by Harlow James
“I’m falling for you too, Wes. I just wish you would have told me.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t, but I didn’t think it mattered much since we ended up together anyway. I don’t know how you fight fate like that.”
She smiles and then presses a kiss to my lips. I fight the urge to deepen it because I know once I go there I might not be able to stop. I want her like an addict wants another hit of his poison of choice, even though I had her just a few hours ago. But Shayla isn’t poison—she’s my cure, my unexpected serenity.
“Let’s go back inside,” she suggests when we part, grabbing my hand and pulling me behind her as my phone rings in my pocket again. I pull it out and see the same name across the screen from earlier, my blood pressure rising as I wonder why the hell she’s calling me at this hour.
“Do you need to get that?” she asks, glancing down at my phone I’m still holding in my hand.
“No. It’s fine,” I grate out, far more irritated than I was just a few moments ago.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
I lead the way this time, holding on to Shayla like the lifeline she is, while mentally reminding myself that I still have so much I need to tell her. And the deeper we fall, the harder it will be to dig myself out of the hole I’ve created if I don’t admit everything to her soon.
Chapter 23
Shayla
I glance down at Wes as he rests his head in my lap. We’re back on his plane, flying home after three nights of Las Vegas fun. Chloe snores in the seat across from us, nursing her hangover, and Waverly clicks away on her phone behind us.
Chloe went hard last night, chanting numerous times how she didn’t want to regret not having one hell of an epic hangover story from her weekend in Vegas, going so far as to quote The Hangover movie at random times throughout the night.
But then at one point, she disappeared and so did Silas.
Yes, hunky Italian and best friend number two to Wes, Silas De Luca, joined us for our last night of fun since he couldn’t manage to meet us Friday night. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I wonder if Chloe used her charm and secured her epic fucking she was looking for this weekend as well.
I, of course, had no lack of sex while sharing a bed with the man sleeping peacefully in my lap—the man that turned out to be the one that had my body reacting uncharacteristically in Loft 24 that night over two months ago, which ended up turning into a need for another person that I swore I would never let myself experience.
At the beginning of our relationship, I wasn’t sure if I could accept this kind of love, or that it even existed. On the one hand, deep down I knew I was always deserving of it, but on the other, the idea has scared me so much that I’ve wanted to control the situation and potential pain by finding and creating problems to protect myself.
And after finding out about our initial connection Thursday night, I realized that I had a choice—did I let this development alter what we’re building, or did I finally surrender myself to this man that is asking me to accept that what we have is impossible to fight? That it was decided for us the moment we were in the same vicinity of each other?
Obviously from where I’m sitting my decision was clear. And when Wes used the word love, I admitted right then to myself that I am in love with this man. He might have flaws and struggles, but those are the parts of him I’m enamored with the most. It’s not his money and flashy lifestyle that has me coming back for more. It’s his heart, the way he cares for people close to him, the way he cares for me.
When we arrive home, Wes drives Chloe and I back to our apartment where we both agree to sleep for the rest of the day. Chloe barely says two words to me the rest of Sunday, which means the next time we have a conversation, it’s early Monday morning.
“I’m never drinking again,” she groans as she trudges down the hallway and into our kitchen, reaching for a mug from the cupboard to fill with coffee from the pot.
I lean up against the counter, sipping on my own mug. “Famous last words spoken by anyone who partied too hard in Vegas.”
She grins and then takes a drink, wincing at the temperature. “Yes. But it was a good time. I needed that.”
“Apparently. Say, where did you sneak off to Saturday night?”
She glances away from me, a clear tell that she’s hiding something. “Just out to the balcony of the club.” We went to Dynasty the night before last, the club at the Venetian that Hayes also has a stake in. It also happened to be the one that has proven to be a nightmare in owning a part of.
“You were gone for a while.”
“I was people watching, Shayla. Vegas is full of good entertainment, some of it free.”
I hum in acceptance before placing my cup in the sink. “Whatever you say. I have to get to work.”
“Me too. These dogs won’t walk themselves.”
“Have fun. Hopefully picking up dog shit won’t kill you with boredom today.”
“No. It will be the stench that threatens to make my stomach convulse that might. I swear, the older you get, the longer the hangovers last.”
“That’s what I hear.”
I hop in my car and make the short drive to It’s a Grind, walking through the door just before six.
“How was partying in Vegas with a billionaire for a boyfriend?” Melissa comes up to me, prying for information since the last time I saw her was Thursday morning.
“It’s definitely different to do Vegas with money,” I joke, thinking back on Chloe’s and my first and only experience in Vegas when we turned twenty-one. This last weekend was a world away from that one—VIP lounges, five star dining, penthouse suites. I’m not going to lie and say that it wasn’t nice to experience the best of the best, but that’s not the reason I’m with Wes.
“You looked hot, girl. Especially with that man on your arm.”
“Ah. I take it you saw the pictures then?” There were multiple instances this weekend where we were tagged in social media posts and plastered on Vegas Night Life news outlets.
“Duh. Is it weird? Seeing your face on the internet like that?”
“Yeah, it is. But I just try to focus on Wes and me, not what any of those people have to say.” I went down the rabbit hole one night, reading comments left on Instagram posts of pictures of the two of us. Chloe promptly called an intervention and forbid me from looking at them ever again. It’s difficult, I’m not going to lie, but I also know it’s not worth the doubt those faceless people are able to inflict on me. I battle my own doubt enough on my own.
Melissa shakes her head. “I still can’t believe you’re with him. You’re living out every girl’s fantasy, Shayla.”
“Believe me, that’s exactly what it feels like sometimes.”
***
By the time I get home that night after work and class, the only thought on my mind is calling Wes and falling asleep as soon as possible. Oh, and maybe eating. Food is important too.
However, all of those plans fly right out the window as soon as I walk through the door of my apartment and see my mother sitting on the couch, sipping a glass of wine.
“Mom?”
“Shayla!” she exclaims, standing from the couch and trotting over to me, yanking me into her arms.
“What… what are you doing here?” I step back and stare into the eyes and face that mirror mine. My mother certainly isn’t twenty anymore, but she’s aged well, which bodes well for my future too, I suppose.
“Can’t a mother drop by to visit her daughter?” She rolls her eyes and then finishes off her glass of wine. “Chloe, dear. Time for a refill.” She holds the glass up and teeters it around as if beckoning Chloe to serve her.
“Wine’s in the fridge, Delaney,” Chloe replies, but I can easily sense her irritation with our surprise visitor.
“Well, I’ll just help myself then,” my mother says, moving toward the fridge. I glance at Chloe who widens her eyes at me and then mimics pounding her f
ist into her palm.
“When did she show up?” I whisper as my mother empties the bottle in her glass, her bracelets clinging together as she moves around.
“About an hour ago. I barely got home from work and she knocked on the door. What the fuck, Shayla?” she whispers back to me.
“I had no idea she was coming, obviously.”
“I assumed. And now she’s drinking.” She gestures to my mom gulping down her Pinot Grigio. “I’m not sharing my bed with her.”
“Calm down. Let me find out why the hell she’s here.”
I step further into the kitchen, reaching for a glass to fill with water from the dispenser on the fridge. “So, Mom… to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
She pinches my cheek and then assesses my face. “Are you using night cream, Shayla? You know you really should have a decent skin care regimen in place now in your twenties so you’re not kicking yourself later on when you can’t attract a man.” I roll my eyes and start to walk away. “Although it appears that isn’t a problem for you nowadays, is it?”
I freeze, turning around to face her again. “Why is that?”
“Oh, honey. When you date a man with more money than God, you should know that everyone will find out about it. I’m just hurt that you couldn’t be bothered to tell your own mother about your new boy toy.” She walks over to the couch and plops down, almost spilling her drink, flipping her dark hair over her shoulder, and crossing her legs.
“Well, you and I aren’t exactly the type of mother and daughter that discusses our love lives.”
“Nonsense. You’ve met all of my boyfriends.”
Yup. All one-hundred of them.
“Not by choice.”
She shakes her head at me. “I can’t believe you’re going to sit there and judge me when you’ve landed your own sugar daddy, Shayla. That’s the pot calling the kettle black, isn’t it?” She takes another drink, smirking at me over the rim of her glass. “Although, I can’t help but be proud. I told you that you needed to find a man to take care of you and you found the king of them all—a real life billionaire who’s handsome as hell.”
My blood boils as I hear her talk about Wes. “It’s not like that.”
“Then tell me how it is.”
I sigh, knowing that no matter what I say she’ll have a response, so she doesn’t deserve the entire truth. “We’re together. He cares about me, and makes me extremely happy. I’m not with him for his money, which is more than I can say about your past relationships, Mom.”
“That’s how it always starts, Shayla.” She gulps down another drink. “But then you get a taste for that life and you keep going back for more. But it never lasts.”
“Maybe for you,” I admit, which makes her face contort with animosity.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, Shayla, but it’s always good in the beginning, and then suddenly your world gets turned upside down and you’re back at square one.”
“Did something happen with Bob?” I ask, turning the attention back on her. That’s why she’s really here anyway—she needs someone to vent to since her latest ‘relationship’ crumbled.
“Yeah. The twenty-something receptionist at the car wash happened.” She slings back the last remaining part of her wine and then licks her lips. “I swear, you girls don’t know how good you have it. It’s not easy to keep a man happy. They always want the younger and prettier woman. Although things weren’t much different when I was your age either.”
Chloe rolls her eyes as she sits in one of the chairs at the counter, overhearing our entire conversation.
“Well, maybe if you put some effort into finding someone real you wouldn’t end up disappointed all the time.” I lean back into the cushion and cross my arms over my chest.
She laughs. “Love isn’t real, Shayla. The last man I loved left me pregnant and alone.” Her confession isn’t a new one, but it’s one she likes to bring up when she’s fresh off a break-up. My father was a regular guy, but couldn’t handle the thought of having a kid with a woman he barely knew, so he left. It was then that my mom was convinced she needed to find someone that would take care of her, but all she developed was a habit of finding men with more money than my dad had, but still didn’t want her entirely. “They either lie and cheat, or have wives they never tell you about or swear they’re going to leave for you. Maybe it’s a kid they’re hiding, or they just drop off the face of the planet one day when they find someone younger and more beautiful than you.”
“Tell me how you really feel, Mom.” I watch my mom’s eyes start to droop, so the wine is starting to hit her hard.
“You might think that things are real with your man,” she says, throwing quotations in the air around the world ‘real’, “but the man is bound to have faults. It’s only a matter of time before you find them all.” She burps and then nestles her head into one of the throw pillows on the couch. “Don’t be stupid, Shayla. Don’t end up blindsided like me,” she whispers before passing out and snoring within minutes.
“Thank God,” Chloe groans, standing from her seat. “I thought she’d never stop talking.”
“How is my mother such a mess?” I ask, standing up from my spot on the couch and staring down at her. She’s my mother and I will always love her, but I think my resentment toward her will always be a much stronger emotion.
“I think we’ve had this conversation many times over the years, my friend. Just be grateful you got out when you did.” Chloe walks down the hall to her room and I follow her.
“Do you think she’s right? That I’m being naïve?”
Chloe huffs. “Do you think you are?”
I take a seat on her bed as I watch her gather some pajamas to change into. “I don’t know. Every time I feel like I’m on solid ground with my feelings for Wes, something happens that threatens to shake my footing, like an earthquake that hits out of nowhere, or a drunk mother that spits hate for men until the next one comes along.”
“Earthquakes do come out of nowhere, Shayla. We live in California, for starters. And secondly, scientists try to predict them, but we all know there’s no predicting something that catastrophic.” She walks closer to me and pulls me into a hug. “Don’t let your mother’s jaded outlook on love wreak havoc on your relationship with Wes.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right.”
“So what are we gonna do about mother dearest?” She juts her thumb in the direction of the living room.
“Let her sleep it off?” I shrug. “And then I’ll politely tell her she needs to leave in the morning.”
“Good luck with that. I might just leave for work earlier than normal tomorrow so I don’t have to be here.”
I laugh. “You? Get up early? Now that’s as surprising as an earthquake, Chloe.”
She grins over her shoulder at me. “Yeah, you’re right. I must be full of shit from all of the dogs I pick up after on a day-to-day basis.”
***
“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” Wes glances over his shoulder at me as he stands at his stove. The sight of the man cooking for me is one I don’t think will ever get old. It’s Saturday night after a long week of work, finishing two papers for my classes, and a visit from my mother that put a damper on my mood since Monday.
I normally would be working at Loft 24 tonight, but I traded a shift with one of the other bartenders so I could spend some time with Wes. After taking multiple days off lately, I couldn’t afford to miss another day, which unfortunately has me working at the club on Tuesday night, but it is what it is. But after Vegas last weekend and barely seeing each other since, I knew a night in with him would help me reset.
“My brain is fried. I turned in two papers this week, but I only have a few more weeks to go and I’ll be done.” It’s early November now, and the quarter ends the second week in December. I can see the finish line, even though it also feels so far away still.
“I’m proud of you. It’s not easy to bal
ance everything that you do.”
“Thanks. And then add on a new relationship, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt this tired before,” I say while stifling a yawn and a laugh.
Wes clicks one of the stove burners off before turning to face me. His strong chest flexes under the fabric of his dark grey shirt as he tilts his head at me. “I’m sorry if I’ve demanded too much of your time.”
“Not at all. I wish we had more time to spend together. It’s just a lot. Once the quarter is over at school, it will be so much easier.”
He nods and then opens a cupboard to fetch two plates just as his phone buzzes next to him on the counter. He glances down at it, shakes his head, and then returns to his task.
“You can answer that if it’s important.”
“It’s not.”
“I take it you don’t want to talk to that person?”
“Not at all.”
Unsure of why a phone call is making him irritable, I decide to change the subject. “How is your project going that brought you out here anyway?” I realized this week that he rarely discusses his work with me and I want to know more about everything he’s involved in.
“It’s going well,” he replies with his back still turned to me. “We passed several inspections this week and it looks like we’re on track to open just after the New Year.”
“Will you let me see it soon? I wanna know what you’re working on.”
The corner of his mouth lifts in a half-smile. “Soon.”
I stand from my stool. “Can I help you with anything?” I ask, inhaling the aroma of the food as my stomach grumbles.
“You can refill your wine glass and then go sit at the table and wait for your food.” He looks over at me and then winks, grinning slowly as I roll my eyes.
