Amy’s hand found my thigh and just rested there. It made me calmer to have her here, reassuring me silently.
I shook my head. “I don’t want to run the show at McNeil. I’ve made my choices. I’m happy.” My voice was less certain than I wanted it to be. Damn, it’s like I’ve morphed back into a high-school kid who got told what he should focus on, what sport to play, what classes to take, and who to date. I’d agreed that one day I’d come back to the family business. I just didn’t want it to be today.
“You’re living off a trust fund, son.”
Ouch. I couldn’t afford the condo on my salary from the station or the club. “I could move. I don’t need a fancy house.” Even as I said it, part of me rebelled. I loved the condo. I loved Ocean Beach. On my own, I’d be in a cheap cottage blocks from the water. I could do it, but I didn’t want to. I glanced quickly at Amy. Now she knows I’m basically an overgrown teenager living off my parents’ money. Sure isn’t doing much for my image.
Amy was staring down at her plate, but her hand still rested on my leg.
Dad was shaking his head. “The fund is still under our control, son. And there’s a stipulation on it. You start working at McNeil by age twenty-seven—full time, or the money stops.”
“There’s…” Damn. What an idiot. I accepted the trust fund but never asked questions about it, about whether I could lose it. Talk about entitled. I shot another glance at Amy.
“It’s not automatically yours,” Dad continued. “It’s my job to groom you for success, Trent, and that money was enough to give you a little time to mess around, do some other things.” Dad actually looked at Amy when he said this last part, and anger flared in me. “It’s my job to set you up in the world. I want you in the office.”
My mind was still spinning when Nadia appeared, someone with her in the doorway. “Miss Stone is here,” she said.
Nadia turned to go as my mother rose to greet the tall, leggy blonde. Rebecca Stone. I hadn’t seen her in years, though I knew she’d been working for Dad’s company for a while. Her father had once worked there, too. McNeil was big on “legacy hires,” or nepotism, depending on your viewpoint.
There was no question Rebecca looked good, if a little overdone.
“Trent,” she said, a genuine smile pulling those lips wide. “It’s so good to see you.” Rebecca had been my girl, but that was a long time ago. Dammit. What the hell is she doing here?
“I’m so glad you could come,” my mother told her, gesturing at the chair on the other side of me. Elyse was watching Rebecca as if a movie star had just entered the room. I glanced at Amy. This dinner had been a horrible idea.
“Rebecca,” I said, standing for her to take her seat. “It’s nice to see you again. I’d like to introduce Amy Hodge, my…girlfriend.”
“Hello,” Amy said, lifting her chin and smiling.
“Hello.” Rebecca’s voice was tentative, and I wondered what my mom had told her to get her to come here tonight.
“How’ve you been?” I asked.
“Good,” she said, dipping her head so her long hair swept across a bare shoulder. “Your dad is keeping me busy. I’ve been in LA, helping with the club launch up there.”
I forced a smile. “That’s great. I know my dad appreciates having you on board.”
What the hell was going on here?
“LA?” Elyse said, her interest stirred by Rebecca’s statement. “Did you meet a lot of famous people?”
Rebecca laughed, a light tinkling sound like crystal being touched with silver. “A few.”
I scooted closer to Amy. “You doing okay?” I whispered.
“Having a great time,” she said, her voice low and laced with sarcasm. Her hand left my thigh. “High school girlfriend, angry mother, sullen sister. It’s like a sitcom.”
Rebecca was watching us whisper, and Amy leaned forward to speak to her. “It’s nice to meet you,” she said. “You and Trent went to school together?”
“Yes.” Rebecca smiled and shot me a warm look. “We were high school sweethearts. I mean—that was a long time ago, obviously.” She had the grace to backpedal. “I haven’t seen him in years.”
“I’m so glad you could join us,” my mother broke in. “Trent has been asking about you.”
I shot my mother a look I hoped might make her say something more truthful, but she just smiled sweetly at me.
“That’s so nice,” Rebecca said, her gaze dropping to the tabletop.
I hate this. The way my mom tries to manipulate people. What kind of example is this for Elyse? And why does Dad allow her to get away with all this?
I realized they were waiting for me to say something. I glanced at my father, who had a strange smile on his face, his ultimatum still hanging over the table like an ominous cloud.
“What have you been up to?” Rebecca asked me.
“Trent is getting ready to take over the family business.” My mother’s voice cut through the buzz in my head. I glared at her, about to contradict her, but she went on.
“Soon he’ll be running things with you at the office, the two of you giving Hank a break. He’s going to be a busy man.” She looked at Amy. “I doubt he’ll have time for the kind of fun and games he’s used to. He’ll be starting the life he was born for.”
I gulped at my wine, needing a chance to process. My mother was smiling at me like she thought she was doing me some kind of favor making Amy think I’d soon be too busy for her. My guts twisted at the thought of it working.
“Mom,” I warned.
“I mean, I know things are different. You’re with Amy now,” she said, nodding at me. I could feel Amy stiffening at my side. “You have things in common—enjoying the lighter side of life, the parties, the bars. But Amy’s going to be busy soon, too, once she starts medical school. That’s no small undertaking, dear. Cheers to you.” She actually nodded and raised her glass to Amy, as if all of that had been a compliment and not an underhanded insult to us both.
My head was shaking in shock, and I finally found the voice that had been stolen by my sheer disbelief. “Are you kidding me right now?” I asked the table at large. Suddenly, I was standing, my fists balled at my sides.
“You’re being rude and disrespectful to me, but also to my guest—my girlfriend.” I glanced around. My father looked embarrassed, but my mother gazed at her fingernail, as if a speck of dust mattered more than what I was saying. It sent me off the deep end.
“You don’t get to arrange my life in the way that suits you best. I actually have some plans of my own.” I was managing to keep my voice to a less-than-fully-irate tone, but my blood was pumping. I need to put an end to this, let them know I won’t be pushed around. The business is one thing—I knew I’d end up working for McNeil—but there’s no way in hell I’m going to let them arrange my personal life. I glanced at Rebecca with her perfectly tanned skin and made-up face. She wasn’t the kind of girl I wanted, and I wished they hadn’t dragged her into this. “And actually, part of the reason I agreed to have dinner here tonight was to make an announcement.” I caught my mother’s gaze and held it despite the lie I felt bubbling up my throat about to force its way out. I shot a quick glance at Amy, whose eyes were widening. I reached down and took her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Amy and I are engaged.”
The words fell onto the table like a dead rabbit, bloody and inappropriate, and no one quite knew what to do once they were out, least of all me. I felt Amy’s fingernails digging into the top of my hand. What the fuck did I just do? Slowly, I let my gaze slide to her face, waiting for her to refute the lie.
But she smiled at me with pride and admiration—the way a fiancée might look at her groom-to-be. I almost bought her blushing bride act, but there was a little glint of something wild in her eyes that set a cauldron of dread bubbling in my gut.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“You’re…” My mother was at a loss, which was a nice change, but even as I noted that small victory, I realized th
e horror of the lie I’d just told.
“Engaged,” Amy confirmed, her voice steady.
“Congratulations,” Rebecca said, looking up at us and then turning her attention to her cake with a solemn smile.
“We should talk about this, Trent.” My mother had recovered her voice. “I don’t think—”
“You don’t get to think anything,” I told her and my dad, too. “I’ll come back to help with the business. But you don’t get to tell me what I do with my personal life.”
Elyse smiled a secret little smile, as if seeing my parents thwarted had given her immense pleasure. “I’m so happy for you guys,” she squeaked.
I didn’t quite trust the innocent act my sister was throwing our way now, but my mind was reeling in so many directions, I couldn’t stop to figure out her angle.
The rest of the evening wrapped up quickly, and by eight o’clock, I was back in the car with Amy.
My fake fiancée.
Chapter Twelve
Amy
The last part of dinner was a blur. It was as if someone had let loose a tornado inside me, colors and emotions churning by much too quickly for me to grab hold of any one thought or feeling to try to categorize or understand it.
What the hell just happened? And why didn’t I stop it? I put on my armor—the girl-shaped costume I’d worn most of my life. I donned my protective smile and winning falsehood and used them to hide the tumult inside my chest until we’d gotten through dinner. Through the false congratulations from La Jolla Barbie, Trent’s former girlfriend, through the confused acceptance of Trent’s dad and the complete denial of Trudy. I hid behind my emotional chainmail until I was seated again in Trent’s car and he was driving and we could be us again.
Only we weren’t.
I was me, but I had no idea who the man next to me was. I was pretty damned sure he wasn’t my fiancé, though.
“Amy—” he started as he guided the car down the driveway.
No. Just…no.
“Seriously?” I said. “I can’t wait to hear what you’re going to say right now.” The furious dial spinning inside me had landed on anger. “We just went from casual-no-strings to engaged in the course of one ridiculously uncomfortable family dinner.” I shook my head in wonder as the mansions of La Jolla slid by my window. “I don’t even know what to think.”
Trent was silent, his hands white-knuckling the wheel as he drove back toward downtown, listening.
“Can I at least say I’m sorry?” he asked when I’d stopped talking. “Because I really am.”
Seems like you can say just about anything you want, Trent. Doesn’t matter if it’s true.
Trent was quiet then, but he signaled, and suddenly we were exiting the freeway, though we’d only just hit Pacific Beach. I was too confused to question him. Clearly we needed to work some things out.
Palm trees lined the edges of the street as Trent drove, guiding the car into the long curved parking lot at Mission Bay Park. It wasn’t fully dark yet, the gloaming just settling out over the water as lights flickered on above the path through the grass. Rollerbladers, stroller-pushing moms, and runners still moved through the gathering dusk as Trent opened his car door and then came around to mine. I followed him to a picnic table where we sat side by side on the tabletop, our feet on the bench, both of us staring out at the bay and not speaking.
It might have been the first time since we’d met that we’d sat next to each other without touching.
“Will you let me try to explain?” He didn’t look at me, but spoke in a low, sorrowful voice as he stared at the distant horizon where the bright edge of the sun had just disappeared.
I shrugged. Where do I even begin to try to process this?
“My family…” he began, and then he seemed to think more about what he wanted to say. “I just…I never get to be an adult with them. I’m always this disappointing kid in their eyes, and they’ve never let go, never stopped trying to fix me. They pull the strings, and I fucking dance.”
He blew out a long breath and looked at me quickly before turning his head back toward the water. His hands came up and ran through his hair, mussing the blond locks before sliding back down his face.
“The thing is, they don’t ever look deep enough to see what’s really going on. They set me up with Rebecca…but they never stopped to ask if she was a good person, or if she was my type. They just knew her parents were wealthy and influential. They’re so concerned with how things look… Fuck.” He leaped off the table and ran his hands through his hair again, pacing in front of me and cursing.
Finally, he seemed to wind down and turned back to me. “Amy, I’m so sorry. This shit with my family…it shouldn’t involve you at all. I should never have taken you to meet them. I should have known it would ruin everything.”
Has it ruined everything? Why can’t I think?
He turned and began walking back and forth across the grass, his steps slow, his shoulders slumping as he rubbed at the back of his neck. “I took the one good thing I’d ever managed to find myself—the one thing that was amazing—and the second they got close to it, it was ruined.”
“Us?” I asked. “The one good thing is us?” My anger had begun to turn to sympathy, but now I was more confused than ever. Mad. You’re mad, remember?
He stopped pacing and turned toward me, his gorgeous face a mask of misery, his eyes shining and wide. “Yeah. Us.”
“Trent, I—” I didn’t know what I was going to say exactly.
He interrupted. “I mean…I know you don’t feel that way, I know you weren’t looking for anything serious.” He shook his head and spun away from me. “I fucked it all up.”
Did he just confess to having feelings for me? Is this something real?
“I don’t—”
“I know.” He moaned. “I know you don’t, and I’ll go back up there as soon as I take you home, and I’ll fix this. I’ll tell them the truth, I’ll—”
“Trent.” I stepped down from the table and took his hands, looking up into his face. I was still angry with him. Totally shocked by what he’d done, what he’d said. But I wasn’t ready to let him throw himself on his sword in front of his parents, either, and I didn’t think we were through, though I didn’t know exactly what we were. “Hey.” Finally, he met my eyes and exhaled, the fight leaving him with that breath. Now he just looked beaten and sad. “Let’s think about this for a minute, okay?”
The tables had turned in a crazy way. I was not the talker in this relationship. Or in any relationship. Most of the time, I liked to pretend nothing was wrong and just press forward, problems be damned. But Trent needed help right now, and that was something I could respond to. I’d always been the cool head in a crisis, the one who shielded others when I could.
He nodded, and we sat back down.
“Look,” I started. “I’m not thrilled about the lie you threw out there tonight. It was a pretty big leap to make without checking in with me first.”
“I had no idea I was going to say that, Amy. It wasn’t planned. I’m so sorry.” Trent’s eyes widened. “Oh God, my dad…his heart. I can’t believe I did that to him.”
Yeah, that too. “I think your dad’s okay. He’s got the stent now, and he’s on blood pressure meds.”
The line between Trent’s eyes faded a bit.
“But if you go back now and tell them you lied, I don’t think it’ll do much to improve your position. You can’t go tell them you made it up. They’ll lose faith in you, and they’ll hate me—not that it matters, really. But your mom will probably think the whole thing was my idea.”
He lifted a shoulder. “She might. She probably would.”
Of course she would.
We were both quiet for a moment, facing each other as we sat on the tabletop, our hands resting together on my knee where my leg curled between us. Trent ran his fingers lightly over my wrists, and I watched his big hands move, so gentle, so capable. I didn’t know what this was, but I didn
’t want things to end. I was still spinning. My trust had been shaken.
“So what are you saying? Fun and casual turns into fake engagement, and you’re fine with it?” His voice was a frayed thread of emotion.
“I don’t know about fine, but if you think about it, nothing’s really changing.”
His mouth closed, his head cocking to one side as he thought. “Because…”
“Because we just keep doing what we were doing, and let your family think we’re engaged. And when it ends, you just tell your family it didn’t work out. I’m sure they’ll be relieved.” Why did it hurt to say that last part?
Trent closed his eyes for a long second, and then he shook his head, a wry smile lifting one corner of his mouth. He licked his lips, looked like he was going to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind. “If she’s buying this, my mom’s going to want to have parties, to start planning a wedding.”
“Can we tell her we want a long engagement, hold her off a bit? I need to get ready for school, and it sounds like you’re switching careers.”
Trent squeezed his eyes shut and nodded slowly. “I knew I’d have to eventually,” he said. “So we…?”
“So we keep it casual. For a month more, tops.”
“A month?”
“Once I start med school I won’t be able to handle any distractions. We were supposed to be a fling, remember?” A fling. Remember that. Soon you’ll be too busy to wonder what might have been between us, if anything. “When the month ends, we break up, and you’re off the hook.”
“With who?” Trent’s mouth twisted.
“Everyone. With me, with your family.”
He sat up straighter and gave me a steady look, those dark eyes gleaming in the fading light. “So you want to keep things casual.”
I nodded, ignoring the way my mind kept flinging me back to the first few moments we’d been here, when Trent had referred to us as if we were something more. Something good.
Without Promises (Under the Pier) Page 7