by Kacey Shea
“I’m sorry, I’ll go find someone who works here. There must be a mistake.” I stand.
“Ma’am. Please sit back down.” One of the officers saunters closer. “Are you Evelyn Harper?”
“Uh, yeah?” It’s then I turn to catch Kate’s guilty expression. She didn’t! Before I can open my mouth to scold her, he speaks again.
“Evelyn Harper. You have the right to remain seated and enjoy your last day of freedom. Anything you do or say will not be held against you when you walk down the aisle.”
Within moments, techno music blares from a handheld speaker box. Oh, right. The other “cop.” Both dancers make their way to the center of the small waiting room. Shirts fly off. Abs roll to the rhythm of the beat. The thrust of their hips syncs with the bass of the music.
Talented.
“Kate!” I scold as soon as I get the full attention of the lap dancer, but she only claps wildly, laughing as he backs up against me with his ass shaking.
“Enjoy this, Evie!” she shouts above the hip hop beat.
“I’m not sure I can!” I yell back.
The telltale sound of Velcro ripping makes me squeeze my eyes shut, but not before I get a glimpse of the banana shaped penis covered man thong, complete with flashing lights.
“Mayday! Mayday!” I cover my face and shout over the girls’ laughter.
“Evelyn, you’ve been a very naughty girl,” the stripper declares. I peek through my fingers as he gyrates over one of my legs, straddling my chair and doing more of the same.
“Kate Bryant, you are gonna pay for this!” I threaten, but that only makes Melissa, Carly, and her laugh harder.
“I already am.” Kate grins, and then points to the guy holding the speakers. “I’ll hold that. Why don’t you give our girl some double lovin’?”
I pretend to be put off, because really, I don’t need strippers at my party and I’m certain Tate won’t be keen on hearing about our activities. But part of me is relieved to see my friends’ smiles, and hear my sister’s genuine laughter. So, even though I’m the butt of it, I’ll take one for the team.
“Here.” Carly squeezes between the two dancers dry humping my legs and hands me a cup. “Drink up. It’ll make everything better.” She winks and takes a step back as the boys take their thrusting to another level, each grabbing one arm of the chair. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep your glass full.”
Bringing the champagne to my lips, I tip it to her retreating form. “Best sister-in-law ever.”
CHAPTER NINE
Tate
Home from the game, I flick on SportsCenter and watch the recap of today’s games. I smile as I watch the highlights of the Diamondbacks beatdown on the Giants, but the commentators show us no love, expecting us to fall on the losing side tomorrow night.
A car’s headlights flash through the curtains, and when the engine cuts followed by the slam of a few doors, I know my girl is home. I mute the volume and grab the empty beer bottle from the coffee table to drop in the kitchen recycling. The front door opens and as I turn, Evie staggers inside, loses her balance, and knocks into the wall.
“Shit. Fuck. Shit,” she says before she pulls herself upright and steadies her balance using my sister’s shoulder.
I walk toward her, catching Kate’s exhausted expression from behind the open doorway.
“Honey, we’re home!” Kate sing songs and Evie lifts her head. Maybe a little too quickly, because when she catches sight of me she grins a loopy smile, staggers out of Carly’s arm, and falls flat on her ass.
“Oh, God, what’s going on here?” I chuckle and crouch down at her side.
She grabs my face between both hands and I can practically taste the liquor from her breath. “I love you so damn much. You know that, right? You know I love you more than anyone,” she gushes and then glances up at her best friend. “Sorry, Kate.”
“No apologies needed,” Kate says to her, and then to me, “She’s fucking toast.”
“Yeah, I can see that. Had yourself some fun tonight, baby?” Evie rarely drinks, so I’ve only seen her like this a handful of times. It’s fucking adorable.
“We had fun. Didn’t we Kate? Carly?” Her silly smile fades and in place her brows pinch together, the lines between them showing so much concern when she tries to hold my gaze. “But there were dicks. Two giant banana dicks. But I didn’t put them in my mouth. I’m so sorry, baby.”
It’s so difficult not to laugh and I lift my brow at Kate. “What’s she . . .”
“Strippers,” she states matter of factly and then kisses the top of Evie’s head. “Later, bestie.” Kate waddles outside and disappears into the waiting car.
Before Carly escapes too, I shoot a hard glare at my sister but she just raises her hands. “What? Not my call. I had nothing to do with that.”
“No, you didn’t.” Evie nods. Her frown disappears and her eyes widen. She grabs the front of my shirt and tugs. “Babe. Babe, Carly saved me by keepin’ my glass full all night. All night, she did. Thank you, Carly.”
“Yeah, thanks so much, Carly.” I roll my eyes.
“That’s my cue. ’Night, brother. ’Night, Evie. Fun party.”
“So fun. Fun. Fun. Fun. But tell Kate no more banana dicks. I don’t even like bananas.” Evie purses her lips together and her eyes flutter shut, though she fights to keep them open.
Carly chuckles under her breath. “I’ll tell her. Goodnight.”
I stand and lock the door before helping Evie off the floor. I settle her on the couch while I collect aspirin and water from the kitchen.
“Why is the couch moving, babe?”
I almost laugh when I come back to find her face pressed against the center cushion, like a Leaning Rower of Pisa that leaned too far. “I think that’s you.”
“I’m not moving. I can’t even pick up my hands.” She attempts to lift them both, but one is stuck beneath her body. “Ah, fuck.”
I kneel down and brush the hair from her face. “I think you need to sleep, my love.”
Her eyes drift closed and she speaks into the furniture. “Sleep sounds good. I’ll sleep here.”
I stand, pocket the water bottle and pills, and scoop her off the couch. “I’ve got you.”
“My knight in shining basketball shorts.” She grins into my chest. I love her. A knight is exactly how she makes me feel.
“I’ll always be a knight for you.”
“But will you really?” Her gaze sobers enough to pull into a serious frown.
“Always. I promise.” Setting her at the edge of the bed, I hand her the pills and water, wait until both are gone, and tuck her into bed once I have her change into an old T-shirt. Her head falls against the pillow with closed eyes and I think she’s out for the count, but before I flick off the light to join her in bed, she whispers some rubbish about not being a cheating bastard. It’s hard to not chuckle.
I slide under the covers and my hand finds its way to the skin along her hip, where my name is inked for eternity. Invisible to me now, but knowing it’s there eases my heartbeat until I drift off to sleep.
THE ALARM GOES off with its familiar blare, and for as much fun as I had yesterday with the guys, it’s a little disappointing to start Monday morning without much time alone with Evie. Her drunken ramblings throughout the night didn’t help, and while I drag myself from the warm cocoon of blankets to take a quick shower, I wish I could ditch work to stay in bed all day next to her.
She could probably say the same. Even though the girls had her home by eleven, I’m not sure how much rest she got. At least four times during the night, she woke me by talking in her sleep. It shouldn’t worry me—probably caused by the drinking and the stress of our big day—but I don’t like that every word out of her mouth had to do with cheating. I have no doubts that Evie is completely faithful, but is she worried about me? And days before we make a lifelong commitment before our closest family and friends? I wonder if I’ve pushed too hard, too quickly, in my absolute excit
ement to make her my wife. Maybe I’ve put my own desires first when she’s not yet ready.
I step out of the shower and am surprised to find the bed empty. Pulling on my clothes, I finish getting ready for work and then follow the aroma of brewing coffee from down the hall.
I bite back a smile at her out of control hair, which could also be mistaken for a bird’s nest. “Rough night?” The makeup around her eyes forms dark, thick circles and only adds to the glare she shoots from over her coffee mug. She’s still the most beautiful woman I know.
“I’m never drinking again.”
Pouring myself a cup of joe, I join her at the table. “I’m okay with that.”
“I mean it, Tate. We may have to toast our marriage with apple cider, because the thought of anything else is enough to make me barf on my gown.”
“We can’t have that. But I like the thought of not drinking at our wedding.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because when I take you back to the hotel, I want you one hundred percent in control of your feelings and actions. I want you to feel everything I do to you.” My intent is clear and her eyes darken with my words.
“Mr. Reynolds, I like the way you think.”
“God, I can’t wait for that.” I groan and scoot my chair closer to her.
“About that. I read in one of my articles that lots of couples abstain from sex for a week or even a month before the wedding to make the consummation that much more special. It’s too late for a month, but . . .”
“No.” I hate every woman who writes for wedding magazines. For even inventing the things in the first place. No sex for a week, voluntarily, is not my idea of a good time.
“Come on, Tate. It’s only a few days, and after reading the testimonials, I promise it’ll be worth it.” She bats those eyelashes and I might as well have a sign stamped on my forehead that says pushover. I honestly hate the idea, but I’ll do it for her.
“Okay,” I agree. Her lips pull into a smirk that says she knew I’d cave. “But only if we start tomorrow.”
She chuckles, but only once before she winces in pain. Hangovers tend to steal the humor from any situation. “We need to start now, babe. Our wedding night is only six days away. I think you can handle it.”
I take a long sip of my coffee, and attempt, unsuccessfully at that, not to notice the way her lips purse and blow softly over her mug. I can do this. I know I can. But it doesn’t seem like any fun. “Fine, we’ll follow your stupid rule,” I grumble and take a sip of coffee to replace the bitterness from giving in.
“None of my rules are stupid,” she declares smugly.
“Not being able to make love to my wife is stupid.” I refill my cup, topping it off to the brim, and turn back to catch one of her eyebrows rise.
“Future wife. And it’s only a couple of days. It will be so worth it.”
“I sure hope so,” I mutter.
“What is that supposed to mean?” she snaps and the words strike in that harsh tone I rarely hear directed my way.
My brows pull and I blink several times before giving the obvious explanation. “I just don’t like not being able to be with you whenever I want, Evie.”
“You’re with me now.” She straightens her spine.
A harsh breath escapes and I set down my cup. “That’s not what I mean.”
“What? Because it’s not good if we aren’t having sex?”
“Whoa.” I throw my hands up because I have no clue what has her so irritable. I think back to her sleep talking and nerves prickle my confidence. “Did something happen yesterday that you want to tell me about?”
I’m not often a jealous man, but then her eyes flash with hurt. What could have taken place to make my girl act this way? For the briefest of moments my chest fills with anger over the endless possibilities.
“Tell me,” I manage to growl without shouting or knocking my cup across the kitchen counter.
“It’s nothing. You’ll be late to work.”
“Work can wait.”
“I shouldn’t say anything. It’s confidential.”
“A case?”
She nods, but her eyes are still sad. In all her time working with Jon she’s never acted like this over a client.
“I’m calling in. I’ll take the morning off.”
“Tate! You can’t do that. Not with our honeymoon next week.”
“It’s not a good idea, but you’re scaring me. Talk to me.” I slide into the seat next to her and grip her hands in mine. She takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly before meeting my steady gaze.
“It’s Drew,” she admits with so much grief, even her chin trembles.
“Your brother-in-law? What is it? Oh, God, is he sick?” They have the baby on the way and I can’t imagine Melissa without Drew by her side.
“Don’t give that fucker a second of sympathy. He’s cheating on my sister.” Evie’s brow pinches with a glare, but as soon as my brain processes her words, laughter bursts forth clear from my chest, only making her scowl harder. “What the hell is funny about this?” she shouts. She yanks her hands from my reach.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, right?” But when her expression doesn’t waver, I try again. “This is Drew we’re talking about. Claire and Melissa are his world, and the new baby will be the same. I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true. I wanted to be wrong, but after yesterday, I’m done fighting. Melissa knew all along, too. Even when I tried to give her false hope.”
“What does Drew have to say for himself?” The words press through my lips as my hands clench with the need to kick my brother-in-law’s ass. How could he do this to his family? I’ve seen how he loves them.
Evie’s gaze falls to the table and she busies her fingers with picking at her nails.
“Evelyn.”
Her lips purse together, and she licks across them once before sneaking a gaze at me. “Oh, um, we haven’t talked with Drew yet.”
“What?”
“We’re finding all the evidence to support what Melissa already knows.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I shake my head and stand from the table. This is nonsense. “You haven’t approached Drew? What the hell are you even doing?”
“Cheaters lie, Tate. It’s what they do.” Evie’s shoulders pull back with her tone, and it’s evident she believes she’s found the truth of the matter. Except I don’t understand how she could without speaking to Drew. “We’re putting everything in place to give Melissa proof.”
“Which makes your words accusations! How do you know he’s even cheating?”
“I just know. It’s all there. I don’t know what the hell else he could be doing!”
“But you haven’t asked!”
“It’s not protocol. We’re working this like any other case.”
I shake my head and let loose a laugh that holds no humor. “Jon’s in on this too?”
“Of course he is.” There she is with that smart tone again.
I take a deep breath to steady my reaction. “How long have you—?”
“A couple of weeks. Remember that night Kate—”
Wait, what? “Kate’s in on this?” I can’t believe this has been going on and Evie never said a word. I never suspected a thing. Meanwhile, everyone else is in on this secret. Her lack of trust in me cuts the worst. “But you didn’t tell me.” The words fall from my lips, full of all the hurt I feel.
Her gaze drops a moment, and she blinks her eyelids before wiping at the tears that leak from the inside corners. “I didn’t want to drag you into it. I didn’t think it could be true! I’m sorry, I should have told you, Tate. I should have—”
“You’re right. You should have. We promised not to keep secrets from each other. I thought we were past that.” I blow out a breath. The clock above the stove glares with the update that I’m now only minutes from being late for my first class. I push away from the table, both pissed at being left in the dark for so long, and also selfishly,
for how this will affect our wedding. “I’ve got to get to work.” Grabbing my keys in one hand, I step to the front door.
“Tate. Don’t leave angry. I’m sorry.” Her voice is small, weak, and it’s all I can do to not rush back to her. Instead, my hand rests on the door handle, poised to turn the knob. My shoulders fall with my feelings of betrayal that sink into my bones. From not knowing. From her not trusting me enough to confide in me. I shake my head in just the slightest and swing the door open wide.
“I can’t do this right now. I have to work. ’Bye, Evie.”
“I love you,” are the last words I hear her say before I slam the door shut behind me.
CHAPTER TEN
Evelyn
Drinking. Bad.
Bad. Bad. Bad.
I’ve been nursing a killer headache all day long and, while I’d rather be sleeping, I have so much work to do in the office. That, and I’m embarrassed about my outburst this morning. For doing what I promised myself I wouldn’t and dragging Tate into this mess. For not telling him sooner. For taking my frustration out on him. Guilt pricks at my heart all day, making it difficult to focus on the minute details of billing clients, returning emails, and preparing for my two-week leave of absence.
I check my phone a thousand times, waiting for a text from Tate, but I know he’s working too. I should be the one to reach out, but a text message seems too impersonal, too easy, and not a real enough apology after the fight we had this morning.
We don’t fight.
Not true. We do fight, but we make up instantly. This is the first time we’ve argued and then had to go about our lives, pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.
I hate it.
I throw myself into work, and for a few hours escape the guilt that reminds me I should have told Tate from the very beginning. His opinion that we should have confronted Drew messes with my decision to not, and for the first time I consider the real possibility that I made the wrong choice. Melissa isn’t merely some client. She’s my sister. Drew isn’t a cheating bastard. He’s the father of my nieces, the brother I never had, and part of our family. I can’t treat this investigation as I would any other because I can’t separate my feelings for the parties involved.
