“What the hell are you talking about, Starla?” My chest constricts as panic and worry flows through my body.
Tipping her head into her shoulder, she folds her arms across her chest. “Don't act like you don't know. You fucking used me, Bolt, you used me like garbage.”
“What are you talking about?” Holding out my arms, I open my eyes wide. “I don't have a damn clue what you're talking about.”
“Let me refresh your memory. . .” Taking a long step out of the room, she leans into me. “You had a plan, that plan involved me. You chose me to be your fake wife to embarrass your father! Are you fucking kidding me, Bolt? Am I that fucking disgusting? Am I really that far beneath you and your family?”
“Starla, let me explain—”
“There's nothing to explain, Bolt. The only reason I'm here is because I'm fucking poor, it's because I grew up broke, and not in a three story mansion. I'm not good enough for your family, you knew from the start what they would think of me. You let me believe that you actually liked me, but you never did, did you?”
“Star—”
Throwing up her hand, she crooks her jaw. “No, I don't want to hear a fucking word you have to say. I know how you truly see me, and nothing you can say will make it better.” Walking backwards into the room, she grips the door in her hand. “I'm garbage, Bolt, I'm a low life, poor girl, and would be such an embarrassment to your family. I can't believe I let you do this to me. If you want to humiliate your dad, you'll have to do it without me. I'm fucking done.”
Pulling the ring off her finger, she throws it at my feet. I hear it as it bounces off the floor and rolls into the hall. Slamming the door in my face, I'm left standing in the hall with clothes strewn around my feet like a pile of leaves.
I'm a fucking asshole. I never meant to hurt her this way.
This was supposed to be an easy plan. It was supposed to be simple. I just never thought about how it might affect her. All I cared about was what I wanted. All I saw was what I would lose if I didn't do this.
Now I lost the one and only thing that has ever mattered to me.
What I wanted in the beginning, and what I want now are two totally different things. Starla had become the air I need to breathe, the oxygen I need flowing through my veins, the blood I need beating through my heart.
I don’t care right now about the business or the money, all I care about is fixing my mistake. Except, how do I fix someone who is broken?
How do I fix what I did when the wounds aren't visible on the outside?
Starla isn’t an embarrassment or a humiliation; Starla is a goddess, she is an angel sent to brighten my world.
I need to fix this because I'm not ready to let her go.
Standing at the front desk, I tap my fingers against the counter. “Hi, I need to rent another room.”
“Let me see what I have available.” The woman starts tapping away on the keyboard, her eyes scanning the screen.
“Bolt? Bolt is that you?”
Looking over my shoulder, my Aunt Denise is standing behind me, with a huge smile on her face. She looks the same, as if she hasn't aged in the ten years since I saw her last.
Her hair is still jet black, her lips are covered in her signature red lipstick, and she has long dangling earrings that reach the tops of her shoulders. The only thing I notice is there are more wrinkles around her eyes as they scrunch up with her smile, and the skin on her hands is thinner, showcasing the deep blue veins under the surface.
“Aunt Denise, how are you?”
Throwing out her arms, she comes walking at me quickly and has me in a hug before I can stop her. Pulling herself off, she holds the outside of my arms and kisses each of my cheeks.
“Look at you, you're all grown up. And what a man you've become.” Taking a step back, she grins. “Let me get a good look at you.” Pinching my shirt, she pulls one arm away from my ribs as she runs her hand down my shoulder, smoothing out my shirt. “A few wrinkles here and there, but you look nice, Bolt.”
“Thanks, I guess.” With an awkward smile, my brows fold down. “When did you get in?”
“Late last night.” Her smile thickens as she dips her head and peers up. “So, what's this I hear about you getting married?”
Ah shit, it's out.
“Dad told you already?”
“Actually, it was your mother, which is surprising, but you know your father. He won't talk to me about stuff like this. Even when we were kids he always kept things so personal.” My aunt looked behind me, letting her eyes dance around the room. “Well, where is she? I want to meet this mystery girl.”
“She's uh, she's up in the room.”
“Sir, I have a room available for you.” The clerk hands me the key card and slides a paper across the desk. “Just sign here for me.”
Signing my name, I slide it back and look at my aunt. “She's actually not feeling well, some sort of stomach thing. We're being cautious, don't want to go getting everyone else sick too.”
“Well, I can't wait to meet her. I hope she feels better by this evening.” Slapping my arm lightly, she leans in and whispers. “Your mother didn't sound very happy, so forgive me if this little rebellious act of yours makes me excited.”
My mother and my dad's sister have never gotten along. I was told there's a story behind their little tiff, but no one wants to talk about it. All I was ever able to get out of my father was that he had been dating my aunt's best friend, he met my mother, and the rest is history.
Whatever the details are, my aunt doesn't like my mom, and my mom doesn't like her. They've coexisted through the years, walking side by side, but never crossing paths. I think the only reason my mother ever tells her anything at all is because she feels it's her responsibility to.
“I need to get going, not much time left to get ready.” Tapping my new key card against the center of my palm, I start in the direction of my new room. “See you tonight.”
“I'm excited, can't wait to meet the new Mrs. Bolt Sheckler.”
I spend the afternoon, pacing my room, wondering how to get her back and trying to get ready for this stupid reunion. Fixing my suit, I sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the phone. I want to talk to her, the desire and need is itching my fingers, and I can't take my eyes off the phone.
Fuck it. I have to try.
Lifting the receiver, I plug the room number in and listen to it ring. I don't have a clue what I'm going to say, I just really want to hear her voice.
It rings over and over, and I'm starting to lose hope that she's going to answer. I'm about to hang up, when her voice comes out of the speaker.
“Hello?” she asks, her tone full of sadness and pain.
She sounds broken. It's all my fault.
I'm such a fucking asshole.
“Hey,” I say.
Scoffing, Starla barks into the phone. “I told you I was done, and I meant it. Goodbye, Bolt.”
“Wait, don't hang up.” I push the phone harder against my ear. “I really want to talk to you, give me five minutes to explain myself, please, that's all I ask.”
“You had the past two months to explain yourself, and you said nothing. I don't even care if your family thinks I'm a humiliation. I feel stupid for not knowing everything from the start and not seeing it. Time's up, Bolt, you lost.”
Click
The phone goes dead and I'm left with a million words inside my head, and no one to listen. I can’t blame her for being mad, but it hurts that she won’t give me a chance to lay it all out on the table. I want her to know the position I was in at the start, and what drove me to make the choices I did.
I want to tell her that in the beginning it was all about the money and getting back at my father, but that isn’t the case anymore. Things changed, I changed, and I want the chance to make things right.
Hanging up the phone, I reluctantly rise to my feet and straighten my back. Closing the door to my room, I let out a defeated breath and head down to the reunion.<
br />
The music is loud, people are talking and dancing, smiling and laughing. Everyone is all dolled up in their Sunday best. My family isn’t small. My father has five other siblings, my mother has four, and all of them have kids who are starting families of their own.
Small children are running between adults’ legs around the dance floor, giggling and jumping like grasshoppers.
Stepping over a little boy, he reaches out and snatches my ankle, gripping it tightly. Looking down, the little boy has big blue eyes and blond hair. He's wearing a green button up with khaki pants and tiny little dress shoes. He's got the Sheckler nose, and the small dimple in his chin that two of my aunts have.
“What are you doing?” I ask him as he grins up at me.
Letting out a crazed laugh only children can get away with, he tips his head back and cackles. “Walk!” he yells, digging his tiny nails into my skin.
“Walk? But you're holding my leg.”
“Walk!” he yells again, rolling onto his stomach, and clutching my ankle like it's a baseball bat.
Pursing my lips, I shrug. “All right, but you're just going to fall off. I walk really, really fast, and your tiny little hands aren't strong enough.” Taking an exaggerated step, I pick up my pace as he hangs on to my surprise.
Dragging the boy across the dance floor, his eyes are twinkling under the lights, and the laughter in his voice causes my chest to constrict.
“Faster!” he calls out, squeezing my ankle even harder. “Faster!”
Before I know it, another child is on my other leg, then a third and a fourth. All of them are laughing hysterically, their mouths open wide as I trudge around the dance floor like I'm wearing cement shoes.
But I'm not annoyed with these kids, not like I would have been before. I'm happy for the moment, enjoying their playful spirit.
“All right, all right,” my father's voice chimes in my ear as he waves his hands at the cluster of children. “Let the man go.”
The children all pop up from the floor, scattering in different directions like ants. I watch them for a second, as the first boy runs into his mother's arms giggling. She kisses the top of his head and looks up at me with a smile.
Nodding my head, I smile with closed lips. Something ignited inside my core while I was playing around with those kids. I don't know what it is, but I don't have the urge to push it away.
“That's your cousin, Faith. She's my brother Tony's oldest daughter. You never really got to meet her because they moved to Washington when you were one.”
“Oh,” I say, watching her hug the little boy and ruffle his hair. “He's a cute kid.” My chest swells, expanding like a hot air balloon as that feeling in my gut moves through my body.
“He is. He looks a lot like you when you were his age. He's got the Sheckler nose, that one.” Clearing his throat, my father looks around the room. “So, where's your wi—Starla?”
My eyes dart to his as he catches himself and calls her by her name. Smiling, I fold my arms across my chest. “She's not feeling well,” I say, not wanting to tell him the truth.
“I'm sorry to hear that.” Gripping my shoulder, he gives me a little shake. “I was looking forward to getting to know her better.”
Snapping my head in his direction, my brows dip in hard. “What?”
Did he really just say that?
Grinning, my father reaches out and grabs two glasses of wine as the waiter walks past us. Handing one to me, he takes a sip of his. “Your mother and I have been talking, and you're right. I don't know a thing about this girl. But, I'd like to, I'd love to get to know the woman who stole my son's heart.”
“Wait, what's going on here?” Taking a step to the side, I turn to face him straight on. “This isn't what you were saying earlier. What changed?”
“Your mother.” Holding the glass to his lips, he chugs the rest of his wine and sets the empty glass on the table beside us. “She made me realize a few things.”
“Like what?” I'm confused. His sudden change doesn’t make sense, not after this morning.
“Like the fact that she wasn't welcomed into our family at first either. Your grandmother hated that I chose her. Your aunts hated her too. Your mother was loud, she was bold, she was the opposite of what everyone else wanted. And I chose her anyway because she was right for me.”
“But Mom was upset too, so why did she change her mind?”
Letting out a weighted breath, he angles his head. “She wasn't upset about who you married, Bolt, she was upset that you got married and didn't tell us. She wanted to be there for it. She feels like you took that from her. Your mother has wanted to watch you get married since you were a young boy. It makes her sad that you didn't want her there for it. But, we do want to get to know Starla, we want to see what you see. If she makes you happy, then I'm happy.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
Wrapping his arm around my neck, he gives me a side hug. “I'm sorry for pushing you so hard with all this crap. I was wrong to do that. I'm just happy it looks like it all worked out.” His smile is full and light, and I'm not sure I've ever seen him look so happy before. “Please, just don't hide any babies from us, let us be there for that.”
Did it work out?
I want to ask his advice. I want him to tell me how to fix this thing I broke.
Because I'm not sure how to fix a broken heart.
“Dad—”
“Oh, excuse me, Bolt, someone is waiting for me.” My father lets go of my shoulder and walks to the dance floor before I can get out the rest.
His eyes light up as he gives me one last grin over his shoulder, biting his lip and flashing his brows. His stride is smooth, he's moving his hips and shaking his shoulders to the beat of the music.
My mother is standing there with a huge smile on her face, her eyes twinkling as my father dances his way to her. It's easy to see the love they have for each other.
And as I stand there watching them dance, watching my father kiss her softly as he holds her waist and they spin in circles, I finally understand what he's been pushing me to find.
It wasn't just about him giving me orders or controlling me. He wanted me to have what they have. He wants me to feel what they feel.
There's a sensation that comes over you when you fall in love. There are no words to describe it, it can't be explained to someone else. It has to be felt. It has to flow through your body and fill all those empty spaces.
Starla did that. She filled the voids, she made me smile, she made me look past what people have and see what was important.
All the money in the world didn't matter if you had no one to share your life with.
I can’t imagine sharing my life with anyone else but her.
15
Bolt
Clink
The green light pops on, and that's all I need to see. Throwing my shoulder into the door, it flies open easily and I stumble into the room. I expected it to be barricaded, maybe blocked by the couch or a table. It isn’t.
There's a weight inside my chest and I need to get it out. I have a million things I want to say to her, a million things I should have said already, and one apology for being such an asshole and not telling her the truth from the beginning.
“Starla!” calling out her name, I storm through the living room, grabbing the double doors to the bedroom and shoving them open. “Star—”
Standing in the doorway, I see an empty room, with a perfectly made bed, and her suitcase gone. Walking to the dresser, I open all the drawers, but they're empty.
She's gone. . .
Running my hand back and forth over my neck, I drag it down my face, and turn in a circle. A sense of loss comes over me, forcing my heart into my throat and my stomach to knot up like rope.
I need to see her.
I'm not ready to just let her run away like this, I can't. Leaving the room, I don't even take the time to close the door. I'm not thinking about anything but finding her, holding her, kissing her, and l
etting her know how much she means to me.
All the things I should have done and said are eating away my brain and strangling my heart, making it hard to focus on anything else. If I don't get this out, if I don't tell her every word I have saved inside just for her, I'm not sure I'll ever be happy again.
“Come on, come on,” I say out loud as I slam the button in the elevator. The doors aren't closing fast enough, and I don't have time to stand around and wait.
Lurching off the elevator, I jog to the stairs and take them all the way down to the lobby. After ten flights of stairs, sweat is dripping down my temples, and my heart is racing as I try to catch my breath.
The door clanks shut behind me and I look side to side, hoping to see Starla somewhere in the lobby. People are moving through the room, my eyes are scanning every woman about Starla's height, or with hair color that is similar, but she's nowhere to be found.
“Bolt,” Yale's voice comes in from over my shoulder, so I turn around quickly. His brows crinkle and I know he sees the panic on my face. “You all right? What's going on? How come you're down here and not at the reunion?”
“Where is she?”
“Where's who?”
“Don't play stupid. Where's Starla?”
“Her? You're really down here looking for her?”
Looking past him, I keep searching the lobby, checking all the shadows and corners. “Have you seen her or not? I don't have time for this shit, Yale, just spit it out.”
“Well, yeah, I've seen her, but why does it matter? Didn't your father tell you to end it with her? I figured that's why you were with him this morning.”
Veering my stare, my voice bellows deep in the back of my throat. “Where is she, Yale?”
Yale's jaw jets to the side as the corner of his lip curls down. “She's gone.”
“What? What the hell do you mean she's gone? Where'd she go?”
His eyes soften as he looks down at his feet, then back up at me. “She's on her way home, Bolt, she said she wasn't going to stay, so I helped her get a taxi to the airport.” The tone in his voice shifts from high to low, and his shoulders start to buckle forward as he sees the anger on my face. “I'm sorry, I assumed you got what you wanted, and you were done with her anyway.”
The Convenient Wife Page 14
