by Lexi Ryan
She finally lifts her eyes to meet mine. “That you what?”
That I know why you need me. That I know why I’ve never been able to make myself walk away. Suddenly, I’m fucking exhausted. My body is tired from training, and my mind is tired from this dance we’ve been doing since she moved in. My heart is tired of waiting. “I wish I’d met you before him. I wish you’d never had to become so tough.”
“How is this about Nic?” Her voice cracks on his name.
“Isn’t it? At the end of the day, he’s always what’s standing between us.”
“How long are you visiting, Aunt Bailey?” Faith asks as she climbs into my lap.
“Faithy,” Sarah says. “Come on, you’re too big to be held.”
I wrap my arms around Faith and squeeze. “Never!”
Faith giggles. “How long? How long?”
Sarah narrows her eyes, warning me without words to be careful what I promise.
“I don’t know yet. But I’ll be here for your birthday. Are you having a party?”
“Of course!” She squirms off my lap. Even though she loves to cuddle, she has too much energy in her to allow her to stay still for long. I reluctantly let her go. “We’re going to Applebee’s, and Brandon’s going to come. Are you going to come too?”
“Faith, Aunt Bailey is busy. I doubt she can come, but she’s here now.”
I lock eyes with Sarah, and I know she sees my request there. Please let me come. I promise I won’t screw this up. My sister gives a small, almost imperceptible shake of her head. I swallow hard. This is my penance for my choices, and I try to be patient, but sometimes I just want to scream at Sarah for being so unreasonable and self-righteous. Instead, I take a deep breath and think of Faith. “How about I bring your present by before I leave town?” I ask her.
“Presents!” she cheers, and tops it off with a cartwheel in the middle of the living room floor. “I hope it’s a Barbie house!”
“Who’s Brandon?” I ask.
“Mommy’s special friend. He’s really nice, and he works at the zoo with the dolphins. Isn’t that the coolest?” I wait for more, but she holds her arms up in the air and says, “Watch me do a handstand!” She plants her hands on the floor and kicks upside down, and I know she’s moved on.
“A new friend?” I ask my sister.
She wraps her arms around herself and shrugs, as if this isn’t a monumental step for her. “He’s nice.”
Five years ago, on a stormy April afternoon, her husband told her he was “deeply unhappy,” packed his things, and left his wife and their daughter for a new life across the country. Since then, Sarah hasn’t been interested in dating, only in raising Faith and trying to keep their life together. She was a stay-at-home mom when Greg left, and she almost lost everything. She almost had to move back to Blackhawk Valley to the life she’d worked so hard to escape.
I nod. “I’d love to meet him someday.”
“Sure. Maybe.” She draws in a deep breath. “Are you going to the Gators game tomorrow?”
I shake my head. “They’re in Kansas City tomorrow, so I’ll miss it.” It’s been a week since Lindy’s party and almost two since I moved in with Mason. As if things weren’t tense enough between me and Mason before, the whole thing with Lindy made me feel even more insecure about our arrangement. He’s gone all day, sometimes for more than twelve hours. Though we eat dinner together most nights, he’s still sleeping in the guest room, and I catch myself wishing for more than I can have. Sarah doesn’t need to know any of that, though. “I might travel for some of the regular season games, but I have a few clients who wanted to meet this weekend, so I thought it would be better if I passed on this one.”
“How’s the new life in your fancy house?”
“It’s okay.” I shrug and bite down on my bottom lip. There’s jealousy on her face that I understand all too well. It’s hard when the people around you seem to have all they need and you’re struggling to get by. “I’m trying to get settled. Mason’s told his teammates about me, and their wives’ sessions are helping me to keep busy, but everything is different here.”
“It’s a good different,” Sarah says, her eyes on Faith. “Back in Blackhawk Valley, girls like us will never be anyone but Tammy Green’s daughters. Here, you can start fresh.” She turns her gaze on me and gives me an encouraging smile. “I’ll admit I was nervous about it, but I’m glad you moved here. Now you get a clean slate. You can start over like Mom never could.”
Four years ago . . .
“To living on the right side of the law,” Mia says, raising her glass of water and giving her brother a pointed look.
Everyone else raises their glasses, too. There are big smiles all around the table, except for Nic, whose smile is forced and whose gaze keeps darting to meet mine.
After the waitress clears our dinner plates, I excuse myself and go to the restroom. I heard the text come through from Mason right after our meals were served, but I didn’t want to look at it in front of Nic. Now, I dig through my purse to pull out my phone.
Mason: Saw you walking down Fifth in your red dress, and now I can’t focus on my homework. Come by tonight so I can get a closer look?
I grip the sink and bow my head. I don’t know what’s worse—that I gave up Mason to save Nic, a man who doesn’t want me, or that even though I know it was the right thing to do, I wish I hadn’t had to do it.
I hold my hands under hot water and scrub them, but it doesn’t help me feel any better. I want to leave here and go to Mason, but I don’t want it to be just sex. I want to curl into his arms and tell him how relieved I am that Nic’s out of prison, and how terrified I am that he’s going to fuck up this second chance. I want to let him undress me and touch me, but I don’t want to head to my own bed to sleep. I want to make love and let him hold me all night long. And I want to do all that without feeling like shit for loving them both.
“Always want what we can’t have,” I whisper to my reflection.
When I step out of the bathroom, someone grabs me from behind and pushes me into the wall. He’s against my back, trapping me. I turn my head to the side to see who it is, but it isn’t until his hands press against the wall on either side of my head that I know it’s Nic. He takes one hand and drops it to my hip and places the other on my shoulder. “What’d you do?”
I planned on talking to Nic after dinner tonight, before he could talk to Clarence. Word travels fast. “I told you I’d take care of it.”
“Where did you get the money, Bail? Where did you get that kind of money?”
“All that matters is the debt is paid.”
He scoffs. “As if these guys are going to leave you alone now.”
“Why wouldn’t they?”
I feel his body tense behind me. “Now that you’ve given in to them, they’ll find a way to get more. From me, from you—they don’t care.” He draws in a long, ragged breath, sweeps my hair to the side, and skims his mouth along the back of my neck.
Chills of anticipation rush through me. I’ve missed his touch for so long, and my body responds instinctively, but at the same time, guilt at the pleasure pierces my belly. What would Mason think about Nic kissing my neck? I shouldn’t care. It doesn’t matter. Mason and I can never have anything together. Not now. I shiver, and Nic groans.
“God, I’ve missed the way you smell, but now I’m going to be thinking about Clarence every time I’m close to you. I told you not to do it. It’s tearing me up inside that you did it anyway.”
The warmth in my belly goes cold. “I didn’t.”
“Don’t lie to me.” His fingers curl as he tightens his hold on me. I squeeze my eyes shut but tears leak out the corners. He loosens his hold. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He dips his head to kiss where his fingers were digging into my arm, and I let him, but his hand isn’t what hurt me. It’s what he believes that hurts.
Tears sting my eyes as he slides his hand over the front of my dress. This is Nic. I’ve waited years to f
eel his hands on me again, but any thrill from his touch is overshadowed by the feeling that I’m betraying another man. “Clarence got a taste of you, and he’s gonna want more. I can’t even blame him. Look what I’ve done to you, and I want more.”
“What did Clarence tell you?” I try to turn, but Nic’s too close. He has me pinned against the wall so I can’t see his face. Did Clarence tell Nic I fucked him? That I spread my legs to pay Nic’s debt?
Nic’s hand sweeps between my breasts before settling against my belly.
I wish I could see him. I can’t see the expression on his face or the look in his eyes. All I have is the feel of his hard body pressed against mine.
I swallow. My stomach quivers like Jell-O. This is so like Nic—to hold me away from him while he drops bombs on my reality. He doesn’t want me to see his face. He doesn’t want to look in my eyes while he breaks my heart.
I hear his ragged inhale, his hard swallow. “Why’d you do something like that for an idiot like me?” He makes a fist and gently scrapes his knuckles over my navel. “You’ve already lost so much because of me. I told you I’d take care of this.”
My heart aches. He said he’d take care of me, too. I was sixteen. He said he’d take care of me, and the next thing I knew, he was going to prison, and I was pregnant and alone.
Present day . . .
“I told you he’d love them,” I tell my client as I pedal away on Mason’s elliptical trainer. “The camera loves you.”
“Trust me,” Naomi says. “I’m not photogenic when anyone else is behind the camera. You just have a gift.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it. And thank you for telling your friend Heather about me.”
“She’s stoked about her session,” she says. I can hear her kids playing in the background. Naomi was my tenth client since I moved down here, but my first that isn’t a wife or girlfriend of a Gators player. When she called me on the suggestion of a friend of a friend, I had my first inkling that maybe I could keep busy through the end of the year. Now, only three weeks after I first moved in, word is spreading and only a fraction of my appointments are connected to the Gators. “I can’t wait to see what you do.”
“Don’t hesitate to call if you want any additional prints.” I step off the elliptical and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. “Or anything else.”
“Thank you so much! I’m sure we’ll talk soon.”
“Bye, Naomi. Tell your kids I said hi.”
“I will. Have a great day!”
“You too.” I end the call and grab my water bottle for a drink before hitting the floor for some ab work.
I don’t make it public knowledge that I work out as much as I do, but the truth is, I put in at least six hours a week. I started hitting the gym in college. I eat like shit, and apparently, a diet of red wine and Pop-Tarts doesn’t give you a great body. Since I had no interest in switching to kale and chicken breast, and my body was an important asset in my monthly income, I resorted to the treadmill.
As it turns out, that shit’s addictive. So, the best thing about Mason’s gorgeous house, other than it being right on the water, is the workout equipment he keeps in the spare bedroom. I don’t think I could handle going to a gym and smiling at all the women there who are there trying to keep all their bits and pieces tight and firm for their rich husbands. It’s nice to be able to get my workout in without leaving the house or having to hear anyone mention her thigh gap—because seriously, of all my concerns about my life, a thigh gap is nowhere on the list.
Though my body might look good because of my workouts, the process itself is gross, and I look disgusting when I emerge from Mason’s exercise room on Monday morning. I’m dripping with sweat, and my face is beet red. The hair I piled into a knot on the top of my head is giving me that halo of frizz. That’s what I look like when I see her—the chick with long legs and a beautifully rounded belly lying on the guest bed where Mason’s been sleeping. Her dark hair is fanned out across the pillows. A steaming cup of tea is in her hand, her feet are crossed at the ankles, and her gaze is fixed on the TV at the foot of Mason’s bed.
I don’t know who this bitch is, but I do know she’s officially spent more time in Mason’s bed than I have, and I don’t like that. I’m still gaping at her and trying to figure out what’s happening when she turns and blinks at me.
“Who are you?” she asks.
I arch a brow. “I’m Mason’s wife. Who are you?”
She hops out of bed so fast that tea splashes all over the comforter. “Oh shit. You’re Bailey?”
Jesus. I’m trying really hard not to jump to any conclusions about the size and shape of her belly, but in my very well compartmentalized mind, there is currently a compartment that is sounding the alarm in panic.
“Yes. Who are you?” Whoever she is, she clearly has money, judging by the size of the rocks in her ears. Even though she’s wearing casual clothes, I can tell by the way the cotton shirt hangs on her that it’s not a cheap one.
“Who am I?” Her big green eyes stare lasers into me. “I’m the sister, Shell.” She makes a face. “Well, the bastard sister, but the DNA test says my father has to pay, so that makes me the sister, and I flew all the way here to meet you and see my idiot brother.”
“Oh.” As luck would have it, that’s the moment Mason comes in the door. When I hear him, I’m simultaneously mortified and relieved.
I look up from the stack of mail on the counter to see Bailey and my sister Shell coming down the stairs. Bailey’s face is bright red, and although I think that might have something to do with the fact that she just worked out, her expression tells me there’s more to it.
“You didn’t tell your wife I was coming?” Shell asks.
Bailey turns to Shell. “I’ll hold his arms if you want to take a swing at him.”
“Hey now.” I hold up my hands. “Let’s not be hasty.” Maybe she’s thinking Shell can’t do much damage with her little hands, but I know better. I spent one month of every summer growing up with her beating the crap out of me.
“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Bailey says. She points to my sister. “Look at her. And since I didn’t know she was coming, imagine what I thought when I saw her.”
I have to bite my lip to keep myself from laughing. “What makes me an asshole?” I just want to hear her say it.
Shell bites back a smile and holds up her hands. “I think I’ll let you two fight this out without me.” She winks at me before turning and jogging back up the stairs toward the guest bedroom.
“Do you know what I thought when I saw her in the bed where you’ve been sleeping? She’s so pretty, and I had no idea she was coming, and . . .”
“And what?”
“And you aren’t sleeping with me. What was I supposed to think?”
This time, I can’t hold back my laughter. “Were you jealous of Shell?”
“No. I felt bad for her.” She folds her arms. “Poor thing. Imagine being knocked up with your baby.”
That punch lands right in my gut. I know she isn’t trying to be cruel, but I wince before I can hide my response, and she sees it.
“Mason, I’m kidding.” She steps closer and studies me. “Seriously. It was just a joke. I’m sure you’d make a great dad.”
I don’t want to have this conversation or pick at that emotional scab. I take another step forward and slide my arms around her bare waist. She’s in a sports bra and short white shorts just like the ones she was wearing the first time I saw her. “Let’s go back to the part where you were jealous.”
“Only a little,” she says. She lowers her voice. “It’s weird living here, being your wife. I think I’m waiting for someone to find us out and expose our marriage as a sham.”
I slide my hands up her back and pull her close, and she doesn’t step away. Three weeks she’s been here, and aside from the night of Lindy’s party, I’ve kept my hands off her. She still hasn’t explained why she has so much debt or given me a
ny reason to believe she’d consider making her move permanent. Regardless, I’m losing my resolve to keep this a marriage in name only.
I skim my fingertips down over her damp skin to cup her ass—because when she’s this close, I can’t resist—and she doesn’t protest. She turns her head and rests her face against my chest. We fit like this. So perfect. And for a minute, I don’t really care about the rules I put in place for myself when she moved in.
“What have you told your sister?” she asks, cutting off my train of thought.
“What do you mean?”
“Does she know I’m only your fake wife?”
I pinch her butt, and she jumps but she doesn’t pull away. “You feel pretty damn real to me.” My voice has dropped lower, because it’s hard to get words out with what I’m feeling—with her body so close, her skin slick with sweat.
I can hear her swallow as she pulls out of my arms. “If she stays here, isn’t she going to wonder why we don’t sleep in the same room?” She drags her bottom lip through her teeth. “You know, there’s enough room in my bed for both of us.”
“I’m well aware of that.” I grin and decide to let her off the hook. “Shell won’t sleep here. She prefers hotels with room service and private spas. She’s only here for the night, then she’s headed over to visit my parents. The poor thing.”
“Oh. Okay then.” Bailey averts her eyes, and it’s so adorable.
I wonder if she’s thinking what I am—that it would be nice to have an overnight guest so we’d have an excuse to share a bed. I wonder if she’s realizing that we haven’t had nearly enough time in public pretending to be husband and wife and if we don’t have an excuse to touch soon, the tension between us is going to steal all the oxygen from this house.
