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

by Claudia Burgoa

  Do I want to have a kid?

  Fuck, yes. Arden has taught me the joy of having a child. He’s my nephew, and I love him. I can only imagine what it’ll be like to have my own kid. I wish I knew back then what I know today. The good news is that I’m learning from my past.

  It doesn’t matter where our children come from. I’ll love them. Soon, I’m going to sit with Leyla, open up, and tell her what I think about us. I want to hear what she wants and offer what I can give her.

  “I tangled myself into a pretty fucked up web,” I say out loud. “Before I speak to her, I want to be free. That reminds me, do you have any news?”

  He shakes his head. “They are working on that,” he explains. “Just like you said, they have to untangle before things can be out in the open. As we agreed, we will give you a chance to request a plea bargain for your mother—as long as she’s not involved too deep.”

  “Where did you get this agency?” I ask again.

  “Classified,” he answers and bursts into laughter. “Fuck, I sound like Vance.”

  “Are you involved with them in some capacity?”

  He grins the same way his friend Grace does when she doesn’t want to answer a question. “I’m a fucking rock star, Pierce. Why would I be involved with a security agency?”

  “Maybe because you are a rock star,” I counteract.

  “I just know them,” he insists.

  “This is just like the time you and Carter threw Henry’s cellphone into the lake,” I remind him.

  “We didn’t do it,” he says firmly.

  “I fucking saw you,” I argue.

  He grins. “Carter was so much fun. When it was time to go home, I wished I could’ve taken all of you with me.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, it was cool to have brothers for a week. Grace has a huge family, and every time I went to visit, I thought, this is what we’re supposed to be like all year round.”

  “We’re not kids, but we can still be a huge family,” I offer.

  He glances at me and sighs, “I’m sure when this is over, we’re going back to ignoring each other.”

  His words make sense. We have to clear the air, cut all the shit between us, and set a solid foundation while we’re here. This family and my relationship with Leyla can’t work after leaving this house if we try to build something on top of the old debris.

  “It won’t be over,” I assure him. “Because when the eighteen months are over, you’ll have a place to come back to when you’re not on tour and you feel like you want to be with your family—us. We’ll be here while you do what you love. Sometimes we might jump on a plane to visit you in whichever city you are playing. I’ve done it before. This time I’ll just make sure to text you so we can hang out for a couple of hours—or the day.”

  “You mean it?”

  I nod. “I’m not Carter or Mills, but I’m going to try my best to be your friend too, okay?”

  “You’re not saying that just because I’m helping you?”

  “No, I’m saying it because I mean it, Beac. We’re going to learn to be a family.”

  If I can just find the right words to convince Leyla that we can start again. Show her that we want the same things.

  That I love her.

  That our love is real—and infinite.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Leyla

  My friend’s happiness is usually my happiness. Everything is laughter, celebration, and joy until someone says something stupid. Do you know when that stops? When the Assdridge brothers are playing ‘who’s more viral,’ and I’m dragged into the conversation.

  Today is the perfect example. Henry proposed to Sophia. Her engagement ring is beautiful. Classy, elegant, and the diamond is bigger than Blaire’s.

  Hayes’s defense to why it’s smaller, “I’ve had that ring since I graduated from college. It’s perfect for her.”

  The way he says it and looks at her melts my heart.

  So freaking adorable!

  I’m so enamored about their moment that when Sophia asks, “Where is your engagement ring, and how did he propose?”, it feels as if someone shot me right in the chest.

  There’s no story. Pierce treated us like some kind of fast-food wedding. I swear, eloping in Vegas would’ve been more thoughtful than what we had.

  Rolling my eyes, I shake my head. “Let’s discuss that later with a bottle of wine.”

  “No, tell us now,” Beacon insists.

  Blaire, who knows the pathetic story about my modern un-fairy tale, intervenes, “So when do you think the rest of you will receive William’s letters?”

  Apparently, William left letters for each one of his sons, one for Blaire, and even Sophia got one. Jerome Parrish will give them to everyone at his discretion. Today, Sophia, Blaire, Henry, and Hayes received theirs. The brothers just decided not to open them until all of them get theirs, which means that the sooner they get the letters, the sooner we might learn why William summoned us here—at least that’s what we hope.

  “Being married or in a serious relationship isn’t the requisite,” Beacon points out the obvious and then looks at Pierce and me. “These two haven’t received their letters.”

  I’m not sure why I answer, “Probably because Pierce is not with the right woman yet.” My voice sounds bitter and angry. “You know, the one who gets a proposal, a ring, and even a real wedding. Ours was just like a carnival ceremony where we fetched a license at the motor vehicle office and had his co-worker pronounce us husband and wife in the parking lot. Depressing, if you don’t count the tacos we ate right after. They were good.”

  Beac laughs. I join, but there’s only pain inside me.

  I’m just using him as a mask. Am I struggling to hold in the tears of sadness and anger? Yep.

  It’s not the stupid ring, but the promises we never made. Everything goes back to: it was an illusion, and why the hell am I still here?

  Move on, idiot.

  I shouldn’t be upset about our wedding. It’s in the past, and I’m moving on. But am I moving on?

  Well, in November, I’ll be going to the doctor to get knocked up by a turkey baster. My deadline was December, but I realized that I am not needed here.

  Nyx was here a couple of weeks ago, and I admire her determination to keep going and leave her old life behind. When I asked myself why I couldn’t do that—pack and leave—the answer came immediately. I still love Pierce, and trying to fall out is complicated.

  The worst part is that he’s changing. This new guy is infuriating but also so thoughtful, caring, and open.

  While his brothers laugh at our terrible wedding and mock him for being so thoughtless, he looks slightly wrecked and takes the shots without dishing back.

  “You’re so cheap you couldn’t win her a gumball machine ring?” Mills says and then looks at me. “So, the ceremony was at a DMV and the reception at a taqueria. Where was the honeymoon?”

  “The laundromat,” Beacon answers, and I swear he’s almost choking with laughter, then pats Mills. “You know, after this, we can always say, I could’ve done worse. My older brother didn’t even propose.”

  “Stop!” Pierce orders.

  “Yes, I fucked up, and I won’t justify myself to you,” he grunts.

  Mills is about to protest because he has one request, not cussing in front of Arden, but Pierce says, “I’ll stop saying ‘fuck’ when you don’t bring up shit that hurts my wife. You think mocking me right now is hilarious, but you’re also reminding Leyla that she got a fucking asshole who couldn’t bother to do things right. She gets to relive all the shit I pulled, and believe me, it wasn’t pretty.”

  Pierce grabs my hand and pulls me out of the house. We don’t stop walking until we arrive at the new dock. It is on the other side of the property, and no one can hear us. We’re miles away from the house. By the time we’re by the edge I’m tired, and the kids are right beside us panting.

  “Go drink water,” Pierce tells them. �
��Just don’t get in the lake, or you’ll spend the night in the barn.”

  “What was that?” I ask.

  He doesn’t answer. He just looks toward the house and shakes his head.

  “I was…handling it,” I lie.

  He takes a seat and pats the space next to him. When I join him, he takes my hand, squeezing it once. Carefully, he sets our interlaced hands on top of his thigh.

  We remain quiet for a long time until he finally says, “I thought that if I never made any promises, I wouldn’t fuck up as my father did. The only promise I made to myself was that I’d let you go if I ever hurt you. I broke it several times because I love you too much. I wanted to change, but I was fucking up more and more. The day I said, ‘That’s it,’ it wasn’t because I wanted to let you go, but because maybe I never deserved you. You’re right, our wedding was hideous.”

  “We didn’t even have vows,” I snort. “How pathetic is that?”

  He scratches his eyebrow with his free hand and huffs. “The first night, our first night, I promised to make you forget. Erase everything that happened to you before you met me. I became addicted to you and the afterglow…I lived for it. The light within you that appeared after we made love was… I was—no, I am dependent on it to the point that sometimes I didn’t care if I should let you go so you could be happy.”

  “So, it was the sex?” I ask as the lump in my throat keeps growing.

  He shakes his head. “That light gives me hope. It gives me life. It makes me believe that there’s more. There’s a promise,” he explains. “Because that light is you and your happiness. Outside of the bedroom, I put a barrier between us. I understood that about myself when I started therapy. Even when I fell for you immediately, I pretended that everything was casual to protect myself. Because if you left, no one would ask about us. After all, if it’s casual, who cares about the ending?”

  My eyes drift down to our entwined hands while my mind is processing everything he just said. Therapy, falling for me immediately, and being an asshole because he was protecting himself.

  “I am a self-absorbed son of a bitch who, even when I love you more than anything in the world, couldn’t think about you before me,” he continues. “Fuck, I’m thirty-four, and I just now understand the basics of what a healthy relationship should look like.”

  I turn to look at him and whisper, “Nothing like ours.”

  “Don’t undermine us, Ley. We had a good thing for a while. I should’ve done a lot of things differently, like putting you first when things got serious. I was too focused on becoming a partner that I didn’t see what my mother did when she found out about our marriage.”

  I feel a breeze move through my hair as I watch the sun sink below the mountains. The irony doesn’t go unnoticed. His words are like the sunset in our relationship—the end of everything.

  It’s finally time to see a new day—a new story.

  Find a new life.

  The orange size lump in my throat throbs. I like this new Pierce. Why is it that now that he’s ready, it’s time for me to go?

  Because I never get to have the good things, the happy moments, or the fairy tale.

  Life is so unfair.

  Would I give up a family for him? If he asked me, and if we work on our relationship…maybe.

  Would he want kids because I want them too?

  “We’re trying our best to grow and become better people,” he continues, and I like that we can talk the way we used to when we started. There’s no anger or bitterness between us anymore. “You more than me.”

  Even when the sun disappears and everything is dark, I see everything so clearly. This has to end.

  “I’ll sign,” I say, and I look at him.

  A sad smile plays on his lips, and he nods with satisfaction. “I was hoping you’d say that. An uncontested divorce in Oregon can take between a few days to no more than six weeks.”

  “I’m not sure how to feel about this information,” I state. “When did you research it? I’m not upset, and I swear I won’t contest the divorce, but can you at least admit that there’s another woman.”

  He snorts, “There’s no other woman.”

  “For once, be honest, Pierce Griffin Aldridge,” I say, and my voice comes out angrier than I mean it to. Okay, maybe there’s a little rage inside me. I just hate when he lies. “You spent a week away from home. I still don’t understand how Parrish didn’t catch you. Your brothers covered for you with lame excuses about you being in Portland. I know you were somewhere in town—with her,” I remind him about that strange week when he flew to Portland but never came back. Then out of nowhere, he appeared on Friday. “Who is she?”

  He shakes his head. “I never left town. One of Hayes’s friends is a urologist. He performed a reverse vasectomy. I stayed in Beacon’s studio so I could recover. I didn’t want to tell you until I knew it was successful, but…”

  He sighs deeply while closing his eyes for a couple of beats.

  My pulse accelerates. He’s not making sense. “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I want to give you everything you want,” he says, his voice cracking. “Not that I can. The success rate is low. It’s been twelve years, and the probabilities for the sperm to return is seventy-five percent. For a pregnancy to occur, it is less than forty percent successful. We won’t know for a year. The doctor said I had a shitty job done. He’s not even sure they did it right.”

  He laughs, “That’s what I get for letting a med student do it to avoid the insurance costs and my mom finding out.”

  “Wait, was it illegal?”

  He shakes his head. “No, it was done at a hospital, but it was cheap because I let the students watch the procedure while a student performed it with the supervision of their teacher.”

  Sometimes I think that young Pierce wasn’t as cautious as this man. I wish I had met him then, but I was in a terrible place, and maybe we would’ve destroyed each other. Not that meeting later gave us the best results.

  “There are other options,” I offer, because we want the same thing, don’t we? Why now and not before?

  He nods, takes off his wedding band, and hands it to me.

  “You deserve better than what you got in the first round,” he states, while delicately, he takes my ring off too and puts it in his pocket. He grunts. “When you described our wedding to my brothers, I was ashamed about how poorly I treated us. You deserved better than tacos and a poorly executed impromptu wedding.”

  “I should’ve said something, but I was afraid to ask for what I wanted,” I confess. “What if you’d leave because I needed more?” A tear rolls down my cheek. “And you left when I did.”

  “No, I left long before that,” he corrects me. “I disconnected from us when I was told that my promotion was at risk. The day my grandfather and mother said, ‘You do what we say, or you’re out. Edward will become the first partner over you.’”

  “That’s when we got married,” I mutter.

  He nods. “You’re important to me. My entire world. Which is why I want you to have everything. The proposal, the ring, the wedding of your dreams, whatever that means. We never talked about what you wanted. We both know what you need, a loving husband who puts you first and makes you feel like there’s no one else in this world but you.”

  My chest tightness. I don’t want to lose him, but he makes so much sense it’d be stupid to say, Why not you? Ask me to stay. Why are you doing this?

  Because he’s never loved you enough.

  “I want to deserve you,” he answers my silent question. “You want a clean slate.”

  “Why not try without the divorce?”

  He shakes his head again. “I need us to be sure of each other. I’m slow, but I can grasp more than I did before. I know you came to Baker’s Creek with me to make sure I adapt. You have a new life planned. I am not going to stop you just because I think I deserve a chance. I want to earn it. I let you get the divorce at your own pace because it was th
e least I could do. I’m fine. You can leave, Ley.”

  “This was new for you,” I agree. “You were taught to treat your family as rivals. This environment seemed difficult to navigate for you. What if you saw it as a challenge and not as an opportunity?”

  “See, that confirms my fears, or maybe it doesn’t. I’m afraid that I’m one of those half-dead animals you need to save. I want to be the man of your dreams,” he states. “I need you to be sure of what I mean to you, and also if you’ll ever get past what I did to you. I’m so fucking sorry for everything.”

  “I know,” I say. “I’m sorry for what I did to you after you asked for the divorce.”

  “It wasn’t bad, and after the anger faded, I laughed at how crafty you can be when you’re upset.”

  I chuckle, “You’ve been a trooper.”

  “We need some distance,” he circles back to our previous conversation. “We shouldn’t be living in the same house. Sharing the same room is great because sex with you is my favorite thing of the day. It’s great, until the next morning when you don’t want to talk about us—because it’s over, and there’s no point to rehash.”

  I lean my head against his shoulder and mumble. “I love you, and I hate that you’re right.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “I know, but I want you to say it the way you used to before you learned to hate me.”

  Snuggling closer to him, I confide in him and tell him about the hormone therapy and that in November, I’m going to try to get pregnant.

  “You’ll be a great mom,” he whispers.

  We remain quiet, and I wonder if he’s regretting this conversation, but I choose to enjoy the silence between us.

  This might be the last time we’re together like this.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Leyla