by Angel Payne
“Shut up.” She giggled but sobbed again.
“Not how I roll, honey. I’m going to keep hammering this in until you hear it. You’re stronger than this, Claire. You lived through the crucible of Asher and Associates, dammit. You’re better than this ‘poor me’ bullshit. Claire Allyn Stone doesn’t cry and say she’s broken. Claire Allyn Stone doesn’t give up after the first try. And I know that Claire Allyn Stone does not hand her sexy-as-sin husband over to other women to make babies with.”
She yanked me into a fierce hug. I held her tightly in return while she broke down anew. “I’m—I’m so heartbroken, Margaux.”
“I know, honey.”
“I already wanted it so much. I tried not to get into all of it, tried to stay unattached, but I already was thinking about it all the time. We heard the heartbeat last time we were at the doctor’s office. It was so fast and so strong. I don’t know how this could’ve happened. I did everything right; I swear I did.”
“Of course you did. So know that it just wasn’t meant to be. That sweet little bean wasn’t strong enough after all, but it wasn’t his fault or your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself. Yeah, I know that’s easier for me to say, that this has never happened to me. But you are young and healthy, and so is Kil. When you’ve both recovered, you’ll try again.” I growled because she’d already started shaking her head before I finished. “I said when you’re ready. Maybe that’s next week, maybe that’s next month. Maybe your doctor can give you some advice on how to best get through this.”
I exchanged a look with Killian. His nod told me he was already on top of it, before he reentered the room. “Here’s your tea, Fairy Queen. Just the way you like it.”
Claire wiped her eyes again with his handkerchief. She took the tea and smiled up at him, sliding over a little so he could join us. His black brows jumped a little at the gesture but he quickly took advantage of it. I guessed she’d been icing him out since the miscarriage, so I hoped my little lecture was already setting in.
With a small sigh, I rose. “Now I’m really going to get out of your hair.” It was clear the two of them needed to reconnect, and talking was going to be square one.
“Nooo, sister. Please stay.” Claire sipped at her tea but Kil stabbed me with his ink-dark stare, pleading for some time alone now that she’d warmed a little.
I didn’t need a second hint. “How about if I promise to come running the moment you call me in the next day or two?” I offered to Claire. “After you’ve had some proper rest. I could use a little alone time, too. Life’s been a little crazy lately.” Said the queen of irony. “I’ll just text Andre, make sure he’s back from his errands, then be on my way.”
Claire reached and squeezed my hand. “Fair deal. You can catch me up on things at the office, too. I need to get back in the swing of things, anyway. I’ll probably be ready to roll in a few days.”
“Easy, tiger,” Killian chimed in. “There’s no hurry. Let’s just play it by ear and see how you feel, okay?”
“Yes, Master.”
Kil grinned, even at her mockery. “I kind of like the sound of that.”
“Forget it,” Claire rejoined. I chuckled as I made my way back to the front door. Alfred appeared to see me out.
“Thank you for cheering Mrs. Stone up. She’s been inconsolable.” It was no secret how much the old guy had cared for Claire since the start of her romance with Killian.
“She’ll come around, Fred. She just needs some time.” I bumped my shoulder into him, throwing him off balance a little before heading out the door, to where Andre and the car were waiting for me.
I slid into the back of the car—and made a request that was beyond bizarre, even for me. “Take me to Torrey Pines, please.”
Andre stabbed a stare at me via the rearview. “The golf club, right? You have a meeting at the clubhouse or something?”
“No. The beach.” Silence. Dark eyes still in the mirror, now narrowed. “Am I speaking French?”
“Close to it.”
I turned my look into a glare. “What the fuck is the problem, Andre?”
“First? You said ‘please’.”
“And your point?”
“I can count on both hands how many times you’ve used the word in the last four years.”
“So I’m using it today. Mark it with a gold star.”
“And the beach? You? Willingly?”
“Oh, for—” I rolled my eyes and shot him a fresh glower. “Can you just do it, for chrisssake?”
He let out one of his barrel laughs while we rolled out of Kil and Claire’s neighborhood. “Aaahhh, there’s my girl!”
I had no idea why the beach called today. Maybe it was just the combination of great weather and a head badly in need of clearing. People always went on about the peace they found at the ocean, so it bore some checking out on my own. Full disclosure: it was second on the destination choices list. Normally, I’d just head to Saks, but was too afraid of committing a felony if I was around too many idiots today. The beach got its win over South Coast Plaza.
I rested my head back and closed my eyes, working to absorb everything that had just happened. Had only half a day gone by? I felt like I’d run a marathon already, and could easily fall into bed.
I decided to ignore the obvious crap about Michael and concentrate on Claire for now. I was devastated for her and my brother. The look on Killian’s face, as he’d looked on while she cried in my arms, would be seared on my soul forever. He was bereft. Barren. Broken.
No.
I refused to use that word one more time. No one in this situation was broken. They were grieving and sad for the little life that couldn’t fight hard enough to term. I understood that. But everything happens for a reason. I was smart enough to keep that gem to myself today, but they’d soon see that light, too. They’d come out on the other side of this stronger, and deeper in love than they were when speaking their “I dos”.
I just wish it hadn’t hurt so much to watch them suffer. Did this mean I was going soft around the edges? And if it did, who cared? Fuck it. Those two people were all I had now. They’d snuck their way so far into my heart, there was no chance in hell of ever getting them out. Not that I ever wanted to.
A heavy sigh escaped me. If I looked up, I knew Andre would be quizzing me about it in the rearview. Dammit. Why the hell hadn’t I ordered this vehicle fitted with a privacy screen? He knew me too bloody well and it was starting to get on my nerves. But to the man’s credit, he never pried.
“Andre?”
“Hmmm?”
“Where is your family?” I had no idea what made me ask. The words simply slipped out, and I realized I was deeply interested in the answer.
His forehead furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“Tu familia?”
He barked out a laugh. Of course I knew he wasn’t Hispanic, but I loved teasing him that way—to which he usually responded in thick Patois, making me laugh.
No Patois today. Just very quiet, serious words.
“I don’t have any living relatives.”
Okay, then. I respected him enough not to snoop. He had done me the same favor more times than I could count.
We took the exit for Torrey Pines State Beach, the place Claire told me Killian had proposed to her. Michael had threatened to bring me hiking here one time, but when I threatened harm to his boy parts if he did, he’d backed off. He’d never pressed me again, simply understanding that those “refreshing” physical activities weren’t my thing. Unless shopping was in that category—in which case, I was all in for daily training.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Andre queried. “I can follow and just give you your space.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I smirked. “I won’t last long out there in the elements. We both know it.”
Andre answered with a chuckle but had the good sense not to say anything as I kicked off my heels and headed for one of the easier-marked trailheads.
&
nbsp; After wandering my way down toward the water, watching the crazy-ass people running through the crevices in the cliffs, I shook my head and concentrated on staying upright. The sand was a warm, soothing scratch between my toes. I dug in a little deeper and made my way down to the beach in no time, but already discerned the trip back up was going to be a suck-fest.
Later.
Scoping out a nice dry spot on the shore, I sat and watched the waves break over and over. Before long, the water’s rhythm lulled me. The tension in my shoulders eased, and the dull ache between my eyes vanished.
On tentative mental tiptoe, I entered the emotional muck that I’d come to figure out.
Michael.
Waves or not, here came the tension again.
Breathe. Slow. Easy. Go step by step and maybe you won’t drown.
The last time we’d been together, he’d said some pretty harsh things. And though I’d kicked him out, one hideous fact remained.
I’d deserved every one of them.
I still did.
He was exactly right—and that was where everything turned to sludge again. Would I ever admit it out loud? Probably not, even to him—not that I’d ever be given the chance now.
But did I want to be given the chance?
Damn good question. Maybe I’d have to come back to that.
He’d accused me of being self-centered. Well…guilty as charged. Had it hurt, hearing it come from his mouth? Not so much, until I thought about the reasoning he’d used for it. And then? Yeah. Ouch.
But it was pain I’d brought on myself. A tower I’d locked myself into.
That bore looking at again.
When I was self-centered about things like my life style? Not guilty. My ridiculously comfortable car choice, and giving a man a solid job because of it? Not guilty. The latte I drank instead of a plain coffee? Not guilty. My designer handbag instead of—gasp—off the rack? Not guilty.
But when he accused me of being selfish, of not understanding his protectiveness of me over the ugliness with Trey and Andrea? Ding ding ding. Guilty as charged, officer. Lock me up.
I owed him an apology. A big one. I’d been pissy and petulant, instead of seeing the bigger picture about what had obviously happened to his mom at the hands of an abuser. Shitty thing was, I’d probably have to do it via email, which rankled but was the only choice. If I called, God only knew how much farther I’d be able to shove my foot up in mouth.
I’d also have to address the rest of my ugliness: my unfair jibes about his small town upbringing. Cheap shots. I knew it then like I knew it now. Truth of the matter was, though I was raised on marble floors in “America’s Finest City”, I was jealous of what he’d enjoyed in Julian. People who knew and admired him. A community much like a huge family. And those meadows…
Damn. I was turning out to be an awesomely mature adult. I was drafting an apology email to my jilted lover on my smart phone on the beach. See? I could grow as a human. Miracles were possible.
Who the fuck was I kidding?
None of this was me! I didn’t want to send a goddamn apology email! I didn’t want to be—
The completion to that sucked the air from my lungs. Stung my eyes with a thousand needles. Turned my legs as mushy as the wet sand out on the berm.
I didn’t want to send an email to Michael…because I didn’t want to be apart from Michael.
I wanted to throw myself at his feet and beg him to stay in San Diego, and never think of leaving me again. God, he’d hate Atlanta. What the humidity alone would do to his thick hair…
I shot to my feet.
“Ohhh, shit!”
Now what did I do? How did I tell him? Could I tell him? Was there time? What was it going to take? I was so far out of my league. Ruined politician? Action plan for that. Besmirched pop starlet? Action plan for that. Movie god caught with his dick in the wrong place? Had that action plan on autopilot. But there was no action plan for this. I didn’t have a damn clue what to do. I couldn’t ask Claire, I couldn’t ask Killian. Shit, I couldn’t even ask Andre.
Could I call Di? If I told her what was going on, would she shed some light on the amazing puzzle that was her son? And what if she told me to go grovel? And if I did, would Michael still tell me to go fuck myself? Could I take that sort of humiliation? That heartbreak?
I had to try.
Dammit, I had to try.
I couldn’t imagine my life without him. When I spun my mind back through the last two years, every major event had his gorgeous face stamped on the memory, too. He thought he’d gone unnoticed? World’s hugest joke. He was woven through my life’s tapestry as thickly as Claire and Killian at this point.
Crazy—and perfect. I’d reached this decision before realizing it had to be made, hadn’t I? He’d been right in front of my eyes all this time…just waiting for me to wake up and see him. I’d made up excuses. Told him I was “broken”. But the word was just as ridiculous on my lips as it’d been on Claire’s. Why was I selling myself short and not allowing myself the love of a stunning man as amazing as him? He kept insisting he loved me. Who was I to tell him he didn’t?
I was done with excuses. With blaming my pain and my childhood and especially my “mother”. Andrea didn’t get to dictate my life anymore—or my heart. I’d given too much of myself to the bitch already. Not anymore.
I wasn’t broken.
I was whole and worthy and good, and I deserved Michael’s love just as he did mine. And oh God, I did love him. I didn’t just believe that I “might” be able to. My heart was one hundred and fifty percent in on this deal.
“Shit!” I blurted again.
I had to find him. Had his flight left yet? Well, tough Margaux titties if it had. I’d buy a ticket for the next flight out to Georgia, and have to race in the terminal at Hartsfield-Jackson to kiss the living hell out of him.
I didn’t want to wait. I’d been such an idiot. The sooner I proclaimed that to him, the better.
Speaking of me and “idiot” in the same sentence…
What the fuck was I thinking, coming to a beach that required a steep hike to reach the sand?
The walk back to Andre was going to suck big, hairy balls. No other way around it. But there was no other way back to my phone—and the information I desperately needed about Michael’s flight.
That was it. I’d consider the trip my pilgrimage back to Michael.
Riiiight.
By the time I made it back to the top, I was sure I’d sprained both ankles and was likely dehydrated. Andre bolted out of the car and approached like a frantic father. It would’ve been adorable if I wasn’t near death.
“Jeeez-usss, woman! What are you trying to prove?”
“I had to get back up. Fast. Water. Please.”
He thrust an opened bottle into my hand. “I’ll pull the car over. Just stand there.”
Good plan.
As soon as he had the door open, I tumbled inside. Damn. I smelled like a platoon of Marines—perhaps leather pants hadn’t been the right wardrobe choice for the beach—but promptly didn’t care. The only goal burning in my mind was finding Michael. Now.
I scooped up my phone and began tapping at the screen. First stop was a search for Pearson’s Apple Farm. Di would be the fastest source about his flight status.
An incoming call blared in, interrupting my outgoing one.
A thousand daggers of dread gored my gut—
Until I realized that Trey Stone no longer dictated my life, either.
This was going to be fun.
“Hola, mi hermano. What the fuck do you want?”
“Shit. Are you ever not a bitch?”
“It’s rare, but it happens. Kind of like a unicorn sighting.”
“You’re such a cunt.”
“Mmmm, there’s that family love. So what do you want, asshole? I gave you all the money you’re going to be getting from me, so go find another tree to go piss up.”
“Do I need to remind you of the
stakes of our little game, sister?”
“See, that’s just the thing. I’m done playing, Trey. You can go fuck yourself. Or maybe just my mother. Guess she doesn’t mind catching a disease or five.”
He had the grace to hiss when I dropped the bomb about my knowledge of his and Andrea’s “alliance”. But like a bull that didn’t know when to stop, he charged right in again. “You’d be smart to shut up while you’re still ahead, bitch. I’m getting really angry. You won’t like me when I’m angry.”
“That would imply that I like you now. Or at all.”
“I want the rest of my money, Margaux. You know what I’ll do if that doesn’t happen.”
“Tell you what, Trey? Let’s play a new game. It’s called chicken. You go right ahead and do what you need to do, because you won’t be getting one more dollar of my money. Just know that I’ll be simultaneously filling in a few people in about your little blackmail attempt.” I couldn’t resist giggling a little. “Hope you’ve put a deposit down on that deep, dark hole you’ll need to hide in, scum sucker—because things aren’t going to be pretty when they find you this time.”
Surprise, surprise; the conversation was ended with a click.
Trey would make good on his threat, of that I was certain—but it didn’t matter anymore. Michael loved me regardless of a mistake I made when I was young and wrapped up in what I thought was heartbreak.
Now I knew the difference.
What I’d suffered with Doug was a flesh wound compared to the carnage of my heart if Michael wouldn’t take me back. But that was the proverbial bridge I’d jump from when I came to it.
I exhaled hard when the public line at Pearson’s was picked up on the third ring. The receptionist quickly patched me through to the right extension.
“Hello, Di?” I was suddenly nervous. Like that was going to stop me. “It’s Margaux. I really need your help. I’m in love with your son—and I need help in doing something about it.”
Chapter Eighteen
