Using my feet to swivel the stool I’m sitting on, I take in the older woman. Kittie is in her mid-fifties with chin-length graying hair left in its natural wave. She’s our most experienced dental assistant and the one I’ll miss the most. “Kittie…I don’t think I could start up a new business. I only was able to do this because I had two partners. We all put up collateral, plus Jesse’s parents got their bank to give us the line of credit. I’ll probably end up having to get a job at an already-established practice.”
“Then perhaps you can just put in a good word for me at your new place of employment,” she suggests. Her pretty face is etched with concern.
“Oh, Kittie,” I say, heart sinking at what my personal life is doing to the staff. “I know all this uncertainty isn’t fair to the staff. I wish this hadn’t happened—”
She holds up a hand. “You don’t need to worry about us. We know it’s not your fault. I just wanted to put forth my desire to follow you. There are several others here that feel the same way.”
“I just feel terrible about all this. I wish I could take you all, but the truth is, I have no clue what to do. I might even consider a move to a new state.”
Kittie’s expression goes soft, and she tilts her head. “I have faith that no matter what you decide to do, you’re going to be just fine. You deserve that, so I believe the fates will give that to you.”
“Thank you for saying that,” I tell her softly, rising to give her a quick hug.
She holds me tight a moment, leans her head back, and then bestows a confident smile at me. “Well, whatever you do, I seriously think you should look at pediatrics. You have such a gift, in not only handling the kids in such a gentle way, but also handling the parents as well.”
Laughing, I incline my head. “I’ll think about it.”
And I will. My favorite patients are the kids. When I manage to peel away the fears and anxieties some of them have, they’re always the most funny and genuine people I come in contact with every day.
I’ve always wanted kids. Jesse told me he did, too, but we never talked about when to have them. I sort of figured we’d get the business under our belt, perhaps two to three years, then we’d start a family.
I thought he probably wanted the same, but the only thing I’m sure of these days is that I didn’t know Jesse at all.
Glancing at my watch, I decide to squeeze in a snack before my next patient. As I head into the break room, hoping it’s empty of at least Jesse and Tara, my phone buzzes with a text in my overcoat pocket. I pull it out, smiling when I see it’s from my friend Giselle Fleury.
My heart swells at seeing her name. She’s like family to me. I spent my first semester of my sophomore year of undergrad living with her family in Paris. Even though she’s seven years younger than me, we’ve always been close. At first it was more like a little sister, then as she grew into adulthood, it became a lot more. We didn’t get to see much of each other over the years—not with her living in Paris and me in the States—but we kept in close contact via phone, email, and social media.
I head to the fridge first, then pull out an apple. Leaning back against the counter, I take a bite as I read her text. Just checking in. I know you have to be back from your honeymoon by now. So how are things going, Mrs. Deely? Again, so sorry I couldn’t make the wedding.
I grimace because one thing I never was overly excited about was Jesse’s last name of Deely. When I mentioned wanting to keep my own, Jesse acted like it was a slap in the face to him. It was something we argued about a lot until I finally gave in to make him happy.
Chewing on my lower lip, I consider my words before I type them so as to attempt to lessen the shock value. Actually, the wedding didn’t happen. Long story short, but caught Jesse cheating on me. I called it off.
Got to love the speed of communication between Paris and California. She immediately replies, Oh no, my darling! What the hell happened?
I’ll tell you all about it, but I have a patient waiting. How about I call you tonight before I go to bed? About seven AM your time?
Her reply is just as quick, and there’s a smiley face followed by: Part of my news is that I’m not in Paris. I’m in Charleston…with Gage, my fiancé! We’ll talk tonight. xo
My intent is to respond with my own smiley face followed by a kissing-heart emoji, but my phone rings and startles me. I bobble my apple, regain control, and then let the grin overtake my face as I see it’s Andrew calling.
“Hey you,” I say in a low, hopefully sexy-sounding voice. I do this as I push away from the counter to head toward my office. I don’t want Jesse or Tara to happen in on me while talking to Andrew. I want my personal life to be an absolute mystery to them.
“Hey, gorgeous,” he replies in a husky voice that makes me feel warm all over. “I’m trying to work and can’t stop thinking about you, so I decided to just say fuck work and call you.”
“Well, I’m glad you did. I’m on a short break, so I have a few moments. Since I’ve thought about you a hundred times already today, this works well for me, too.”
He laughs. Deep, rich, and completely genuine in his amusement. I like making him laugh.
“I can’t wait to see you this weekend,” he says, and my toes curl from the promise in his voice.
“You still plan on flying in Friday evening?” I ask, already hating the thought of him leaving on Sunday.
“Yeah. I’ll take an Uber to your house from the airport.”
“I can pick you up,” I offer quickly.
“I know you can,” he murmurs. “But I have a quick business meeting to handle when I get in, so I’ll make my way over to your house when I’m done. Shouldn’t be much later than seven.”
“Okay,” I say dreamily, counting down the hours until them. “I’ll have dinner ready.”
“You’re all the dinner I need.” His voice is dark and filled with a hunger I can feel through the phone. “Be naked and in bed, legs spread. That’s all I’ll need.”
Thank God no one is around to hear how breathless my voice is. “I can’t wait.”
“Knowing what I can do with my mouth on your pussy, I’m sure you can’t,” he taunts with a wicked laugh. “But you can always go lock yourself in your office right now to give yourself a little relief. I wouldn’t be averse to you sending me a picture of that.”
I laugh back at him, trying to sound amused, but knowing damn well I’m going to do exactly as he just suggested.
CHAPTER 15
Andrew
Leaning over, I grab an errant weed sticking out of the crappy excuse for a flower bed beside the porch steps and twirl it in my fingers. As I survey my surroundings, I note it’s a nice neighborhood and wonder why Brynne didn’t want to live here with her fiancé when they were together. It’s more upscale than her ’hood, and the house is almost twice as large.
But really, I know why she didn’t live here. It had nothing to do with money or prestige or a nicer kitchen.
It was because there was always something about Jesse that caused Brynne to hold back a bit of herself. Her friend Tara was right… she never fully committed despite her willingness to walk down the aisle with him.
More certain than I am of that is the fact that if Brynne and I were living in the same city, there’s no way in fuck we’d be living in separate places. I’d never give her up for a single moment to another abode. I’d share everything with her, and she with me.
Which is sort of ironic since we’re married, yet we’re hoping to get an annulment. Tomorrow marks the twentieth day since my attorney filed in court to dissolve the marriage. I have the final documents in my car for Brynne to sign, yet I don’t even want to show them to her. We haven’t discussed it at all, nor have I brought up a post-nuptial agreement again. In fact, I hadn’t thought about either one at all until my attorney happened to email me the final dissolution documents this morning. I printed them off—reluctantly—and threw them in my weekend bag before I hopped a plane to San Diego to s
pend the weekend with Brynne.
But before I head to her house, I had an important meeting to attend just as I told her. It’s why I’m sitting on Jesse’s front porch, waiting for him to get home from work.
I have no guarantee he will come straight here, but ever since I’ve had him under surveillance from the private investigator I hired, he’s not deviated from his routine. He always comes here straight after work, although that doesn’t mean he stays. I expect him to do the same tonight.
As if on cue, his convertible BMW turns onto his street, powering through the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood. He has the top down and a blonde woman—who I had fully expected to see there as well—sits in the front seat, head tipped back and laughing.
Jesse pulls into the drive and brings the car to a stop before the garage door, giving a quick push to the remote clipped to his visor to open it. As it lifts, the blonde in the front seat leans over and slides her fingers behind his neck. She pulls Jesse to her for a deep kiss, which he is only too obliging to return.
Disgustedly amused, I watch them. For all his bitching and moaning to Brynne that he still loves her and wants her, he sure has kept a warm-bodied backup plan in the form of one former maid of honor Tara Combs.
Jesse pushes up in the seat and leans over Tara, deepening the kiss and pushing her backward until she’s pressed against the passenger door. Tara sort of flails a bit, but she lets him have his way. I expect it’s important to him to be an alpha around her, especially since he’s lost so much, which had to be a direct hit to his self-esteem.
When he pulls back from the kiss, his gaze slides past Tara, over the concrete path that connects the driveway and porch, and then comes to rest on me as I casually sit there and watch him suck face with his other business partner.
His “Fuck,” is clearly audible, and Tara stares in confusion.
I lift my chin at her, but her brows just furrow deeply as she doesn’t have a clue who I am.
Jesse gets out of the car, throwing his shoulders back and strutting toward me. Tara follows more hesitantly, hanging back a few paces once she sees I tower over her man.
I brush the seat of my jeans off with my hand, giving Jesse a tight smile as he approaches me.
“What are you doing here?” he snarls, coming to a stop at the bottom of the porch, making it necessary for him to look up at me.
I don’t come down to his level. Instead, I stare down my nose at him as I give a casual shrug. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” he retorts defensively.
“About you two buying Brynne out from the practice,” I reply calmly.
“We’re not fucking buying,” he snaps.
Tara touches his shoulder to get his attention. “Who is this, Jesse?”
He doesn’t take his eyes off me, but answers her with a sneer. “This is the man who thinks he’s actually Brynne’s husband.”
Understanding dawns within Tara’s expression before it darkens to defensiveness.
Flashing a charming smile, I say, “Technically, I am her husband and thus have the right to be concerned about Brynne’s financial and business affairs.”
Jesse’s voice is tight. “You’re her husband on paper only.”
It might be petty, but the slow curl of my lips toward him is full of an intimate knowledge of Brynne that goes far deeper than he could ever hope to understand. His face turns beet red when I say, “I can assure you, it goes way beyond paper.”
“We’re not buying her out,” Jesse spits out.
Shaking my head, I slowly make my way down the porch steps so we’re standing on even ground, although I’m still several inches taller than he is.
“It’s time to let her go.” My words are firm but soft, and his eyes flare with surprise over the slight sympathy in my tone. “I care about Brynne a great deal, and there isn’t anything I won’t do to protect her.”
Jesse opens his mouth to issue a retort, but I dismiss him by facing Tara. “What you told Brynne last week—about her not being fully committed to Jesse—strikes me as really interesting. At first, I thought it was just a keen observation. I even started to believe that perhaps you did care about her, that maybe everything you said came from a true need to look out for her, but now… Well, since I know you’re still screwing this douche, I’m thinking you were really just trying to keep them apart. In my opinion, that makes you even lower than this asshat.”
When Tara gasps, I know I hit the nail on the head. Her glare could melt steel, but it just makes me chuckle. She spits out, “You have no proof—”
“I do,” I cut her off. “I’ve hired an exceptionally good investigator to pry into both of your lives, and I have a lot of documentation. Jesse’s charge card receipts for hotels, which are coincidently right beside gas stations where you used your credit card at the same time. Surveillance video shows you two going into the hotel and out again at the same time. Phone records between you, as well as emails arranging your liaisons, had all been going on for months prior to the wedding.”
“That information is private,” she hisses.
“If you have enough money, nothing is private,” I assure her. “And to me, it’s pretty clear you wanted Jesse for a long time, just as it’s clear you two have been fucking around behind Brynne’s back for months. I’d bet a good chunk of my fortune that you even left your phone out and open purposefully—so Brynne would find those photos before she walked down the aisle. It all went according to your plan—didn’t it, Tara?—so Brynne would cancel the wedding.”
Jesse snaps his head sideways, gaping at Tara in astonishment. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I love you,” Tara screeches, stomping her foot in frustration. “I want to marry you. We belong together! Why you couldn’t see that is beyond me. But now I’m thinking I was apparently good enough to fuck, but not to be your wife, right?”
“This was always just a fling, Tara,” Jesse says as he sidles closer to her, his voice going low. “You’ve always known that.”
“No,” she insists, starting to sound frantic. “You love me.”
“I lust for you,” he corrects, mouth twisting in a sneer. “There’s a difference.”
“No.” She shakes her head and actually stomps her foot again. “We have more than that. We are more than that.”
Jesse chuckles, not in an amused way, but so Tara understands what he’s about to say isn’t actually funny at all. “Do you think I could love someone—much less marry someone—who would screw around with her best friend’s fiancé, Tara? I wouldn’t ever be able to trust you.”
She responds by slapping him so hard across the face that I wince. As far as his head whipped to the side, he could have auditioned for The Exorcist.
These two are seriously fucked-up in the head, but I don’t have time to watch any more of this shit show.
“Look… you two can fight this out later,” I say as I step between them. Tara’s eyes are swimming with tears of pain, and Jesse has the same douchey expression he always seems to wear on his face. “But you’re both going to make a fair offer to Brynne to buy her out of the practice, so she can move on with her life.”
“Why would we do that?” he taunts, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Because I have leverage over you,” I tell him smoothly. With a smirk, I pull a small stack of papers I had folded lengthwise out of my back pocket.
Sneering, Jesse barks out a harsh laugh. “What? Think you’re going to splash this shit around in the gossip papers or something? Think that will make me do your bidding? Because you and I both know you won’t do it. You’d never do it because it would hurt and embarrass Brynne.”
“That’s absolutely true,” I concur. “I would never do that to her, even to try to get the upper hand over you. But don’t you suppose if I could so easily find evidence about your long-standing affair with Tara that I could probably find other shit, too?”
Jesse blanches, but remains quiet.
“You’r
e an addict, Jesse,” I say in a low voice.
“What?” Tara gasps. “He’s not. I’d know if he was using.”
“Not drugs or alcohol,” I tell her with a brief glance before pinning Jesse with the truth he already knows. “He’s a gambling addict.”
His face goes so pale I’m afraid he might fall out, but I don’t let up.
“You’re in thirty deep to your bookie, Jesse. You put your house up as collateral.”
This seems to give him the motivation to talk. His voice goes high pitched, and he waves his hands enthusiastically. “Yeah… but I got a huge bet on tonight’s Padres game. It will bring me flush with him.”
I give him a pitying smile. “Not going to happen. You see… I purchased the debt from your bookie, so now I own it. I’m calling it due right now.”
“You can’t—”
“I can,” I bulldoze right over him, waving the papers. “I even own the promissory note and assignment of collateral on your house. So in essence, I own your house, asshole, unless you can write me a check for thirty thousand right now.”
“I don’t have that,” he rasps.
“You do,” I say with a wicked smile. “Your family is wealthy. Ask them for it.”
“I can’t.”
“Because you don’t want them to know you’re a gambling junkie,” I say in conclusion. “Damn… it just sucks to be you.”
“You’ve got to give me time,” he begs, stepping toward me with hands clasped in supplication.
“I don’t have to do anything,” I say coldly. “But what I will do is forgive the debt if you just present a fair offer that Brynne will feel good accepting for the dental practice. You know what that amount is because she’s asked you for it already. So don’t try to low ball her or ask for a discount. Pay her what she has asked, and I’ll waive the debt. Continue to be a dick and think you can possibly tangle with me, and I’ll start foreclosure on your house on Monday. I have an attorney poised to hit the courthouse as soon as it opens.”
Jesse doesn’t say anything, face white. Tara is actively crying now.
Wicked Wedding Page 11
