Defying Our Forever (The Baker’s Creek Billionaire Brothers Book 3)

by Claudia Burgoa

  “Hey,” she answers. “I’ve been wondering about you and the kids, as Pierce calls them.”

  She sends me a few pictures of the barn. The place looks a lot like our barn. The stalls are pretty similar, and so are the doors. I want to ask if Pierce had anything to do with the design or if it was like that before, but I don’t.

  “Is there a chicken coop?” I wonder if I should order the materials to build it and where they will stay in the meantime.

  “No, but I can build you one if you show me what you have in mind,” she offers.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose,” I disregard my question.

  “You’d be doing me a favor. I’m bored to tears during my free time, and I can use an excuse to avoid working at The Lodge,” she says assuringly. “What else do you need for them?”

  We spend some time discussing the kids. I send her pictures, telling her how crazy Ally can get and how much we adore her.

  “He’s Pierce’s girl,” I add. “That kid only listens to him.”

  She laughs when I tell her about the time Ally ran away from home, and a neighbor called telling us that she was playing with her dogs.

  “This is going to be the looney house,” she declares. “When do you think you’ll arrive?”

  Looking around the house, I conclude that today is a good day to pack, and I can take off tomorrow. The shelter runs well without me. I’ve been hiring vets to work for us. I pay them from my pocket. It’s the only way to get well-trained professionals who can take care of the animals.

  I hate to cut the call, but I decide we should start the journey soon. I’d love to settle in before Pierce arrives. Hopefully, I can get a room far from his. When I contact the company that will help me transport the kids, they are set for tomorrow. They’ve had two trailers on hold ready to go in case I needed them. Pierce will regret his offer when he sees the bill. I owe them a week already. That’s the only way I could have someone available on such short notice. If this wasn’t a scam—which it isn’t—I could just call and say we’re leaving.

  As I begin to pack, I realize this is real, and I have to go. Even though he can do this alone, Pierce needs someone to be there for him when things get complicated—and they will. Eighteen months living with five other guys who resent each other sounds like the ultimate challenge. He’s a loner. These guys might eat him alive. I shouldn’t care, but I love him too much to let him do this on his own.

  The next morning, I call the adoption agencies. Two of them say they are processing my applications, and when I tell them I’m moving to another state, they say that might be a problem, but they’ll call me back. The rest send me directly to voicemail, and I just leave messages. Adopting might still be a possibility, but fostering is out of the equation.

  My heart literally breaks as I head toward Pierce’s house. What if I don’t qualify to be a foster parent in the state of Oregon? Not that being qualified in Colorado has helped me at all. Still, I bring with me most of the clothing and the essentials that are needed. According to Blaire, there’s plenty of space for storage.

  I’m already giving the guys instructions on what the kids eat, how to load them, and what to do along the road when I hear Pierce’s voice, “What’s happening?

  “Since we have to be there by next week, I thought, ‘Leyla, you should start the journey tomorrow,’” I explain.

  He shakes his head. “Today is not a good day. I’m flying to New York in a couple of hours. Don’t you think this is something we should’ve discussed?”

  I tilt my head and smile just to piss him off. “What are we supposed to discuss?”

  “You are sending the kids with some strangers. Do you know them?” he asks, then points at Buster and Daisy. “You can’t possibly think that they’ll be fine in a trailer.”

  “Which is why I’m driving to Baker’s Creek.”

  He frowns. “When are you leaving?”

  “As soon as the kids are in the trailer,” I respond.

  He points at my truck and growls, “You’re not taking that piece of shit. It’s almost as old as you.”

  I glare at him and cross my arms. “What are you saying?”

  “That it’s irresponsible to drive to Oregon in that thing you call your car. Take your new SUV,” he insists. “As a matter of fact, you’re going to wait until I’m back from New York, and then we’ll all leave together.”

  I laugh at him. “I’m leaving today. They are already loading the kids. Plus, I want to choose my room before you’re even there.”

  “Don’t make this difficult.”

  “That’s priceless,” I huff. “I’m the one making this hard on you. You should be thankful since I’m accommodating you. I had a plan, and as of today, it’s gone, and I have to restart everything from Oregon—if that’s even possible. If I were you, I’d be careful, or I’ll stay home. There is no way that you can get our marriage dissolution by next week, and according to Nyx, you have to have the state record before I am free from the stipulation.”

  Fuck, he mouths, running a hand through his hair. “Why do you have to be so difficult?”

  “It’s a gift, really,” I answer as he stomps away.

  He halts and looks over his shoulder, saying, “At least let me tell Hayes that we’re leaving. I have to pack a bag for the road trip.”

  “I’m not taking you with me,” I taunt him.

  He turns around, his eyes flaring with fury. I smile sweetly because this is one of my new favorite things to do with him. Upset him with nonsense and absurd technicalities.

  “You can’t take the kids out of the state without my permission, so yes, you’ll tone down your attitude, and you’ll wait for me,” he presses. “I know you don’t give a shit if you live or die, but I do. At this point, your survivor’s guilt should be under control, don’t you think?”

  “Are we back to trying to tell me how to feel?” I protest. “This isn’t about my mental issues. The trip is pretty straight forward, and I am an excellent driver.”

  “What happens if Buster jumps out of the truck and you lose him?”

  “That was a one-time thing,” I remind him. “He was a pup.”

  “Well, forgive me if I worry about you and the dogs,” he snaps. “I’d die if anything happens to either one of you. So, could you please just this time listen to me and let me drive with you?”

  “Fine,” I agree, because it’s clear that if I don’t, he’s going to drive right behind me, and I’m not that difficult.

  Am I?

  Maybe I should start looking more into my behavior. It’s okay to make his life miserable, but if we’re going to live together, I need to bring my attitude down a few levels, don’t I?

  Chapter Twenty

  Leyla

  The transportation company I hired gives us their schedule before they leave. They promise to be in Baker’s Creek on Friday morning. As I requested, they are taking their time so the kids can rest. They give me the addresses and contact information of the two places where they’ll be boarding. One of them is just outside Portland.

  Pierce takes his time rearranging his schedule. It is one of those cold mornings that make me want to get back in the car, but instead, I go inside the house. Buster and Daisy aren’t ready to be inside just yet. They have a long journey ahead of them. When we used to go up to the mountains, they were good, but longer trips aren’t their favorites.

  Patience isn’t my strong suit when I have things to do. I try to compromise with Pierce and agree to let him drive me to Baker’s Creek. Let’s be honest, the man is a terrible backseat driver and won’t let me be at the wheel during this trip. So, I find things to keep me occupied, like folding the blankets and fixing the pillows on top of the couch. I assume Hayes used them last night.

  Pierce should furnish at least one of the rooms upstairs. When we bought the house, we said we’d decide what to do with them later. For me, it was code for as the kids arrive, we will be using them. Now, I’m pretty sure it was code for w
e have no idea what to do with them. I take a seat and check my email.

  “I should be out on the road already,” I complain ten minutes later, heading to the kitchen to search for a snack. There’s nothing. A six pack in the fridge and some dry food in the pantry.

  “Did you forget the concept of grocery shopping?”

  “I’m barely at home,” he says from somewhere in the house. “It doesn’t make sense to buy perishable food that will become some lab experiment or go into the trash can after its expiration date. Does it?”

  I sigh and grab a granola bar. This man could live on cereal, granola bars, and chips and still look hot and trim.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I have to skip this one,” I hear him speak with someone. “Set up everything for next week. I’m looking forward to it. Uh-huh…”

  I hate the way he laughs, and he’s too familiar with whoever is on the other line. He has another woman, doesn’t he?

  “He should bring you along,” he continues, “Because you’re the only one who can control your damn boss, Sophia. We might kill him.”

  There’s a big laugh, and that’s when I find him, in one of the empty bedrooms, packing while still on the phone. “Of course, you’d help us bury him. I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re, in fact, supporting our plan to make him disappear if he pisses us off. Fine, you get dibs since you deal with him more often. By the way, Hayes is on his way. Make sure Henry doesn’t work more than he needs. You too.”

  “Sophia, huh,” I say, looking around the mess he has in here. There’s just a mattress in the middle, and the closet has all of his clothing. “You’re sleeping here?”

  “I moved out of our room when you left. It felt…nevermind.”

  I don’t let the other question go though, “And Sophia is?”

  “You’ll meet her soon. She’s Henry’s assistant…and we’re pretty sure he’s in love with her,” he says, smiling. Then he looks at me and grins. “You’re going to like her and Blaire.”

  There are two things I notice about him. He’s calm. That doesn’t happen often since he’s always on the go. The second is somehow painful; he seems to have new people in his life. Maybe leaving with him is a mistake. This could be a chance for him to have the family his mother denied him and start a new life. I shouldn’t come along with him.

  This Pierce reminds me of the man I met and fell in love with, which makes me happy. Not in an I want to get back with him way. It’s more of an I’m glad things are finally working out for him way. He deserves happiness.

  Is it sad that I wasn’t his happiness?

  It stings a lot, but I have to let everything go, and I’m seriously working on that.

  “What will you be doing with the house?” I ask as I make my way back downstairs.

  He’s right behind me. “I’m closing it next week. You know, setting sheets on top of the furniture, having someone come to do a deep cleaning, and just pack it tight. If you want it when this is over, or when you feel like giving me the divorce and come back, it’s yours.”

  I glance around, and the place still has the furniture we bought when we first moved in. The house hasn’t changed much, but it no longer feels like ours. I am having trouble remembering how it used to feel, which is strange and sad. Mostly sad. His penthouse felt more like ours than this place, and we didn’t spend as much time there.

  “Was it even real?” I ask out loud.

  “Let’s not do this, Leyla,” he warns me. “There’s no point in starting a fight.”

  “It’s not a fight,” I assure him. “Just a question that wasn’t meant to be voiced. I get it, okay. You are done, and I’m not in the market to punish myself by rehashing something that never existed.”

  Or if it existed, it disappeared once we moved into this house—after we married.

  This place no longer resembles the home we saw after saying “I do.” Everything has changed. Even us. We are nothing like the people who met because he found an amazing puppy who had been abandoned and almost killed. The house looks pristine. A neat house ready to receive a family of five or maybe six. This place never changed, but we did.

  Then I remember how he lied, deceived me, and I still can’t get past that point.

  The look he gives me is strange, maybe even new. Sadly, I’m not even sure what it means or what we are anymore. I should just sign the stupid papers, but what if I lose my chance to have a child forever?

  “I’m still upset with you,” I say. “I’m working on forgiving you and moving on, but I’m not sure how long it is going to take me. I promise to be civil, but don’t expect too much from me.”

  “That’s fair,” he mumbles, dragging his laptop case and his suitcase toward the door. “You can get out of this arrangement whenever you want. I’ll make sure Nyx expedites the process.”

  “Thank you,” I answer, and I think this is the first time we have had a conversation that didn’t end with angry words, kisses, or sex.

  Isn’t it sad it’s happening as the end is near?

  Why couldn’t he be more receptive or honest before?

  Trying to quash the anger that begins to rise, I head toward the door, open it and walk to my car, which isn’t there anymore. In its place is the stupid silver SUV he bought me to replace it. The kids are already in there along with the boxes and my luggage.

  “We’re taking my car,” I say furiously.

  “No,” he answers.

  “My car isn’t staying here for a year or whatever time I remain in that town.”

  “There’s a company moving some of the cars to Baker’s Creek next week,” he explains without raising his voice. Is he high, taking some relaxant, or…why is he so calm? “I’ll make sure the truck is among them.”

  Then, he smirks. “Actually, we can take all the cars. That’s nine. We can still get a new one or lease the space to Hayes or Henry who have a shit ton of cars.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The garage isn’t that big. So, we decided that each one of us can have five parking spaces.” I haven’t seen that boyish grin on him in so long that nostalgia hits me, and it takes a lot of strength not to go to him and kiss him. It’s hard to listen to him while I want to say, hey there, big guy, where have you been?

  “You’re part of the household, which means you get five too—that’s ten for us, baby.”

  It’s like seeing a small child who just found a way to take some extra candy out from the jar without breaking the rules while still pissing off his brothers.

  “We are a team, Leyla,” he continues. “You might hate me or whatever, but you and I are an alliance while in Baker’s Creek.”

  “Where am I going?” I ask, now worried because it seems like we’re about to embark on a deserted island where the strongest will eat the weak.

  “To hell,” he answers. “We will need to outsmart them if we want to survive.”

  Who is “them,” and why did I say yes to what seems like a journey to… No, really, where am I going?

  Hell isn’t a place, is it?

  He grins. “I would love to say that you can still sign the divorce, but even if you do, you still have to be there at least for the first month.”

  “Lucky me,” I grunt as I get into the passenger seat and slam the door.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Leyla

  I’m delusional.

  There’s no other explanation for my current behavior. I’m sitting in the car at a restaurant right off I-70. Pierce is walking the dogs. After he’s done, he’ll be going inside to get us some food. The kids already ate in the morning, and they won’t have more until we arrive at the hotel.

  I said I’ll wait in the car because I’m tired, but I am using this free time away from him to call the agencies where I left the voicemails earlier today.

  Two of them don’t answer again, and the third one makes me want to smash my phone against the wall.

  “What do you mean my application hasn’t been processed
yet,” I ask, looking out the window to see if Pierce is coming yet. Fortunately, he’s not.

  “Yours isn’t the only application, Mrs. Aldridge,” she says. “It’s too early to give you any information. Maybe you can call us in a few weeks.”

  “How is this possible?” I hiss into the phone.

  Maybe this is why I’m going crazy, or I feel like losing my shit. Since our separation, I’ve been doing things normal people never, ever do—or should do. Like pretending I’m happily married, and my husband and I are anxious to get a baby.

  “As I said, you’re not the only applicant,” she repeats. “We will get to it when we get to it. Hundreds of families are waiting just like you and your husband.”

  “How many applications do you receive daily?” I ask.

  “That’s confidential information.” Her voice sounds snippy. “We are a non-profit organization with only a few employees.”

  “Well, you might be a saint, but you charge enough for the application, and that money was taken out of my account seven months ago,” I argue. “You might have trouble processing the application, but you had plenty of time to go to the bank and cash the check, didn’t you? Again, those twenty thousand dollars are to be used on the prenatal care of the mom-to-be that chooses me. How can they choose me when you haven’t even opened my file? Who should I talk to so you can expedite submission? Your agency came highly recommended, but I’m now wondering if you are legit. I should have someone investigate you.”

  “I’m not comfortable with this conversation,” she says and hangs up the phone.

  The driver’s side door opens, and Pierce gets into the car, juggling the food and drinks. That’s when I notice the dogs are already in the back.