by Ryan, Lexi
Julian frowns at me. “You invited Savannah?”
I shrug. “Strength in numbers.”
“Did I miss anything good?” Savvy asks.
“My dad gave a speech about how I’m a dumb, incompetent woman who’s lucky a man like Julian is willing to take me on as his charge.”
Julian grimaces. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“The way he talks, everyone in that room probably believes I’d electrocute myself making toast without supervision.”
Savvy wrinkles her nose. “At least he’s consistent?”
I give her an exaggerated fake smile and add, “It was fine. Everything’s fine. I’m so happy my parents came to town to show off my fiancé to their friends.” I throw out some jazz hands. “Yay!”
Frowning, Savvy looks at the door and back to me. “Tell me they’re at least paying for the booze.”
I slide my arm through hers. “Let’s go order the most expensive steaks and competitor bourbon.”
“You’re so devious, and I love it!”
Laughing together, we head back into the restaurant. I look over my shoulder to make sure Julian’s coming, and he schools his expression into a smile—but not before I see the twist of his frown and the irritation in his eyes.
He doesn’t like that Savvy interrupted our moment. I get that and respect it, but the way he looks at her like she’s the enemy? That doesn’t help this sinking feeling in my gut.
* * *
“Invite me in,” Julian says, squeezing my hand when we reach my door. “I know tonight was hard for you. Let me come in. It’s been over a week since we’ve been together.”
I tense. “I can’t—”
“Or we could just . . . unwind together.”
I nod, but not because I think the conversation we’ll have will be relaxing. I know what I need to do, and it’s not fair for me to put it off any longer. “Okay. Come on in.”
Stella’s yawning when she meets us at the door.
“Hey, Stella,” Julian says before stepping inside and pointing toward the powder room. “I’m going to use the facilities. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“I’ll pour the wine,” I say.
“Night, Julian,” Stella says. She waits until he disappears down the hall before turning back to me. “I know it’s barely past nine and I should be taking my newly single ass out to find a man, but I’m going home to crash. Don’t tell my twenty-one-year-old self. She’d disown me.”
I laugh quietly. “Your secret’s safe with me. You know you don’t need to rush into a new relationship, right?”
She waves a hand. “I know, I know, but I miss sex.”
I snort. “You and Bobby broke up less than a week ago.”
She arches a brow. “And what does that have to do with how long it’s been since I’ve been properly fucked?”
“Oh.” I make a face. “Was that why . . .?”
“Still not talking about it,” she says, but she softens the declaration with a wink.
Someday this girl is going to open up about what happened with Bobby, and I’m going to be ready. In the meantime, I’m just glad to have her back in the OV, even if it means she’s had to take up temporary residence in her mom’s guest room. “How’d it go with Cami tonight?”
“Awesome, of course. That girl wore me out, but we had fun.” She stretches her arms overhead and yawns again. “What about your night? Did your parents openly mock you for having flaws, or did they stick to the subtext burns tonight?”
“A little of both.” I grin, knowing she understands without explanation. “It sucked, but that’s nothing compared to how much it’s going to suck when I talk to them tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” She searches my face then seems to get it. “Oh, baby girl.”
I swallow hard, but I can already feel the tears burning my eyes. “I really wanted it to work. He’s a good guy, Stella.”
She nods. “He’s been good to you, but . . .”
“But I can’t marry him just for The Orchid,” I say, finishing the thought so she doesn’t have to. “That’s not fair to him.”
“It’s not fair to either of you,” she whispers. “What can I do?”
“Remind me it’s not the end of the world when my parents threaten to never speak to me again? And remind me I can climb out of debt and be independent without their stupid trust?”
“Done and done,” she says.
“I’ll pour the wine,” Julian calls from the kitchen.
“Thanks!” I reply over my shoulder.
Stella blows out a breath. “I’ll get out of here so you can . . .” Her gaze drifts toward the kitchen, and she swallows.
“Yeah.” I open the door for her. “Thank you for babysitting, and everything else.”
“Love you, boo.”
“Love you too.” I close the door behind her and head to the living room. The second I sink into the plush cushions of my sofa, my eyes float closed.
I listen to his heavy footsteps coming into the living room and force my eyes open.
He sets a glass of red wine on the coffee table, then drops something from his palm beside it. I can practically feel the air in the room chill. “Can we talk about why you even have this?”
Marston’s ring.
I swipe the ring from the table, then blink up at Julian, my resolve hardening. “You looked in my jewelry box?”
“Yeah. And since you’re hiding another man’s ring in there, I’m glad I did.”
“You looked at my messages without asking and then searched through my jewelry box.” I shake my head. “What the hell, Julian?”
“Why. Do. You. Have. It?”
I stare at the ring where it sits in the palm of my hand.
The one Julian gave me is a family heirloom. When he told my parents he planned to marry me and asked for their blessing, Mom took him straight to Orchid Valley Bank and Trust to pull it from their safe deposit box. When he put it on my finger, he told me how my mom cried when he agreed to use it in his proposal, and I imagined how pleased my grandmother would be to see it on my finger.
The one Marston gave me is less familiar, and in no way an antique, but somehow it’s no less precious. I wonder if we picked it out together that night—if he held me from behind, my back to his front, while I peered into the jewelry case and oohed and ahhed over the beautiful choices—or if he excused himself at some point during the evening and picked it out himself.
I stare at this piece of jewelry we both used as part of our vows and wonder how I was ever strong enough to take it off and walk away.
“Why do you have his ring?” There’s no denying the anger in Julian’s voice. I can’t blame him for it, either.
I finally lift my gaze to his. “Because he gave it to me. The night he came back into town, he gave it back to me.”
Julian’s jaw twitches, and I count the flutters in that little muscle as I wait for his response. “Why did you take it? Why were you keeping it in your jewelry box like it’s something you plan to keep?”
“Can we talk about you invading my privacy?”
“We’re getting married.” He paces the living room and drags a hand through his hair. “I’m in limbo here and getting nowhere with you. You barely let me touch you anymore—but, hey, why worry about me? I’m just the schmuck who wants to take care of you.”
“We’re not having sex, so that gives you the right to spy on me?”
“I don’t want to find shit out from your text messages or by digging through your room. I just want you to tell me what you’re thinking.”
I only control you when I need to. I only cross the line when you behave badly. I’ve lived that life. I’ve lived with the man who can be lavishly generous only to yank it all away the second you step out of line. Living with that kind of “love” nearly destroyed me. I’m not living it again. I pull his ring off my finger and drop both of them onto the table. “I can’t marry you.”
Julian snatches Marston’s ring and hurls it across the room.
It bounces off the wall and lands on the floor in front of the fireplace. “This is such bullshit!”
I shake my head. I don’t even recognize the angry man pacing in front of me. I feel like I’m dreaming. This is all so . . . Surely this isn’t real. But when I force myself to meet Julian’s eyes again, I see the hurt there. “Julian.” I should never have agreed to this. I resisted for six years for a reason. I knew I’d end up hurting him. “I’m sorry.”
He sinks to his knees in front of me. He picks up his ring, presses it into my hand, and closes my fingers around it. His grip is tight, and the stone digs painfully into my palm. “We’ll be fine,” he says, burying his face in my chest. “I’m sorry I’m panicking, but we can do this. We can get through this.”
I shake my head, but he can’t see me. I shove him back by his shoulders. “Listen to me.” I wait until he lifts his eyes to meet mine. “I can’t marry you.”
“You’re choosing him?”
I’m choosing me, but I don’t let myself say it.
“What about The Orchid? Buying that place is your dream.”
I shrug. “Everyone has dreams, but just because it’s my dream that doesn’t give me the right to act carelessly in my pursuit of it.” I pull my hand from his and uncurl my fingers. “I can’t marry you for business reasons when you’re marrying me for personal ones.”
“You love me.” He presses his hand to his stomach as if I’ve plunged a knife in there, and I have no choice but to twist the blade—to end this with the truth before I hurt him more.
“Not enough to marry you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Marston
Abraham fucking Knox is in town.
When I spotted him walking into the Spotted Duck tonight, it was every reminder I needed of why I stayed away from Orchid Valley for so long. To add insult to injury, I learned the Knoxes are in town for some sort of engagement party for Brinley and Julian.
At some point, I’m just going to have to accept that she’s not going to break it off with him. Maybe her reasons are bullshit or maybe they’re the right ones, but at the end of the day, she’s the one who gets to decide.
And she’s never led you to believe she’s going to choose anything but a life with Julian.
I came straight to Smithy’s to drown my sorrows. My old friend’s behind the bar tonight and keeping me entertained with stories from his short career in the NFL. I’m pretty sure half this shit isn’t true, but at least it’s taken my mind off Brinley and our just-on-paper marriage.
“How much longer are you going to stick around?” Smithy asks, plopping on the stool next to me.
I stare at my beer. “I’m not sure. I’m meeting the Wright family in Atlanta on Monday afternoon to report my findings on The Orchid, so that’s almost wrapped up.” Brinley laughed in my face when I gave her a rundown of my suggestions for the owners. Every update on my list is something she’s been after them to do for years. For her sake, I hope they’ll listen to me. Good management will only take the company so far before an unwillingness to put money back into the business will backfire on them.
“What about my cousin?”
“Good question.” If Brinley still wants to be Mrs. Julian Hallison, then maybe I need to fucking accept it and move on.
The only problem is that I don’t know how.
One second, my beer is in my hand, and the next it’s shattering on the floor and there’s a fist flying toward my jaw.
I block it without thinking and turn to see the glassy eyes of the man it’s connected to. Julian.
He smirks at the mess of broken glass and spilled beer at my feet. “Hey, Smithy,” he says, swaying on his feet, “you gonna let this bastard make a mess of your bar?”
Smithy slides off his stool. “Julian, you’re drunk. Cut it out.”
“I’ll call him a cab,” the redhead behind the bar says, pulling a phone from her pocket.
Julian’s eyes are bloodshot, and I wonder if getting this plowed is normal for him. “You think you’re hot shit since you have all this money. Think you can swoop in and just take her? Well, guess what—her parents will never accept you. It doesn’t matter how much money you have. They know who you really are.”
Smithy takes Julian by the forearm. “Come on, man. Let’s go cool off outside.”
“You don’t give a damn about anyone but yourself,” Julian says, sneering at me. He looks me over, not budging even as Smithy tugs him toward the door. “Now she thinks she can’t marry me. All because you’ve fucked with her head.”
My breath leaves me in a rush. She did it. She broke up with him.
I don’t realize I’m smiling until he swings at me with his free arm.
I dodge, and Smithy wraps Julian in a bear hug from behind, pinning his arms down at his sides.
“She can’t even remember that night.” Julian’s practically spitting his words. “I asked around. I know all about your past, and you haven’t fucking changed. You’re a thief who thinks he can take anything he wants. And now you think you can come back to town and steal my family.”
“Come on,” Smithy says. “Out you go.”
I’m barely aware of the people around me as I watch Smithy and a couple of other guys from the bar lead Julian outside.
Kace appears at my side. “Hey, Marston,” he says, but his attention’s on Smithy, who’s wrangling Julian into a cab on the other side of the window. “Let me buy you a drink. You earned it after that shit.”
I shake my head. “I have somewhere I need to be.”
Kace grins slowly. “Are you going to Brinley’s?”
I smack him on the shoulder and don’t bother to answer. “See you later.”
* * *
Brinley
Marston: Can I come over? We need to talk.
I roll to my back on the couch and reread Marston’s text. It’s after eleven, so I’m pretty confident that whatever he wants to talk about doesn’t involve The Orchid.
Me: I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Julian was here earlier and things got ugly.
I wait ten minutes, and when he doesn’t reply, I unlock my phone to text him again.
The doorbell rings.
Because I’m a coward, I pull up the app for my home security system to see who it is. I’m not ready to face Julian right now. I’ve never seen him as angry as he was tonight, and while he was entitled to his feelings, his rage scared me.
The camera shows Marston, head bowed as he waits, and I smile despite myself and go to answer it.
When I open the door, his head snaps up and he looks me over with fierce intensity, and I realize my mistake. I’m in my pajamas. They aren’t the kind of thing I’d choose to wear if I knew Marston would be seeing me, but that doesn’t seem to matter to him. His gaze skims over my thin white tank top and settles on my black cotton shorts before coming back up. A classier woman would’ve thought to put on a bra before answering the door, but something about motherhood took all the class out of me and replaced it with an endless need for comfort. Judging by Marston’s flared nostrils and parted lips, he doesn’t mind at all.
He’s wearing the same dark gray shirt from work today, but he’s discarded his tie and rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the tattoo around his right wrist. He swapped his dress pants out for jeans at some point. His hair’s a little mussed and he’s breathing hard, as if he ran all the way here. Holy hell, he’s hot when he’s a little undone.
He scans me—top to bottom—once, twice, a third time. “You’re okay?”
The worry in his eyes makes my heart squeeze hard. “I’m fine.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Oh, shit. He thought I meant . . . “No, Marston. It wasn’t like that. I just mean it was upsetting. He left angry and hurt, but he’s never lifted a hand against me.” I swallow hard. “In fact, all these years, I’ve always been the one hurting him.”
“I saw him at Smithy’s just now. He was drunk and looking for a fight. When you
said things got ugly . . .” He looks away and blows out a long breath.
“What happened at the bar?”
He shakes his head. “Nothing. It’s fine.”
“Obviously not nothing.” It’s my turn to look him over, but he doesn’t appear to be injured.
“He took a couple of swings at me, but he missed.” His eyes search my face then drop to my bare ring finger. “You broke up with him.”
I shouldn’t like that he came right here. Shouldn’t relish the intensity in his voice. Shouldn’t be shaking in anticipation of his touch. “Yes.”
He steps into my condo and kicks the door closed as he prowls toward me. The heat in his eyes tells me exactly what he wants, and I want to give it to him.
I had to call off the wedding. I had to break it off with Julian. And tomorrow I have to tell my parents. If I can’t convince them to give me the trust anyway, I may very well have to give up my dream of buying The Orchid. I had to be strong earlier, and I’ll have to find even more of that strength later. But right now, I want to lean into someone else’s strength, if only for tonight.
His gaze locks on my mouth. “You canceled the wedding.”
“Yes. But Marston, I still don’t—”
He covers my lips with his thumb and shakes his head. “Let me have my moment, woman.”
I’m surprised to hear my own laughter. I’m so drained from today, so confused from seeing that video with Marston, and so worried for tomorrow, that I didn’t expect to have any laughter in me tonight. But there it is, and when he smiles, I’m glad for it. Marston Rowe’s smile is a thing of beauty.
I don’t fight it when he lowers that smile to my lips. I don’t fight myself. I let him kiss me, and I kiss him back.
I shouldn’t. Everything’s a mess and this won’t help, but his mouth is hot and hungry, and it feels so damn right to let him touch me that I give myself this moment of weakness.
He nudges me until my back’s against the wall, then slides his hands up my sides under my tank top. I let him. I moan into his mouth, knowing the sound will goad him on—wanting it to.
