by Ryan, Lexi
“You said she wanted the buyer to be married.” I swallow hard. “That’s why this was going to work. We would both get something out of this marriage.”
“I don’t need anything more from this marriage than you.” He shrugs. “I never did.”
“But that wasn’t what you said when I agreed.” My heart is racing and a wave of nausea hits me so hard that I worry I might lose my lunch. “I wouldn’t have agreed if I’d known—”
“If you’d known what?” His voice cracks, and his eyes blaze with emotion that blows me over. “That I love you? I already told you that, but you said I was misinterpreting a friendly love for something else. Or maybe you wouldn’t have agreed if you’d known that I actually wanted to spend my life with you? But then, I’ve been honest about that too. But maybe you mean you wouldn’t have agreed if you’d known he was going to come back into your life. Maybe you need to be honest with yourself and admit that your worries about this marriage have nothing to do with what we have and everything to do with him.”
“That’s not fair.” But guilt and reason collide with my defensiveness, and I know on some level he’s right.
“I’ve spent the last six months planning my wedding to a woman I love, and suddenly, I found out she was already married. You really want to talk about fair right now?”
Cami walks into the kitchen, her gaze ping-ponging between me and Julian. “Mommy, what’s wrong?”
Julian steps away from me and braces his arms against the counter, squeezing his eyes shut and taking deep breaths.
“Nothing, baby. Julian and I were just having a little argument.”
Cami bites her bottom lip. She’s not used to this. The few disagreements Julian and I have had, we’ve had away from her, and he’s never raised his voice at me.
I pull her into a hug and kiss the top of her head. “Sorry if we scared you.”
She shrugs. “People fight sometimes. Daddy and Victoria fight, but Daddy always sends me out of the house with Rosalie if he thinks I can hear.”
I swallow hard, wondering what kind of fights she hears at her father’s house and how many times she’s been sent away with the housekeeper.
“We can do this another time.” Julian rubs the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Julian . . .”
He meets my eyes from across the kitchen and waits for what I have to say, but I have nothing.
I’m sorry I married someone else and have no memory of it.
I’m sorry you’ve always loved me more than I’ve loved you.
I’m sorry I’m so confused right now.
“Walk me out?” he asks.
I nod. “Cami, I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Sure. Thanks for dinner, Julian.” She waves at him and runs back into the living room, clearly unconcerned about what she overheard.
I follow Julian to the hall and pull the door shut behind me before leaning against it.
“Have you even filed for divorce yet?”
I stare at my feet, too frustrated with him and myself and this whole situation to admit that I haven’t done more than look it up online to see if I could even get a divorce if my husband doesn’t want it. Turns out I can. “I still need to do the paperwork.”
“I guess I should’ve known.” He barks out a dry laugh and squeezes the back of his neck. “Brinley . . . can you at least tell me if I have a chance here?”
Guilt and sorrow and frustration twist like a ball of thorns in my gut. “Everything is happening so fast. Changing so fast. I can’t get my bearings.”
He shakes his head. “Nothing has changed. I’m still the guy who wants to spend his life with you. I’m still the guy you trusted enough to say yes—without being dragged drunk to a chapel.” He blows out a long, slow breath. “I’m the guy who’s here. The one you can count on. The one who isn’t going anywhere.”
“I know.” And those are all the reasons I should protect what we have, all the reasons our plans were perfect. But perfect is starting to feel like a trap.
“I’ll pick you up at six tomorrow for dinner with your parents.” He brushes a kiss across my forehead.
As he walks away, I realize that nowhere in his speech was the argument that he’s the guy who can convince my parents to give me my trust. The trust has never been more than a superficial part of his reasoning. Julian’s case for us has always been rooted in everything else. I’m the one so obsessed with finally feeling secure and independent that I couldn’t see anything but the money. And if I can’t appreciate the rest of what he’s offering, I’m not sure I deserve any of it.
Chapter Twelve
Brinley
February 21st, before
Another day, another visit with my sister, another round of the silent treatment. She’s barely looked up from her phone since she saw me walk in the door of her hospital room.
Every round of treatments, she looks less like the vivacious little sister I grew up playing dolls with and more like a hollowed-out shell of her old self. She’s pale and painfully thin, and she sleeps so much I find myself staring at her wondering if this’ll be the time she doesn’t wake up. But when she’s alert and I’m around, she uses her limited energy to ignore me. I don’t know which is worse.
“I’ll leave you alone,” I finally say, pushing out of the lumpy chair by her bed.
“Wait, Brin.” She drops her phone onto her sheets. “Don’t go.”
Swallowing, I turn. She’s five feet away, but I feel like there are oceans between us. And maybe there are. We’re living completely different lives. Or—I’m living, and she’s surviving.
“Tell me something,” she says, tilting her head to the side. She doesn’t have her wig on today, just a pink bandana, tied in the back. She calls it “cancer chic” and hates the look as much as she hates the hospital gown.
“Like what?” I ask, but I sit back down. She doesn’t believe me when I say it, but I want to spend time with Brittany. I miss her laugh and her smiles. I miss her friendship.
“Anything. Tell me about the last time Dad was a jerk, or what the gossip is at school, or who Stella’s making out with.” She gives me a weak smile. “Anything. Just talk to me.”
I bite my lip and study her. “I’m still seeing that guy I told you about.”
She smiles, actually smiles at me, which she hasn’t done in way too long. “Are you ever going to reveal the identity of this mystery man?”
“Marston Rowe.” I’m nearly giddy at just the sound of his name from my lips. He’s my favorite secret.
Brittany gasps. “The ex-con?”
“Oh my God, that was a rumor. He got in a little trouble and was put on probation, but he’s never been to jail.”
She shrugs. “Still. Bet he’s more interesting than Roman.”
I bite back a laugh, but my smile falls away when I admit, “I’m in love with him.”
“Aww! Brinley! Oh my God!” She’s all smiles. “I told you those machines work!”
“What machine—are you seriously going to use my relationship with Marston as a way to justify your obsession with those fortune-teller machines?”
“Remember the fortune you got this summer? It said, and I quote, This is the year you find great love—right when you need it most.”
“The fortunes are all generic. It’s a total money grab.”
“So you wouldn’t call this great love?”
I draw in a sharp breath. Because I would, but I never realized love could be so scary. “If Mom and Dad knew . . .”
She grabs my hand and holds it so tight it hurts. “Don’t let them rule you. You see what happens when they get to make the choices?” She waves a hand, indicating her chemo-ravaged body. “This.”
I shake my head. “Britt, they’re trying to save you.” My eyes brim with tears because I know where this conversation is going, where she’s taken it before, and it hurts to even hear her ask.
“They’ve been pumping me full of poison for years. I just w
ant to be done, Brinley.” She shakes her head slowly. Her big eyes look almost cartoonish on her gaunt face. “And they won’t let me go.”
“Tell the doctors again. Maybe they’ll listen if you ask to stop the chemo. Maybe if—”
“They won’t. I need to do it myself, and I need your help.”
I crawl into the bed beside her, tears rolling down my face. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the only family I have that sees me.”
“Don’t look for that from Mom and Dad. Go to Stella. Go to Marston.” She strokes my hair. My little sister, sounding so wise. My dying sister, comforting me. “We make our own family.”
* * *
Marston
“I don’t want to move,” Brinley says, her head on my chest, her legs tangled with mine. “Can we stay here forever?”
I look at the clock. It’s nearly four in the afternoon, and she and I have had a rare full weekend afternoon alone together. “Not forever, but you aren’t expected home for another few hours.”
Aunt Lori is at the Knoxes’ all day, and I managed to weasel out of catering duties. Brinley told her parents she’d be at the library studying for her chemistry final. I hate that she has to lie so much to be with me, but we both know they wouldn’t bend on this. Asking for permission would only lead to them keeping a closer eye on her, and her parents—her father, particularly—are too controlling as it is.
“Brittany asked me a favor again.”
I stroke her back, unsure what else to do. This is the third time she’s brought up her sister wanting her to do her a “favor.” The first time was at the lake, another time when we were driving around for hours, and now. She’s never told me what the favor is, and I haven’t pushed. Honestly, I think I already know, and I don’t want her to have to say it out loud.
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” I say softly, because I want to protect her from this—from the pain of losing her sister and the heartache of being asked to shoulder a burden no one should have to.
“It’s easy to say that, but she doesn’t see it that way.” Brinley swallows and snuggles closer. “She doesn’t want to keep fighting. This is her fourth round of chemo, and she gets sicker and weaker every time. She doesn’t want to fight anymore.”
I close my eyes and tighten my arms around her. “Has she told your parents?”
“Yes, but she’s a minor, so they get the final say.” She gives a shaky smile. “And my parents . . . She’s their baby, and they don’t understand that this is no way to live.”
I kiss the top of her head and sigh. “I’m so sorry, Brinley.”
“There’s a guy at school who sells narcotics and sleeping pills. She knows exactly how much she needs, but he knows why she wants them. He knows what she’s going to do and refuses to sell to her.”
“So, she wants you to do it?”
“I’m the only one she can ask, but I just . . . I don’t know if I could live with myself if I knew I was responsible for that.”
“It’s not fair of her to ask. That’s too much. She has to know you’d carry it with you forever.”
She turns her face into my chest. “I’ve spent the five years since her diagnosis completely helpless. I keep my grades up and do everything my parents ask of me so they don’t have to worry about me on top of everything else. I visit Brittany as often as she’ll let me, but none of that matters. None of it gives her a break from the grueling nausea, the infections that land her in the hospital, or the bone-deep exhaustion. None of it will give her her life back.”
“It’s not your job to do that—and you couldn’t anyway. You take this all on your shoulders because you love her, because you’re her big sister, but no one but the doctors can fix this, and even they have limits.”
“It’s just so heavy,” she whispers.
“I know. I wish I could help.”
She swallows hard and trails her fingers up my chest, across my shoulders and then down my arm. When she reaches my hand, she laces our fingers together. “You can. Kind of. Brittany told me we make our own family, and I realized you’re that for me. The good kind of family.”
I hold her tighter and say a silent prayer that I can always be that for her.
“Will you hold me like this while I sleep?”
My chest feels too heavy and too tight. Everyone looks at Brinley Knox and sees a spoiled rich girl with the perfect life. They have no idea how much she carries on her shoulders. “I’ll hold you as long as you want.”
Chapter Thirteen
Brinley
Present day
I don’t look up from my computer when I hear Wren come in for our weekly meeting. “Just let me finish this,” I say, typing out the end of my email.
“Take your time.”
I do look up at the sound of Julian’s voice. We haven’t talked since he left my place last night. I tossed and turned thinking about our wedding and the way he misled me about Ms. Hilton. I stared at the ceiling as I thought about all the reasons I’d agreed to the marriage. All in all, my thoughts didn’t get me anywhere, and I’m not quite sure I’m ready to see him again. “What are you doing here?”
He places a cup of coffee on my desk before settling his messenger bag in Cami’s chair. “I missed you, and I hated that we argued last night.”
It’s more than that, and we both know it. He’s here because Marston’s here.
I push away from my desk and get up to close the door. Everyone around the spa—especially Marston, who’s in temporary residence in the office down the hall—is too invested in what happens with me and Julian, and I don’t need eavesdroppers on top of everything else right now.
When I turn back to Julian, he’s grinning. “I have good news.”
“Yeah?” Relief washes over me. Maybe he does have a reason for being here beyond jealousy. “What is it?”
“My administrative assistant is pregnant, and she’s decided not to come back after the baby’s born.”
“Well, that’s exciting for her. What are you going to do? I thought you loved her?”
He steps forward and takes my hands in his. “She was great, but this means I don’t just need her to train a temp. I need her to train her replacement. It means there’s a position opening in my company.”
I frown. I still don’t understand how this is good news unless . . . Oh. Ooooh.
“You and I make such a great team. You can leave here. You won’t be at the mercy of Mrs. Wright and her kids. You could start training right away, and I wouldn’t have to go crazy knowing you’re spending your days with your ex.”
My mouth tastes sour. “You want me to leave this company and work for you just so you don’t have to think about me having a few conversations—business conversations—with Marston?”
“Brinley.” His face is a study of patience, but there’s a spark of frustration in his eyes. “This whole thing is nuts. They don’t pay you nearly what you’re worth here, and you work fifty hours a week. With me, you’d have an easy nine-to-five with better pay, better benefits, and we’d get more time together. You could focus on being a wife and a mom instead of giving all your energy to this place.”
I pull my hands from his grasp and step back. My head is spinning. “Did you forget the whole reason we’re doing this? I love The Orchid. I’m good at managing this place, and I don’t want to leave. My dream is to work for myself. To be completely in charge of my own life for once. That’s why I need my trust.”
“But wouldn’t it be nice to have that trust and use it for something else? Save it for Cami’s college and buy a house. Spoil yourself for once. I already have a business. We don’t need another.” He searches my face. “And working for me, well—isn’t that the next best thing to working for yourself?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s completely different.” My skin heats, and I can’t take a full breath. “I know you don’t know what it was like for me to grow up under my father’s thumb. You don’t know how he kept tabs on m
e even after I graduated from college. You don’t know how hard I fought to escape that feeling of being a prisoner in my own life, but I need you to try to understand: I’ll never be happy if I feel like someone else is controlling my fate.”
His smile falls away and he tilts his head to the side. “That seems a little dramatic. This isn’t an effort to control you. I just want to give you a good life.”
“I believe your intentions are pure. I do. But that’s not the life I want.”
“Which life don’t you want?” His face hardens and his nostrils flare. “The one where you work for me, or the one where you marry me?”
The words hurt me only because they’re so riddled with his pain, and I know that’s my fault. “You knew why I agreed to marry you. You knew and you lied to me to make me believe we were after the same thing.”
“We agreed to work together to make both of our lives better. That hasn’t changed. Nothing that matters is different here.”
“Everything’s changed.” I feel like he just pulled the rug out from under me and doesn’t understand why I’m scrambling. “We had a plan, rules, and now you’re completely changing the game. I don’t want to hurt you, Julian, but you’re not playing fair.”
“Is he?” he asks, his voice rough. “Coming in here, being part of this place you love so much more than me. Is he playing fair?”
“Are you off the hook for lying to me because Marston’s in town? Is that how this works? Do I have to give up my job and be your secretary because my ex is going to work beside me for a couple of weeks? Is that my punishment?”
Julian prowls forward, slow and angry. I back up and hit the wall, and he cages me in with a hand on either side of my head. “Your ex? Is that what he is to you? Does that mean you filed the paperwork? Tell me yes, and I’ll walk out of here and won’t say another word about him being in town and working with you. He can move in next door for all I care. Just tell me you filed.”
