Half Empty (First Wives Series Book 2)

by Catherine Bybee

  Trina bit into her tiny burger and closed her eyes as the hot meal hit all the right spots.

  When she opened them again, Mr. Country eyed her food almost as intently as he had watched her.

  She blinked, looked at the two remaining sliders, the plate piled high with chicken wings, and a basket of french fries. “Fine,” she muttered as she slid the plate of sliders toward the stranger.

  “You sure?” His eager smile reminded her of a six-year-old holding back excitement at the candy counter.

  “If you don’t want it . . .”

  He slid out of his seat and to the one right next to hers faster than she could blink.

  He glanced over his shoulder and pulled his beer closer. “What’s your name, little lady?”

  “Let me guess, Texas?” She’d been there long enough to hear the twang and tell some of the subtle differences in the dialect.

  He lowered his voice. “Just outside of Austin.”

  “I recently moved to Houston.”

  “Is that right?” He picked up the tiny burger with his big hands. He glanced at her, then the burger, and laughed.

  She took a second bite out of hers as he put the whole thing in his mouth in one swallow. It was amusing to watch him try to chew. It didn’t take long before he was washing it down with his beer.

  “Did you taste it?”

  “Mmmm.”

  Shaking her head, she followed her bite with a fry.

  Her companion’s stomach growled, and instead of waiting for his eyes to ogle her food, she pushed the plates between them.

  He didn’t ask, he just helped himself.

  “I’m Trina,” she offered.

  “I’m in your debt, Trina. Seems I slept through dinner.”

  “You and me both.”

  “I’ll count it as a blessing, since I’ve met you.”

  Trina lifted a hand as if saying No, thank you before digging into the chicken wings. “I’ll share my food, but I’m still not interested.” Attracted, but not willing to go there. The last thing she wanted to ask was if his wife knew he was burning the midnight oil in Miami.

  “Shame, that.”

  She chased the spicy wings with her wine. “What brings you to Miami, Mr. . . . ?” She left his name open, hoping he’d fill in the blank.

  He was staring again.

  “What?”

  “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

  Trina stopped chewing long enough to look closer.

  She shrugged. “No.”

  He laughed under his breath, glanced behind him. “My name is Wade,” he whispered.

  She lowered her voice. “Why are you whispering?”

  He leaned closer. “Wade Thomas,” he said even lower.

  She blinked again. “Am I supposed to know that name?”

  Wade squared his shoulders and sat taller. “Well, I’ll be . . .”

  The bartender approached. “Can I get you another wine?”

  “Please, and I’ll take another. Put all this on my tab,” Wade said.

  “No, no . . . that isn’t necessary.”

  “I insist.”

  She looked at the bartender. “He can buy my second glass of wine, but the rest is on my room.”

  When Wade didn’t argue a second time, the bartender left to refill their drinks.

  “That’s a second first,” Wade said.

  “A second first?”

  “First you flat-out turn me down. Now you refuse to let me buy the meal I’m eating.” He paused. “Oh, and you really have no idea who I am . . . I guess that makes it a third first.”

  Trina finished off her wine. “Am I supposed to be following your train of thought?”

  He laughed in a way that made her smile with the infectiousness of it.

  “What brings you to Miami?” she asked.

  Wade laughed harder. Too much more of that and she’d start to believe he had a screw or two loose.

  “Did I say something funny?”

  He shook his head. “No, no . . . Uh, work. What about you?”

  “Working my way home from a vacation.”

  He helped himself to a wing. “Oh? Where did you go?”

  “Italy. Venice.”

  “How was that?”

  “Hot and filling.”

  “You didn’t like it?”

  “Oh, no . . . I loved it. I’d still be there if it wasn’t for my friends.”

  Wade questioned her with his eyes.

  “It’s our weekend to get together, and I was trying to avoid it. I love my friends, but I just needed some time alone. You know?”

  He nodded as he chewed. “Do I ever.”

  “I booked my flight to Miami hoping this tropical depression would ground flights.”

  “Did it work?”

  The bartender dropped off their round of drinks.

  “I’m not sure. I planned on checking flights after I eat. Which I wanted to do hours ago, but the baby in the next room kept me up until I couldn’t keep my eyes open even if a bomb were going off.”

  “That doesn’t sound good.”

  “Yeah, I booked a quiet room on the top floor, but someone took the whole penthouse floor as their own.”

  Wade stopped smiling.

  “What?” she asked.

  He looked away. “Nothing . . . So, what do you plan to do now?”

  “Find a flight tomorrow . . . or maybe sleep in until it’s too late.”

  “You really don’t want to see your friends.”

  She thought about how their conversation would revolve around Fedor’s death the previous year, and how she should be seeking some testosterone in her life. Avery would remind her that she was too young to be alone, Lori would analyze her as if she were a psychologist instead of an attorney, and Shannon would passively agree to everything the others said until she found Trina alone. Then she’d talk sense and make Trina look a little too hard inside herself. Something she didn’t want to do. Not now, in any event.

  She shook out of her thoughts to blue eyes peering close.

  “Do you realize how much emotion you show on your face?” Wade asked, jaw slack.

  Trina lifted her chin. “Guess I’ll have to work on that.”

  They closed the bar and took their last round to the hotel lobby.

  Wade had to admit he was a bit more than tipsy, and Trina wasn’t exactly sober. She’d tucked her feet under her on the lobby sofa as she described Venice in a way that made him want to visit.

  “There isn’t one car?” he asked.

  “No place for them. You only get around on foot or boat. Which is probably best to help counter the pasta you consume while you’re there.”

  “So why did you pick Venice?”

  Her eyes drifted away, something Wade had noticed happened a lot when she was lost in thought. A hint of sorrow quickly came and went, almost as if she caught herself. The smile she flashed felt forced. “I wanted isolation so I could study.”

  “Study?”

  She rattled off something that went completely over his head.

  Her dark brown eyes glistened with her smile. “I’m learning Italian.”

  Wade blew out a breath. “Oh, thank God. I thought maybe that last beer was one too many.”

  “I like languages.”

  “As in many?”

  “A few.”

  He was happy to speak English. “I’m impressed.”

  “Don’t be. Most Europeans are fluent in a minimum of two languages.”

  “Are you from Europe?”

  “No. Born and raised in Southern California. My grandparents on my mother’s side are from Mexico. Spanish was always spoken in our home.”

  “So you speak Spanish as well?” He squirmed in his chair.

  “Yup.”

  “Now I’m feelin’ a bit inferior.”

  “Language is my hidden talent,” she said.

  “So how did you end up in Texas?”

  Her gaze met his before she wrink
led her nose and gave a quick shake of her head. “It’s a long story.”

  “Which is your way of saying Don’t pry.”

  She stretched out her arms. “It’s my way of saying that we’ve had a pleasant conversation, and bringing up my recent move will change all that. I’d just as soon keep this light.”

  Wade wasn’t expecting her reply. “Now you’ve piqued my interest.”

  “Another time,” she said.

  He offered a smile that usually had women crawling all over him. “Am I going to have that chance?”

  “Chance for what?”

  “Another conversation.”

  Her eyes bored into him as if he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. “I told you, I’m not interested.”

  He lifted one eyebrow, flashed a dimple. “What if I told you I was rich?”

  She burst out in laughter.

  His smile fell.

  “Sorry . . .” She appeared to pull in her mirth. “You’re gonna have to do better than money.”

  “Good lord, woman.”

  “Sorry.”

  He scratched his head. “I’m famous.”

  She bit her lip. “That explains the arrogance.”

  Wade placed a hand on his wounded chest. “I am not.”

  Trina tossed her head back, and her deep laugh filled the empty lobby. “My name is Wade Thomas, you don’t know who I am?” Her mimicry of him was off by several octaves.

  Her laughter tickled his gut.

  “I can teach you the two-step.”

  She pinched her lips together, trying to contain herself.

  His pride was starting to dim.

  “I’m not bad looking.”

  She looked him up and down . . . twice. “I’ll give you that.”

  He lifted both hands in the air. “Finally.”

  For the span of a full minute, she stared. Her smile slowly started to fall, and he knew she was talking herself out of dating him.

  “Tell you what. I’m flying home tomorrow. Private charter, because I’m rich, famous, and arrogant.” He groaned on that last word.

  “And good-looking.”

  Now they were getting somewhere.

  “I can give you a lift home.”

  Trina blew out a breath. “I’m avoiding going home,” she reminded him.

  “I was thinking I needed a quick stop in Nassau . . . where the plane might not be able to leave right away. That tropical depressed storm and all.”

  She pointed a finger in his direction. “I like the way you think.”

  Chapter Five

  “You’re still in Florida,” Avery yelled into the phone.

  The gray clouds hovering over the airport didn’t stop Trina from wearing large-framed sunglasses that hid the dark circles under her eyes. She and Wade had stayed up past four in the morning and were walking to his chartered jet at just after noon.

  “I’m getting on a plane now,” Trina told her.

  “Uh-huh . . .”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  Avery was in tune like that.

  “There is a catch.”

  “No catch.” Trina glanced up at Wade, who was walking beside her toward the twin-engine Gulfstream. “Here,” Trina said before lifting her cell phone in his direction. “Tell my friend I’m getting on a plane.”

  Amused, Wade reached for the phone. Without waiting for Avery to speak he said, “Trina is indeed getting on a plane.” He paused. “I’ll let Trina tell you that. Rest assured, I’ll keep her safe and get her home just as soon as I possibly can.”

  Wade handed her phone back. Before Trina could place it to her ear, she heard Avery’s voice.

  “Who are you?”

  “That was Wade.” They approached the steps of the jet. “Listen, I have to go. We have a tiny stop in Nassau, something about picking up a straggler. But I can’t be picky, it isn’t my charter.”

  “I knew there was a catch.”

  “Not a catch, just a quick stop. Only a few miles away from Miami. Didn’t want you to be shocked when you saw my radar headed east.”

  “I swear, Trina . . . if you don’t get here, I’m going to track you down.”

  “I’m on my way. Don’t worry.”

  At the foot of the steps, a flight attendant greeted them. “Hello, Mr. Thomas.”

  “Good afternoon . . .” Wade spoke with the attendant while Trina ended her call.

  “I’ll be there, Avery. I admit I wasn’t in the mood to face the anniversary . . .” She glanced over her shoulder, saw Wade duck inside the plane. “But I’m better now.”

  “I’m worried about you.” Avery put her anger aside for a minute.

  “I know. I’m sorry for that. It’s been a strange week.”

  “Trina?” Wade called her from the plane. “We need to get in the air before the storm hits.”

  “Right . . .”

  “Storm?” she heard Avery ask.

  “Just a small one. But I gotta go. I’ll text when we leave Nassau.”

  “Text on the plane, I wanna know who the we is.”

  “My phone isn’t acting right since I dropped it.” Which wasn’t a lie.

  “Trina!”

  “Gotta go. Wade is waving at me.”

  “Wade who?”

  “Thomas. Love you.” Trina hung up.

  She climbed the few steps and grinned.

  “Did she buy it?”

  “Yup.”

  He moved aside so she could walk in. It wasn’t the largest private jet she’d been on, but it wasn’t the smallest either. The interior was made of white leather and sleek lines and would comfortably seat six people. It wasn’t large enough for a bedroom, but all the seats reclined enough for a person to sleep.

  “Can I take your purse, Miss . . . ?”

  The flight attendant—tall, thin, and twentyish—flashed a perfectly manicured smile.

  Trina couldn’t help but feel a certain companionship with the woman. She dropped her phone inside and handed her the bag. “Trina is fine. What’s your name?”

  “Nita.”

  “Thank you, Nita.”

  Nita took her purse and stowed it before closing the door and securing the lock.

  Wade encouraged Trina to sit across from him. “The pilot told me we needed to get in the air as quickly as possible. He anticipates the need to stay in Nassau for a minimum of six hours.”

  Trina smiled. “I’m sure we can push that off until tomorrow.”

  Nita walked by them again, and this time she brought two glasses of sparkling wine. Trina didn’t feel the need after the late night before but took the glass anyway. Within minutes they were taxiing onto the runway.

  “So you really didn’t google me when you went back to your room last night?” Wade asked.

  “I did not.” They’d started this conversation in the car over. “It was late. I was tired. Besides, I’d rather you tell me what you want me to know than read about you online.”

  Wade sat back in his seat and played with the stem of his glass. “You have more restraint than I do. I would have googled you if you’d shared your last name.”

  Her last name would have pinged more pages than his, or so she thought.

  “Are you married?”

  She snapped her gaze back to his. “No. No, I wouldn’t be here . . .”

  He leaned forward and glanced at her left hand. “I see a tan line.”

  “When did you notice that? Last night when you were trying to convince me to date you?”

  “When we got in the car. I looked for a ring last night.”

  She thought of her sleazy Italian. “A ring would have stopped you?”

  Wade sipped his wine. “I am many things, but I don’t sniff around another man’s woman.”

  The plane started to pick up speed. “No one says things like that anymore.”

  “I’m Texas, born and raised, and I’ve always talked like that.” The smirk told her he was proud of it.

  Trina took a deep br
eath and spat out the truth as the plane lifted off the ground. “My late husband shot himself one year ago this weekend.”

  Her confession wiped the grin off Wade’s face. Before he could comment, she continued. “I was in Italy because I didn’t want to see that look of pity hovering in every corner of my life. Which is why I’m not in a hurry to get home and see my friends.”

  “Whoa.”

  “So I would appreciate it if you could just absorb the fact and move past it.”

  “I think that might take me more than a few minutes.”

  She looked out the window at the rain, which was starting to run down the side of the plane. If she told him they were married less than a year before she buried Fedor, it would only prompt more questions. The answers wouldn’t be something she wanted to give. She sat alone in her thoughts for a few minutes before changing the subject. “What would I have found out if I had stayed awake and looked you up on the Internet?”

  The pity in his eyes slowly faded. “I’m a singer.”

  She’d guessed maybe an actor when he’d told her he was famous. Since she hadn’t been to the movies in over two years, he could have been the latest and greatest without her knowing.

  “A country singer,” he added. “I just finished my tour in Miami.”

  “That’s why I’ve never heard of you. I don’t listen to a lot of country music.”

  “I’ll see what I can do to change that.” He’d turned on his charming smile.

  The plane hit a pocket of air and dipped left, then right.

  Wade glanced at the ceiling.

  “Just a little turbulence.”

  “You fly a lot?” he asked.

  “I was a flight attendant, before . . .” She dropped the end of her sentence.

  That look of pity started to cross his face again.

  “None of that. Please, Wade. I’m not worthy of your pity on the subject. I wouldn’t have mentioned my late husband if I could have gotten around it.”

  Wade closed his eyes and shook his head. “I’m glad you told me. It’s all adding up now.”

  “What’s adding up?”

  “The not wanting to go home. Your desire to dis me last night and never see me again.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “We are on a jet together, so my conviction to stay away obviously wasn’t that strong.”

  “Yes, but you’re sitting over there instead of in my lap, which is where I’d rather you be.”