Faking Forever (First Wives Book 4)

by Catherine Bybee

She wanted to deny him. “Victor—”

  “In three months. Give me three months and then give me a chance.”

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

  He lifted a palm to the side of her face, traced her lower lip with his thumb. “Wait for me. Let me be the next man to kiss these lips.”

  “Victor . . .”

  “Please, Shannon.”

  Three months? Her emotions clashed with common sense. Confusion muddled her brain. “Where did the asshole I met on the plane go?” she asked.

  He reached around to the back of her head, moved in close. “A woman in a white bikini chased him away.”

  He kissed her one last time, slowly. Thoroughly.

  “He was pissed! Holy shit, I didn’t think he could come out of his seat fast enough when that guy started touching you.”

  Shannon listened to Avery’s take on what went down at the table after she’d left. They lounged in the plunge pool, as they had nearly every night they’d been in Tulum. The price of the room was worth every penny to shed the suit and swim naked. Maybe the people on the nude beach had found the answer to life.

  “He doesn’t have a right to be jealous.”

  “Maybe not. But he was seething.”

  Shannon had told Avery that he’d kissed her the second they walked away from the bar. Avery’s response was a hard look at her lips and a comment about bruises.

  “He asked me to wait for him, Avery.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Three months. He asked me to wait three months and allow him to see me.”

  Avery pushed to the other side of the small pool and looked her in the eye. “What did you say?”

  “I didn’t say anything. I mean, I didn’t agree, didn’t disagree. He isn’t what I expected. He was a total piece of work when I met the man, and now . . .”

  “Not so much,” Avery finished for her.

  “Not so much.”

  “What do you have to lose?”

  “What if it doesn’t work? What if he turns back into the selfish guy he was on the plane?”

  “Then you cut him off and go back to your other plan. Consider this: What if you’d met him a month from now, two months from now, and Steve-o at the bar ended up being Mr. Baby Daddy? Call me naive, but a pregnant girlfriend who is carrying a child that isn’t yours is a little harder to juggle.”

  Avery’s logic rang true.

  “I haven’t been touched by a man since Paul, and I’m considering letting this guy put me on the hook, pushing off my plan for three months based on one kiss.” One spectacular kiss.

  Avery shrugged. “I guess when you put it like that . . .”

  “See?”

  They were both silent for a few breaths.

  “How good was the kiss?” Avery asked.

  Shannon closed her eyes and shivered. “I’ve never been kissed like that. With such abandon and need. It was like he had this one shot of making his point, this one moment, rolled up in a single kiss.” She opened her eyes, found Avery smiling. “I think it was the best first kiss I’ve ever had.”

  “Doesn’t your best first kiss deserve a chance?” Avery asked.

  “Why are you so congenial about Victor? The man was engaged to another woman less than a week ago.” A big red flag in anyone’s book.

  Avery kicked her feet up in the water. “Oh, that’s easy.”

  “Why?”

  “You. Because of you! The First Wives Club is going on, what, three years? I have never seen the kind of smiles on your face that I have since we’ve been here. Even when Victor ticks you off, there is a glow in you. So if he ends up being the selfish douche guy you spoke of, right now the man is pulling you out of the muck that Paul drug you through. And I’ll take it. You’re quite the catch, Shannon. I don’t think you’ve ever allowed yourself to acknowledge that li’l fact. Hell yeah, I’m gonna promote Victor. For worse or for better, the man is empowering you.”

  “I don’t want to get hurt.”

  “Then don’t let him.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “By keeping it honest with yourself. You fell for Paul, but he didn’t fall for you. You couldn’t just walk away because of the marriage contract. I get it. But that isn’t the case with Victor. If you start diving off the heart-filled cliff for the guy and he’s waving as you’re going over, get out. If he wants to date you and other women at the same time, then be sure and do the same. Enjoy what he has to offer, and don’t take any crap that you’re not okay with.”

  “Should I wait for him?”

  “In a normal situation, I’d say hell no. You just met the guy, you’ve had one kiss . . .”

  “A fabulous kiss.”

  Avery grinned. “. . . he just got out of a serious relationship, and the chances of him jumping around right now are pretty high.”

  Shannon heard a however coming.

  “But,” Avery continued, “I’ve never been on this ‘get pregnant with a stranger’ bandwagon, and the last thing you want is an accident with the wrong guy. Therefore, waiting a little longer, three months . . . I think that’s the way to go.”

  “I had a plan,” Shannon said.

  “Change the plan,” Avery suggested.

  Three months . . .

  Shannon stood in the reception area of the hotel, her suitcase by her side. Avery stepped away so they could talk without an audience.

  “You’re a surprise I wasn’t expecting this week,” Victor told her.

  “I would hope so, considering.”

  He wanted to pull her in his arms and kiss her but decided that a public display might not be what she wanted quite yet. He reached out his hand. “Can I see your phone?”

  She removed it from her purse and handed it to him.

  He typed in his number and pushed a call through. His phone rang and he hung up. “I’m going to call you.”

  Her ride to the airport pulled into the drive.

  “If you change your mind . . .”

  He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t count on that.”

  She sucked in a breath. “One thing.”

  “Name it.”

  Vulnerability crossed her face. “Don’t play me.”

  He wasn’t sure he’d know how to play a woman like her. “I won’t.”

  She leaned in, kissed the side of his cheek, and moved to the waiting car.

  He held the door open for Avery and accepted her hug. “Congratulations,” he said in her ear.

  “I’ll thank you when I stop throwing up.”

  He laughed.

  She lowered her voice. “Absence makes the heart forgetful,” she told him. “You might want to remember that.”

  “I will.”

  Victor watched the car drive away and felt the sunshine all around him dim.

  Chapter Seventeen

  A mausoleum would have been noisier than Victor’s office the day he returned. He purposely walked in late in the morning, yet a week earlier than he’d told Stephanie that he’d be back.

  He walked past the receptionist in the main lobby, smiled, and said good morning. As he walked through the maze of halls and cubicles of desks and various employees, his presence seemed to stop all chatter midsentence.

  By the time he walked into the foyer of his office, Stephanie was standing by his door, folders in hand, with very little expression on her face.

  “Good morning, Mr. Brooks.”

  “Morning, Stephanie.” He walked past her and into his vast space.

  “Did you tell me you were returning today?” she asked, following him.

  She knew he hadn’t.

  “No. I did not.” He sat behind his desk and glanced at the open stack of mail. But all of that could wait. “Call a meeting with the executive team in one hour. Is anyone out today?”

  She shook her head. “No. You asked that no one take time off when you were gone on your honeymo—” Stephanie stopped midword and dropped her eyes to the floor.

 
“Right. Good . . . one hour. You and I will meet directly after to go over anything I’ve missed.” He picked up the first paper on his desk, dismissing his assistant without asking her to leave.

  Stephanie hustled out of his office, closing the door behind her.

  Victor dropped the mail in his hand, leaned back in his chair, and sighed. The images of surprised faces surfaced in his head. Of all the people in the office, their silence.

  None of them had been at his botched wedding. Why was that? Oh, that’s right, he needed things to run while he was gone, and asking staff to attend could stop the machine he’d put into motion.

  His plan seemed to have worked.

  Everything appeared to be running as normal in his absence. The closest Victor came to checking in was when he left a voice mail for Stephanie to reschedule his Tuesday appointment. A meeting he had no business making during his honeymoon. A fact Shannon had pointed out before he’d gotten off the airplane.

  The thought of her brought a smile.

  He wondered how she would handle a staff that refused to look her in the eye after a personal disaster. With grace, he determined.

  His fascination with the former first lady of the state had prompted him to look up as much information as he could about her once he’d returned from Tulum and had been sitting in his quiet, empty home alone. The staff at the governor’s house had reported that they never knew of any problems with the couple, and that they were all very sorry to see her leave. No one had anything negative to say about the woman. Gossip magazines tried to find dirt, and all they came up with was a pretty hefty payment that a prenuptial agreement spelled out in detail before the couple married.

  Her ex-husband had been seen with other women socially during his term, but none were pegged as the reason for the split.

  Shannon was only seen with friends, or husbands of friends. Twice he found images of Shannon and Paul speaking cordially at an event after their breakup. Both times the magazines talked of a reunion, which obviously didn’t manifest.

  Victor was pretty happy about that. Not only would he have never met Shannon, since he highly doubted she’d be running around taking pictures of other couples’ weddings . . . she wouldn’t have been available to flirt with him and hold him in her arms.

  The look on her face when he’d kissed her would live with him forever. Surprise, excitement . . . yielding. She’d been as wound up as he. He was shocked that she didn’t push him away the second he touched her, and even more stunned when she told him she couldn’t go any further because of him.

  “I can’t do this to you.” Her words had repeated in his head from the moment she uttered them. What had they meant?

  In addition to searching the magazines and articles on the lady, he’d also downloaded the book she’d been reading on the beach.

  The book was solely geared toward a woman contemplating having a child without the benefit of a husband or partner. Coupling that information with what Avery had suggested—they were there to find someone for Shannon—it stood to reason that maybe Shannon had moved past the contemplating stage of having a child on her own and on to the execution stage of her plan.

  So he’d asked her to wait.

  Not that he’d be silent for three months.

  In fact . . .

  He removed his cell phone from his pocket and found her number. He clicked on her number and opened a text message.

  He asked one question.

  Are you still waiting?

  It took a few seconds for the knowing little dots to tell him she was responding.

  Victor?

  He had no right being this happy.

  Good answer, he replied.

  I thought for sure you’d be back to work by now.

  He smiled. I am. No one is looking me in the eye.

  That’s rough.

  He stepped out of character and asked, How would you handle it?

  You want my advice?

  Yes.

  Ignoring the elephant in the room never makes it go away.

  Victor rubbed his chin and grinned. Wise and beautiful.

  The telling dots went on for quite a while, as if she were typing something, changing her mind, and then restarting.

  You said three months, Victor. Now go away.

  He laughed out loud.

  The phone on his desk buzzed.

  “Yes?” he answered.

  “Everyone is gathered in the boardroom, Mr. Brooks.”

  Had it been an hour? He looked at the time.

  Daydreaming about Shannon was very time-consuming.

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

  He opened his phone to a different app and slowly made his way to the meeting.

  No one looked at him as he walked the hall, and many people scattered out of his path to avoid contact.

  He was the elephant.

  Inside the boardroom, the talking came to an abrupt halt with his presence.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  A chorus of replies similar in nature returned.

  Then silence.

  He placed his phone on the table and pressed play.

  His staff exchanged nervous glances as the drum riff of Simon and Garfunkel’s hit about all the ways to leave your lover started to fill the room. When the words started to sink in and the chorus played, the nervous looks of his employees turned to smiles and laughter.

  Victor was pretty sure he burped up mezcal at the memory of singing the song with a near stranger in a Tulum bar.

  The song ended and the air in the room eased.

  “Seems Corrie realized I was a workaholic asshole, wised up, and ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could.”

  No one in the room disagreed with him.

  Not one.

  He laughed. “Okay . . . tell me what I missed.”

  Shannon’s studio was a tight, comfortable space with a room in the back fit for photo shoots. Her small office sported a TV-size monitor where she could scroll through the images she’d taken and narrow down the best shots without clicking on each one.

  Even though Victor and Corrie’s wedding was one that would never have the bride and the groom skimming the images, Shannon found herself sifting through the pictures anyway.

  The tightness in the faces of the bride and groom had been passed off as nerves at the time, but now when she was looking at them, Shannon saw something completely different.

  Doubt.

  Easily deduced in light of Corrie taking off, but even with Victor. He’d been so uptight when she first started taking his photograph with his groomsmen.

  She came across the pictures she’d managed of Victor and Justin. Their resemblance really popped on camera, especially when they smiled.

  Shannon filed a couple of the better, more natural shots in a folder and continued through the pictures. She’d taken several shots while the guests were being seated . . . of Victor standing on the sidelines, waiting for word that Corrie was on her way. She zoomed in on an image where Justin was saying something to Victor that drew out a heated response. Then she found one of Victor looking at his watch.

  From then on, the images she caught were pictures no one realized she was taking. Her lens had focused on Victor when he’d told his guests that his bride had cold feet. His gaze looked over the people, avoiding eye contact. Embarrassed? Upset? Shannon couldn’t decipher his mood.

  The somber mood of the people that lingered after Victor left could be felt in the photographs. They huddled in small groups, drank the free liquor, ate the food. At some point someone made an executive decision to set the food up on a long table, and the local families that walked up and down the beach tempting tourists with their handmade trinkets were offered a free meal.

  That was when Shannon took picture after picture.

  The local children laughed with their siblings with bright eyes and animated faces. They stuffed their bodies with food and their souls with their family. These kids had next to nothi
ng in terms of things. It was apparent in their lack of shoes that fit and the clothes that looked as if they’d been passed down six times before reaching their backs. But they had what so many people didn’t.

  Each other.

  For the first time in a long while, Shannon thought of her own sister. Where was she now? Angie had dropped out of school to join the Peace Corps years ago, eventually finished school in Spain, and had continued her volunteer efforts tutoring English in remote locations in Brazil. When she didn’t come home for the holidays again last year, her mother had hinted that Angie was considering traveling to Africa next.

  “That girl won’t be happy until she contracts some incurable disease.”

  Their parents didn’t approve.

  On impulse, Shannon fished her cell phone from her purse and dialed the only number she had for her sister.

  The phone rang four times and went to voice mail, a common occurrence with a woman who frequented places that didn’t have running water.

  “Hey, Angie . . . it’s Shannon. I was thinking about you and wanted to catch up. Where the heck are you now? It’s been too long. I love you, sis. Call me sometime.”

  She disconnected the call with a shrug. She’d left messages like that in the past, only to hear back six months later in the form of a card or word passed on through their parents.

  Somewhere around the time Shannon married Paul, her sister had faded out of her life without explanation. Shannon asked herself why. They never crossed words, agreed on most political positions, and got along when she did show her face.

  Shannon had never come right out and asked her sister what she had done to be ignored. Probably because she wasn’t prepared to hear the answer.

  Who was she kidding? Alone with her own thoughts, she couldn’t be honest with herself.

  Angie had never approved of Paul. When they’d announced their engagement and rapid trip to the chapel, her sister sent a brief letter. The words had been etched in Shannon’s brain for years.

  What happened to my sister with her big dreams of fixing the screwed up world one revealing photograph at a time and ideals that weren’t spoon-fed by our parents? You’re selling out. You’re more than some man’s political wife.

  Her sister had been right, which hurt to hear. But at the time it solved so many problems. Shannon was outsmarting her parents by signing a temporary contract to be Paul’s wife.