Misadventures with My Ex

by Shayla Black

  On the other side of the lobby, the concierge smiles at my whispered request before he disappears down the hall. Less than two minutes later, a bald man in an impeccable tuxedo greets me.

  I cross the room to claim Eryn again, then we follow the man to a lovely, familiar open-air restaurant/bar that faces the Pacific and has all the charm of Coastal Italy. Our host seats us and introduces himself, then leaves.

  Eryn scans the oceanfront eatery. Candles flicker, giving the place a golden glow as sunset pours in, bright and warm. “There’s no one else here.”

  “I reserved it exclusively for us.”

  Confusion tugs at her expression. “I don’t understand.”

  She doesn’t. Not yet. Of course she remembers that I proposed to her in this very restaurant. It was loud and crowded. I had to ask her twice, and she still never heard me over the din of weekend revelers. But me getting down on one knee and opening the ring box told her everything she needed to know. With a squeal and a nod, she jumped out of her chair and threw herself at me, tears filling her eyes. Then everyone clapped when I slid the ring on her finger. After that, at least half a dozen other patrons sent over drinks or bottles of champagne. We ended up spending the night at the hotel when we really couldn’t afford it because we were too drunk to drive back to our little apartment. And we enjoyed every minute of the indulgent luxury and each other, certain of our future together.

  That night was—and still is—one of my fondest memories.

  But it occurs to me now that I have no idea whether it’s one of hers or just a nightmare she’d rather forget.

  I send her a smile, and I’m grateful a romantic instrumental begins to play softly from the overhead speakers, helping to set the mood. “Nothing to understand. I was in the mood for a little nostalgia.”

  She claps her mouth shut, but I can tell her thoughts are racing.

  Before I can think of some way to fill the silence and set her at ease, a quiet waitress arrives to pour our water. She brings the cocktails and appetizers I preordered, then asks if there’s anything else we need. After I glance at Eryn, who shrugs, I assure the woman we’re fine. She melts away, giving us the privacy I insisted on. Dinner will only come when I tell them we’re ready.

  “West, what are we doing here? Really?”

  “A lot of memories here, huh?”

  Her stare skims over the one-hundred-eighty-degree views of the Pacific and Santa Monica pier a few blocks down the shoreline. “So many. This was always one of my favorite places. It’s so beautiful. Of course I haven’t been here since…you know.”

  “We were happy here.”

  Her face softens. “I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life than I was that night.”

  Reaching across the table, I enfold her fingers with mine. “Same. But I realize now that every day I spend with you is one of the happiest days of my life. I didn’t even know how miserable I was without you until I laid eyes on you again.”

  She glances down, not quite able to look my way with her pensive stare. “I always assumed you were happier without me. But I knew full well how miserable I felt.”

  “Is that why you were wearing your wedding dress and blitzed off bad wine the night I knocked on your door?”

  “The vino wasn’t that bad,” she protests.

  “By the smell of that crap, it wasn’t good.”

  “All right. Maybe it sucked. But Echo brought it for me. She knew I’d had a rough day.” Eryn taps her fingers on the table and drags in a nervous breath. “I woke up thinking of you that morning. I couldn’t shake thoughts of you all day. I kept having this fantasy of seeing you again, but by the time I came home from Java and Jacks, I figured setting eyes on you was somewhere between unlikely and impossible, so I settled in with the merlot of dubious quality and donned my dress to pretend that it was our wedding day.” She pauses, face turning pensive. “That’s not the first time I’ve done it. As long as I could imagine walking down the aisle to you and forget our split, I was okay. As soon as reality crashed in… Well, you know how much I hate crying. But I often would. Then I’d hate myself for being delusional enough to think you’d ever come back and want me again.”

  “Oh, honey…”

  “That’s why, when I heard your voice that night, I was sure I had to be hallucinating. There was no way my dream of being with you again could possibly come true.”

  The pain in her voice breaks my heart. “If you were fantasizing about me, why were you so angry to see me?”

  “Because you barged into my fantasy. The guy who hurt me, I mean. Not the West I fell in love with. I knew him. I didn’t know the stranger undressing me with his stare. It probably sounds silly, but I was scared.”

  “I would never hurt you.”

  “Not physically, but emotionally… The moment I saw you again, I feared you still had the power to undo me. After thinking I was okay, other than my lacking sex life, it was a bitter pill. Then you wouldn’t go away. And I sprawled on top of you. I remember thinking that being close to you felt so right. That only terrified me more.”

  For Eryn, that’s a huge admission. In fact, she’s been a lot braver with her feelings today than she was three years ago. I’m finally getting through to her, and she’s not building walls between us. I’m proud of her. I don’t say it because she won’t want to hear that she’s gone “soft,” but her openness is definitely giving me hope for our future.

  I squeeze her hand. “When we fell in your closet, it didn’t take feeling us pressed together for me to know that I couldn’t let you get away a second time. I realized that the moment I set eyes on you.”

  Nervously, Eryn sips her cocktail, her stare never leaving mine. “You did?”

  I nod. “I definitely couldn’t deny it after I kissed you. The last week has only made me more sure.”

  Eryn doesn’t say anything, but the telltale trembling of her chin and the sheen of unshed tears glossing her dark eyes speak volumes.

  As the sun appears to dip into the big blue ocean, the lights of the Ferris wheel suddenly illuminate in the distance. Even the air around us seems to hold its breath.

  It doesn’t get any better than now, buddy…

  Trying to calm my pounding heart, I fold my napkin on the table and stand. Eryn frowns in confusion as I approach and take her hands in mine. Then I kneel.

  She gasps. “West?”

  “I want to fix everything I broke three years ago. So…Eryn Rose Hope, say yes to marrying me again.” I reach into my coat pocket and extract the velvet ring box I found in her nightstand. “Be my fiancée and wear this ring so we can finally be happy together for the rest of our lives.”

  She covers her gaping mouth and blinks at me. “You’re serious?”

  “Absolutely. I’ve never been more sure about anything. Be my wife. If you say yes and believe in us, I swear we’ll make it to the altar.”

  “This is so sudden…”

  “It’s not,” I argue. “We’re continuing on where we left off before I let all the wrong things come between us. I still love you. I always have. I always will.”

  “But…you live in Vegas. I live in LA. Neither of us can just…move.”

  She’s in shock more than actually questioning or protesting. It’s in Eryn’s skeptical nature to look at all sides of a situation and find the flaws.

  “We’ll work it out. If I have to move to LA…” I shrug. “I will. But maybe you’d be happier not getting up before the ass crack of dawn to work your butt off for twelve hours every day. Maybe you’ll decide to go back to school after all. That’s up to you. Either way, I’ll do whatever I have to for us to be happy.” I clear my throat. “But, um…any chance you could give me an answer? My knee isn’t loving the hard tile.”

  She chokes out a laugh, her eyes bright with emotion. “Oh, my god. I might be crazy, but…yes.” Tears squeeze from her eyes and roll down her face. “Yes.”

  Relief pours through me as I lunge for Eryn and grab her, pullin
g her tight against me. “I’m going to make you so happy, honey. I promise.”

  “I believe you’ll try. And I’ll do my best to make you happy, too.”

  I still hear that kernel of uncertainty. I don’t think she distrusts me, but she’s gun-shy. She doesn’t trust the situation. Nothing but time and commitment will help her understand how much I mean every word I’m saying.

  For now, I yank the ring out of its velvet case and toss the box onto the table. I’m not surprised to find myself trembling as I slide the simple white-gold band with a three-carat solitaire on her dainty finger. It still fits perfectly. And the diamond is still almost overwhelming on her petite hand. I send a silent thank-you upward to my grandfather for loaning me the money to buy this ring when I didn’t have two pennies of my own to rub together.

  “It’s still the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen.” She watches the gemstone wink and sparkle on her finger. “I cried so hard when I took it off for good.”

  “You’ll never have to do that again,” I vow.

  With one last glance at the diamond, she looks up at me. “I hope you’re right, that nothing and no one can come between us again.”

  “We won’t let it.” I cup her face and bend for a kiss to seal us together. “You’re going to make a wonderful Mrs. Weston Quaid.”

  She smiles before I seize her mouth for a tender kiss.

  Behind me, I hear the small staff dedicated to our evening clapping, along with the pop of a champagne cork.

  She laughs, breaking our kiss. “It’s just like old times.”

  “What do you say we have dinner, get drunk, and make love all night here again?”

  Eryn frowns. “I’d love to, but we didn’t pack. And we don’t have a room. Or…do we?”

  My grin widens. “Actually, I did and we do. I didn’t unpack my bag from Vegas. Neither did you. And I managed to get us a suite overlooking the ocean with a balcony. How about it?”

  “Yes.” She leans in to kiss me. “I can’t believe we’re here and that I’m trusting you, but yes to everything, especially our future. West…” She bites her lip. “I love you, too. I never stopped.”

  I hold Eryn closer and kiss her until she’s breathless because I’m so damn happy. She loves me—and she’s willing to tell me. That’s huge for her. It took a long time for her to say the words when we first dated. Her whispered admission now proves her heart is involved, too, and that she’s committed to making this work.

  As I hold her close and press kisses along her jaw, I motion to our waiting server to bring dinner.

  Though our surf and turf is delicious, neither one of us is focused on food. We down the champagne and get drunk off our longing glances at each other. Yeah, I can’t wait to get her upstairs, peel her clothes off, and lay every inch of her body bare for me. Her flushed cheeks and bright eyes tell me she knows it.

  I lift my glass to my fiancée, gratified to see her engagement ring winking on her finger as she toasts me in return. “To looking forward, not back. And to us.”

  “To us.” She sips, then sets her glass aside. “Have you given any thought about when you want to get married? Next October fourth?”

  Our original wedding day? “That’s almost a year away. No.”

  “Too long to wait? How about June? I wouldn’t hate being a summer bride. Maybe we could do something outdoors.”

  “Still too long. I was thinking more like next Saturday.”

  Eryn rears back. “That gives me less than a week to plan a wedding!”

  “I’ve already waited three years for this, and I hate like hell that I have to wait until after the no-confidence vote my uncle Eddie is shoving on the board next Friday. After that, I don’t want to wait anymore.”

  “He’s still trying to oust you? Your father’s own brother?”

  I shrug. “I don’t care about him. I should be able to weather this vote. But as soon as it’s over, I intend to make you mine for good.”

  Her cheeks flush with her happy smile. “It’s crazy, but okay. I have a wedding dress. I’ll call my sisters. We’ll figure out how to make it work… Where do we hold the ceremony? Getting a venue at the last minute…”

  “Hey, last-minute weddings happen all the time in Vegas. Everything will be all right, honey. I’ll help you. Don’t stress.”

  She nods. “You’re right. This is a happy occasion for us. The rest is just details.”

  “Exactly.”

  “We’ll have to start tomorrow. Once we pick a time and place, we’ll have to let friends and family know…” Her expression turns taut again. “Oh. What about your family?”

  I wince. “At this point, I’m not inclined to invite anyone from my side except Gen and Flynn. But you need to meet my mother, then we can decide how to handle things. I also think it’s critical for you to understand who you’ll be up against and to show her that you won’t bow to her bullying. If you don’t, you’ll never have a moment’s peace in this marriage. She’ll make sure of it.”

  “You really think she’ll try to split us up again?”

  “I don’t think; I know.” And it will be ugly, I have no doubt.

  But tonight is for celebrating. I’ll worry about Miriam Quaid later. This time, however, I’ll be prepared. I know precisely how hard my mother will come gunning for Eryn. And I’ll make sure that nothing and no one can drive a wedge between my former ex and me ever again.

  Chapter Nine

  Eryn

  On Wednesday night, I’m horrifically nervous as I prepare the dining room for the family dinner West and I are hosting so I can meet his family. I set the table with some china I found on clearance since West didn’t have any. The wineglasses aren’t crystal, but they’re nice. I even found some linen napkins that coordinate well with everything. I didn’t see the point of splurging on the matching placemats when West already had some made of sturdy bamboo.

  Stepping back, I survey the results. Not exactly elegant…but not bad. Then again, this is an informal family dinner. Casual and easy, right? My mother always served everything she could on paper plates, so my extra touches elevate this meal to something above the ordinary.

  So does the fact that West’s mother will probably come looking for a way to tear us apart.

  Shoving down my nerves, I glance at my watch. Twenty minutes until six? Holy crap. I barely have time to finish pulling myself together before everyone arrives at the top of the hour. And where is West? He said he’d be here by now.

  The fact that he’s worked late all week doesn’t surprise or bother me. I know the board vote is in two short days, and he probably has a mountain of work—and schmoozing—to accomplish in order to ensure the no-confidence vote goes his way. But he didn’t roll in last night until almost nine. If he’s late tonight, I’ll have to face his mother alone. Not that I can’t. I’m braced for her to launch a snide, vindictive attack. But I’d rather not have to fend her off by myself the first time we meet.

  I send a quick text to West, asking if he’s able to come home soon. No reply. Maybe he’s driving? Stuck in traffic?

  After dashing around the penthouse to finish cleaning up, I toss on my little black dress, fluff my hair, and touch my makeup. As I’m sliding into my shoes, I hear the doorbell ring.

  Please be Flynn or Gen…

  As I run for the door, I peek at my phone. Still no response from West. And whoever is knocking arrived ten minutes early.

  Bracing myself with a breath, I pull the door open to find an unfamiliar man standing there, but I know instantly who he is. The family resemblance is too strong not to guess. “Hi. You must be West’s Uncle Edward.”

  “I am.” He scans me up and down. “And you must be my nephew’s lay of the week. You know, if you want a rich and powerful man to fuck you, you could do better. Me, for example.”

  His words leave me gaping. They’re slurred just enough to tell me he’s been drinking. I was prepared for his mother to breathe fire on me like a she-dragon, but not for his u
ncle to proposition me. “I’m not his lay of the week. I’m—”

  “Don’t be a crass womanizer,” a female voice cuts in from behind him, then a woman shoulders her way past the man, glaring at him as she saunters through the door. “She’s not interested. Hi, I’m Miriam Quaid.”

  West’s mother. My heart starts pounding. I’m alone with the two most hostile people in his family.

  She turns to me, her pale hair arranged into an elegant twist. Her ice-blue dress clings to her slender form and matches her eyes perfectly.

  Trying to stay calm, I extend my hand. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Quaid. I’m Eryn Hope.”

  “The ex-fiancée?” As we shake, she glances at my free hand and spies my engagement ring. If she has any reaction, she’s good at hiding it. “Or maybe not so ex anymore?”

  I don’t comment. West and I planned this dinner to announce our engagement together. “Come in. Your son isn’t home from work yet.”

  Miriam enters and glances around the penthouse. “Just as well. I think you and I should chat first anyway.”

  I steady myself. Here comes whatever adversarial crap the woman has up her sleeve.

  “Drink?” I offer.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Don’t talk to her. She’ll rip you apart, girl,” Eddie offers, helping himself to whatever booze West has in a decanter on the far edge of the living room. Once it’s filled, he lifts his glass. “Mark my words.”

  “Don’t be so dramatic,” she snaps, then cups my shoulder. “Let’s step onto the patio, where we can talk in peace.”

  The thought of being alone with her makes me uneasy. Where is West? Another surreptitious glance at my phone proves he hasn’t returned my text.

  As soon as she opens the slider to the patio, a gust of cool, dry air greets me. When we step out, the sun has nearly set. The lights of the Strip begin to brighten and flash as I lead her to a couple of plush patio chairs by a banked fire pit.