by Lexi Ryan
She lifts her hand to her mouth and touches her lips as if she’s trying to catch the remnants of my kiss before it evaporates. “You do?”
“The problem is me. I’m trying to do the right thing and keep my distance from you because—” I swallow. How do I explain? Because I’m already falling hard? Because I’m afraid if I take her with me, she’ll give me exactly what I set out to get and I don’t deserve it? I don’t even deserve a second to taste her lips. “But every time you look at me like that, I forget that I’m not good enough.”
“Why? Being born to rich parents somehow makes me better?” Her blue eyes go wide and her nostrils flare. “Is this about money? Or is it the fame? You really believe that bullshit?” She shakes her head. “I thought you were smarter than that, Keegan.”
“That’s not it at all.” I shake my head, wishing she could understand. “Not at all.”
“Then what is it?”
I draw in a ragged breath and reach for her hand, toying with her fingers. “A guy like me could exploit a woman like you. I could take and take, and you’d never know how much you lost until I walked away.”
“There’s nothing you could take that I don’t want to give you.”
I squeeze her hand. That’s exactly what I’m afraid of. “Ditto.”
Chapter Fifteen
Keegan
I canceled breakfast plans with the rest of the crew, using my father’s appearance as an excuse. I was spared having to face any of them until I meet up with Mason at the airport for our flight back to Florida.
I must look as shitty as I feel, because when Mason sees me at the gate, he arches a brow, gives me a once-over, and says, “I expected you to be on cloud nine today. Did this morning’s goodbye with your ‘friend’”—he holds up his hands to put air quotes around the word—“not go so well?”
I sink into the chair beside him and run a hand through my hair. The pounding in my head and the burning in my gut have eased up since I left Emma’s room this morning, but I still feel like I’m recovering from a bad case of the flu. Frankly, I’m not sure there is any recovery for my epically bad drunken decisions. “My morning was shit. Why did you let me drink so much last night?”
He frowns. “Is this one of those times where you fucked up so you want me to blame myself and/or the alcohol so you don’t have to take personal responsibility for your actions?”
“Shut up,” I mutter.
“No, no. I’m serious. Because I can play that game if that’s what you need, especially if you’ll return the favor.” He nods sagely. “Poor Keegan fell victim to the lure of alcohol and climbed into bed with the woman he couldn’t take his eyes off all weekend. Who could’ve seen that coming?”
“We were supposed to be hanging out as friends.” I shake my head. “That was the plan.”
Mason’s mock-serious expression is replaced with a sympathetic one. “There are some people we can’t be just friends with, no matter how much we want to be.”
I drag a hand over my face. “Fucking tell me about it.”
“It’s easy to forget, and then the next thing you know, you’re three sheets to the wind and taking off her clothes.”
“Are we talking about me and Em, or you and Bailey?”
He shrugs. “Tomato, to-mah-to.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
“What are you, a twelve-year-old girl?”
“Fuck you,” I mutter. “I was trying to help.”
Frowning, he shrugs and looks away. “You and your girl aren’t the only ones who got drunk and made some impulsive decisions last night.” He swallows. “I let her get close this weekend. I know better than that. It fucks with me every time.” He pauses a beat before turning back to meet my gaze. I can see the question that he’s not willing to ask in his eyes.
“Bail doesn’t tell me anything.” Bailey and I have gotten close, but not close enough that she’ll explain what her hang-up about Mason is. I mean, I assume it’s not a race thing. The idea that she won’t have an actual relationship with him because he’s a black man seems pretty out of character for someone like Bailey, but I can’t come up with a reason why she is the way she is about him anymore than anyone else can. She obviously wants to be with him—or, at least, it seems obvious to me.
“It wouldn’t matter if she did tell you,” he says. “If she won’t tell me, the rest is shit.” He groans. “It’s too bad I’m too hungover to have a drink, because I could really use one right now. I’m having some serious morning-after regrets.”
Tell me about it. “Me too.”
“Do you want to talk about Emily?” he asks.
I wince at his use of her fake name. Once, I spent my days dressed in lies. Once, there was nothing more comforting than pretending to be someone I wasn’t. I thought I left that behind me. Maybe lying about Emma’s identity isn’t a big deal in the scheme of things, but it weighs on me. These are my friends. They’re my family. I shake my head. “Nothing to talk about.”
“We’re both full of shit,” Mason mutters.
I can only shrug because I have no interest in denying it. I pull up FaceTime on my phone and dial Olivia. She answers on my second try, hair mussed, eyes half closed. She drags a hand over her face and yawns. “Yeah?”
“Good morning,” I say with false cheer. I look at my watch. It’s noon in Vegas, which means it’s three p.m. in Seaside. Why the fuck is she sleeping? “I just wanted to say hello to Jazzy.”
“She’s not here.” She rubs her eyes.
I bite back a snarl. “Where is she?”
“The nanny took her last night. She’s at your house.”
Mason is watching me curiously, so I try to harness my frustration and school my expression. “Why?”
“I had plans. You’re not the only one who gets to have a life, you know?”
Deciding not to reply to that, I take a deep breath. “Listen, I know my dad was there this weekend.”
Her face lights up. “He was. Keegan, he’s so kind. I think you’re wrong about him.”
I have to hand it to the old man. He hasn’t lost his touch. “He seems to think you extended him an open invitation. Why would you do that? We’ve talked about this.”
She sighs, finger-combs her dark hair to the nape of her neck, and wraps it in a hair tie. “Keegan, you should forgive him. Whatever happened between you two, he obviously loves you and wants to be part of your life. You should see the way he treats Jazzy. What would it hurt to have another grandparent who loves her?”
“You don’t know shit about my relationship with my father, and I’m telling you now, like I told you before, that he’s not to be a part of her life. Period.” I really have Mason’s attention now, and I shake my head at him. This is not a topic that’s up for discussion.
Olivia looks away from her phone. “I’m afraid that’s a mistake you might regret later. Do you really want your daughter resenting you for keeping her away from her grandfather?”
I close my eyes. “There are choices we have to make as parents, Olivia, and this is one I’m making.”
“Her only other grandfather is in prison.” I can hear the panic in her voice. It’s been a year and a half since her father’s sentencing, and Olivia’s still not over it. Maybe that’s not something you’re supposed to get over, but Olivia’s taken the whole damn thing so hard that it’s fucked with her head and her ability to live a normal life. Even if things between us didn’t work out like I’d hoped, getting her to move to Seaside with me was the best thing I’ve ever done for her. “I suppose you’re going to want my father to stay away from her too, huh? I mean, he’s an ex-con and he made some fucking big mistakes, so maybe he can’t be in our daughter’s life either.”
Mason turns his eyes to his phone but is clearly listening. I sigh. “I never said that.”
“People make mistakes. Your father told me that you two had a rough time, and he wants to make amends.”
“I need you to trust me on this,” I tell her sof
tly. I rub the back of my neck, trying to smooth away the tension that’s built there since I picked up that damn phone in Emma’s room. “Let’s talk about it when I get back.”
“Talk, talk? As in, you’ll actually let me into that vault where you keep the details of your life?”
I sigh. “Yes. We’ll talk, talk,” I say softly.
She smiles. “It’s a deal, then,” she says, her tone gentler now. “I hope you had fun this weekend. You work too hard, Keeg.”
I soften a little. My daughter’s mother may be far from perfect, and she might be carrying around a metric ton of issues, but she’s still the person I fell for two years ago. Most of the time, she means well. “It’s been a good time. It’s nice to see everyone again.”
Her face turns sad. “I got an invitation to the wedding.”
“Of course you did. You’re going to come, right?”
“I haven’t decided yet. Probably. Maybe. I’m not sure.”
“Think about it. I’m sure they’d all love to see you.”
She huffs under her breath but doesn’t argue. “I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yeah. Our flight leaves in forty-five minutes. I’ll be in Seaside until Friday then I’m driving back to Blackhawk Valley until after the wedding. I hope you’ll come with us.”
“We’ll see,” she says, and that’s been her response about this trip since I started making plans. Living in two places is hard enough for a family when they’re a single unit, but living in two places when Olivia and I aren’t even a couple is complicated.
“Need anything?”
She smirks. “Twelve hours of sleep and a good screw?”
I laugh. “That’s how we got into this situation to begin with,” I remind her.
“I suppose Dre wouldn’t care for that anyway, but that doesn’t keep me from remembering those days fondly.”
My life is fucking weird. “I’ll see you tonight, Liv.”
* * *
Emma
It’s ninety degrees in Savannah today, and the humidity is so thick it’s like walking through melted butter, but in the town car driving us from the airport to Zach’s, the air is cool as the blood pumping through my veins. I’m cold and empty. I feel like I spent the last twenty-four hours living life as Emily Zimmerman, a carefree, adventurous young woman, only to be jolted back into the life and body of the woman I’ve been for the last five years. Emily is gone, and now I’m Emma Rothschild again. Cold, sexless, and so fucking lonely that she’s happy to marry a man for all the wrong reasons.
I’m angry at my life for being so unfair and at Keegan for bringing up Harry when I was trying to open up to him. I’m mad at myself for jeopardizing my future with Zachary. What if someone had seen Keegan and me in that elevator? What if someone had recognized me when we were all over each other on the dance floor?
“Who was he?” Zachary asks.
He was quiet on the flight, digesting the little I’d confessed, and I can’t decide if he’s hurt that I was so careless or worried that I might change my mind about our marriage. When he found out his sister had to go home early to be with her daughter, he flew to Vegas to surprise me. When I didn’t answer my cell, he had the front desk call my room, thinking his bride-to-be would be thrilled to have company in Vegas. And I was in bed with another man.
“No one,” I say. “Just a guy. You told me to cut loose, so I did.” The lie makes my chest ache. Keegan isn’t just a guy. He’s the guy. He is everything. But he was never supposed to find out about Zach like he did. That wasn’t the plan. We were supposed to have our fun as friends and move on. If he ever met my fiancé, it should have been civil. Maybe Keegan would have been glad to see me with such a good man. Instead, alcohol made me forget who I was and what promises I’ve made, and I hurt Keegan again. That was the last thing I wanted to do.
“Did anyone see you together?”
Half of Vegas. “I was wearing Becky’s stupid flapper wig, so it shouldn’t be a problem. No one cares about me anymore anyway.”
“They’ll care when you’re married to a senator,” he says, but his tone is gentle, not cruel. “I told you to be a little reckless, but I never thought you would…” He drags in a ragged breath, and guilt saws through my chest. “You took him into your room. What if he knows who you are? What if he tries to blackmail you when he realizes what he has on you?”
“He won’t blackmail me. He’s not like that.”
Zach’s soft brown eyes go big. “Please tell me you used a fake name. Tell me he doesn’t know who you are.”
“Stop it. He’s an old friend.” My eyes fill with tears, and I look out the window to hide them. “Keegan won’t go telling some dirty journalist about our wild night. He doesn’t want the press any more than I do.”
“Did you say Keegan?”
Nodding, I close my eyes and feel a hot tear slide down my icy cold cheek.
“Shit,” Zach breathes. “Keegan? You spent the weekend with Keegan Keller?” His warm hand squeezes my knee, and I am reminded why I agreed to marry him. Zachary is my best friend, a kind man whose passion for politics is only exceeded by his passion for his country. He needed me and I needed him. We had the perfect arrangement, and I risked everything just to feel alive in Keegan’s arms again.
At thirty-one, Zach is the youngest United States senator. Becky introduced us a few years ago—her brother and her best friend—and Zach and I clicked almost instantly. In fact, other than Keegan, he’s the only man I’m comfortable spending time alone with.
“I didn’t know he’d be there.” The memories from last night come back like pieces of an incomplete puzzle. The sound of my laughter and the grin on his face. I remember teasing Keegan. “I think maybe you like Emily, the sexy flapper girl, more than you ever liked Emma.”
His smile fell away as he shook his head and pulled the pins from my hair. The wig dropped to the floor. “I only want to be with you,” he said. “Emma, I’ve only ever wanted to be with you.”
“Are you okay?” Zach asks. “You’re flushed.”
I put my hands to my hot cheeks. “It all felt like a dream.”
“Can I at least have some dirty details?” When I cut my eyes to him, he’s grinning like a loon. “What? Do you have any idea how much I would enjoy a wild weekend in Vegas? If you did something reckless enough to risk taking my political career down in flames, you can at least let me live vicariously.”
“It was…” I exhale heavily, close my eyes, and remember the way Keegan’s hands felt on me. “I never thought I’d see him again, and then I got this magical night.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t enough.”
Chapter Sixteen
Keegan
I’ve managed to spend the last five years avoiding any and all news about Emma Rothschild, but the second I come home from seeing her again, it’s like I see her everywhere I look.
Olivia, Mason, Jazzy, and I are in my living room. We ordered dinner in, and while we eat, Olivia’s watching one of those gossipy entertainment shows, and there she is—the curly-haired vixen who dropped to her knees three nights ago and greedily took my cock into her mouth.
The commentator on the screen calls Emma’s “the wedding of the decade” and it’s apparently going down this weekend in Savannah, Georgia.
“I wish I could get an invitation to that wedding,” Olivia says. “Can you imagine? Black ties, beautiful dresses, champagne everywhere you look.”
“I’m sure Dre will give you a wedding that nice if you want him to.”
Both Olivia and Mason drop their forks and gape at me, probably because I don’t typically want to talk about Olivia’s relationship with Dre, let alone sit around imagining my quarterback marrying the mother of my child. That proves how much things changed last weekend. Right now, I’d rather talk about their hypothetical wedding than Emma’s very real one.
“Who is that, anyway?” I ask, letting my curiosity get the better of me and pointing to the screen.
“Um, Emma Ro
thschild,” Olivia says. “Come on, didn’t you watch Lucy Matters growing up? She was that chubby-cheeked kid with the red curls? Freaking adorable. It’s just too bad for her she didn’t outgrow the pudge. It’s a wonder she landed a guy like him.”
Mason arches a brow and waves to the TV. “Seriously? You think he’s complaining about having her in his bed?” He shakes his head. “I’ll never understand what women think is beautiful.”
“I don’t mean her,” I say, ignoring Olivia’s jab at Emma’s appearance. “I mean, who’s the guy?” He’s older, but then again, maybe Emma always did go for the older guys. That gem of a memory is like a knife to the gut.
“That is Senator Zachary Dellaconte, the only man who’s the subject of more female political fantasies than Justin Trudeau. Most eligible bachelor marries America’s sweetheart. Does it get any cuter than that?” She gives a dreamy sigh. “I wonder what her dress looks like. And the reception is supposed to be out of this world with celebrity A-listers. Some girls get to have it all.”
“Liv,” I say, my voice harsh. “Don’t make yourself crazy assuming other people’s lives are better than yours. I promise you, Em has her own issues.”
Mason’s jaw drops as he looks at the image of Emma on the TV and then back at me. “Holy shit.” He covers his mouth and coughs his surprise.
I drag a hand over my face. Fuck. Cover. Blown.
“Em?” Olivia’s eyes go wide. “On nickname terms with the young actress, are you?”
I lock eyes with Mason, wordlessly pleading with him to stay quiet. “I knew her once. When I was younger.”
“You had a relationship with a bigshot Hollywood actress and never mentioned it?”
“If I did, it seems like it would be a little douchey of me to go around talking about it.”
She gives me a hard look and her jaw tightens. “Just like everything else.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have a famous playwright as an uncle and you never mentioned it until he came to town.”
