I gritted my teeth and squeezed the tumbler. The fluid inside trembled. “The Mercedes was a birthday present,” I said. “How can he take it back if it was a gift?” I already knew the answer, but I needed to hear this all again. It’d been chasing me around for a year. “And the house was a wedding gift.”
“It’s all part of the agreement, Luna,” Kerrington said softly because he knew that I was aware of that. “The agreement you signed against my better judgment.” That everything I’d said so far and asked about were things we’d been over a hundred times.
I remembered the day I sat in this office and signed that agreement when Kerrington had warned me that the prenup was particularly stringent. He’d advised me against it, but Thorn had made it amply clear that if I refused, it was over and I’d have nothing anyway. But I would have still had my pride.
And I’d loved him too much to see it end. I’d loved him enough to think I could sacrifice everything I truly desired. A chance to have a little family of my own. To bring a child in need into my home if he couldn’t father one biologically.
If I broke the agreement, I would be homeless, without a car and destitute. No parents. No one but Larissa and she’d already saved me once. I wouldn’t ask her to do it again. My sinking business would reach the dark ocean floor. All things I knew already. All part of my frustrating reality. Blackness closed in, enshrouding my sliver of hope.
“I know,” I said and hung my head. I smacked back the last of the drink. “I just needed to hear it again. I needed to be sure there wasn’t another choice. Any other choice.”
“What do you mean?” Kerrington asked. “What choice have you been presented?”
“It’s not an option that’s been presented, it’s one that’s been there all along.” I placed the empty tumbler on the desk, the alcohol burning through my core. Warmth settled in my arms and legs. I felt a little lighter, but it was fake. The minute the booze wore off I’d be heavy as lead again.
“Don’t do anything you’ll regret, Luna,” my lawyer said, his already wrinkled brow puckering up even more.
“I already have,” I said and laughed. I choked on that one because it was mirthless. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Kerrington. I’m sorry I wasted it.”
“Not at all, Luna. It wasn’t a waste of time. I’m always here for you. I don’t like what Thorn and his family did any more than you do.”
We both rose at the same moment, and he extended his hand. I took it and shook once, firmly. It might be the last time I saw the man, after all. “Have a good evening,” I said.
“You too.”
I left his office behind and hurried down the rickety stairs that led out into a narrow lobby. As I moved into the street and stopped at the top of the stairs, the smells and sounds of the city wrapped me in a blanket of nostalgia.
I couldn’t go back to the house on Summit Avenue. The press would be there. Those bloodsuckers had camped out in front of my home for months after I moved back in the first time. This was a mini-resurgence of hatred for me. That meant they’d probably act the same.
It took me twenty minutes to get to Larissa and Ross’s house in Minneapolis. And another five minutes of standing on their doorstep in the dark before I worked up the nerve to knock.
Footsteps approached the other side of the door, along with my best friend’s frantic voice. “I don’t know who else to call. I can’t report her missing,” Larissa said.
“Lar, calm down. She’ll be fine.”
“Have you heard what they’re saying about her? She’s not going to be fine.” Larissa was just on the other side of the door, locked in a conversation that made my insides curl up and shrivel. I didn’t want to know what else they’d said about me.
I swiveled and stepped off the front step. The door opened behind me.
Larissa squealed and grabbed me by the shoulder. “Oh no, you don’t. Come back here. Ross, it’s her. It’s her. She’s okay.” She wrapped her arms around me and dragged me back into the house. The door slammed, and Ross locked it.
“Thank god, you’re here,” he said. “She’s been driving me crazy with the paranoia. Ever heard of a cell phone, Luna. A one-word text would have sufficed.”
“Shush you.” She flapped her hands at him and finally released me. “Come here, come here, and let me get a good look at you.”
I stood on display and shut my eyes. I couldn’t stand the scrutiny, but this was my best friend. At least her curiosity sprang from concern rather than a sick need to sell papers or magazines or online advertising.
“What the hell happened?” Larissa asked.
I opened my eyes and sighed. “What didn’t happen?” I lifted a shoulder. “Thorn turned up at brunch this morning and ruined everything. He told Corban who I was, basically. That I was the famed Runaway Bride. And he was very articulate about how much he hated me and why.”
“Bastard,” Ross muttered.
“Yeah, but you know that Corban–”
“Stop,” I said immediately, throwing up a palm between us. “I don’t want to hear it. Honestly, Lar, I don’t want to hear anything about Corban, okay? Or about Thorn or anyone else.”
Larissa’s lips writhed in place. Clearly, she had more to say, but she’d respect my wishes, the same way she had when she’d driven me away from the cathedral in my white dress.
“I need a place to stay,” I said. “Until the vultures fly away from Summit.”
Larissa still didn’t speak. Perhaps she didn’t trust herself to.
“Of course, you can stay with us,” Ross said. “The guest room is ready, I think. Isn’t it, Lar? Except this time, you have to promise us you’ll come out. At least to shower and eat.”
“Uh huh,” she said, then clammed up again.
“It will only be until all this insanity has died down. Until after the Twins event. No matter what’s happened, I won’t let Corban down. I feel like our friendship is riding on it since you both took a chance to recommend me for the event. I’m really sorry about this. I know it’s a hassle having to deal with this crap all the time.”
Larissa shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. We’re here for you always, hon. You’re my best friend.”
I sniffed and swallowed the lump in my throat. “Thanks.”
“Why don’t I order us some Chinese? Pizza? Sushi? Hamburgers?” Ross listed them and ticked off on his fingers.
“All of the above?” I suggested. “I’ll admit I haven’t eaten in a while.”
We laughed, and Ross trundled off down the hall to make the call. He’d likely order burgers. They were his favorite after all.
“Do you want me to draw you a bath?” Larissa asked. “You’ve had a long day.”
I couldn’t work out exactly what it was about the sentence, but the thought of a hot bath had me weak at the knees. The thought of being in a house that probably wouldn’t be surrounded by reporters in the morning. God, it was a mixture of relief and dread.
Relief that I didn’t have to deal with them here, and dread that I would still have to deal with them some time. I was helpless. I’d hit rock bottom because, god dammit, I couldn’t do anything about this. A snake of frustration and hopelessness wrapped around my heart and squeezed.
My visit to Mr. Kerrington had confirmed everything. I’d already known I was trapped, but I’d let the memory of it fade into the background. A sword of Damocles hung above my head, and Thorn had put it there. His hand on the hilt, inching downward, closer and closer to my crown.
It was over. Corban was over, and my dreams of being a success in the city I loved. Maybe I’d move to Phoenix with my retired aunt and uncle. A fresh start in a city where no one knew my name or even cared. The bath would wash away the grime and stress and even the aches and pains in my muscles, but it couldn’t erase the facts. I had to leave.
I had to move away from Minnesota for good if I wanted to survive. And that meant giving up everything I loved, including that tub upstairs and my best friend. And my
charming, historic home on one of the most sought after streets in my home state.
“You coming?” Larissa asked, already halfway up the stairs.
“Yeah,” I said and forced a smile. “I’m coming.” But soon, I’d have to leave before I ruined their lives too.
Chapter 21: Corban
I’d spent the last two nights focusing on the plan. If I didn’t, the fact that Luna hadn’t answered any of my calls or texts would cripple me with worry, extinguishing all hope for any type of future with her. And after so much inner reflection, I found I wanted one. A lot. The only reason I hadn’t crumbled under the strain was thanks to Ross, who’d called me late last night and let me know Luna had come to stay with them, so she was safe and supported.
I strolled down the side aisle separating the tables from the marbleized pale yellow wall in the Concord Exchange, and toward the teleprompter operator near the white screen that had been set up on a raised dais at the end of the long hall.
Luna had outdone herself with the decorations. She’d outdone herself with the catering, the layout, everything, and I hadn’t had the chance to thank her for any of it. I prayed I’d get the chance before the evening ended. I wanted to think that at least some of the spectacular outcome had been done just for me. Wishful thinking.
I’d called my lawyer. I’d spoken with Larissa and Ross about my options. Shit, I’d even leaned on Jeffrey who’d been totally overwhelmed by the whole thing but supportive too. He was the one who’d contacted the teleprompter operator and warned him ahead of time that there might be last minute changes made to the script. And to expect me.
The monologue would take place after the guests had an introductory cocktail in hand and been ushered to their seats. I’d already tipped the bartender in the antechamber. He’d make sure that Thorn’s drink was stronger than usual, and offer him a complimentary beverage with the first. I didn’t even give a shit about that asshat’s possible downfall. I had inside knowledge about his penchant for strong drink, and what goes around comes around. Karma’s a vicious bitch. I was simply giving her an assist.
No funny business. Just the strongest vodka on the market. But it would be enough to get the cart rolling forward.
I moved around a cluster of Arum lilies and scanned the empty tables. The doors at the far end of the room stood open, and the first of the attendees entered, toting half-full glasses, and dressed to the nines.
Most of the women had chosen blue, white, or red cocktail dresses for the event, paying homage to the team uniforms in their designer finery. Except for one who wore black. I’d recognize those shoulders, that upturned nose, those lush breasts anywhere. The sight of Luna entering the event hall made me stumble and lose my breath. Damn, how I wanted to close the gap and take her into my arms so I could stroke her silky hair and do what I should have done the first time I witnessed her tears.
She was here. After two days without contact, she sparkled in my eyes. So brightly it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. The world revolved around her in that moment when all my angst hit me so hard I wanted to double over. I shook my head to clear it. I had to focus on the task at hand or that woman – that dream woman – would end up in a worse state than Thorn had already put her in. If I wanted to start something special with her, there had to be a clean slate.
I stepped behind the screen blocking the congregation of wires and screens from view and moved up to the teleprompter’s operator.
“Gary,” I said and halted in front of him. That was the name Jeffrey had given me. I prayed that the bald dude with the half-moon sweat stains under his arms was the right guy.
“You’re Mr. Drake, right? The guy in charge?” the man asked, removing his headphones, and took a bite of a donut. He pointed with it as chocolate crumbs fell from his lips. “I heard there have been some changes to the script.”
The noise from the folks entering the hall swelled. Chairs scraped back, glasses clinked, and people laughed. Mr. Hotshot Emcee would start spouting his scripted bullshit any minute now.
“That’s correct,” I replied. “Some of these changes might seem a little unorthodox.” I took the sheet of paper from my pocket and unfolded it. “But I need you to enter them as-is. Is that understood?”
“Sure. Don’t worry, man, I don’t even know what unorthodox means.”
I pulled a fat wad of cash out of my pocket and handed it over. “Fantastic. Let’s keep it that way.”
Gary’s eyes went the size of the hole in his donut. He took the money and pocketed it. “You got it, man.”
“Oh, and Gary? I know you’re a freelancer, so don’t worry about anything. I’ve got your reputation covered. Right after Thorn gives his monologue, delete the text. If anyone asks, produce the original. And destroy that new piece of paper I just gave you right after you handle it. And… I was never here,” I said and smiled at him. It wasn’t a threatening smile in the slightest, but the teleprompter dude still went pale.
“Anything you say, boss,” he replied. “I’m short on the rent this month. If you wanted Edwards to say he fucked a goat, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash.”
I sidled out from behind the screen and blended in with the crowd, circling until I reached the back tables. I took a seat where I’d have a great view of fuck face during his opening speech and where he’d see me the minute I stood up.
Luna sat diagonally across from me, secreted in part by a large potted plant, its fronds hovering half across her side of the table. No one else had taken a seat beside her, but the other side of her table was already full. She didn’t turn to look at me. She probably didn’t realize I was here. Or maybe she didn’t want to.
Her bare shoulders drooped, and she hung her head, glancing up at the front from beneath her brow. She bit her lip every other minute, reached into her lap, and rearranged the skirt of her dress. And that sadness that laced her eyes was still there. The pain that I wanted to heal.
It killed me to see her this nervous. The papers had gone to town in the last couple days. They’d gone to town on me too, but I gave less of a fuck than she did. I hadn’t officially done anything wrong according to them. I was the ‘innocent’ victim in all of this. Dragged into the sticky web by the Luna Faye Anderson, black widow.
“Keep calm,” I muttered.
“Do you mind if I take this seat?” an elderly woman smiled down at me.
“Please,” I said and gestured to it.
She sat down and admired the centerpiece of the table. “Isn’t this lovely? I never dreamed I’d come to an event like this.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I replied absently.
“I love it. My grandson is on the team, you know. He’s sitting down at the front for now, but he’ll come by later and say hello. I can introduce you two.”
“Who’s your grandson?” I asked. Ice trickled down my spine.
“Peter Jenks,” she said. “There he is.” She waved at a strapping young man near the front, and he grinned and waved back at her.
Thank God. For a minute there, I’d feared Thorn’s granny had booked a ticket to his demise. I wasn’t prone to guilt, but that would’ve been tough to swallow given the sweet demeanor of this attractive older lady.
“Ooh, it’s starting,” Mrs. Jenks said and clapped her withered hands.
The nerves finally kicked in and sweat beaded on my forehead. This was it. God, everything had to go smoothly, or I’d just wasted five thousand dollars and hours of self-torment. I glanced askance at Luna. She still hadn’t seen me. If anything, her downtrodden demeanor had intensified.
The room quieted, and the emcee took to the stage. Thorn Edwards stomped up the two stairs and toward the podium that had been set up for him. The teleprompter screen had been angled to the right so he could read it with ease, enabling the cameras and guests to get a full view of his smug mug in all its chiseled glory.
The players and guests cheered him onto the stage. He halted in front of the podium, flicked his hair out
of his eyes, and raised his glass, swaying a little.
Bingo.
The extra strong pours had kicked in as planned. I’d hoped taking advantage of Thorn’s binge drinking habit would work to make him a little off kilter and slow to react. It was a low blow, but so was blackmailing a woman into taking the fall for your failed career and marriage.
“Hey, everybody,” he said in that smooth, southern drawl that had probably charmed multiple women out of their panties. Not after tonight. He didn’t slur or appear too drunk, but the inhibitions were definitely lowered.
“Thorn, how’s it going, man? I hear Cooperstown calling your name!” One of the players cupped his hands around his mouth and hooted. Ass kisser.
“Don’t I know it!” Thorn grinned back at him and cleared his throat. He clinked his glass down on the podium and focused on the teleprompter. “It’s my great pleasure to be here this evening and welcome all of you to this premier event highlighting players past and present of our very own Minnesota Twins. Before we continue with the festivities, there are a few things I’d like to say about the Twins and my time with them.” He paused, took another sip of his drink, gave a boyish wink in the camera’s direction. “But I’m sure all of you already know about my stellar stats.”
Shit. He was already going off script to brag about himself. My stomach started roiling as I realized he wasn’t drunk enough yet. What if he stayed off script the entire monologue and never looked at the teleprompter again?
A smattering of appreciative laughter rippled through the audience. Luna sank lower in her chair, hiding behind the fronds of the potted palm. Anger surged in me, but I kept my cool. Bided my damn time.
“First, the Twins, the team, the administrators, and the coaches, they were like a family to me before the fateful day I injured my knee. My career ended far too soon. Far too soon.”
The atmosphere sobered. Thorn had sent through the proposed speech to be transferred to the teleprompter this past week, and I’d known as I’d read yesterday afternoon that he hadn’t written it himself. That he’d asked his lawyer or his publicist to write it up and make it as slanderous as possible toward Luna while maintaining a modicum of respect appropriate to the function.
Wasted Vows Page 18
