by Lexi Ryan
Present day . . .
“We were just putting together our RSVPs for the anniversary party,” Mom says. It’s her regular Saturday morning call where we catch up and she guilts me for not visiting more. “Were you planning on bringing Bailey?”
“Is there a reason I wouldn’t bring my wife?” I hate that she’s even asking, but more than that, I hate that there’s part of me that doesn’t want to bring Bailey. If she knew that, she’d think it was because I was ashamed of her, and that’s not it.
I’m ashamed of the world I come from—the excess, the money. After seeing the reality that other people live in, after coming face to face with the conditions Bailey knew growing up, returning to my parents’ world and all the luxuries they take for granted just makes me feel like an asshole.
I’m going to take Bailey to a party for which my parents shelled out thousands and thousands of dollars to entertain themselves and their friends for one night. I get it. They want to celebrate, and they have the means to indulge in this kind of extravagance. It’s the only way they’d want to celebrate, and it’s the kind of party their friends will expect.
But worse than all my shame about the extravagance is knowing how she’ll be treated. My parents aren’t good at hiding their feelings, and they don’t approve of Bailey.
“Yes. Bailey and I will both be there, and if you could treat her like an equal, I might even stay all night.”
“I was just asking.” She sighs softly, but I can still hear the disappointment. “How’s it going—your new life and marriage?”
I can tell I hurt her feelings, but fuck. When does it start to matter that she’s hurt mine over and over again by judging the woman I love? “Things are fine . . . good,” I say, correcting myself more forcefully than I should. But the truth is, even though Bailey opened up to me last weekend, I don’t know if I’m any closer to getting her to give me a real chance. “It’s been nice to have her here.”
“Do you think it’ll be different when the season’s over and you don’t spend so much time away from home?”
By different does Mom mean worse? Or am I just being defensive? If Bailey’s still here at all. She will be, right? She’s making friends here, and in only a month her business has grown into something she could make a long career out of. She opened up to me about her relationship with Nic and her sister . . . She’s in my bed every night.
“It’ll be great,” I say.
“I hope so. It just seemed like it was all so sudden.”
“I’ve been in love with her for four years. I don’t think there’s anything sudden about that.” I make a fist and then release it. Things have been a lot better between me and my parents in the last couple of years, and having Bailey back in my life is making me defensive. “Mom, I need you to promise me something.”
“What is it?”
“I know you do things because you have my best interests at heart, but I need you to promise me that you will not meddle in my marriage. I don’t care how good your reasons are. If you have a concern, I need you to promise me you’ll come to me with it and then trust me to make the right decision or to deal with the consequences if I don’t.”
“Is this about what happened in high school?” she asks. “Is it about the baby?”
I sink into a chair and rest my face in my hand. “Yes. Kind of.”
“Is Bailey pregnant?”
“No, Mom. She’s not. But maybe someday she will be.” I close my eyes, because the thought slams me in the chest with hope. I want her to have my babies, but first, I have to confess my secrets and convince her to stay despite them. “Or maybe she won’t. But regardless, this is my life.”
“I’m sorry for what we did, baby. But look where you are now.”
“It would have been nice if you’d believed in me enough to think I could get here even with a child. I need you to let me live my life without you removing all the obstacles.”
I can hear her sniffle and feel like a jackass for making my mom cry, but it needed to be said. “I promise,” she whispers.
“Thank you. I needed to hear that.”
“I’ll talk to you soon. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and walk to the back door. Outside, Bailey is lying by the pool. She told me she’s a sun worshipper, but she looks like the goddess in her black bikini, her tanned legs stretched in front of her. As if she can feel me looking at her, she props herself up on her elbows, pulls off her sunglasses, and blows me a kiss. I grin at her. In moments like this, I believe everything is going to be okay, and I cling to that confidence before it can fade.
“Are you pregnant yet?” I ask Mia as I pour two cups of coffee from the pot in Mason’s kitchen.
She smirks. “No. Are you?”
“Very funny.”
The Bears play the Gators in their second regular season game at the Gators’ stadium tomorrow, and this means I get to spend the weekend with my best friend, Mia, because her husband plays for the Bears.
I hand over her mug and add cream and sugar to my coffee. “Will you stay here tonight?” I ask.
Mia grins. “I was hoping you’d ask. Sleeping in hotel rooms alone while they travel totally blows. I wish they’d let him share a room with me.”
I wiggle my eyebrows. “They know he wouldn’t sleep if he shared a bed with you.”
Her cheeks turn a pretty shade of pink. “This might be true. So how’s it going? I want to know everything.”
I bite my lip, but my mouth betrays me and smiles anyway. “It’s been good. Everything, I mean. I’ve been able to work. I have four to six appointments a week already on the schedule through to the day I’m supposed to leave, and I can hardly keep up with the messages from other prospective clients. Who knew there was such an untapped market for boudoir photos?”
“That’s great! And you were worried you wouldn’t make any money while you were down here.”
I swallow. “Yeah, money hasn’t been an issue.” Any more than it always is, I think, because I was barely staying afloat before. “I’m making more down here on my photography alone than I did in Blackhawk Valley running the bar and doing boudoir sessions. And I’ve gotten to spend time with my niece.” Guilt rears its head at the mention of Faith, so I quickly change the subject. “Never mind that I get to look at the ocean every single day. I love it here.”
“Are you thinking of making your move permanent?”
I twist my hair into a sloppy bun on top of my head and use the tie from my wrist to hold it in place. “Things had gotten pretty lonely for me in Blackhawk Valley. Everybody’s gone. But I have part of the crew here. And there’s a bigger market for my business, and my sister . . .” I shrug. “Yeah, I’m definitely considering the move.”
She arches a brow and looks around the living room. “Like making this permanent? With Mason?”
“No.” I shake my head. That’s gotten more complicated since our night in the pool and Faith’s birthday. It’s gotten more complicated since I’ve gotten used to sleeping in his arms. “I still can’t be with Mason. I can’t change that I took that money or how his family feels about me. But maybe he and I could be friends?”
She folds her arms. “Friends?”
“Stop looking at me that way. I know better than to want more. This isn’t just about the money, it’s also about . . .” I blow out a breath. “Look at this place. I don’t belong here.”
“And yet being here has made you consider uprooting your life to move to Florida.”
“Yes, Florida, but not Mason’s house. Hell, not even Seaside, because no one can afford to live here.”
She purses her lips and studies me. “Have you told Mason that you’re thinking about making your move permanent?”
“I haven’t. I have to figure out how to approach that. I don’t want it to be weird for him to have his ex-wife live in town.”
She shakes her head and walks forward to grab my hand. “Then don’t be his ex.”
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“This is only for four months, Mia. That hasn’t changed.”
“But you’re sleeping together,” she says, because apparently, she knows me too well and can read my mind.
“We’re . . .” I look away and my cheeks heat. “It just happened.” Again, I try to bite back a smile, and she laughs.
“Okay, you don’t have to give me details. I’m just making observations. We’re talking about the future, so I think we need to keep in mind your evolving relationship with Mason.”
“His dad visited the other day.” I look outside but don’t really see what’s in front of me. I see the obstacles between me and Mason. “He pulled out a checkbook and asked for my number.”
“Why?”
“He wants to make sure I walk away at the end of the season.”
“You’re not thinking of taking his money, are you?”
“No. God, no.” I shake my head. “When I did it before, I had a reason. I didn’t think I had a choice, but the fact that he’s offering now shows just what he thinks of me. That’s why I can’t be with Mason. Even if I told him the truth, the past would never go away. My relationship with his parents would always be contentious.” I turn toward her and away from the calming view.
“They made their bed,” she says. “Let them lie in it.”
“But what about me? Do I want to be the loathed daughter-in-law? Just the way Christian looks at me makes me feel like I need to enroll in a self-esteem course. How can I have a healthy marriage if he’s so tied to it?” Just thinking about it, my heart races as if I’ve been running down the beach. “I can’t undo what I did.” I meet her eyes and think of Faith when I add, “Some decisions have long-term consequences, no matter how sorry you are or how willing you are to come clean.”
“I want to believe Mason’s dad is better than you’ve made him out to be.”
I grunt. “He’s worse.”
“I refuse to give up hope. If Arrow and I can figure it out, I choose to believe you and Mason can, too.”
I shake my head. “How on earth did I end up with an optimist for a best friend?”
“You just got lucky, I guess.”
The bar is packed after the Gators beat the Bears. Mason didn’t play much, and that makes two games in a row. Mia told me not to worry, but I could see the concern in her eyes when she watched them send the rookie out instead of Mason.
Mia convinced me to come here after the game, but she disappeared as soon as Arrow showed up. I scan the crowd for Mason, who got pulled away shortly after he and his teammates arrived half an hour ago. I can hang at the bar with the best of them, but tonight I’d rather be home with Mason, curled up on the couch and watching a movie.
“There are a bunch of guys from the Gators here tonight,” the girl beside me says, scanning the crowd.
I force myself to smile and turn toward her. “There sure are.”
“Have you seen Mason Dahl?”
I frown, my defenses going up. Does this woman know Mason? Is she some old girlfriend? Maybe a one-night stand? She looks like someone Mason should be with. Perfect skin, long hair, big boobs. Rich. “I’m sure he’s here somewhere.”
“I need to talk to his wife. I want her to do some pictures for me.” She spins closer, shifting to a conspiratorial whisper before I have the chance to reply. “Did you know she does dirty pictures? The girls call them stripper pics because”—she inches closer and lowers her voice further—“she used to actually work the pole, you know what I mean?”
Who wouldn’t know what she means? I blink at her, still processing the idea that the women down here call my boudoir portraits stripper pics. It was bad enough having Lindy know, but everyone knows? I have a packed schedule, and is this why? Because they want to dabble in being trashy for a minute? Fucking fantastic.
“Rumor is, that’s how Mason met her, and their first night together was paid for. How raunchy is that? And he married her?”
“Rumor?” I ask, my voice cracking.
“Can you imagine a guy like that settling for a stripper when he could really have anyone he wanted?” She giggles and sways a little, and I realize for the first time that she’s toasted. “Fuck, if he wanted me, I’d drop James in a New York minute and jump straight into his bed.”
“That’s says a lot about you,” I mutter.
“Apparently, her pictures are really sexy and the boys appreciate them. A lot. Dre bought Julia diamond earrings after she gave him her set. This girl has the background for that kind of thing, you know? She knows what men think is hot. I think my husband would fucking love the idea of a stripper taking nude pics of me.” She grins and rubs her hands together. “I can practically smell my kitchen remodel when I think about it.”
The women are using my pictures to convince their husbands to give them diamond earrings and kitchen remodels?
My stomach turns, but I smile and extend my hand. “I think I’m the one you’re looking for. My name’s Bailey. I’m Mason’s wife.”
The laughter falls from her face, and to her credit, she looks truly horrified. “Oh my God. You must think I’m such a bitch. I’m so sorry. I’m kind of drunk.”
“I noticed.”
“Don’t take the stripper pics thing the wrong way. Everybody loves your work. It’s just that, I don’t know, maybe we’re all a little intimidated by your past. I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”
I make myself take one breath and then the next. I don’t hate her, but some days I really hate this world Mason’s a part of. I hate the money and the greed and the superficial kindness. I miss my old life in Blackhawk Valley—the life I had in college, when all my friends were close. I miss the days when I didn’t have to choose between loneliness and trying to blend into a world where I clearly don’t belong.
“I needed money,” I say, and it’s so unlike me to defend myself that I immediately wish I could take the words back, but I’ve already started, so I continue. “I met Mason at a party, not at a strip club, but it’s true I was a stripper. I’ve never tried to pretend I’m someone I’m not.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she says, all cheer and friendliness. “You’re real. Not like these fake bitches.”
Does her easy willingness to put her friends in the category of fake bitch mean that I’m supposed to believe she belongs in a different category? I just stare.
“Can you forgive me and still take my pictures? James’s birthday is coming up, and I just want to surprise him.”
“With stripper pics.” Just saying the words hurts my heart. I’m proud of the work I do. It’s not trashy at all. Climbing a pole and shaking my ass may have been cheap, but not the pictures I take.
Mason sidles up to me. “Oh, I see you’ve met Jimmy’s wife. Hadley, isn’t it?”
Hadley cuts her eyes to Mason and back to me. She looks like a kid who just got caught skipping school.
“Yeah,” I say, not taking my gaze off Hadley. “She already knew all about me.”
He grins and lowers his mouth to my ear so Hadley can’t hear him. “I told you word would spread. You’ve totally got this. Run with it. Make it something big.”
Tears burn the back of my eyes. I spent years stripping for money and never feeling ashamed of it. It was the best choice for me at the time, and I’d rather exploit my body on my terms than someone else’s. But in this world and in this context, I feel shame, and that pisses me off. Why should I have to feel ashamed just because they’re laughing behind my back? Why should I have to explain myself when it was my choice to make?
“How much longer do you want to stay?” I ask Mason, trying to keep my blue mood from my face and voice.
He turns me toward him and wraps his other arm around me, holding my front to his. “You wanna get out of here sooner rather than later?”
I nod, too worried that tears might come out with my words.
“I’ll take you home and keep you in bed for a while,” he murmurs into my ear. He cups my face in one big hand and
rubs his thumb along my jaw line. “I could definitely get onboard with that plan.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” I toss my keys into the dish and place my hands on Bailey’s shoulders. She was quiet the whole ride home.
“I’m fine.”
What is it about that word that’s so completely unconvincing? “That’s been your response to everything I’ve asked you since we left. The game was fine, you had a fine time at the bar, you’re fine, meeting people was fine. I might not be a woman or a genius at reading them, but I am quite familiar with the concept of fine meaning anything but.”
Her eyes blaze. “That’s the most sexist thing I’ve ever heard you say.”
I drop my hands. She’s in the mood to fight. Well, fine. I think I’d rather her fight and scream at me than clam up like she has. “Okay. Then I’m a sexist asshole, but it’s true. You’re not fine.”
“No. I’m not. But who cares? I made an appearance at the bar and acted like your wife. Mission accomplished. Who cares that I’m a joke? Except you. Maybe you care. Hell, I’m kind of embarrassed on your behalf.”
What the fuck is going on here? Weren’t we good yesterday, and now we’re back to this? I take a breath and pray for patience. “What exactly are you embarrassed about?”
“They don’t understand why you’d marry a stripper. Isn’t that kind of trashy?” She leans forward and lowers her voice to a whisper. “Rumor has it, the first night we slept together, you paid for it.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, and my blood turns cold. “Who said that?”
“They all said that. The girls. The players’ wives and girlfriends. Hadley told me that they call my business stripper pics, and they think I’m good at it because after years of being a stripper, I know what turns men on.”
Oh, shit. I don’t know Hadley very well, and I’ve never liked her much. This certainly doesn’t help her case. I have a lot of trouble believing that all of the guys’ wives and girlfriends would think of Bailey that way. The thing with football is that even though we make good money once we’re here, most of these guys didn’t come from wealthy families. Many players were first-generation college students, guys whose parents never would have been able to afford to put them in peewee ball if they hadn’t been able to play on scholarship.
