Meant for You

by Michelle Major

  “I couldn’t care less.” Jenny swallowed at the outrageousness of her lie. She was feeling like such a phony, which she’d worked most of her life not to be. Surely she was so bad at it that everyone around her could see through her act.

  She moved past the other woman before she lost her mind once again and did something stupid like throw out an invitation to the wedding.

  “Did he give you the line about wanting to be inside you without anything in the way?”

  Jenny sucked in a breath and turned back to Dina. Memories of her own foolishness flooded through her, a thousand hours of condemning herself for believing the lies of a selfish teenage boy.

  “He did,” she answered. “I was a fool to fall for that bullshit.” She’d been so dazzled by the most popular boy at school noticing her she hadn’t even realized she was being played. Ty had tried to warn her, but there was nothing that would have stopped her from giving Trent anything he wanted. The thought of how desperate she’d been made her stomach turn even after so many years.

  “Did you—”

  Dina shook her head. “He was my first,” she said quietly. “But my mom was a nurse at the university’s student health service. It was her mission to make sure I practiced safe sex.” She gave a mock shudder. “I still have nightmares from the things she described to me. I was in love with Trent, but that didn’t change the ‘if you want to ride the bike, you have to wear the helmet’ rule. Then he broke up with me to date you.”

  “How could I forget?” Jenny shot back. “I’d managed to fly under the social radar until then, but you made sure everyone hated me.”

  “I didn’t hate you,” the other woman clarified. “I was jealous. He made it clear that, unlike me, you weren’t a prude.”

  “Because I was an idiot.”

  “All I knew was you’d stolen my boyfriend.”

  “That isn’t how it happened.”

  “Does it matter?”

  Yes, Jenny wanted to scream. It mattered because it had changed her whole life. She couldn’t imagine her sweet, soft-spoken mother ever talking about safe sex—or any kind of sex. Mona never quite knew what to do with her fiery, argumentative, outspoken daughter. As close as Jenny had been to Ty, she’d resented her mother’s second-class status in the Bishops’ house and in the larger community.

  All Jenny had ever wanted was to be loved—to be the most important thing in someone’s life. Mona loved her, but she was also dedicated to the family that employed her. It had been difficult for Jenny to share her mother’s attention, so when Trent first noticed her, it had felt like stepping into the sun after a lifetime of gray skies. Need had made her believe he loved her when she was really only an easy conquest for him.

  “You’re right.” She took a step toward Dina. “It doesn’t matter because I’ve ‘traded up’ as you put it.”

  “Owen Dalton seems like a really nice guy.”

  Jenny leaned forward. “Are you saying that because you’re trying to figure out what he’s doing with someone like me?”

  Dina shook her head, her voice gentling. “I’m happy for you. I know it wasn’t easy for you in high school, especially after . . .” She shrugged. “It sounds like you’ve made a great life for yourself and that you deserve it. I’ve seen Ty Bishop at a couple of charity functions in Denver. He sings your praises to anyone who will listen, and Owen dotes on you. You’re surrounded by people who love you.”

  Jenny clamped shut her mouth. How was she supposed to respond to a statement like that?

  “A lot of people get stuck in the patterns they developed when they were teens.” Dina gave a small laugh. “No names mentioned,” she said, and pointed a finger at herself, “but real life isn’t high school. It’s nice to know you understand the difference.”

  “Why are you being nice to me?” Jenny asked, narrowing her eyes as she glanced over her shoulder. “Is your posse rigging up a bucket of pig blood to dump on my head or something?”

  Dina’s eyes widened, except not a lot because her face was frozen. Jenny wondered what it was about certain women that made them terrified of aging. Jenny had plenty of issues, but at least worrying about wrinkles wasn’t one of them. “I don’t have a posse anymore,” she said, and dabbed at the corner of her eye.

  “I saw you a week ago,” Jenny argued. “No offense, but you were the same petty girl from a decade ago. You insinuated my son was a mistake.”

  “I . . . it wasn’t . . . I’ve been under a lot of stress lately.” She looked to the floor. “My husband is screwing our nanny.”

  “Asshole,” Jenny muttered, an unexpected burst of sympathy flashing through her.

  “That’s putting it mildly.” Dina drew in a shuddery breath. “She’s nineteen and has the body of . . . well, a nineteen-year-old.”

  “I saw you here with him tonight. Why didn’t you kick him to the curb?”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do, so I haven’t done anything yet.” Dina rolled her eyes. “Except cry a lot. I also bought some new lingerie because . . . well, he says part of the reason he did it is because things haven’t been exciting between us lately.”

  Jenny stepped forward and wrapped both her hands around Dina’s tiny, toned arms. “What he did wasn’t your fault.”

  She knew this because what she’d done to Owen had nothing to do with him. For a married man to have sex with the girl who watched his children . . . what a scumbag. She might not like Dina very much, but no one deserved that.

  “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. None of my friends know, and John wants to pretend like nothing happened.” She sniffed. “Although I’m not sure he wants to stop sleeping with her. I think he hopes I’ll pretend like nothing is wrong.”

  “You need to stand up for yourself,” Jenny told her.

  “We have a good life.”

  “Your life is a lie.” Jenny said the words on a hiss of breath, then squeezed shut her eyes because her life was a lie she’d purposely created for just that reason. She wanted to stick it to the people she’d known in high school. She wanted them to believe she was better than they were, but all of it was based on a lie.

  Shit.

  “How do I live it any other way?” Dina was watching her as if Jenny had all the answers. “I’m not you. I’m not brave or independent . . .”

  Double shit.

  Jenny swallowed. “I’m going to tell you something,” she whispered. “Then you’ll know—”

  The bathroom door burst open at that moment. “Dina, what are you doing?”

  Three women piled in and Jenny heard a chorus of strangled gasps behind her.

  “I’m sorry for this.” Dina shrugged off Jenny’s touch. “Get your hands off me,” she shouted. “This is a reunion, not a biker bar. If you have a problem, grow up and use your words.”

  “Are you okay, Dina?” Brenna reached out to pull Dina away from Jenny like she was rescuing her from the hounds of hell. “They’re about to announce the reunion king and queen. You and John are sure to win,” she gushed. “You’re the perfect couple.”

  Jenny saw the other woman’s slight flinch, as if the words sliced through her. But a moment later Dina smiled that high school prom-queen smile, fluffed her blond hair, and said, “Of course we’ll win. Who else can hold a candle to us?”

  Would the real Dina—bitter mom bully or emotionally shattered wife—please stand up? Jenny opened her mouth to take down the whole troop of them, then stopped. What purpose would it serve, and who was she to cast stones?

  As much as Dina was perpetrating a lie, so was Jenny. She wasn’t in a position to sit in judgment of anyone.

  “Good luck to you,” she called, earning an apologetic smile from Dina and a round of glares from the other women.

  They bustled Dina out of the bathroom. Jenny followed a few moments later. She had a headache the size of the Oklahoma Panhandle and wanted nothing more than to disentangle herself from the fresh hell she’d created with her stupid mouth.
<
br />   What she really wanted was to track down Owen, pull him from this event, and plaster her mouth to his. She wanted to make his throwaway comment about getting a room a reality and stay in that room all night long and find out if he could truly live up to the promise of his touch.

  It might not even matter. If he was willing, she was ready enough for both of them.

  The thought of getting naked with Owen did wonders for her headache. Who cared if it was a horrible idea? The whole night had been a cluster sundae. Why not put a big fat cherry on top?

  Before heading back to the reunion, she veered off to the reception desk and booked a room. She hadn’t ever wanted to be with a man as much as she did Owen. When the woman behind the counter set the plastic key card in her hand, a thrill of anticipation rippled along her spine. Clasping the small piece of plastic between her fingers, she turned and—

  “Trent.”

  “Hello, Jennifer.”

  Trent Decker stood in front of her, a grown-up version of the overly confident boy she remembered. He was still handsome, although his chiseled features seemed almost like a caricature to her. His dark hair had thinned slightly, but he still wore it gelled in front. With his pale eyes and tanned face, he could have been the cover model for a cheap dime-store novel.

  Anger replaced the anticipation, swift and sure like a kick to the gut. He’d always called her Jennifer, as if the three syllables would elevate her regular name and her common background to levels worthy of his opinion of himself.

  As a sixteen-year-old girl, under the mesmerizing spell of first love, she’d imagined changing her name to Vanessa or Jacqueline—something sophisticated that would make her fit into his world. As if her name mattered. As if any piece of her was important to him, other than the fact that she was an easy piece of ass.

  “Are you here to talk about your son?”

  So much for being cautious. She might not want Trent in her son’s life, but Cooper had a right to know his father. Especially when Trent had clearly gotten over his purported aversion to the role.

  He gave a strangled laugh, color rising on his cheeks. “You always were blunt.”

  “You always were a jackass,” she replied. “I’ve seen your perfect family on social media.”

  He raised a brow. “Checking up on me?”

  She ignored the question. “What happened to not being cut out for fatherhood?”

  “I grew up. Give me a break, Jennifer. We were kids. I was in no place to raise a child.”

  “And you think I was?”

  His green eyes narrowed. “I gave you a choice.”

  “Shoving a couple hundred bucks at me wasn’t a choice. It was an insult.”

  They glared at each other for several long seconds, and then he sighed. “How is he?”

  “Do you even remember his name?”

  “Cooper. How is Cooper?”

  “Smart, sweet, perfect,” she answered automatically. “Nothing like you.”

  He inclined his head. “I suppose I deserve that, but you—”

  “Is your wife here with you?”

  His shoulders stiffened under the tailored suit he wore. “No. It would have been complicated.”

  “Because she doesn’t know you have another son,” she guessed.

  “She knows. But our kids are young and it might—”

  Oh, hell no. She would not stand there and listen to him tell her that Cooper’s very existence could be a burden to his other children. “Save it, Trent. You’re not really his father anyway.” Satisfaction burned in her gut when his head snapped back.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “A father is a man who cares for his child. A man who makes an effort to be a part of his son’s life.” Anger continued to thunder through her, obliterating the wispy tendrils of shameful regret she often felt when she thought of how much of herself she’d given to Trent. Fury seemed to clear her mind, allowing her to feel confident in her belief that the man did not deserve a place in her son’s life.

  She jabbed a finger into Trent’s chest. “You’re nothing more than a sperm donor. Don’t talk to me, Trent. Don’t ask about my son. Go back to your picture-postcard family and leave me alone, the way you have since the day you walked out of my life.”

  “My name is on the birth certificate,” he countered. “If I wanted to be a part of his life, I could. I have rights, Jennifer.” Contempt burned in his eyes, and suddenly she realized she’d done it again. Ran her mouth before thinking about the consequences of what she was saying.

  “It’s fine, Trent,” she told him, trying to change her voice to a placating tone. “Cooper is fine. He’s a good boy. He’s happy. There are plenty of people in his life who care about him. He doesn’t need you.”

  “A boy needs his father.” He adjusted his tie as if his collar was too tight. “Maybe I’ll stay an extra day and meet him.”

  “You don’t want that. You just said your other kids don’t even know he exists.”

  “Maybe it’s time they learn. If we handle it the right way, they’d be happy to discover they had an older brother, especially little Mikey.”

  “Stop acting like you care.” She prayed he didn’t recognize the edge of desperation in her voice. So much pretending. So many lies.

  “The last time I checked,” he said, “you weren’t privy to my feelings. I only agreed to come to the reunion once I heard you’d be here. If you’d given me a chance before jumping down my throat, I—”

  “No.”

  He had to be manipulating her again. There was no way Trent truly wanted to be a father after all these years.

  But doubts quickly quashed her anger, leaving her adrift in the familiar sea of second-guessing herself. What was she trying to accomplish? Despite shrugging it off, there was a good chance Cooper truly wanted to get to know his father.

  He’d been hurt by Trent’s tacit rejection, but her boy had the biggest heart of anyone, capable of rivers of forgiveness. What if he wanted to meet his half sisters and baby brother? As far as she knew, Trent had a stable home, a solid job. He hadn’t given her a thing for twelve years, but if he chose to step back into Cooper’s life, did she have the right to stop him?

  He didn’t answer, and she forced her lips to remain pressed together, afraid of antagonizing him further.

  “I was wondering where you’d gone.”

  She whirled around to find Owen standing behind her. She pressed a hand to her chest, her fingers still clutching the card key. His gaze clouded over as if he saw something he hadn’t expected. Something that disappointed him.

  As if she’d disappointed him.

  The last time he’d had to come looking for her at an event, he’d found her in the arms of another man. Surely he could feel the tension crackling between Trent and her? Hell, she’d been reserving a room to share with Owen.

  His gaze dropped to her hands as she shoved the plastic card into her purse. Of course, he didn’t know why she had the key, and she wasn’t exactly a sure bet. For a moment she ignored the tumult of emotions running through her and focused on the way she’d felt the moment she heard his voice.

  Relieved. Safe. Happy.

  In a move so out of character as to be ridiculous, she threw her arms around his neck. “I missed you,” she murmured against the base of his throat.

  While she’d only been away from the party for fifteen minutes or so, the words were true. They were also more—an acknowledgment of what she’d willingly thrown away because of her fears and doubt.

  His hands came around her waist, although his shoulders remained stiff. “You shouldn’t have been gone so long,” he murmured into her hair. His gentle admonishment made her knees go weak because it gave her hope that he was also talking about more than the reunion.

  He shifted her away from him, and she had to force herself not to cling to him like a barnacle.

  They both faced Trent, who held out his hand. “Trent Decker,” he said, pumping Owen’s fist. “I hea
rd a rumor you were going to grace us with your presence tonight. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet you.”

  “Owen Dalton. I’m . . .” Owen paused, glanced down at Jenny, then said, “I’m here with Jenny.”

  She released the first easy breath she’d taken all night. Owen was there with her. That wasn’t a lie, even by omission. She was done with lies.

  “Jennifer and I knew each other in high school,” Trent offered smoothly.

  Owen didn’t react, although he understood how she’d known Trent. “I’ve heard.”

  “I own a little stock in your company,” Trent told him, flashing an ingratiating smile. “I’m pretty sure you paid for my last vacation. A Disney cruise.” He gave a small chuckle. “That’s one expensive mouse, you know?”

  Jenny sucked in a breath as she felt the sudden change in Owen. He’d been reserved before, but now a quiet fury radiated from him. Did he have something against Walt Disney?

  “Did you take your whole family?” Owen asked Trent.

  “Yeah, man. Even the in-laws. I figured—”

  “All of your kids?”

  “Sure,” Trent answered. “My son was only—” He stopped, swallowed as if suddenly realizing the mistake he’d made. He changed tack. “You know I’m in the technology business, too.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a business card that he held out to Owen. “I work for a company that brokers relationships between civilian companies and the military. Word on the street is Dalton Enterprises is looking to extend their reach into new markets. I’d love to buy you a drink or grab a bite before I head back, to talk about how we might be able to facilitate things for you.”

  “Maybe another time,” Owen said, keeping his hands firmly in his pockets. “I think I’m going to be busy planning a vacation for my family. Who knows, I might even rent out a theme park for the day.” He reached out and pulled Jenny close against his side. “Wouldn’t that be fun, sweetie pie?”

  Jenny’s stomach lurched at the thought of her and Cooper making a family with Owen, even if it would never happen. Trent wasn’t going to believe—

  “Wow,” Trent murmured. “That sounds great. Sure beats standing in line with the masses.”