by Laura Pavlov
“When she asks me to, I will. Until then, if she invites me over, which she does often—you’ll probably see me again soon.” He smirked, tucking his hand into his pocket.
“No fucking way she invited you here. Not now, and not ever. Not since we’ve been together. You’re hanging out in her lobby like a goddamn stalker.”
“Am I? I believe you’re threatened by me, Maverick. And you have good reason to be. Because what we had never really ended. She was confused, yes, but the feelings are still there. We both know I’m a whole lot more likely to ride in on a white horse, while you’re out there kicking a ball around a field with your friends. It bothers you, doesn’t it? Knowing I’m better suited for her. You and I both know it, and Elle knows it too.”
“If you’re so good for her, then why’d she dump your ass, you selfish, arrogant prick? This isn’t a conversation about who’s better for her—she’s with me. End of story. I don’t give a fuck what you think.”
“Yes, Elle and I hit a bump in the road as every couple does. You were a rebound until she comes to her senses. We’ve talked about a future together. About marriage and children. Have you? You’ve been with her for a few months and now she and her mother don’t speak. You don’t think it bothers her, do you? Well, it does. Then you come to my workplace calling out orders for me to stay away from her knowing it will reflect poorly on her professionally. What do you think she called me over to talk about today? I’ll let you ponder the thought.”
“You think you can get inside my head? I’m a fucking professional football player. I don’t do head games—you manipulative fuck. Don’t you already have children? Ah, yes, they’re only a few years younger than Elle. Maybe you should put your energy there, old man. Now I’m going upstairs to spend the rest of the night with my girl. You can see yourself out, and I promise you this is the last time you’re going to set foot in this building.”
“Again, don’t make promises you can’t keep, Maverick. She invited me here. You can’t stop me from accepting the invitation,” he said in his haughty French accent, turned and headed for the door.
Maverick’s blood boiled. He stepped in the elevator, replaying the conversation. Did she invite him here? He did see the guy’s car here last night, along with the photo and the phone. Fuck, this wasn’t good. But he knew her. She wouldn’t fuck around on him, would she? Count Asshat sure seemed confident saying things never really ended with them. Maverick used his best poker face when he said the dude’s head games weren’t working. Nothing was further from the truth because right now, he didn’t know which way was up. Running a hand through his hair he tried to get it together. He wanted to punch a wall. Kick something. Preferably a cocky French Count. The man’s words replayed over and over.
What do you think she called me over to talk about today?
We’ve discussed marriage and children.
We both know I’m a whole lot more likely to ride in on the white horse.
Was he right? Edward did fit into her world better than Maverick. Was she calling him to vent about her problems? Planning a future with both of them behind his back?
He put the key in the door, anger radiating from every cell.
“Finally. I’ve been waiting,” she said, her face puffy and red. Was she crying? Had she cried to the Count earlier?
“Give me a minute,” he growled, walking right past her and into the bathroom. He locked the door, which he’d never done, and bent over the sink.
Pull your shit together, man.
She looked dumbfounded when he moved past her. Seeing her upset nearly broke him.
Nearly.
But then he remembered he wasn’t the first one to comfort her. He splashed water on his face before hitting his phone hard on the counter. His anger palpable. Unfortunately, his phone took the brunt of it. It crashed into the wall before landing in the garbage can. Normally he’d gloat about his impressive shot, but not today.
“Maverick. Are you okay?” she called from the other side of the door.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” he said, his irritation impossible to miss. He reached for his phone, noting the only other thing in the garbage can in the tidy bathroom.
What the hell is this? A white stick.
A motherfucking pregnancy test.
He bent down and pulled it from the trash can, and every muscle in his body tensed. His shoulders went stick straight. He barreled out of the bathroom with his cracked phone and the white stick in hand.
“What the fuck is this?” he said, his voice loud and angry. He flailed the goddamn thing in her face.
She blinked several times. Speechless. This was a first. It also spoke volumes. He’d never seen her at a loss for words.
Her gaze hardened. “What are you doing? Get that out of my face.”
“I think we can jump ahead in this conversation. Is this why you’re crying? You thought you were pregnant with someone else’s fucking baby?” he said, his voice louder than intended. Everything bottled up was now at the surface, like a dam at its limits.
She crossed her arms, her face red and furious.
“Please, do me the honor of telling me who I’ve been impregnated by. Last I checked, you were the only man I’m sleeping with.”
“But I’m not the one you called first to discuss this with, am I? And it sounds like your sidepiece doesn’t wear a condom because you sure as shit make sure I do. Let me guess, you want to get pregnant by a fucking royal. Is this part of your fucked up fairy-tale?” It felt good to let it all out. He was done checking himself. She’d fucked him over, and he was damn well going out in a blaze.
Her glossy wounded gaze locked with his. He didn’t miss the devastation. It almost made him stop his rant.
Almost.
But she’d cut him to the core, and he’d damn well have his say. He’d put up with this Edward bullshit for too long, and the whole time he’d been getting played.
“You think I’m sleeping with someone else? You’re kidding, right?” It came out more like a squeak. Her voice broke, and tears streamed down her face. She still wouldn’t own her shit.
“You bet on the wrong horse, Peaches. Your prince is an old douchebag. Probably can’t even get it up. I don’t think you’re going to have any luck getting pregnant. I guess karma’s a bitch, huh?”
“Get out,” she said, and her voice trembled. Good. He wanted to hurt her the way she’d hurt him.
“My pleasure. We’re done. Thanks for nothing.” Bitterness rolled off his tongue with ease. Even he was shocked by his coolness.
“That’s the first thing we’ve agreed on today.” She held the door open for him to leave. His gaze locked with hers and something in his chest tightened. She looked sad. Broken. Why the fuck was she upset? She did this. This was on her. Where was the remorse?
“Have a nice life, Peaches.” His tone laced with disgust.
She didn’t respond, just slammed the door behind him. As the elevator moved down toward the lobby a sinking feeling settled in his stomach. They were done. She didn’t make any effort to explain herself, defend why she’d been meeting with Edward behind his back, or tell him why the fuck she had a pregnancy test in her bathroom. He sat in his truck and leaned his head back against the seat. She’d fucking crushed him, and he never saw it coming. He knew better than to fully trust someone this way. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. He’d bought a fucking engagement ring for her. Planned a future with her. Christ, she’d agreed to move in with him, all the while carrying on with another man behind his back.
He pulled in his driveway and slammed his fists against the steering wheel. “Fuck.”
Mandy’s car was in front of the house. She and Gigi were already here. Jesus. He sure as shit didn’t need his sister grilling him right now, and he wouldn’t stay at his house with them there. The way this day was going, he’d more than likely have a goddamn nightmare tonight. Betrayal had a way of dredging up bad memories.
“Mav, I thought you w
ere staying at Elle’s?” Gigi said, setting out enough Chinese food containers on the counter to last her a week.
“Yeah, just grabbing a bag. Do you mind feeding Daisy tonight and tomorrow?”
“Of course, no problem,” she said, giving him a side hug when he walked past.
“Thanks.”
“Hey, are you okay?” She studied his features as her roommate came walking out from the bathroom.
“Yeah, fine.”
“Hey, Maverick,” Mandy said. “Thanks for letting us crash here tonight.”
“No problem.”
He ran upstairs and threw practice clothes and toiletries in a bag and made a quick reservation at a hotel up the street. He used the back door to avoid his sister’s inquisition, and yelled out for them to have a good night.
Driving to the hotel he made a conscious decision. No more distractions. Agonizing over why the woman he loved betrayed him included. Time to pull his head out of his ass and finish his season strong. He’d been caught up in a bullshit fairy-tale, and he knew better.
But why the fuck did it feel like someone cut his heart from his body and stomped it?
Maybe, because she did.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Elle’s Tip of the Day
Sometimes a prince is just a frog in fancy clothing!
“Take as long as you need,” Camille said after Elle explained what happened to Winston.
“Thanks, Camille. I’ll let you know when I find out more.”
“Don’t worry about us here. You deserve a break anyway. Take care of yourself.”
“Thanks again,” Elle whispered.
Her stepfather took a turn for the worse during the night. He was not responsive to the drugs they administered. Her father offered to take her to the airport, but she didn’t want him to leave when he was on call at the firehouse. Peyton and Dani came over for a few hours last night after hearing what happened with Maverick.
Boy, when it rained, it poured. She’d wanted him to wrap her up in the safe little cocoon he’d always provided and comfort her after hearing about Winston. Instead he’d blindsided her. She could tolerate Maverick’s occasional jealousy and his stubbornness about moving in together, but she wouldn’t put up with being called a cheater or a liar. The man she loved actually believed she’d had sex with someone while they were together—it was inexcusable.
She thought he knew her. Knew who she was. She would never have been unfaithful. She’d been with someone who cheated on her, for goodness’ sake, and she’d shared the gory details with Maverick. Maybe he was guilty like Will was. The guilty ones always pointed their fingers at the innocent ones. Nothing made sense anymore. They’d been so happy leading up to yesterday, she didn’t know what changed.
And now they were done?
All because Dani threw her pregnancy test in the garbage can? It was ridiculous and offensive. She couldn’t be with someone who believed she’d do something so shady. No. Maverick Wallace needed to check himself. She’d been there for him since the day they started dating, and when she needed him most, he’d gone fifty shades of crazy. It didn’t stop the ache buried deep in her soul. He was her man. Her person. Now it was over? She couldn’t wrap her head around it.
Rolling her bag toward the door, she nearly tripped over Daisy’s stuffed giraffe. Damn. The giant pup loved this thing. Slept with it every night. She grabbed “Raffi” and the bag of dog treats on the counter. Maverick wasn’t great about picking up the extras, and Daisy loved her Bully sticks. Stepping in the uber, she asked the man to make a quick stop before the airport, agreeing to pay extra to do so. Maverick’s house was on the way. She’d leave it on the front porch. She had no desire to see him. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
“Can you please park across the street? I don’t want to pull in front of the house. I’ll run over speedy fast,” she said, grabbing Raffi and the treats.
The perturbed Uber driver, Ricco, rolled his eyes but nodded. She slipped on her sunglasses, looked both ways, and ran to the porch. An unfamiliar car sat in front of his house. Her stomach twisted. Who would be here at seven in the morning? It couldn’t be a woman because Maverick never allowed anyone to sleep at his house. She’d been the first, and thought she’d be the last. Not to mention they’d been broken up for all of twelve hours, he couldn’t possibly have met someone already, could he? She gazed back at the Uber, knowing she could make it to the car in about twelve seconds. She wanted to see his face from a distance. Maybe she could get on the plane with peace of mind if she got a little peek. She dropped the items on the doormat and rang the bell. Memories of her ding-dong ditching days resurfaced, and she sprinted for the car.
“What are you doing?” Ricco said in a huff.
“Shhh…” she whispered, ducking down on the floor in the back seat and peering out the window. “I just want to see if he gets it.”
“You look kind of desperate, lady.” He chuckled.
“Isn’t there some sort of hashtag-no-judgment-rule in your profession?” she whisper-hissed and her heart raced when the front door opened.
The air left her lungs. Her mouth bone dry. There stood a beautiful woman, wrapped in a baby blue towel, and her dark, wet hair fell over her shoulders. She looked right and left before scooping up Daisy’s things.
At seven o’clock in the freaking morning.
Oh. My. God. She’d been a fool.
“Drive, please,” she said. Elle never spoke the rest of the way. Maybe she’d lost her voice. Lost her mind. She’d most definitely lost her heart. She’d given it to the wrong damn man. Never in a million years would she have thought Maverick capable of being so cold. So callous. Never. She gasped on a sob, holding her hand over her mouth, and trying with all she had to keep it together. Even Ricco seemed to empathize as he stayed silent as well.
The trek through security and boarding the plane were a blur. She couldn’t believe it. For the first time since yesterday, she realized it really was over. He’d accused her of being unfaithful, and now it all made sense. He probably met this woman a while ago and wanted to be with her. Making Elle the bad guy was an easy out. Hell, maybe he’d been unfaithful all along. Her mind spun with what-ifs.
Before the plane took off, she blocked Maverick Wallace from her phone and all her social media. She didn’t want him to call or text her. Nor did she want to sit around staring at her phone hoping he would. He’d lost all rights of knowing where she was or what she was doin’. She fought the tears for the first hour of the flight before dozing off. Turns out, broken hearts are exhausting.
****
Once she grabbed her luggage, she moved toward the exit. Mama sent a text and said Bernard, their long-time driver, would be at the airport to pick her up and bring her to the hospital.
“Elle.” A familiar voice called out.
She thought seeing a half-naked woman open the door at Maverick’s house this morning would be the most shocking thing to happen today. But lo and behold, Caroline Humphries was full of surprises.
“Mama?”
Two arms wrapped around her, speaking through her sobs, “Yes, I came to get you.”
Say, what?
First off, Mama hated the airport. She always sent Bernard. Second, she never left the house unless she looked impeccable. And she most definitely didn’t look like Caroline Humphries, the darling of Savannah’s social circle, right now. Lastly, she didn’t believe in showing emotion in public, and she was currently a blubbering mess.
“Are you wearing pajamas?”
Mama intertwined their fingers and led her out to the street. Again, hand-holding was not the norm.
Elle gave Bernard a quick hug before jumping in the car.
“These are pajama bottoms, but the top is a blouse. It’s Christian Dior. It goes with everything.” Mama tucked her disheveled blonde hair behind her ears.
Well, hells bells. Never in her entire life had she seen her mother with a hair out of place. And last she ch
ecked Christian Dior didn’t design blouses to pair with pajamas.
Elle faced her mother. “How’s Winston? Are you all right?”
Tears streamed down Mama’s face. “He’s doing the same. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’m sorry you had to hear about Winston from Edward. I’m sorry for being a terrible mother.”
She’d woken up in an alternate universe because nothing made sense today.
“Wow. You’ve just covered a lot of area. Yes, I wish you had called. But I’m glad I’m here now.” She wasn’t going to touch the part about Mama being a terrible mother because it was a can of worms she didn’t want to open at the moment.
“I was afraid. I didn’t think you’d answer after the way I treated you. I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Elle. I’m so angry all the time. Mostly at you.”
Elle tried to cover her mouth when she laughed.
“You’re preaching to the choir, Mama. I’m quite aware of how angry you are at me. You have been for years. And for the love of Pete, I don’t know why. I’m sorry I didn’t win the stupid pageant. Not because it even matters to me anymore, but because things have been so much worse between us since I lost. If I could go back and change the outcome, I would. For you. I’d try to be the daughter you wish I was.” Elle broke on a sob and tears streamed down her face.
Saying it aloud was both a relief and a heartache. A blessing and a curse. Admitting Mama was disappointed in who she was—it stung something awful, but at least she finally said it. Her heart couldn’t take much more today. She was hanging on by a thread. Didn’t expect to have such a heavy talk when she landed in Savannah.
“No, darlin’. It’s not what you think. This is why I’ve failed you so terribly.” Mama slipped off her oversized sunglasses and met Elle’s gaze. “Winston and I have been in a fight since we met you for dinner weeks ago. We’ve barely spoken. I probably caused his stroke. He’s so upset with me for how I treated you. How I’ve treated you for years. I’m so full of anger. And none of it was meant for you.”