LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance)

by Mia Carson

  This wasn’t my best idea, but I wanted to be home. I wanted the devil I knew, not Scott, who was unpredictable and caused these crazy highs and lows.

  Nostalgia walloped me coming off the interstate. The town had barely changed, except some of the windows were boarded up. There was the high school, still in need of a coat of paint, a few classroom trailers parked outside. A new gas station which looked glossy and out of place. I wondered if Sullivan’s One Stop was still in business or if the Shell station had edged him out. I drove past the house that had belonged to my best friend’s parents. The new owners had painted it a sage green and added red shutters. I didn’t want to like the paint job or the new addition on the side because they weren’t what I remembered.

  I turned down our street, Donovan Lane. When I was fifteen and driving with my learner’s permit, I’d panicked and crashed into the street sign, knocking it down. It had stayed down for almost a year before the town replaced it.

  A red, white and blue “For Sale” sign sat on my parents’ front lawn. That couldn’t be right. They couldn’t be selling our house. I didn’t understand.

  I pulled into the driveway behind my sister Becky’s battered blue minivan. After her husband had lost his job and left her, she and my niece and nephew had moved back in with our folks. My other sister, Cheryl, lived here, too. She was the youngest, only a year or so out of college, with absolutely no idea what to do with her life.

  Dad’s truck was gone, and Mom’s car sat in the garage. I shouldn’t have waited this long to visit. I’d missed Christmas last year, choosing instead to go to Long Island with Lucas’s family. Well, I thought bitterly, that wouldn’t be an issue this year.

  The door was open before I’d climbed out of the car. Mom doesn’t get around as easily as she once did, but she was making a b-line for me.

  “Why is the house for sale?” She scooped me into a hug and I hugged her back.

  “Oh, honey, it’s been so long since I’ve talked to you.”

  I’d told myself I was protecting them from my crap, that my sisters could take care of anything that came along. I hadn’t seen anything on Becky’s or Cheryl’s Facebook accounts mentioning the house.

  “Come on in,” she gushed. “Let me take one of your bags.”

  “I, uh, don’t have bags.”

  Mom tipped her head down and scowled at me over the colorful plastic frames of her glasses. “Come on in, honey.”

  She let me go first, and I walked into my childhood home.

  Scott

  I let Mackenzie go a few hours and didn’t bother her. Let her go a few more. When it started to get dark, I called and got her voicemail. I texted her but never saw the little delivered icon show up. So her phone was off. I imagined a car striking her, her phone spiraling out of her bag and shattering on the street. Or, because we’d had a fight and she stormed off, she could have blocked my phone.

  I went into my office, wincing at the cracked screen of my computer. I meant to send someone to get me a replacement but kept putting it off, forcing myself to stare at the spider-webbed screen. I looked up Mackenzie’s friend Susie’s phone number. Dialed her.

  She answered with a wary, “Hello?”

  “Susie, hi. You might not remember me, I’m Scott Creed—”

  “Scott, I flew in your private plane. I think I remember you.

  “Fair enough. Have you, uh, seen Mackenzie?”

  “What? Doesn’t she live with you? She quit her job this morning. Apparently she came in and out, and I didn’t even notice.”

  “I know that, but we had a fight, and now I can’t get ahold of her.”

  “I haven’t talked to her since you guys got back.”

  “I’m a little worried.”

  “Let me try and call her.”

  “Thanks. I hope she’s just mad at me but… I worry.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  I paced the length of my apartment, my iPhone clenched in my hand. Back and forth, back and forth. I tried to think of which hospital I’d call first.

  My phone rang a half hour later. I snatched it up, taking a beat to strip the worry out of my voice. “Hello?”

  “She’s okay,” Susie assured me, “but she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  I’d been holding my breath and exhaled deeply. “Where is she?”

  “I can’t tell you.” It sounded like she wanted to…

  “Come on. I’m her husband.”

  Susie hesitated. “I don’t know what your deal is, Scott. I liked you when I met you. But Mackenzie is a hot mess right now. I feel like I’ve barely talked to her since you guys got together.”

  I decided to be blunt. “You work with her. You know why we got married, right?”

  “Yeah. She told me. And Fallon is a prick.”

  “I just want to know she’s okay and staying somewhere safe. Is she with you?”

  Susie answered immediately. “No.”

  “Did she get a hotel?”

  “Scott, come on, she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

  “Okay.”

  I could have my people call every hotel in New York City. It would cost me, but I could get it done, and probably get it done pretty quickly. Or I should just be patient. Remember the bullshit about loving something, letting it go, and waiting for it to come back to you.

  No, dammit. How long had I waited to actually fall in love? Now that I’d found her, I couldn’t just let her walk away because of Giuliana’s bullshit.

  “Scott?”

  I was panicking. What did I do? I had to say something. “Just… Tell her to call me, okay?”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “Thanks.”

  We hung up. It was all I could hope for.

  Mackenzie

  My father had lost his job, and the six of them, my parents, Becky and her two kids, and Cheryl, planned to move to a three-bedroom rental house half an hour closer to Des Moines. Becky’s hours at work had been slashed, and little Jimmy had weekly special appointments to see a counselor for his autism. My family was a shit show, and I’d just delivered them one extra unemployed mouth to feed. I literally couldn’t tell them about Scott. My problems were nothing compared to this.

  So I told them about Lucas. Told them my boss was a creeper and I wanted a fresh start. None of it was technically untrue.

  “So you came back here?” Becky sounded dubious. She eyeballed the untanned strip of very white flesh on my ring finger, contrasting with my deep tan. Mom shuffled out to get the mail.

  “What’s really going on?”

  “What are you talk—” Playing dumb never worked with Becky.

  “Don’t mess with me. Seriously. You were wedding crazy on Facebook, then you vanished three weeks ago. Have you been self-destructing?”

  “Yes. I have.”

  “Did you get fired?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Where have you been to get that killer tan?”

  “I had to get away. Had to clear my head.”

  Becky glared at me, and I fidgeted in the old metal and plastic chair. “Spill it. You look guilty.”

  “I’m just upset about Lucas.” I tried to misdirect. “I came home and found him in bed with his trainer. She’s moved in. They live together in my house now.”

  Becky wasn’t buying it, but she let it drop. “I never liked him.”

  “Really? I thought you all liked him.”

  “Kenz, he grabbed my ass last Thanksgiving. Said he didn’t mean to, but he really took a handful.”

  I lost it. I started sobbing. Again. Becky didn’t quite know what to do and gathered me in an awkward hug. She smelled like the same shampoo we’d used as kids. Some things never change. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I struggled to get the words out through my tears. I thought of how rotten he’d been to me at Starbucks. I thought of Scott, smiling at me. It wasn’t fair.

  “Kenz, come on. You were hanging on every word he said. You worshipped that douchebag. Y
ou know how you get.”

  “How I get?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  I did know, sadly. The adoring sensation of belonging to someone. Of being loved. Or in my case with Lucas, of feeling like I was loved.

  My phone buzzed in my purse, providing a welcome distraction. I pulled it out.

  Scott just called me… Where are you? He’s worried sick.

  I stared at the text from Susie.

  I’m fine.

  But where are you?

  “Who’s Scott?” Becky peered over my shoulder.

  “No one.” I covered the phone so she couldn’t see.

  I’m with my parents. In Iowa. I’m not coming back. My phone rang, and I went into the living room before I answered.

  “What the hell are you doing? You quit your job—which I totally understand, but I thought you left because you were actually into Scott.”

  “I was! He broke my heart, though.”

  “How? He’s worried sick about you. Did you tell him your heart was broken? Does he know?”

  “Susie, you’re not helping.”

  “Sorry, the guy was in a panic. What did he do?”

  I couldn’t tell her. How could the words ever come out of my mouth? I was an idiot in college, made a sex tape, and Scott found it somehow to use as jerk off fodder. I thought (not for the first time) about him jerking off to my tape while Lucas yelled at me in the middle of a Starbucks.

  “He screwed up.”

  “How? You were bonkers about him two days ago.”

  More like a day ago. Hours ago. I was still bonkers about him, but just couldn’t imagine facing him. “This has just been too much. Founded on lies. It’s not right. We don’t even know each other.”

  Susie let out a long sigh. “Look. You’ve been through a lot in the past few weeks. Like, a lot. I’m not surprised you’re freaking out a little. Maybe the mystery thing he did is as bad as you say.” It was. Obviously. “But maybe take a few days to think on it. To cool down.”

  It wasn’t the worst advice. And I probably should have done my cooling off in New York. But then I wouldn’t know my parents were selling the house. A steaming puddle of guilt bubbled in my stomach.

  “You’re probably right.”

  “I know I’m right. Maybe drop him a line and let him know you’re okay?”

  “No way. I can’t. I can’t hear his voice. I don’t want him to trace the call.”

  “I told him I’d let him know if you were okay or not.”

  “No!”

  “Mackenzie, you drove away from his apartment, and he has no idea if you’ve been in an accident or if you got mugged…”

  “Good.” Let him suffer. Let him wonder.

  “Come on. That’s not fair, and you know it. I’ll just say you’re okay and won’t tell him anything else.”

  I faltered. “Whatever.”

  “You’re acting like a child.”

  “I feel like one.”

  Susie’s tone changed. “It’ll be okay. Please give me a call when you’re ready to talk. I’m happy to listen.” She paused. “I’m super curious to know what he did.”

  “Be curious. I’m not going to tell you.”

  “That bad?”

  It came out before I could think. “I don’t even know.” What? Of course it was awful. I’d been betrayed.

  “Have fun with your family,” Susie said.

  “I will,” I lied. We disconnected the call. Mom walked into the living room. Every time I left, she seemed to age terribly while I was gone. She moved gingerly to me, and I didn’t dare ask what was wrong.

  “It’s so good to have you home.” She kissed the top of my head.

  “It’s good to be home.” I wasn’t sure if I meant it or not. I hugged her and let my head rest on her shoulder. I’d definitely missed her, that was for sure. Quirks and all.

  Scott

  I was patient. I went to work. I did my thing. I didn’t call Mackenzie. Susie, on the other hand, must have been sick of hearing from me after a week.

  We met for drinks one night at a little dive bar of her choosing. She referred to it as “slumming it” for me, and she was right. I wouldn’t have chosen this place on my own. I kinda dug it, though. There were a bunch of street signs on the walls and photos of celebrities who’d come here to drink and left signed photos. She was already there with a beer when I arrived, sitting in a dimly lit booth in the corner.

  “What did you do?” No hello, no nothing. “Seriously.”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “I’m trying to help you. I’m on your side, but it’s hard when I don’t know why I’m defending you. She just… She seemed really happy when you guys got back from your trip. I’ve never seen her like that. You don’t seem douchey, like Lucas did.”

  “That’s good to hear. I can’t tell you what happened, though. Only she can.”

  “Can we do a process of elimination thing? Weed out a few deal-breakers?”

  I thought for a moment. Debated what the chances of her guessing found and watched—even though I really didn’t—a sex video from her college days.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you cheat?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I didn’t think so. She would have told me if you did.”

  The waitress stopped by, and I ordered a craft IPA imported from Vermont.

  “I’m actually kind of at a loss for other awful things you could have done.”

  I wanted to tell her we’d had more of a misunderstanding but kept my trap shut. “Tell her to call me.”

  “Every time we talk I tell her you want to speak to her.”

  “No, you need to tell her to do it.” She likes to be told what to do, I thought but didn’t say it.

  “I don’t know what you did,” protested Susie. “You could be a serial killer for all I know. You could be the next Patrick Bateman.”

  “Definitely not that.”

  “Good to know.”

  “I just need a chance to explain myself.”

  “So you keep saying. When she got home, she found out her family is having a lot of problems.”

  “What kind of problems?” The waitress set my beer on the table, and I sipped it. Delicious.

  “It’s nothing.” She’d said too much. She sipped her beer—what looked like a Bud Light. I could slum it, but couldn’t bring myself to drink piss beer.

  “It’s obviously not nothing. What’s going on?” Drink more, Susie, I thought. Get drunk and spill your guts.

  “They have to sell the house.”

  Money problems. I had a solution for that. How mad would Mackenzie be if I paid off her parents’ mortgage? Would her sexy wrath be worth it?

  “I wonder how many Taylors are in Iowa.”

  “Scott…”

  “Probably not that many with a house on the market. I can find them, buy the house, and mail the deed. They don’t want to sell?” It would be all I needed to give them a house they wanted to get rid of. Susie had used the words had to sell, though.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “She’ll have to talk to me then.”

  “You can’t just throw money at this.”

  “If she won’t talk to me, it’s the only thing I can do.”

  I left a fifty to cover the tab. Susie gawked at the bill as I left, shaking her head at me. I knew it was too much, but I didn’t have any twenties and wanted to get started on my project.

  There were fifteen Taylors selling houses in Iowa. It sure would have been easier if she’d called me and asked for help. I put my assistant Kevin on the job, and together we started making phone calls.

  Mackenzie

  My mother screamed from the kitchen. I was upstairs blow drying my hair. I had a job interview at one for a teensy-weensy accounting firm who needed someone two days a week. It was better than nothing, and I needed to do something to pull my weight around here. We had to be out this afternoon while the real
tor showed the house. I knew it stressed Mom out—she tried so hard to keep everything neat and tidy, and I saw the tears in her eyes as she did so. My dad was in denial and had receded to his recliner, where he spent all his time these days, NASCAR on the TV. He always said the same thing: “Gotta rest up, gonna start the big job hunt tomorrow.”

  Mom’s scream ripped through the house. Cheryl was at work, and Becky had taken Jimmy and Kara to doctor’s appointments. I dropped my hair dryer and flew downstairs. She clutched a piece of paper, an open certified mail envelope on the table by her side. She was crying, shaking her head.

  Could they foreclose on a house for sale? Had they missed one payment too many? Were they coming for my mom’s car? They’d bought it not long before Dad lost his job, and I knew the payments stressed them out.

  “What happened?”

  She locked her gaze on mine, and I couldn’t read her at all. Terror. Disbelief. Had someone died? Were my other siblings okay? Her hands shook as she passed me the document. I really didn’t want to read this. I had no choice. I’d come home, I had to deal with whatever happened.

  “Frank!” Her voice shook. “You’d better come in here.”

  A deed. A deed to… our house. In my parents’ name. But… We were showing that afternoon. The phone rang, and I snatched it up.

  “Frank!”

  The realtor wanted my mother, but I snapped at her that she could talk to me instead. “An anonymous offer was made. In cash. A full offer for twenty thousand more than what we were asking. And the buyer didn’t want the roof fixed or any of the other repairs done before closing. I closed this morning. I thought he’d want to see it, but he said he didn’t need to.”

  Scott. Twin rivulets of gratitude and anger surged through me. “He mailed us the deed,” I told her.

  The realtor was silent a moment. “Miss Taylor, it sounds like you have a Good Samaritan on your hands.”

  “Seems that way, doesn’t it?”

  “After all the fees and my commission, there is five thousand left. Do Mr. and Mrs. Taylor want the money deposited in their account?”

  Five thousand was pretty close to the amount we needed to repair the roof. Relief won out over being pissed. The leak in Kara’s bedroom could be fixed. It felt like all I did lately, but tears filled my eyes. “That will be fine, thank you. Do you need anything from us?”