by M. A. Foster
The past few years have been rough on Katie, physically, mentally, and emotionally. It hurts my heart knowing the hell she’s been through, but she’s also the strongest and most beautiful person I know, inside and out, scars and all. Katie looks like a supermodel with long black hair, full lips, and turquoise eyes that stand out against her fair skin. She’s stunning. She kind of reminds me of Liam’s niece, Jayla. They could easily pass as sisters.
Katie turns to see me studying her and gives me a look. “Don’t,” she warns.
“So you’re not seeing anyone?” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah. His name is Club Abyss.” She snorts a laugh.
Katie is a nightclub designer, and Club Abyss is her first solo project. It’s a brand-new nightclub in downtown Heritage, and tomorrow night is the grand opening. We’ll all be there to support her.
“Are you excited about the opening?” I ask.
“I’m nervous,” she admits.
“Don’t be,” Kennedy adds, pulling her blonde hair over her shoulder and working it into a fishtail braid. “You’ve busted your ass to get this far, Katie. You should be proud of yourself.”
“What about you, Vanessa?” Gabbi cuts in.
I flick my gaze in her direction. “What?”
“What do you think is worse? Emotional cheating or physical cheating?”
I fall back on the bed and blow out a breath. I think Jake cheating on me with his ex throughout the entirety of our relationship is a much bigger betrayal than Liam’s friendship with Milana. But for some reason, Liam’s betrayal hurt far worse than Jake’s ever could.
“I think they both suck.”
Mexican food and margaritas are my favorite, and since it’s my birthday, the girls are treating me to the best Mexican food in Heritage Bay—according to Gabbi—with giant margaritas, ice-cold beers, cheap tacos, and karaoke. My kinda place.
As the Uber driver zips through Magnolia Park toward downtown, I stare out the window, catching clips of the city I call home. Everything looks the same but feels different. My stomach knots as the car eases over the drawbridge leading into Heritage Bay.
“I have news,” Gabbi announces, pulling me from my thoughts. I turn to look at her. “I’m writing my first romance novel.” She brings her hands in front of her chest and does a happy clap.
“That’s great news!” I cheer.
“I’ll make room on my bookshelf,” Katie adds.
“Is this a hobby, or are you quitting your job to be a full-time writer?” Kennedy asks, putting a small pinhole in Gabbi’s happy bubble. I stifle a laugh.
Gabbi’s lips twist to the side. “No, Mom. I still have to pay my bills.”
She went to one of the best colleges in the state, earned a degree in business, and after she graduated, she got her real estate license. Being a realtor in Heritage is cutthroat, and it takes years to build clientele. Unless you’re Gabriella Martinez.
“Good,” I add. “Because I’m gonna need your help finding a place once I find a job.”
The Uber driver makes a left into Pelican Cove and rolls to a stop outside the restaurant. Sliding out of the back seat, I step onto the sidewalk and lean my head back to look up at the purple sign with “Tex-Mex” printed in black. It’s just after six o’clock, and the place already looks packed.
“I haven’t been here since they remodeled,” Gabbi says as she opens the door and gestures for us to go first.
Stepping inside, I scan the busy restaurant. I look over at Kennedy to see her doing the same.
The walls and ceiling are painted a bright orange and covered with an array of caricatures and graffiti art. There’s a small hostess stand directly in front of the door and a bar running along the wall behind it. The opposite wall is lined with booths, and high-top tables fill the rest of the open space. A part of the far back wall opens up to a patio with umbrella-covered tables overlooking the bay. The closed part of the back wall is blocked by a makeshift stage currently occupied by a young woman belting out the lyrics to Joan Jett’s “I Hate Myself for Loving You.”
The hostess leads the four of us to a high-top table in the center of the room with a direct view of the stage.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Kennedy says. “Will you order me a margarita?”
“Sure. Frozen or on the rocks?”
“On the rocks,” she answers before heading off to the bathroom.
Our server arrives at our table, and we place our orders.
“Call me a fashion snob, but what exactly is management thinking allowing these girls to wear that?” Gabbi gestures to our server, who’s moved on to the next table. She’s a young girl, most likely in college, and I guess she’d have to be at least twenty-one if she’s serving alcohol. She’s wearing a bright purple T-shirt tied in a knot at her back, showing off her midriff. The words “Tex-Mex” are printed in bold black letters across the back, and below she has very short, very tight denim shorts with the cheeks of her ass peeking out the bottom. Personally, they look uncomfortable.
“Be nice.” I wave her off. “Haven’t you ever been to the wing place? Those shorts are more like bathing suit bottoms.”
“Yeah, but they wear pantyhose or Spanx.” She turns her attention back to the server, her face screwed up. “That’s her bare ass. Is that even sanitary? And oh my gawd, she’s got a camel toe,” she mutters, looking away.
“Gabbi, stop,” Katie says with a chuckle. “Don’t embarrass the poor girl.”
Gabbi’s mouth pops open and she nods toward our server, who’s now standing at the bar. “She’s embarrassing herself. It’s our duty as women to help a fellow sister out.”
As the server makes her way to our table, I look over at Gabbi. “You picked this place, so don’t be a dick.”
Gabbi rolls her eyes. “Fine.”
Kennedy returns from the bathroom with a baffled expression on her face just as the server places the last drink on the table and darts off. “Our waitress is rockin’ some serious beavage.”
Gabbi bursts out laughing. “Right?”
Katie and I just shake our heads.
An hour, two giant margaritas, a bowl of chips and salsa, and a plate of nachos later, we’re feeling pretty good. Gabbi and Kennedy are out of their seats dancing and singing along to *NSYNC’s “It’s Gonna Be Me” while Katie and I prefer to dance in our seats. I don’t trust myself not to fall on my ass.
Katie leans close to my ear and says, “They’re not bad,” gesturing to the three college boys on stage.
I nod in agreement. They’re not bad. In fact, these people take their karaoke very seriously, as if they’re auditioning for America’s Voice. The song comes to an end, and the patrons go nuts.
“Next up, we have Vanessa,” the MC announces.
Leaning forward, I wrap my lips around my straw and suck down the remaining liquid in my glass. Raising my gaze, I catch my three friends staring at me.
“What?”
“You’re up, birthday girl,” Gabbi says with a wicked grin, gesturing to the stage.
“Seriously?” I snort.
“Get your butt up there, Vanessa,” Kennedy shouts with a laugh.
“Go on,” Kati urges, bumping her shoulder against mine.
“All right,” I drawl. “But don’t get mad at me when your ears are bleeding.” Sliding off my barstool, I sway slightly on my feet. Those margaritas are no joke.
I shuffle toward the side of the stage. “Hey, gorgeous,” the MC says, holding out the microphone. “You ready?”
“I guess.” I let out a dramatic sigh. “What am I singing?”
He points to the monitor, and I bark out a laugh when I see P!nk’s “U & Ur Hand” on the screen. “Oh yeah, I’m ready.”
VANESSA
I steer my X5 into the driveway of my childhood home at 22845 Magnolia Drive. It’s a one-story bungalow-style home with three bedrooms, three baths, hardwood floors, vaulted ceilings, and a wide front porch complete with two w
hite rocking chairs. A large magnolia tree stands in the middle of the yard.
My dad loves this house. It holds a lot of memories of my childhood.
Memories of us as a family.
Memories of my mom.
“Princess Buttercup,” I call out as I step inside the foyer.
A wide grin stretches across my face when I hear the familiar sound of nails skittering across the hardwood floors just seconds before my sweet girl comes barreling around the corner.
Dropping my purse to the floor, I fall to my knees and open my arms. And just like always, she rears up on her hind legs, places her paws on my shoulders, and tucks her head under my chin. Princess Buttercup was a gift from Liam. He’d given her to me the summer we got married. Most wives get jewelry when their husbands cheat. I got a puppy.
When I moved to Orlando to finish out nursing school, I decided it was best to leave her with my dad. But I made it a point to come home at least one weekend a month and more if I could, just to hang out with her, my dad, and Kelly.
“Vannie?” Dad calls from the kitchen.
“I’m here, Dad!” I answer, getting to my feet.
A moment later, he’s walking toward me, relief etched on his face and arms wide open. Succumbing to my emotions for the second time this weekend, I practically throw myself into his arms and burst into tears.
Dad pulls into the parking garage at Pelican Cove just as a car in the front row is backing out. “I love when that happens.” He glances over at Kelly and chuckles as he steers into the vacated spot. Kelly giggles, and I just smile because they’re too damn adorable.
Sliding from the back seat, I brush my hands over one of several new dresses Kelly bought me for my birthday. This one is a navy-colored bodycon dress cut straight across the chest with wide straps that tie behind the neck, giving it a halter-like appeal. It’s definitely the sexiest thing I’ve worn since my birthday in Vegas. I paired the dress with strappy nude heels and a matching nude Tory Burch clutch.
My girls treated me to breakfast and a trip to the salon earlier today. After I got dressed for dinner, I brushed some mascara on my lashes, swiped my lips with a nude matte gloss, and left my long brown hair loose, hanging down over my shoulders and back. Dad’s eyes nearly popped out of his head when I met him at the front door, but all he said was “You look beautiful.”
I nervously fidget with one of the diamond studs in my ear as the three of us stroll down Bay Walk, which runs along the edge of the water overlooking downtown Heritage. My stomach twists as we walk past Mac’s, owned by Liam’s older brother, Max.
The diamond stud earrings were a gift from Dad along with a basket full of body spray, bubble bath, and bath bombs. I know Kelly had to have helped him out, because for the last eighteen years, my birthday gifts consisted of a bike, a Razor scooter, handheld video games, a cell phone, and a car for my sixteenth birthday, with gift cards in the years between. Don’t get me wrong, my dad never failed at birthdays. I just think having Kelly around to remind him that I am, in fact, a woman is a nice change.
I suck in a breath as we pass the bench where Liam and I took selfies on prom night before he kissed me. I still consider that night one of the best of my life.
Dad opens the glass door to Oceanside Grill and gestures for us to go in. The hostess, a tall woman with black hair slicked back from her beautiful face, greets us with a bright white smile. Dad gives her our names, and less than a minute later, she grabs three thick leather-bound menus and leads us through the main dining room, stopping at two half-circle booths facing each other, giving us a view of the restaurant and the water.
Thanking the hostess, I slide into the booth and look over to see Dad and Kelly have stopped beside a nearby table. Dad is shaking hands with a dark-haired man whose back is to me. Beside him is a familiar blonde woman with her head turned, giving me a view of her profile. I glance to the other faces around the table, and my face heats when my gaze locks with two sets of familiar bright green eyes. Dylan and Cole Mackenzie.
Before I can look away or process the fact that Liam’s family is sitting just a few feet away, my dad waves me over. “Vanessa.” Damnit.
Sliding out of the booth, I mutter a “Fuck my life” before making my way over just as Kelly says, “It was nice to meet you.” She tosses me a wink and heads over to our table, leaving me standing with Dad. A flush works its way across my chest, feeling eight curious sets of eyes on me.
“Vanessa,” Max sings. His eyes drop to my ring finger and back up to my face.
“Nessa,” the adorable toddler occupying his lap parrots.
“Hi, Max,” I say sweetly before bending to greet the little girl. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”
“Lillow,” she answers shyly.
Max chuckles. “This is Willow.”
I straighten, keeping my gaze on her. “It’s nice meet you, Willow.”
She buries her face in Max’s chest.
I turn my attention to Max’s wife, who’s sitting beside him. “Hi, Jessica.”
She stands from her seat and moves to wrap me in a hug. “Vanessa, it is so good to see you again.” Pulling back, she grips my biceps. “God, it’s been what? Five years?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
She turns and waves a hand toward the table. “You remember my boys?” I’d only met Max’s family a handful of times while Liam and I were dating, but I’d never forget a Mackenzie.
Jessica points to the carbon copy of Max seated beside her. “This is Dylan, my oldest.” He nods a hello, staring at me intensely. “Cole.” He tips his chin, a smirk on his lips as he stretches his arm across the chair beside him, which is occupied by a girl with the most beautiful red hair I’ve ever seen. “And Harper, Cole’s fiancée.”
Harper smiles and lifts her hand, giving me a friendly wave. “Hi.”
“And our youngest, Aiden,” Jessica continues, gesturing to the only one of her three boys who looks like her. I remember adorable toothless Aiden. Now he’s a teenager. With that devilish smirk, I bet he already has girls falling at his feet.
My eyes flick to the person seated on the other side of Max. His wavy blond hair and bright blue eyes stand out against the sea of raven-haired men. Good God, he’s gorgeous.
The mystery guy extends his hand to me. “I’m Zach. I inherited this crazy family by marriage.”
Hot damn. A wide smile stretches across my face. “You’re married to Jayla.” Go Jayla.
He beams like a man in love, and my heart swells. “I sure am.”
“Congratulations on your marriage. Please tell her Vanessa says hi.” I turn my attention back to the table, my eyes darting around to all the curious faces, and lift a hand. “It was nice seeing—meeting you guys.”
Dad must pick up on my discomfort because he curls an arm around my shoulders and says, “We’ll let you get back to your family dinner. We have a birthday to celebrate.”
A chorus of “Happy birthday” sounds from the table.
I thank everyone and head back to our table where a dirty martini is waiting for me. “Thank you,” I say to Kelly as I lift my favorite cocktail and down it in four swallows.
“Take it easy, kiddo.” Dad chuckles as he slides into the booth beside Kelly. “I don’t want to have to carry you out of here.”
Keeping one foot firmly planted on the floor, my old cell phone clutched in my hand, I close my eyes and will the room to stop spinning. Kelly and I had a little too much to drink at dinner tonight, but not so much that Dad had to carry me. I hadn’t meant to drink so much, especially after I’d spent the entire weekend drinking with my friends, but seeing the Mackenzies rattled something in me. I knew I’d run into them eventually, but I wasn’t prepared to do so tonight. They’d never been anything but nice to me in the past, but there was something there. An awkward tension of sorts. It unnerved me.
Were they mad at me?
All through dinner, I could feel the weight of their stares. And a few side glances in their dir
ection confirmed my suspicions.
What were they saying about me?
And why do I care?
Lifting the phone, I squint at the blank screen. Liam didn’t even wish me a happy birthday. And why did I expect him to? Because he hasn’t missed my birthday in seven years. Even the years we were apart, he still called to wish me a happy birthday. I never answered, but I listened to the messages.
Heartbreak, regret, and love stir in my chest as I pull up the recent calls and tap the number at the top. Pressing my hand to my stomach, I take a deep breath and attempt to calm the nervous butterflies. The phone rings four times, and just when I expect a voice mail recording, his deep voice rolls over the line.
“Vanessa?”
LIAM
Crack!
Ah, I love the sound of a home run. It’s music to my ears.
Tossing the bat, I start for the bases. My teammates are outside the dugout already celebrating the win. Rounding third, I wave at the roaring crowd in the stands, drinking in that sweet sound of victory.
After my interviews, I head for the showers. Half the team is already showered and dressed when I step out. I move over to my locker to grab a pair of boxer briefs from my bag and slip them on.
“Mackenzie,” Alonzo calls from the doorway. “McAllisters. Drinks on me tonight.”
McAllisters is little sports bar we like to go to. It’s one of the few places where the patrons mind their own business and let us drink in peace.
I look over at Tyge, since he rode with me today. “You in?”
He grins. “I’m down.”
I jerk my chin to Alonzo. “We’ll meet you there.”
While I finish dressing, my teammates slowly filter out of the locker room. I grab my phone and tuck it in my pocket before pulling my bag over my shoulder.
Tyge and I are the last ones to leave, which means the small crowd gathered outside the clubhouse is for us. We stop to sign autographs and pose for pictures. “I love you, Liam!” a woman screams from somewhere in the crowd. I grin but don’t engage. Some female fans can be a bit overzealous.