Without Apology (Without Series Book 1)

by Aubrey Bondurant

  “I simply told him you’d left for the night,” she snapped back. “He chose to read into that and say what he did in order to irritate you. And if you truly believe your work will always be your priority, then don’t go over there tonight. Cut your losses and recognize she probably doesn’t want to deal with your prick side any more than I do right now. Good night.”

  Without another word, she got into her white BMW.

  I stood there for the longest time, watching until her taillights disappeared. Only then did I get into my own car, where I sat for another few minutes before I dialed Peyton’s number.

  Not surprisingly, she didn’t pick up. I didn’t want to leave it like this, so I started driving towards her house. I had a lump in my throat and unease in my gut.

  CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

  Peyton

  It was a typical family affair at my sister’s house, with my brother-in-law manning the grill and my sister bringing out party trays full of food. Kevin’s parents doted on their grandchildren, who were busy playing in the backyard on their massive swing set/rock climbing/fort thingy. Because this was a birthday party for my now-five-year-old niece, there were pink balloons everywhere. A pig named Peppa cavorted on every plate, napkin, and cup.

  At times like this, it was hard not to imagine my parents here, loving the grandparent life. At least my mother would’ve been in her element. I often wondered if my father would’ve slowed down by now, retired. Spent more time with his family.

  In my dreams, I hoped so. I also thought a lot about what might have happened if they’d survived that plane crash in Florida. Would he have realized how short life was and spent more time with his two daughters and wife? I knew he’d have been proud of me applying for the CFO position, even if he wouldn’t have understood my hesitation in taking on more responsibility. He’d craved that sort of thing. This was probably why he’d been so successful. But it had come at a price. My mother, hell-bent on spending their wedding anniversary together—there’d been too many such occasions she’d celebrated alone—had accompanied him on a business trip to Miami. They’d died together in a small plane traveling from Miami to Key West. It was my sincere hope the last thing on my father’s mind hadn’t been his career, but the two girls left behind without their parents.

  “Hey, you. What time is tall, dark, and British coming by?” Placing a tray of fruit on the table, Jen took the seat across from me.

  I glanced at my watch. “About five. So two more hours.”

  “Should we hold off on dinner?”

  “No, no. He’d hate that.” Besides, there was always the chance he wouldn’t be able to make it. I tried not to go there. Not to take my misgivings about my workaholic father and project them onto Simon. He wasn’t a man who committed to things lightly, so if he said he was going to be here today, I needed to believe it.

  “How many times has he stayed over?”

  There were a number of less classy ways she could’ve asked, so I should be thankful for the watered-down version. “A few. Could you maybe try to be normal when he gets here?” I might as well have asked a flame not to burn, but here was hoping.

  She scoffed. “Please. If he’s into you, clearly he’s not normal, either.”

  She wasn’t wrong, especially given how we’d met. “At least don’t give him the third degree.”

  “I won’t. Oh, remember we’re picking up Cooper tomorrow to take him on that charity walk with the girls.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I’d almost forgotten since I’d been so distracted lately with work. “When will you cave and get your own dog?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please. You get your auntie fix by coming over to play with the girls, and they get their doggie fix without me having another thing to clean up after. It’s a win-win.”

  I chuckled and thought maybe it was.

  “I know you said on the phone this was temporary and he’s only in town for work, but is there any chance—?”

  I cut her off. “Nope. I’m not even entertaining the idea.” At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.

  “Okay. Change of subject. Have you heard about the CFO position?”

  I might have preferred to talk about Simon. “No. Not yet.”

  “I can’t believe you drove all the way to New York.” She’d known I’d requisitioned a car and driver to take me, but had assumed George was the one who’d coordinated the arrangements. Since I didn’t want to delve into the details, I hadn’t dispelled her of the notion.

  “I should hear about the job this week.” If I was being completely honest, I wasn’t sure if I was more nervous about getting the job or not getting it. Part of me I’d never admit to anyone would actually be relieved if I didn’t get the position. Of course, that was contingent on Jeff not getting it, either.

  “Good. Do you mind helping Kevin with the burgers? You know how he makes them hockey pucks if someone isn’t watching.”

  I was aware of my brother-in-law’s affinity for well-done meat. “Sure thing.” I got up to fetch the cheese from inside and then lend Kevin a hand.

  By five o’clock, I started to listen for the doorbell. We’d finished eating burgers and hotdogs out on the patio. I found myself anxious for Simon to arrive. By five thirty, I was looking at my phone every ten minutes. Then by six, it finally came. The text message telling me he wouldn’t be able to make it.

  I exhaled a frustrated breath, put the phone back in my pocket, and didn’t bother to reply. I should’ve known better than to get my hopes up.

  “Uh-oh, I recognize that look,” Jen sighed.

  My smile was strained. I knew she recognized it from having seen it from our mother. Birthday parties, holidays, family gatherings. Of course, back in the day, her look had come after receiving phone calls instead of a text, but the result was the same.

  Disappointment.

  “Yeah, he can’t make it. Stuck at work.”

  She gave me a sympathetic look. “I bet he wishes he could be here.”

  I wasn’t so convinced.

  ***

  Right before eight o’clock, I left my sister’s place with a tuckered Cooper. Simon had texted, asking if he could come by my house later, but I didn’t think I wanted him to. When I didn’t return his text, he’d called. I’d chosen not to answer. I was hurt, but I didn’t want to blow this out of proportion, so I knew I should probably send him an actual text saying no. Intending to do just that, I pulled into my driveway.

  He was sitting on my porch, his car parked in front.

  I got out, letting Cooper go first, and watched Simon stand up, dressed in his suit.

  “Hi,” he greeted, looking wary.

  “Hi.”

  “Did you get my text message? Or see that I called? Or did you block my number again?”

  I walked up to the door and unlocked it. “No blocking. I should’ve responded saying tonight probably wasn’t a good idea.”

  I turned towards him and saw the hesitation on his face.

  “Peyton—I’m—It couldn’t be helped,” he finished lamely.

  “I’m sure it couldn’t, just like I’m sure you won’t actually ever apologize for it.” Although he’d given me some idea of why he was unable to say the words, I couldn’t tolerate the lack of an apology in this situation. At least my father had always been contrite when he’d disappointed us.

  “I—Fuck.” He raked a hand through his hair while I sighed, feeling bad about the snipe.

  “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s an old wound and not your fault you’re part of it. It’s fine.” I hadn’t meant for my trigger to become his problem. I needed to be fair. He was here in Dallas for a job. I’d learned he was a workaholic on our very first date. It wasn’t appropriate for me to put on him the expectations I’d apparently built up tonight.

  “It’s not fine. And I regret I hurt you. Can I come in. Please?”

  It was the look of vulnerability that got to me. I also didn’t think he asked for something with a please ver
y often. So I motioned he could go inside.

  Cooper, exhausted from all the attention, went straight to his bed in the living room while I moved to the kitchen to put away my bag of leftovers. “I have burgers or hotdogs if you’re hungry. Potato and pasta salad, too.”

  “I’m starving but kind of feel like I don’t deserve it.”

  I turned to see him standing by the kitchen stool. This wasn’t the first time I’d fed him when I’d been upset. In the same way, my mother would busy herself in the kitchen to hide her hurt. Like her, I used humor to deflect.

  “I’ll only heat it halfway to punish you if you if it’ll make you feel better.”

  He tried to hide his grin. “I think it’s fair.”

  I took the ketchup and mustard out of the fridge. “Or shall I withhold the condiments?”

  “Now you’re being cruel.”

  Smirking, I put the two bottles in front of him. We were both going through the motions without addressing the elephant in the room.

  He decided to stick a toe in the water. “I hope your niece had a nice birthday party.”

  “She did. She’s very into Peppa Pig. Heard of it?” I put a burger into the microwave for him and then dished up a plate.

  Taking a seat on the stool, he shook his head. “Can’t say that I have. I’m not up to date on many children’s characters.”

  “They’re British pigs, so…”

  He bit his lip and appeared to be trying not to smile. “Ah, right. In that case I should know them?”

  My unexpected laugh had some of the tension leave me. I slid him the plate of food. “What happened at work?”

  He took his time to finish chewing. “My boss rang and had us scrambling with something.”

  “In other words, you can’t tell me what.”

  “I wish I could because then you’d understand how stuck I was.”

  It wasn’t that I didn’t believe him. I simply wasn’t sure this short-term thing was worth the pain of getting hurt. Any pretense I’d perfected that this thing between us was only casual had veered off course the moment he’d upset me by not showing up. The disappointment proved I cared. Too much. I’d let him in and then been wounded when he hadn’t followed through.

  “My father was a workaholic. Missed birthdays, holidays, sports, dance recitals, anniversaries. Sometimes I think he loved his job more than he did his family.” My voice was quiet. I hadn’t initially intended to share this with him, but I thought it might be important for him to understand my history with men who didn’t show.

  His eyes locked on mine and he stayed silent, as if absorbing my words.

  “I’m not trying to compare you. After all, we just met, and there’s zero chance of this thing lasting past next week. But I did want you to understand why today upset me beyond what it probably should have.”

  He stood up, rounded the counter, and pulled me close. “What if I admitted the reason I put work first is because I have none of the things your father had? No family, no commitments, no one to miss me. Since I met you, I’ve experienced for the first time wanting to put something else before my job. As for zero chance of this thing lasting, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to increase those odds.”

  “How?”

  The weight of that one word hung between us.

  “I’m not sure. All I know is when Phillip mentioned moving on to the next assignment, I felt none of the adrenaline or excitement I normally do. All I saw was a countdown of the time I’d get to spend with you.”

  “This is crazy.” Yet I had the same feelings.

  “Maybe. But given that we’re not insane people, perhaps it’s not.”

  He kissed me then. Soft at first until I reciprocated, putting my arms around his neck, needing the connection now more than ever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

  Simon

  As we lay there in the quiet of her bedroom after I’d spent the last hour making love to her, naked and tangled up in one another, I knew I needed to give her more. She’d shared the piece about her father which I appreciated couldn’t have been easy. I wanted to offer the same in return. An explanation of why I was the way I was.

  But I didn’t know the best way to bring it up. In a fashion that was not typical for me, I simply blurted it out. “My father used to beat both my mum and me.”

  Her sharp intake of breath made me wince at my delivery.

  “I didn’t mean to say it quite like that, but I’m not sure how else to get it out. He enjoyed the pleas and the apologies forced by his hand.”

  She tried to move, but I held her tightly. I couldn’t get the rest out if I found sympathy in her eyes.

  She seemed to understand, lying still, asking a question in a whisper. “How old were you?”

  “My first memory of it was when I was four. He was making my mother apologize for something and using me as leverage. When she didn’t grovel enough, he started to hit me. He was always careful to hide the marks. Bruises were never on my face.”

  “How long did it go on?”

  “Until I was twelve. Thankfully, my family had a lot of money, so I was sent away to boarding school, which saved me from the brunt of it. At least during the academic year. I remember worrying about my mother, but I think the one thing she could do for me was to have me out of his reach. Anyhow, when I came home for break, I realized my mum had fresh bruises on her arms. It enraged me to a breaking point.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I confronted him. He didn’t like it. He insisted I apologize for being disrespectful. I didn’t. I made a vow in that moment I never would again. And because I refused to say the words, he started hitting, then kicking me. I took the beating to the point my eyes were swollen shut, and he’d broken my arm and some ribs. This time there was no way to hide it. Once I was taken to the hospital, I told the authorities what the bastard did to me.”

  “Was he prosecuted?”

  I gave a harsh laugh. “Money buys a lot of things, including forgiveness with the law. Didn’t help that my mum wouldn’t come forward and say she was a victim, too. But she did file for divorce. He paid her off, and she retired to the country. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since that day. It was cruel fate for her to be the one to die of cancer a few years ago while the bastard still lives.”

  She shivered in my arms. “Where is he now?”

  “London. He lost his license to practice law, at least, and became a hermit. Last I heard, he was slowly dying from alcoholism.” Once upon a time I’d dreamed of getting revenge. Thought of ways to ruin him financially or otherwise break him, but once my mom died, I realized it wasn’t worth it. To hate him was giving him power, and I didn’t want to do that.

  “That’s why you don’t apologize.”

  “I associate it with the worst time in my life.”

  “I feel so bad about—”

  I cut her off. “Please don’t. The last thing I want is for you to feel sorry for me.” I’d loathe it if she did.

  “I don’t. But I do empathize with the little boy you were and for your mom. No child or wife should have to go through that.”

  “No. They shouldn’t.”

  “I’m glad you told me.”

  I squeezed her tighter. “Me, too. Of course, another reason I don’t apologize is I try never to be wrong.” I was trying inject some levity into this heavy conversation and was pleased when she popped up with an amused expression.

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “It worked until the point you came along, and I started messing up all the time.” I sighed. “I snapped at Emma tonight, too. Nothing like pissing off the two most important women in my life in one go.”

  She leaned down and dropped a soft kiss on my lips. “Sometimes saying you’re sorry doesn’t mean as much as showing you are.”

  “Are you saying I should give her a spa gift card or something?”

  She shook her head, smiling. “If you did that every time you were an ass, I think you’d end up broke.”<
br />
  It dawned on me she probably didn’t have a clue how much I was worth. Nor did she seem to care.

  “Just a small gesture. Coffee. Her favorite dessert. A tall alpha biker with tattoos and piercings.”

  I looked at her, horrified. “I think her favorite dessert will do. And I can’t believe she shared with you the type of man she prefers.”

  “I gotta be honest, a bad boy was not what I’d pictured, although it did make me feel better to know you’re not her type.”

  I laughed, relieved this conversation was lightening up. “Thank you.”

  She scrunched her face in an adorable way which showed she didn’t know what the hell I was talking about. “For what?”

  “For taking something seriously and making me laugh afterward. It’s just what I needed.”

  She stroked my face gently. “It helps me to understand why you can’t say those words.”

  I wished I could say sorry without associating it with painful memories or feeling weak. I wanted to have it mean what it should again. But I was skeptical that day would ever come.

  “I appreciate you telling me about your father, too. It helps me to understand why tonight was especially upsetting for you. Guess we both have old wounds.”

  “That we do.”

  “As for gestures to show you the sentiment instead of saying it, I think I have yours figured out.”

  I traveled south down her body, intent on my target.

  “Apology accepted,” she moaned when my lips found her clit.

  ***

  It was a strange thing in the morning to wake up feeling lighter. There was no doubt the reason was that I’d shared some of my demons with the extraordinary woman currently on her stomach softly snoring next to me. Stretching, I saw Cooper pop up his head as if he was waiting for a sign of life from us. Big guy probably needed to go outside.

  I slipped out of the bed quietly and, after pulling on my trousers, walked out to the living room with Cooper following. I let him out the back into the fenced yard, noticing the sun had just started to dot the landscape with its first rays. Once he moseyed back inside, I gave him his two scoops of kibble. Mosey was a word I’d learned here in Texas and found it perfectly applicable to the big dog. I was about to slip back into bed to wake Peyton up for morning sex when the front door opened.