Accidental Shield: A Marriage Mistake Romance

by Nicole Snow

  “You mean it?” she asks.

  “Damn right I do.” My eyes trace over everything she’s done, clearly more eclectic and intensive than the first room.

  The poster bed has white sheer curtains tied back on each post, and the bedding is white, with coral and pale-blue throw pillows. The pictures on the walls are ocean landscapes. The lamps beside the bed have tin shades, with seashell shapes cut out around the base.

  Again, she’s outdone herself, making the room come alive in this quiet subtlety that hits you between the eyes when you focus.

  The palm plants in the corners, the wicker trunk at the foot of the bed, a bench beneath one window, with a bookcase beside it...seems like it belongs here. Every last bit of it, and it’s a kinder, more thoughtful touch than anything I could’ve dreamed up in a thousand years.

  Along the other wall, there’s even a white dresser with an oval mirror that has faint starfish etched around the edges. “I can see why this room’s your favorite. Looks like a nice place for an artist to unwind.”

  “Well, as soon as I saw this poster bed, I knew I had to change up my picture.”

  “Whatever, Miss Modesty. You’re talented as hell. I’m just glad I got the works.” Smiling, I walk over, smoothing my hand over the plush, smooth comforter. “Drawing, design, and decorating. Couldn’t have done better if I’d hired a pro.”

  When I look up, she’s flushed.

  Her cheeks glow rosy pink, just like the day we shared that kiss. It almost stings to stick my hands in my pockets, trying to hide the insta-wood I get just seeing her. Especially when she’s at her sweetest and shyest.

  “You did good, Val. Did me right.” Yeah, this is where I need to shut my fool mouth.

  “Actually, I do have one small favor to ask,” she says, standing next to the trunk near our knees.

  “What’s up?” I ask. She seems nervous.

  “Could I maybe just...use this room? Move my stuff up here? Then I wouldn’t have to take over your bed anymore and you could have the master bedroom back.”

  I consider asking if she’d be more comfortable downstairs, where she’s been, but I don’t because I already know the answer. Her eyes are twinkling.

  “Consider it done. If you think you’ll be more comfortable up here, then it’s where you belong.”

  A weird second of doubt flicks through me.

  Hell, I should be happy she’s moving out of my room, giving up my bed, but somehow, I’m just not feeling a reason to smile. It’s like a mad, screwed up part of me wants to keep her there, when I’ve got no damn right.

  It’s too late, anyway.

  She practically skips across the room, jumps up, and then throws her arms around my neck just like she did the other day while we were swimming. Except now, my hands grab her around the waist and wind around her hips, holding her up.

  “Thank you!” she sputters. “It’s such a small thing, but it’s a shiny new room for my new brain. I guess I just...I’d feel more at home in a place where no one’s ever lived.”

  “It’s fine. I’m here to help, and this home is yours too as long as you’re here.” Let’s be real. I hate the idea of her not being here.

  My hands seem to know it better than any other part of me, sauntering lower, softly cupping her ass. The moment they do, it’s just like in the water, this electric charge between us.

  Heat. Lust. Obsession.

  No fucking chill whatsoever.

  Val’s eyes widen, lock with mine, and there’s this full second where we both go breathless.

  “Dad? Valerie?”

  She gasps softly and releases my neck, stepping back.

  “Up here!” I shout back to Bryce.

  She spins around and walks over to the bench.

  The thud of my son’s footsteps stop abruptly at the doorway.

  “Whoa! Now I get why it took days to get it right. This looks awesome!” Bryce says, an excited laugh falling out of him. Spinning around, he shoots down the hall. “Gotta see the other room!”

  She gives me an easy smile.

  “See? Now you’ve got the approval from the real judge,” I tell her. “Bryce is a terrible liar when he hates something.”

  “I’m glad. I feel like I’ve wanted to design a room like this for years,” she says quietly.

  “Cross it off your bucket list, babe. It’s done,” I say.

  Bryce darts back in the room a second later, talking a hundred miles per hour about how much he loves the new décor. He approves of sharing the upstairs bathroom after hearing she’s moving into this room.

  We unwind in the sun that evening, then hit a gelato and smoothie place down the street for coconut-loaded everything. Val has an extra skip in her step that night as she heads off to her new room.

  It’s harder than it should be to have my own bed back.

  I spend a long night on the mattress, drunk and frustrated every time I smell her scent on the sheets, this soft fragrance like orchids and citrus that’s absolutely Val.

  Fuck. I should be happy sprawling out on the cool sheets, especially considering how the leather sofa just brought nightmares.

  But it’s no relief.

  Instead, I feel like I’m losing my goddamn mind every second she’s not lying next to me.

  Decorating those rooms leaves a wild spark in her.

  Over the next two days, she continues working her magic. With my okay, she moves things around in all of the rooms downstairs, redecorates using what I already had on hand, but somehow makes each area look more homey and less like a sleek cave for two men.

  That’s what my mother called it. Cave, sweet home. Nice, but sterile.

  As if thinking about Ma makes her reappear, Bryce hollers out to me while I’m outside. “Hey, Dad! Grandma’s here.”

  Shit!

  I look at Val, who’s busy clipping wilted flowers off the hibiscus bushes while I trim the grass. She’s even spruced things up out here, making it look brighter, more alive.

  My mind snaps back to attention.

  “Coming!” I shout at Bryce through the door.

  “Your mother, huh? What’s she going to think of me staying here?” Val asks quietly. “Do you want me to say something?”

  “Well, uh—” Double shit. I haven’t talked to my mother since she dropped Bryce off and left for Maui. “No, she just thinks we’re...”

  Yeah. My brain must be up my ass. I can’t form words, much less lies.

  Valerie’s eyes swell, big and gold and worried. “Oh, no.”

  I shoot her a sharp look.

  “You told her we’re married?” She leaps to her feet. “Bryce might—”

  “No, no, not married, but...” Fuck. I can’t scrape it off my tongue.

  “Together?” she offers.

  I nod like a marionette. “I let her assume that when she dropped off Bryce. Haven’t talked to her since because she went to Maui to see her friends. And technically, she’s supposed to be there for a couple more days.”

  My gut churns. What happened to bring Ma home early?

  “Sorry. I’m panicking over nothing,” Val says, wearing a thin smile. “We’ve done this before. It’s no big deal.”

  No big deal? Right.

  So that’s why I can almost smell the sulfur waiting for me in hell, knowing I have to do this old song and dance again.

  Now, it’s even worse.

  Not only has Val not met my ma yet, sleeping in that bed we used to share is driving me out of my gourd. Until last night, I hadn’t had a wet dream in ages, not since I was marooned in the middle of fuck-where Iraq without a woman in sight. Just Iranian special forces crossing the border, hoping to mow us down.

  The last couple mornings have been ice-cold showers and promises to take her shopping for more clothes. Not that it’ll help. I think I’d still be burning for this woman if she walked in wearing a trash bag for a dress.

  “I hate asking you to lie for me,” I growl, raking a hand through my hair.

&
nbsp; “Flint. It’s nothing. Just a couple hours, right? How bad could it be?” She breaks into an honest smile.

  “You haven’t met my ma,” I tell her, shaking my head.

  I can’t believe this shit.

  The days haven’t been much kinder than the nights.

  That animal magnetism I keep fighting tooth and nail just grows between us. Ever since the game of water tag, I can’t forget having her pressed up to me, almost naked except for that tight little swimsuit I could shear off her in half a second flat.

  Worst part is, we’ve reached such an impasse with this Cornaro fuckery, I have no choice in what’s coming down next. Davis and Cash need more, they’ve exhausted their leads.

  Soon, I have to tell her what we need to do, and it won’t be pleasant.

  I’ve been putting it off because I don’t want to see her back in pain. She hasn’t mentioned her family since the fallout with Ray. But last night, Davis confirmed another suspicious cargo shipment leaving Pearl City on a King Heron vessel.

  We can’t delay the inevitable. Not much longer.

  Nor can I hold up seeing the woman who gave birth to me.

  “Flint?” Val asks.

  “Whatever, we’ll live,” I tell her, lying through my teeth. “Let’s go.”

  We walk into the house and hear voices. Bryce and my mother’s, both upstairs.

  Valerie looks at me questioningly, and I gesture to the steps. We might as well join them. Maybe the new decorating job will be a big enough distraction to make this less awkward.

  Ma spins around the second we arrive at the door to Val’s room.

  Then she throws out her arms and crosses the room, the smile she was beaming at Bryce two seconds ago getting so wide it shouldn’t be humanly possible.

  “Finally, the infamous Valerie! Bryce has been singing your praises since I walked in. Hi, I’m Beverly, Flint’s mom, and let me tell you, dearie, this room is drop dead gorgeous!”

  Poor Val.

  Ma stops just short of squeezing the life out of her as she wraps her in a super hug.

  “My pleasure, Beverly. I had a lot of fun redecorating and—”

  “Oh, darling, you’re exactly what this stuffy place needed! It’s felt more like a museum than a home since the day they moved in.” My mother doesn’t skip a beat. She doesn’t stop gushing either.

  I side-eye Val while Ma blabs on for several minutes, pouring her heart out like she’s already part of the family.

  “Thank you again,” Val says. Then, realizing she’s still wearing the gloves she’d borrowed to weed the flowers, she pulls them off.

  A second ago, I told myself it can’t get worse.

  Then it fucking does.

  Ma notices the ring on Valerie’s finger.

  “Oh, oh, oh! Oh, darling!”

  Oh, hell.

  She’s practically jumping. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother jump in almost four decades on this earth.

  Then she turns to me, hurls her arms around my neck, smothering me with kisses so rapid-fire it’s a wonder I can breathe. “You devil of a boy! How long have you been hiding the news? I’m so happy for you, my Little Arrow!”

  I return her hug but don’t say anything.

  I’m also a grown man pushing forty. Hardly her little anything but...shit, you know moms and their nicknames. Like it or lump it, they stick for life.

  Plus, she’s still talking. “I’m so glad I came home early. I kept thinking about how you wanted me to keep Bryce a little longer, and I just couldn’t stay away. These summers are so short. Before you know it, he’ll be off to school again. So, ta-da, I’m back!”

  “What would I do without you?” I wonder out loud. “We’re fine, though. Didn’t need you to—”

  “Nonsense! I get it now, you two want to celebrate your engagement. It won’t take Bryce long at all to pack. I’ll take him to a movie and then up to the North Shore. We’ll go horseback riding at that place he loves. Maybe I can book one of those cute little bungalows where you can watch the whales right out your window. They even do turtle tours!”

  Val looks up at me and pinches her lips tight, but that doesn’t hide the wicked grin forming on her face.

  Turtle tours.

  Fuck me.

  Yeah, that was one of my finer moments. No one makes up a lie so ridiculous. No one should.

  “But first, I have to see the rest of the house,” Ma says, hooking Valerie’s arm with hers. “Bryce told me you’ve moved things around.”

  “Not much. I mostly just spaced things differently,” Val says, walking out the door with Ma’s arm glued to her, glancing back at me.

  I follow a safe distance behind, paying close attention to every word my mother says, in case I need to jump in and interrupt.

  No, not in case. When.

  I also make a mental note to ask my man who’s watching the gate why he didn’t warn me Ma was coming. Patting my pockets, I find my phone and see the text.

  Damn. He’d warned me eight minutes ago. Guess I didn’t hear it with the weed trimmer going.

  Hardly surprising.

  A bitter part of my brain still blocks out certain sounds. Anything too close to a power drill.

  It’s how I survived. There was a time when a blender at a bar would send me over the edge, racing out of my seat like I’d spotted a polar bear.

  That’s one reason I did most of the building on this joint.

  I forced myself to use every power tool in the book to prove I had control. They’re just things. They can’t fucking hurt me in my own hands.

  The first few days were pure hell, very stop and go. But slowly, surely, I regained total mastery of the sound of the tool Cornaro used to torture me, to make me fail, to let her die.

  I glance at the message again. Eight minutes.

  Eight minutes alone with the kid.

  Hell, what had Ma already gotten out of Bryce before we’d shown up? I’ll tell her the truth when this is over, of course, but right now, I don’t need her questions or her empathy.

  I damn sure don’t need the guilt trip if she finds out what’s up. I promised her my ‘dangerous days’ were over after Damysus. I disbanded the firm for Bryce’s sake and hers.

  And mine, but that’s not the point.

  If anything happened to me, she’d have to raise Bryce. She’d do a fine job, sure, but she’d already raised me. It wasn’t fair risking her having to do it again.

  We’re in the dining room when Bryce runs downstairs, complete with his backpack. Since Ma and Val are talking about the flowers she’d picked and put in a vase, I meet Bryce in the living room.

  “Got everything?”

  “Sure do. I’m gonna give Louie a call and see if he wants to come,” Bryce says, already pulling out his phone.

  Lowering my voice, I lean close to his ear and say, “Listen. Grandma doesn’t need to know about Val’s amnesia. Keep that to yourself.”

  “Yeahhh, I know,” Bryce tells me, a wry smile on his lips. “She’ll flip out if she finds out you’re working with the Damysus dudes again.”

  “I’m not. Not technically,” I say, hating how harsh it comes out. I soften my tone. “I’m just helping a friend.”

  He nods. “I get it, Dad. I’ve got your back.”

  Damn.

  Fresh guilt pools in my stomach, pure acid to my soul.

  I hate how many people I’m involving in this. How many lies I’m asking them to live. How this shit just doesn’t stop, even after the fake marriage lie with Val became history.

  Speaking of Val...turning, she’s right there behind us, still talking to Ma in low whispers. And I see the look on her face as my mother tears into the past and hands her my beating fucking heart.

  Just like that, my ragey guilt turns into dread.

  11

  Old Confessions (Valerie)

  I keep a smile on my face as we say bye to Bryce and Beverly, but I can’t stop the words she’d said from repeating in my head.

/>   “Be patient with him,” Beverly whispered. “He doesn’t admit it, but Brina hurt him horribly. He’s just as scarred on the inside as his skin, after what that evil man did...”

  There’s so much I don’t know, don’t remember, but I have to know more about this.

  I wait until after they drive through the gate and we walk back inside.

  “Your mom’s a lovely lady,” I say, searching for a way to my questions.

  He closes the door and gives me a guarded look, his blue eyes flashing. “What’d she say to you, Val? For a second, it looked like you swallowed a toad.”

  “Oh, uh, just something I wondered.” Dancing around a straight answer, I ask, “Was Bryce’s mother’s name Brina?”

  “Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair, clearly uncomfortable.

  “Did you love her?” It just falls out. I’m still trying to process what Beverly said.

  He lets out a long, slow sigh. “I should have. We made Bryce together, but...where the fuck do I begin?” He shrugs.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to dredge up bad memories,” I whisper. “It’s none of my business.”

  “It’s fine. We’d known each other before I went into the service and hooked up when I was home on leave. Sometimes kids come when you’re not expecting them. Bryce was born while I was overseas, and I asked her to marry me. When I got out, after my old man died, I realized everything she’d told me was pure bullshit. And she had a bad habit of running herself into the ground, fucking around on me behind my back, drinking half the day. So I called off the wedding, and started proceedings to get full custody. She just fucking lied.”

  I bite my lip. Bryce looks too much like him to be a lie, so I ask, “What was she lying about?”

  “Not Bryce, he’s mine,” he says, almost reading my thoughts. “It was her life she lied about. Her habits. The money I constantly sent her went to drugs. Any rotten shit she could get her hands on. I’d already gotten custody of Bryce, but the night she died...” He shakes his head, his lip curled up in a silent snarl. “One of the worst nights of my life.”

  “What happened?” I touch his arm, sensing the tension under his skin.

  My heart aches, just seeing the look crossing his face, the agony he lived etched into every crease on his brow.