Shattered Daddy: A Billionaire Suspense Romance

by Charlize Starr

  I find several cheap dress options and try to pick the best one, even if none of them is something I would actually want to wear. I settle on a long one with a tight slit and sweetheart neckline. It’s the least tacky of all the dresses, and I think that after this joke is done, I might be able to use it as part of a costume. I shake my head when I hit purchase. I know it’s ridiculous to do this, to put actual money into playing this game. I can’t back out, though, and I want Anthony to know we still have the same sense of humor – that we can still carry on a joke for far too long.

  I take a picture of my laptop screen and text it to Anthony, laughing as I hit send:

  Dress shopping for our big day!

  I think now that I missed Anthony more than I ever realized or ever let myself. I hope it lasts. I hope we really can regrow our friendship. Maybe more. I hope we can actually live up to some of those promises we made as teenagers, even if there was a pause in them. A break.

  Chapter Eight - Anthony

  I stare at the picture of the wedding dress Brooke bought for a long time, trying to decide how to reply. My first thought is that Brooke deserves a lot more than a forty-dollar wedding dress from a suspect-looking website, but since it’s for a fake wedding, I guess it doesn’t matter anyway. I haven’t really booked a venue, I was just kidding. I thought she’d laugh about it, not up to the game. I should have known. Brooke was always willing to jump into things and play along.

  I open my desk drawer and pull out the album I’d found this morning, smiling. It’s faded and a little discolored, its letters peeling. The cheap felt hasn’t held the test of time well, but the inside is the same as the day Brooke had given it to me. I flip through the postcards inside, thinking of the road trip that never was. We could actually do it now, Brooke and I. We could see these places for real and take that trip. I think maybe we should.

  I shake my head, focusing on one extended joke at a time, and make a decision.

  I book the venue for real. If Brooke is going to put out money on this, any money at all, I should put my money where my mouth is too. I reserve the entire Main Street Charm Hotel for the day. It’s one of the only venues in town, but I’ve always liked it. It has an onsite chapel, an old ballroom that dates back hundreds of years, and a spectacular outdoor garden with roses, statues, and a tea room. It’s a perfect place for a wedding.

  After I book the venue, I take David to the park. We haven’t been yet, although I walked past it the other day. David seems to be adjusting really well to all the changes, and I want to make this as fun for him as possible.

  “Are there swings?” David asks on the way to the park, staring up at me. He’s an incredibly smart and inquisitive kid, always full of ideas and questions.

  “Five of them,” I say. David nods.

  “How many slides?” he asks. He likes numbers: how many of each thing there are, how old people are, how much time has passed, how far away things are.

  “Three,” I say. We’re about a block away now, and David’s eyes are darting around, taking in his new surroundings.

  “Okay,” he says like he’s approving the playground. I smile.

  “One twisted, one racing, and one tunnel,” I say, knowing that’s probably his next question. David’s eyes light up.

  “Twisted ones are the best ones,” he says, tugging on my hand like he wants us to walk faster, get there sooner, now that he knows there is a twisty slide. We speed-walk the rest of the way, and he runs as soon as we get to the gates, climbing up the equipment with a huge smile on his face. I watch him from the fence for a minute, glad we’re here. I’m about to go in and challenge him to a race on the racing slide when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “Anthony,” Brooke says, standing behind me on the other side of the fence. She looks radiant again today. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail and she’s wearing a soft simple shirt and jeans. I keep thinking it’ll stop surprising me, how beautiful she is now. It hasn’t, even though she was always pretty – even though we’re already getting close again, building a friendship.

  “Good afternoon,” I say, smiling at her. “Done dress shopping?”

  “I think the one I ordered is just right,” Brooke says, smiling back.

  “It’s sexy,” I say. “You’ll look great in it.”

  “I hope so, since it’s for such a big day,” she says, the same laugh in her voice as last night. That sound I’d missed so much.

  “The Main Street Charm Hotel is all ready for us,” I say back.

  Her eyes widen a little and she shakes her head like it’s a nicer venue than she’d been expecting me to book. “Good,” she says. She looks over my shoulder, smiling again. “Is the little boy running toward you David?”

  “That’s him,” I say, turning my head a little to wave at my son. “You know, since we’re getting married, you’ll need to get to know him.”

  “That does seem important,” Brooke says. She steps around the fence and through the front gates of the playground, meeting me inside. I hadn’t meant for her to come in right now, as I didn’t want to interrupt her day if she was doing something, but I’m glad she’s staying.

  “Who are you?” David says, running up to us. He’s already managed to get a stain on his new shorts, and he’s bouncing on his feet like he does when he’s excited.

  “David, this is my friend, Brooke,” I say, catching Brooke’s eye and smiling. “Brooke, this is my son, David.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you,” Brooke says, reaching to shake David’s hand. He shakes back and looks at her like he’s making very serious considerations.

  “You’re pretty,” he announces. “Will you push me on the swing?”

  “Thank you,” Brooke says, grinning. “I’d love to.”

  David takes Brooke’s hand and pulls her toward the swings without even looking back at me. I smile. He’s always been really social, making friends at playgroups and at parks in New York. I’m hoping he can start school with kids he can grow up with, making lasting friendships. I want his life to be as normal as it can be for the only son of a self-made billionaire.

  I can’t hear what Brooke and David are talking about from here, but I get the feeling that he’s asking her a lot of questions as she pushes him on the swings. She’s smiling at him, very engaged in their conversation, and I can’t stop watching. Something about Brooke and David together looks natural somehow, and I’m thrilled that they seem to become fast friends.

  They run through the playground together for the rest of the afternoon, and I watch as she plays tag, slides down every slide, and does an impressive crossing of the monkey bars.

  “Dad!” David says, running up to me, out of breath and laughing. “Come play too!”

  “What are we playing?” I ask, moving as David tugs on me.

  “Monster! You have to be the monster and chase me and Brooke,” David says.

  “What kind of monster?” I ask. When Michelle first died I didn’t know anything about kids and didn’t know how I was possibly going to take care of, or even be around, David. Now, hundreds of stories and movies and songs and games of monster chase later, with the help of late night calls to my mom and some very patient nannies, I like to think I’ve become pretty good at this whole ‘being a dad’ thing.

  “A big one who roars loud, with big claws and probably, um, orange fur,” David says. Brooke smiles at me as we get back to her in the center of the playground.

  “One who eats little boys?” I ask, putting a growl in my voice. David yells happily, nodding.

  “Yeah!” David says. “Come on, Brooke! We have to run!”

  “On the count of three, I’m coming after you!” I say as Brooke and David scurry away. “One, two, three!”

  “Oh no! A monster! David, be careful!” Brooke says as she runs. I run after her and then David, trying not to laugh as I do.

  “I know where there is a weapon that can save us!” David says, ducking down for a minute.

  “Nothing can
save you! I am a monster who eats little boys!” I say with my best roar.

  “We’re doomed!” Brooke says.

  “Monster, STOP!” David says, holding a stick at me. “This magic wand froze you.”

  I come to a stop, almost falling into Brooke as I do. She looks breathless from laughter and running.

  “Now he’s captured,” David says to Brooke.

  “You saved us!” Brooke says, reaching her hand out to give him a high-five.

  I’m unfrozen again soon by a magic spell David finds in a rock, and the chase starts again. By the time we leave the playground an hour later, we’re all dirty and panting and tired.

  Brooke’s hair is falling down around her face, and I have to fight the urge to tuck it behind her ears for her and to ask her to come home with us. With me.

  Chapter Nine - Brooke

  There are two packages waiting for me when I get home from work. One is a large box, and the other is a thin manila envelope. I open the box first, sure it’s the wedding dress. It is. I laugh as I pull it out. It’s thin and the fabric feels cheap and scratchy. It’s not really white or cream, but rather the shade of yellow dirty walls turn after being exposed to weather or nicotine. I’m not sure it would actually be flattering on at all. I considered putting it on later anyway and sending a picture to Anthony. I open the letter before I do anything else. It doesn’t look it actually came in the mail. There’s no postmark on it and no return address.

  I have a bad feeling as I pull it out, and it’s confirmed when I read the letter inside. It’s from Jeff. And he’s taken his threat to the next level. He’s given me a deadline for two weeks’ time. I feel sick looking at it, a rush of panic churning in my stomach.

  Brooke,

  I’m out of patience. You have two weeks to give me $50,000 or I’m telling the police your secret. Don’t make the mistake of thinking I won’t. I promise that you’ll be sorry if you do. You have to pay for your crime one way or another: either to me in cash or to the police in jail time. Make up your mind.

  Two weeks.

  Jeff

  I’m tempted to crumble it up or burn it, but I don’t. I feel like I should keep all of Jeff’s threats, in case I need to do something with them. Maybe if he threatens me again, or enough, I can go to the police and say he’s harassing me and stalking me, and that I have no idea what he’s talking about. It’s not a good plan, and it probably wouldn’t work, but I keep the letter anyway.

  My phone lights up, and I worry it’s Jeff before relaxing when I see it’s Anthony:

  David keeps asking about you.

  I smile as I text back, running my fingers over the thin fabric of the wedding dress absently:

  He’s a really great kid.

  I don’t have much experience with kids, but I had really enjoyed the afternoon I’d spent with Anthony and David. Anthony is great with his son, and I like seeing them together. David is incredibly sweet and fun to be around. Like his father, I think.

  He said he’s glad you’re my friend. I am too. I keep thinking us and about high school. Do you remember how close we were?

  I sit down while reading the message, a little overwhelmed. I remember everything about our friendship, every moment. I think I always did. It’s more now than that now. It’s become the only thing I can think about when I’m not worried about Jeff and Autumn. I keep wondering what would have happened if we’d never lost touch. I wonder if I would have ever dated Jeff if Anthony had been in my life. I wonder if I’d be working the same job . . . If I would have made so many of the choices I’d made in the past several years.

  I remember every day.

  I text back, deciding to be honest. Something about talking to Anthony makes me want to be more open, makes me feel more open – brighter. My phone rings right after I send my text, and I’m not at all surprised that’s Anthony.

  “Dinner at the Purple Hog tonight?” he asks when I pick up.

  “That sounds great,” I say. I try to picture what it would have been like if we’d been close in college as adults. If he’d have always been sitting across pub booths from me, giving me advice, listening, and making me laugh. I wonder what course our friendship would have taken if we would have eventually become more than friends. If we’d actually been married right now instead of joking about it.

  “Good,” he says, smiling. “My mom is already watching David tonight, so I need to have somewhere to be.”

  “I’m sure she loves him,” I say, thinking of Anthony’s mom, a warm and caring woman who used to make me cookies and ask about my grades. She had always called me sweetheart and let me stay at her house for entire weekends.

  “She does, and I’d hate to ruin their plans,” Anthony says. I can’t stop listening to how deep and rumbling his voice is. I’d never thought of it as unique, but now, after all this time, it sounds like nothing else I’ve ever heard. Anthony sounds like no one else I’ve ever heard, and I want him to keep talking so I can keep hearing it.

  “Good thing I’m free for dinner, then,” I say, laughing. With all the stress in my life and the looming threat of Jeff over my head, I’m just so grateful to have Anthony back. Spending time with him has been amazing.

  “Seven?” Anthony says, smiling.

  “Sounds great,” I say. I almost mention that my wedding dress came today, but I decide to save the news for dinner.

  I shower and get ready, smiling the whole time. I have no idea what I’m going to do about Jeff or his two-week deadline, no idea how to protect Autumn – or myself – from his threats, no idea how to get that kind of money. I do know that what I want to do right now, and maybe from now on, is spend the night with my best friend. With Anthony.

  Chapter Ten - Anthony

  “So David tells me you’re seeing Brooke tonight,” my mom says, watching as I slide my wallet into my pants pocket.

  “I am,” I say, shrugging and trying to be casual about it.

  “You know, I always really liked her. She’s become such a lovely young woman. So pretty,” my mom says, raising her eyebrows on the last part like it’s a question.

  “It’s good to catch up with an old friend. It makes me feel like I’m really home,” I say. I know what question she’s asking, and I do not want to answer yet. Everything with Brooke has been better than I could have planned, but it’s also all still very tentative.

  “Is that all?” my mom asks.

  “That’s all, and I’m late,” I say, heading out. Mom was like this about Brooke when we were teenagers too, always convinced we were more than friends. Maybe she was right. Maybe we always were.

  Brooke is already at the Purple Hog when I get there, and she looks amazing in the little yellow sundress she has on. We order way too much food and a round of beer, settling back into our booth like we never left.

  “My dress came today,” Brooke says with a slight smirk after our food arrives.

  “That’s good news,” I say, watching her as she takes a long drink.

  “I was going to try it on and take a picture for you, but then I remembered that’s bad luck,” Brooke says.

  “It is,” I say, laughing. “So, I’ll have to be surprised.”

  “I guess you will,” she says, smiling that stunning smile of hers at me.

  “We should probably make other plans,” I say, and she nods.

  “Absolutely,” she says, “Only four months to go.”

  “Not much time at all,” I say. It’s ridiculous that we’re still carrying on this joke, that we’re taking it further. But I don’t want to stop it. I don’t want to stop anything that’s happening with Brooke.

  “We should book a band,” Brooke says. Her skin is glowing, and the cut of her dress shows off the line of her collarbones and the swell of her chest. I can’t stop staring.

  “I was thinking a DJ, actually,” I say.

  “We could do both,” Brooke says. “A band for the service and a DJ for the reception.”

  “That could work. What ki
nd of band?” I ask thoughtfully. She laughs.

  “Maybe one of those four-piece string ensembles? Those are classy,” she says.

  “I’ll make some calls,” I say. She grins at me and pulls apart a breadstick, popping a piece in her mouth.

  “And we’ll need food,” Brooke says. I nod.

  “Does the Sunrise Market still cater?” I ask, thinking of how many christenings, graduations, and birthday parties I’d been to that been catered with trays of food from the little local Sunrise Market.

  “They’re still the only ones in town that cater,” Brooke says, laughing again.

  “Perfect,” I say. “And I know a photographer. I’m sure she’d come to town for us.”

  “A photographer from New York?” Brooke asks, sounding curious.

  “A few years ago, I did a whole photoshoot when I was named one of the Top 10 Exciting and Innovative New Yorkers Under 30, and Laurel was the photographer. She’s brilliant,” I say, smiling and thinking of the older woman with her eccentric fashion sense and outgoing personality. “Her husband of thirty years had died a few months before. She’d heard about Michelle, so she reached out to me during the shoot and we became friends.”

  “I bet she’s a fascinating person. Being a photographer sounds so interesting. It’s such exciting work,” Brooke says, sounding wistful.

  “Have you thought more about applying for that development and marketing job?” I ask, searching her face. There is something I keep noticing in little moments. It seems like Brooke is sadder, or more stressed, or more something than she is letting on. I don’t know if it’s that she isn’t fulfilled at work, but I can’t help but think that doesn’t help.

  “A little,” she says, biting her lip. “Would you really help me prepare?”

  “Of course I would,” I say quickly, my eyes drawn to her lips, to her mouth. The way she’s biting her lip makes me want to run my thumb over it. It makes me want to kiss her.