Present
I wake as the sun rises Saturday morning and spot the pool out our bedroom window. Trey is sound asleep. Last night’s dinner was exhausting with all its superficial small talk and the subtle and sometimes blatant scrutinizing from the other side of the table.
I’m not sure Nolan is entirely convinced.
Climbing out of bed so as not to wake Trey, I slip into a t-shirt and robe, make a coffee in the guest cottage kitchen, and quietly slip out the door to enjoy the pool solo. I can’t remember the last time I so much as dipped my toes in a pool. Maybe a few years ago on a girls’ trip to Jamaica? But we mostly hung out by the ocean, sipping Mai Tais and burying our feet in the soft sand.
The still water glistens in the sun, reflecting the light above, and I perch on the edge of the pool, sliding my legs in until it stops at my knees. Closing my eyes, I breathe in the salty air and focus on the present moment, forgetting, for a second, where I am.
Today I get to meet my daughter for the first time in eight years. The heaviness of that isn’t lost on me. I promise myself I’ll be happy for her, that I’ll spend time with her, but I’ll try not to get too attached. Years from now, she probably won’t remember this day, but I will.
I’ll cherish it as long as I live.
All this time, I should’ve been ignoring the fact that I have to spend a weekend with Nolan and focusing on the gift I’m getting in return—time with Sasha.
The whoosh of the sliding glass door forces me into the moment. I turn, praying it’s only Anabelle.
It isn’t.
“You’re up early,” Nolan says. He’s dressed in khaki shorts embroidered with palm trees and a white t-shirt that skims his dad-bod, as casual as I’ve ever seen him and hardly recognizable from the man I knew a lifetime ago. He takes a seat on a lounge chair and moves it closer, until we’re separated by an intrusive couple of feet. “Good job yesterday, by the way. Very convincing.”
The warm air arounds me turns unwelcomingly brisk, covering my skin in goosebumps, and the sun hides behind a cloud—as if she knows.
But I push the sensations away. I didn’t cower yesterday. I won’t cower now.
“Convincing?” I scoff. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
“Psh. I know what you’re up to. I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”
“Manipulated in what way?”
“Certainly you’re aware of the clause in Trey’s contract?”
I scrunch my brows. If I tell him I’m aware, it’ll make all of this seem fishy as hell and could cost Trey the deal.
“I know nothing about a clause,” I lie. “The only thing I know is that we’re in love. And it’s the only thing I want to know. His business deals are none of my business.”
“Still letting men take advantage of you, I see.” He sips his coffee. “God, you’re naïve. Always have been.”
I glance toward the cottage. If Trey heard Nolan right now, I don’t know what he’d do, but it wouldn’t be pretty.
“You’re jealous,” I say.
“If you think I’m jealous, you’re delusional.”
“Why else would you say those things? Why else would you try to poison my relationship with doubt? You can’t stand to see I’ve moved on. You hate that another man makes me happier than you ever did.”
“Oh, Soph … you could never make me jealous,” he says. “Sure we had our fun, but it was never anything of substance. And when you got pregnant, I did what I had to do to make the most of it. At the end of the day, I couldn’t bear the thought of my child being raised by anyone else but Anabelle and me. We dated in college, and off and on since, and she’d been pressuring me to get married for a while, but she wanted children. That was a dealbreaker for her.”
“I don’t need to know your relationship history.”
“My point is, things worked out for Sasha,” he says. “She’s happy. Well-adjusted. Smart as a whip. Beautiful. And she’ll have every opportunity she could ever need.”
I can’t argue with those things.
But it doesn’t change what he did to pull that off.
“I don’t like this … you and Trey,” he says. “It’s a little close for comfort.”
“He doesn’t know. About you and me.”
“It doesn’t matter. I still don’t like it.”
“Fortunately it’s not your choice.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” He leans closer, elbows resting on his knees so hard they leave indentations. “First of all, you inheriting my company is not something I’m crazy about.”
“I don’t see how that matters?” I say. “Maybe you should’ve added a clause to your NDA.”
He chuffs. “You’re not going to marry him, Soph.”
I cringe at the use of my nickname, but I opt not to tell him to quit using it. He’d still do it, if only to get under my skin.
“Actually, I am,” I say, shrugging and peering off toward the crashing waves in the distance.
“Trey wants this company,” Nolan says. “But he’s not going to get it if you stay with him.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I’m doing what I have to do to protect my family.”
“I’m not going to tell him,” I remind him. “Your secret’s safe. I’ll take it to the grave. And Trey’s not stupid, if I tell him you won’t sell because of me, he’ll figure out there’s a past between us and it won’t be long until he connects the dots. He’s already seen my scar …”
“That’s why you’re not going to tell him you’re standing in the way of the deal. You’re going to break it off with him as soon as you get back to Chicago.”
A sharp pang flashes through my chest. My mouth turns dry.
“I’ll still sell him the company,” he says. “Out of sympathy for his broken heart. But if the two of you so much as think of getting back together once the deal goes through, I’ll repossess your mother’s home and ensure the doctors treating your sister cease their care immediately.”
With the payout arrangement and the millions of dollars coming my way, I could easily find another place for my mother to live and connect Emmeline with another group of world renown neurosurgeons. But if there’s no deal, there’ll be no reason for Trey and I to get married, which means there’ll be no payout.
“You’re a monster.” My word are low, a growl almost. My palms press into the tiled ledge of the pool until they ache.
“It’s the best decision for everyone involved.”
“Anabelle doesn’t know, does she? She doesn’t know Sasha is yours.”
He’s quiet, fingers pressed into a point.
“You never signed the birth certificate,” I add. “That’s why you’re so protective of your secret. If she knew, she’d leave you. You were never broken up with her, were you?”
His lips press flat. There’s nothing attractive about him anymore. And I’ve heard that stress and secrets can age a person faster than time. He’s got a lot on his shoulders. Clearly, guarding this information for the past eight years while running a large corporation has done a number on him.
“You’re doing this.” Nolan avoids my questions. “Or I walk from the deal.”
The front door to the cottage swings open. Trey walks out, dressed for the day, hair shower-damp. His eyes light from across the way when he sees me, and he makes his way to the pool.
“Everything rides on you,” Nolan says. “You’ll ruin a lot of lives if you don’t do this.”
And he’s right.
My mother …
My sister …
Trey …
He comes closer, and with every step, like faded daydreams, all the visions of marriage and children with him evaporate.
Forty-Eight
Trey
Present
“How badly do you want this deal?” Sophie asks when we retreat to the cottage Saturday night. Her skin is warm and sunbaked beneath her dress, and she smells of coconut sunscreen, ocean, and sunshine
.
We spent the day boating on Nolan’s yacht, which he named The Always Anabelle, and when we got to the alcove with the private beach, we disembarked for a couple hours relaxing in the sand. I’ve never been a beach person, but I took pleasure in watching Sophie with the children from behind dark sunglasses as Nolan yakked my ear off about business merger rumors and the history of his steel and oil company—as if I hadn’t already done my research.
I’m convinced the man simply loves to hear his own voice.
“More than anything,” I tell her as I strip out of my shirt. “Why do you ask?”
“You don’t talk about it much,” she says, unbuttoning the front of her dress. The straps of her bikini have created fresh tan lines, and I kiss the bronzed skin of her shoulders before working my way up her neck.
“I don’t want to bore you.” I press my lips into the spot behind her ear, fingers laced in her wind-blown hair.
“And what if you don’t get it?” she asks. “What if he doesn’t believe … us?”
I sniff. She should know me better than this by now. “I’ll get it. And he will. He already does.”
She bites her lip, forcing a breath through her nose. Her nipples perk from beneath her bikini top and her heated skin is covered in goose bumps.
“I loved watching you with those kids today.” I trail my fingers down her arms, where tiny grains of sand remain. “You’re going to be an incredible mother. So patient. So gentle. Willing to get down to their level. And the light in your eyes …”
She’s quiet, perhaps thinking about the future child we’ll create someday.
“You really bonded with Sasha,” I add, lips grazing hers. “Kind of makes me hope we have a girl …”
“One thing at a time, Casanova,” she’s kidding around now, which historically has never been a good sign. Something’s bothering her and she’s trying to lighten the mood to avoid discussing it.
“I’ve never mentioned this before. Not even to Broderick.” I cup her face and meet her intense blue gaze. “But the Ameses sold my parents the plane they died on. Taking over their company and rearranging their business model would be a way of sticking it to them. Their family will be furious with me by the time I’m through, and while this makes me sound petty, I’ll take great pleasure in every fucking minute of it.”
Sophie’s expression suspends in time for a moment, and just when I think perhaps she’s judging my little confession, she says, “Good for you.”
We stumble backward, to the bed, and I run my fingers down her stomach. It caves in response and her breathing heavies. Working my way down, I slide my hand into her bikini bottoms—until she stops me.
“It’s been a long day,” she says, growing stiff beneath my touch. “You mind if we just relax tonight?”
Disappointed, I remove my hand from between her thighs and pull her into my arms. My cock pulsates before growing limp. I’ve been waiting all day to have her to myself again, but if she’s not in the mood, she’s not in the mood. If I pressed, I’m sure she’d relent, but I’d never do that to her.
“Everything okay?”
Her eyes light and she swats at my chest. “Of course.”
I don’t believe her—but I know better than to pry when she’s like this.
The sun sets outside our window, coloring the guest room in variations of orange-pink. I could lie like this forever with her in this dream-like trance.
“My mom broke her leg once. Don’t ask me how because I can’t remember. I was quite young at the time.” I breathe her in. “But I remember that for weeks, my father refused to leave her side. He stayed by her side in bed. He helped her around when she needed anything. He cut fresh roses from the garden every day so she had something beautiful to look at when she woke, something to lift her spirits. He loved her to the point of obsession sometimes. And I never understood how someone could be so fixated on anyone else … but I get it now. That level of devotion makes sense, and it’s all because of you, Sophie, that I finally understand it.”
A wince covers her pretty face. Or maybe it doesn’t. It happens so fast.
I think about saying the words that’ve been on my tongue all weekend.
I love you.
But for some reason, I stop. And I take the euphoria that floods me as a consolation prize.
My gut tells me to wait, that she’s not in the right frame of mind to hear it.
Nuzzling into the bend of my arm, she sighs. And a moment later, her breath steadies as she succumbs to the exhaustion of the day.
“I love you,” I say as I watch her sleep, but only in my mind.
I’ll tell her soon enough.
Forty-Nine
Trey
Present
“We’re so glad you could stay the weekend with us.” Anabelle air kisses Sophie’s cheek before turning her attention to me.
Nolan keeps his distance, nodding, scrutinizing before shaking my hand as if completing a business transaction. Cold. Formal. Eye contact that demands the upper hand while simultaneously conveying an unspoken threat.
“It was so lovely getting to know you both,” she adds, practically gushing, oblivious to her husband’s steely countenance. “And you make a beautiful couple.”
A Town Car waits in the circle drive, holding our loaded luggage as the driver stands patiently by the passenger door.
This morning, we enjoyed breakfast in the nook with the children. Sasha asked Sophie to sit next to her and proceeded to tell her all about her teacher, her homework, her best friends, her “boyfriend,” and her favorite Disney movies. When she was done, she begged her parents to let us stay “just a little longer.”
It was adorable.
But I’m ready to get home and back to an ounce of normalcy.
“Bye, Sophie!” Sasha appears from behind her parents and wraps Sophie in a hug around her waist.
“Goodbye, Sasha,” Sophie hugs her back, and for a second I swear her eyes turn glassy.
The two of them really bonded over the past twenty-four hours. Completely unexpected. Enzo mostly kept back and stayed to himself. A kid of few words. While Anabelle tried to coax him into being social, he wouldn’t have it. The only person he would talk to was his sister, and even then she was so chatty she did most of the talking for him.
“It was so lovely to meet you,” Sophie adds. “Good luck with third grade.”
Sasha dashes off, disappearing into the next room.
“Thank you—both—for a wonderful weekend …” Sophie says before turning to me, hands folded regally in front of her hips.
I check my timepiece. “Yes. Thank you so much for hosting us, Nolan. Anabelle. Nolan, we’ll be in touch this week, I presume?”
He nods, his pointed stare passing from Sophie to me and back. “Yes. I’ll call you.”
I hope our time together was enough to convince him, otherwise the past couple of days were for naught.
We’re in the car a few minutes later when I take Sophie by the hand. “Everything okay? You’ve been so quiet since last night.”
“I’m fine.” She offers a smile, though her eyes disagree.
“No. Seriously. There’s something on your mind.”
She laughs. “I had a good time this weekend. Just kind of sad to leave.”
“You’re a terrible liar, as per usual.” I cup her face, bringing her closer and kissing her. “Whatever it is, whenever you’re ready to talk about it, I’ll be here.”
Sophie kisses me back, lips tight and posture rigid.
Something’s off.
As soon as we get home, I’ll right this ship.
I can’t imagine it’s anything that can’t be fixed.
Fifty
Sophie
Present
I’m pacing when he emerges from the shower Sunday evening, towel wrapped tight and low on his hips, showcasing the deep V that points to one of my favorite parts of him … a part I’ll never know again after tonight.
We landed a fe
w hours ago, and I immediately headed for the soaker tub the second we got home. I poured the water so hot it turned my skin red, and I stayed in until it cooled to a tepid, teeth-chattering temperature.
If I tell him about Nolan’s threat, I’ll violate the NDA and my sister and mother will suffer for it.
If I don’t tell him about any of it and stay with him, Nolan won’t sell his company—and Trey’s worked so hard to land this deal. He wants it more than anything. And he deserves it … especially after hearing about the faulty plane Nolan’s parents sold his.
On the off-chance Trey’s willing to sacrifice this record-breaking acquisition to save our budding relationship, he might be able to figure out the truth behind it. And what if he does something rash? What if he tells Anabelle the truth and she leaves Nolan and Sasha grows up in a broken family? All of this would be for nothing.
I wring my hands, avoiding the stare from across the room that attempts to anchor me in place.
“Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on?” Trey asks.
“There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it …” It’s better I be blunt and honest and get this over with. Plus Trey hates sugarcoating. “I can’t do this anymore.”
His eyes widen and he rushes to my side, placing a steady hand on my forearm to get me to stand still.
“Did something happen this weekend? I thought you enjoyed yourself.”
“No,” I lie. “And I did.”
His eyes flash, incredulous, challenging. “I don’t understand what changed …”
“It’s hard to explain.”
“Try me.”
“My mind’s made up. I’m so sorry.” I pull away from him and go to the suitcase I haphazardly packed while he was showering. I can’t look at him or else it’ll burn. It’ll slice right through my soul and convince me to stay, and that’s not an option. So I stifle my emotions.
I’m an expert at that. Practiced and proficient.
“Can’t we talk about this?” he asks, watching me roll the bag to the door. “I know we’re moving fast … we can slow it down. You want to delay the wedding? Say the word.”
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