “I know him enough to know he’s the one for me for right now,” I said. It was the best defense I could come up with on the spot. “I know him enough to know I love him. I know him enough to know he’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before. Probably the same way you feel about Charlotte.”

  “I didn’t marry Charlotte two seconds after meeting her,” Derek said, a slight growl in his voice. Was he jealous? Was he mad? The day was already ten shades of confusing, and now Derek’s reaction was adding a whole new level of confusion.

  “Two seconds. Ten months,” I said with a shrug. “Now you’re just splitting hairs.”

  Our food arrived, and Derek began shoveling nachos into his mouth like an angry, starving crazy person.

  “Anyway, I think you’ll really like him,” I said, digging into my salad and shoving a forkful of ranch-drenched lettuce into my mouth. God, I missed good, Midwestern ranch dressing.

  “What’s his name?”

  “Lincoln,” I said proudly. I reached for my glass of water with my left hand, and watched as Derek’s eyes honed in on my comically huge yellow diamond. “Lincoln Avery. Perhaps you’ve heard of him?”

  Derek chewed his bite, wiping his fingers on his napkin and sitting up straight. “Yeah, I’ve heard of him. He’s Charlotte’s ex.”

  TO BE CONTINUED!!

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Rossi St. James is a twenty-something young woman with a passion for Oreos, crazy, twisted stories, and hiking trails with her two yellow labs, Sunny and Cloudy. When she’s not writing, you can probably find her scouring Pinterest for inspiration for her next book. (That’s pretty much all she uses Pinterest for anyway, as Rossi St. James cannot cook, sew, or craft).

  Email me anytime at rossiwrites@hotmail.com. I’d love to hear from you!

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  LETTER / THANK YOU FROM THE AUTHOR

  Dear Reader,

  Thanks so much for reading my book!

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  Love,

  Rossi

  PS – If you haven’t yet read CRAVED by the ALPHA BILLIONAIRE, I’ve included a small sample. Page ahead!

  SAMPLE of CRAVED by the ALPHA BILLIONAIRE

  Entire series available now!

  ONE

  MAISIE

  None of what happened that night was my fault.

  I couldn’t help that hours earlier I’d walked in on my boyfriend of five years fucking the living daylights out of my stepsister. I couldn’t help it that I immediately proceeded to drive to the only bar in our one stoplight town that just so happened to be connected to the only hotel in town. And I couldn’t help that the hotel just so happened to be housing a man from New York City who looked an awful lot like Ryan Gosling.

  I also couldn’t help it that said Ryan Gosling twin was hitting on me something fierce. Or a least it felt like he was. I’d been drinking since the moment I sat down at the scratched wood bar.

  “I’m going to go ahead and stop you now,” I said, trying not to slur my words after my second double vodka. “You’re really hot and all, but I’m not in the market for whatever it is you’re peddling right now.”

  He inched closer to me, a slow smile simmering on his impossibly kissable lips. “You don’t have the slightest clue what I’m peddling.”

  “You just got done telling me that you’re some fancy pants businessman from New York City who got stranded in our itty bitty town because your private jet is having mechanical problems,” I said. “So you’re staying here for an indeterminate amount of time, and you’re bored. You want a hook up. I can read between the lines. I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid.”

  I slammed the rest of my drink and sat the glass down on the table, silently deliberating about whether or not I needed another. The room was slightly off kilter, but I fully intended to drink until I numbed the pain and forgot what it looked like to see my high school sweetheart’s pale white ass bobbing up and as my spread eagled stepsister screamed out his name in pleasure.

  And then he had the nerve to finish inside of her before I had a chance to bolt out of there. The vision of his clenched ass cheeks and strained neck as he moaned like a wild animal while simultaneously releasing himself inside her was forever burned into my mind.

  I shook my head, as if that could rattle the memory out of there. It seemed weird that I didn’t cry. Not once. I didn’t shed a single tear. Maybe I didn’t love him as much as I thought I did? It was being lied to. That’s what stung the most.

  “Louie, another vodka tonic, please!” I called out.

  He prepared another drink for me and slid it my way. “You going to stay the night, Maisie? You’re in no condition to drive home.”

  “Maisie,” the businessman said slowly. “That’s your name.”

  I’d refused to tell it to him earlier.

  “Thanks a lot, Louie,” I mumbled. I took a sip of my fresh drink and let it burn as it trickled down my throat. “So what’s your name? Since you know mine now and all.”

  “Sawyer,” he said. “Sawyer Thomas.”

  “Oh, wow, just like that now we’re on a second name basis,” I said, eyeing him up and down. “That’s smooth. Still not telling you mine though.”

  He raked his fingers through the side of his sandy brown hair, his hooded hazel eyes honing in on me like two sexy, concentrated lasers. Through my inebriated state, I couldn’t tell if he was amused, intrigued or annoyed with me. Maybe it was a little of everything.

  “I don’t want to have sex with you,” he said.

  I cocked my head to the side, my lips spreading into an amused grin. “Way to be blunt.”

  “You’re a little mouthy for my taste,” he said. He turned away from me, focusing on the T.V. above the bar that played highlights on some sports channel. The glint of his diamond cufflink caught the pale bar light above as he spun his drink with his fingers.

  “You probably like ‘em quiet so you don’t have to hear them complain about that poor excuse for a cock you’re packing,” I said. My cheeks reddened. I never spoke to strangers that way. It wasn’t my nature, and I was raised better than that. I was drunk. I was angry. I was taking everything about my shitty day out on this very attractive man who just so dared to make small talk with me at a hotel bar.

  Sawyer turned around slowly, an incredulous look on his face. “Wow.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, my hand rushing to his shoulder. “Really. I’m so sorry. That was completely uncalled for. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  I wanted to leave. I wanted to pretend that I hadn’t been an annoying, drunk bitch to this poor stranger. I wanted to go ho
me and forget I’d ever stepped foot inside the Moonlight Lounge connected to the local Best Western. But I couldn’t leave. I’d been drinking heavily all night, and Louie wouldn’t allow it.

  “Excuse me,” I said, grabbing my purse and stumbling out of the bar. I made a bee line for the hotel lobby where I promptly reserved a suite and headed to the elevator. I fully intended to take off all my clothes, soak in a hot bath, wrap myself in a fluffy, white robe and order a pizza. If I was still coherent after that, I’d probably raid the mini bar.

  I found my room and pulled the keycard from the paper envelope.

  “So we meet again.”

  I turned around to find Sawyer directly behind me, his own keycard in hand as he walked to a door just one down from mine. We were staying right next to each other.

  My cheeks flushed ten shades of crimson. I’d bolted out of the bar to get away from him. It was just my luck that we’d be staying in neighboring rooms.

  “What’s up with this shrinking violet act all of a sudden?” he said with a smirk. “You make one remark about my cock, never having the pleasure of seeing it I might add, and all of a sudden you run away blushing?”

  “Look, I said I was sorry. I’ve had a really horrible day. Can you just cut me a little slack, please? Maybe pretend we never met and go on your pathetic little way?”

  “And there she is again,” he mused. “Mouthy Maisie.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “I’ll have you know, my cock is huge. And I know most guys say that, but mine really is. But you’ll never know that, Mouthy Maisie, because you’re all bark and no bite. I can tell.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing about me,” I said, crossing my arms and squaring my gaze with his. I pushed away any and all thoughts that crept into my mind about his cock and how big it was. Or wasn’t.

  “I know you talk too much,” he said. “You didn’t shut up at the bar for two seconds, rambling on and on to the bartender like he gave two shits. I know you walked in on your boyfriend plowing your stepsister. I know you came here because you’re trying to forget about what you saw, as if alcohol was the perfect solution.”