The Beard (Haylee Thorne)

by Haylee Thorne

  “Ashton! I am so happy to see you! We have been worried sick. You’ve just about given Gigi a nervous breakdown.”

  I clench my fists at my sides, somewhat crumpling the folder in my hand. I look at Brock and try to reign in my anger, but my nostrils flare the second my eyes land on his face.

  “Yeah? Do Gigi and Pops know about this too, then?” I bellow as I wave the folder in the air.

  Brock’s face contorts in confusion, but I see the moment the light bulb goes off and he realizes what I am holding in my hand.

  “No.”

  “You are treating your marriage like a business deal? Do you even give a shit about her? Does she know that you don’t care?”

  “Mackenzie knows exactly how much I care about her. I know that being with me is no prize, so I sweetened the pot.”

  “Sweetened the pot?” I say, irate. “Are you fucking kidding me with this? You went out and bought yourself a damn wife? I hope that the sex is at least worth it ‘cause from what I can tell, that place costs a pretty penny.”

  “Don’t be crude, Ash.”

  A laugh escapes from my throat, and it sounds bitter and strangled, even to me. I pace through his office, forcing myself to keep my distance from Brock because it is taking everything I’ve got not to pummel him. He cheated. He cheated me out of everything I’ve worked my entire life for, and he’s cheated me out of being with Mac. It’s that last part that has me seeing red. My breaths are rushing out of my lungs rapidly, as if they are trying to keep up with my accelerated heartbeat.

  “Listen, Ashton. You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly. Now more than ever. I see that you have wasted no time to clear me out of here completely, huh?”

  “What?” he says, looking confused. He scratches his head. “No, damn it, Ashton. Listen to me, for fuck’s sake.”

  “Nope. You know what? I have seen and heard enough. I am glad I know now. I can stop torturing myself.”

  He probably set it up so that I would fall for her, too. All of this has been a setup to get me out of the way and take the CEO position. Well, if he wants it that bad, then he can have it.

  “You don’t understand, Ash,” he says, emphasizing each word.

  “It will be in your best interest to stop talking right now, Brock,” I bite out through gritted teeth.

  My words are dripping with frustration and disdain. You’ve gotta love the smell of betrayal in the morning, I bitterly think to myself.

  He starts to open his mouth to protest, but his lips snap closed. Apparently he is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. The desire to punch him is rising with each moment. Even when I look at his fading black eye, all I want to do is give it a touch-up. My eyes dart to the exit. I need to get out of here. I look over at Brock, and our eyes lock.

  “I am so disgusted with you right now,” I tell him angrily. “If you were ever going to win, it should have been because you were better than me, not because you turned some woman into a whore.”

  I regret those words the moment they leave my mouth, but it’s too late to take them back. They’ve hit their mark because Brock’s ears turn red before the rest of his face does. I can see him actively reigning in his own temper. Brock isn’t like me; I have less control over my emotions. Brock, however, is one of the most disciplined people I have ever known. When he bellows his next words, I have to admit that I am a little taken aback. “Shut your damned mouth, Ashton! Or so help me God, I will shut it for you. If you ever refer to my fiancée as a whore again, it will be the last thing you do,” he barks. “And to sexually harass her, just to spite me, is disgusting. You will not lay a finger on her again, do you understand?”

  My eyes widen.

  “Sexually harassed? What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “Kissing someone against their will is sexual harassment.”

  My mind starts to race.

  “You think that I kissed her to spite you?”

  He looks at me as if I just said the dumbest thing ever.

  “What other reason would there be? Or was it just because you could?”

  “You must literally be the dumbest smart person I know,” I bite out.

  He looks dumbfounded.

  “Look at me,” I demand.

  His eyes dart to mine.

  “I didn’t kiss her to spite you. I didn’t kiss her because I could. I fucking kissed her because I couldn’t not kiss her. I am completely and utterly in love with her, you dumbass.”

  His eyes widen, and his mouth drops open. I can’t believe I let those words slip out. While I have known it all along, saying the words out loud like that has made it real. And now it is out there, hanging between us, thickening the air. We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us really knowing what to say. Damn it, what the hell did I go and do now? I can’t seem to wrap my mind around everything, and there is too much hanging between us right now to even try and sit down to talk rationally.

  “Congratulations, Brock,” I say, my voice devoid of emotion. “You’ve won.”

  When I walk into Morelli’s, the place is already buzzing. There is a long line waiting for a table, but all I really want is a seat at the bar. The food at this place is actually great, but it’s the last thing on my mind right now. Drowning my sorrow is pretty much what’s on the agenda tonight. I find a seat at the corner of the bar and lower myself onto a barstool. I tell the bartender I want three fingers of Macallan neat, the oldest one he’s got. When he pours my drink for me, I slide a couple of hundred dollar bills and my credit card toward him and instruct him to leave the bottle. He raises a brow, and I’m sure that he wants to argue, but when he clutches the bills and slides them in his breast pocket, I know he’s thought twice about it. I’m pouring some more of the amber liquid into my glass when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “Ashton Walker?”

  I swivel around in my seat, and when I do, I’m face to face with Mikaela Kingsley. She looks amazing; it is hard to deny that the woman is beautiful.

  “Rough day?” she asks as she nudges her head toward the bottle in front of me.

  “You could say that,” I mumble.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “By all means.”

  She slides onto the empty stool beside me.

  “Want to talk about it?” she asks gently.

  “I’m pretty sure you have better things to do than listen to my problems.”

  She smiles.

  “I think I can spare some time.”

  “Would you like a drink?” I ask.

  “Sure, but I’ll order something a little less potent, if you don’t mind,” she says with a wink.

  She motions to the bartender, who almost falls over himself to get to her, and orders a Kir Royale. She has it in front of her within seconds. She smiles and thanks the bartender, who begrudgingly walks off to tend to the other patrons.

  “If we are going to be doing all this talking and drinking, we should probably put some food in our stomachs,” she says, patting her belly with her hand. “Because I have a feeling that we have a lot to talk about.”

  I haven’t eaten a meal in days. I have been living off of hot pockets and pizza bites, so a meal actually sounds good. I turn around and look at the line.

  “I think it might be a while, though,” I tell her.

  She shrugs. “I have some connections here,” she says with a wink.

  She looks over to the hostess and holds up two fingers. The hostess nods, and less than five minutes later, she walks toward us holding two menus and requests that we follow her. We are seated and there are drinks already magically waiting on the table.

  “Now this is what I call service,” I say with a chuckle.

  I step in front of the hostess and pull out Mikaela’s chair for her. She gracefully lowers herself onto the seat, and I walk to the chair across from her and take my own seat. We start off with some small talk as we peruse our menus and soon our server arrives. She rattles
off some specials. Mikaela orders a steak with béarnaise sauce, potato puffs, and asparagus, and I tell the server to bring me the same. She smiles, nods, and leaves to put in our order.

  “So, now that is out of the way,” Mikaela begins. “Let’s get to it. Why are you here, clearly trying to drown your sorrows?”

  “That obvious, huh?”

  “Ashton, you had a bottle of expensive whiskey in front of you at the bar. You may as well have been wearing a neon sign saying drowning my sorrows. It really wasn’t hard to deduce.”

  I have to hand it to her, she is pretty perceptive.

  “Touché,” I mutter as I hold up my glass to her.

  I take a big swig of the amber liquid, enjoying the burn as it slides down my throat.

  “I found out some things today that have changed everything I thought was true.”

  “So you finally figured it out, huh?”

  My brow wrinkles. Did she know, too?

  “Figured what out?”

  “That you are in love with your brother’s fiancée,” she states matter-of-factly.

  I let out a surprised laugh.

  “And you know this, how?”

  She cocks her head as she throws me a “don’t bullshit a bullshitter” kind of look.

  “Look, I’m not saying you were super obvious, but for someone like me, who recognizes the look you had on your face every single time you were near her, it was easy. That look on your face is the same look I have when I look at Eric.”

  I’m confused for a second.

  “Who’s Eric?” I ask.

  Mikaela tells me her story, and it chills me to the bone. I wasn’t aware of the fact that she doesn’t remember the last five years of her life, nor did I know she was nearly killed twice by people hell-bent on getting revenge on her father. But the most heartbreaking part, is the fact that she has been in love with her brother’s best friend her entire life, and she can’t move on from him. She can’t even look at another man.

  “Wow,” I say as she finishes her story. “Is Eric deaf, blind, and stupid?”

  “Actually,” she says proudly. “Eric is one of the most accomplished young attorneys around.”

  “Wait a second,” I say, pursing my lips. “Do you mean Eric Hardwick?”

  “So you’ve heard of him?” she says with a smile.

  I nod. “I certainly have. I just completed some business with your brother, and I’ve dealt with Eric. He is very shrewd indeed.”

  She places her hand on top of mine. “As you can see, I know what it feels like to love from a distance. To adore someone and not being able to express it.”

  Maybe it’s the fact that she just told me her whole life story, or maybe it’s the fact that I have this need to purge myself, but I tell her everything. I tell her about the first time I met Mackenzie and how I couldn’t get her out of my mind. How I was blindsided at the dinner at my brother’s house, where she turned out to be not only his new girlfriend, but his fiancée. I tell how I struggle to stop thinking about her, and how impossible it feels not to touch her every single time I am near her. I tell her how my grandparents chose Brock to take over as CEO and why. I tell her about the kiss to end all kisses. And just when she thought I was done, I hit her with what I found out today. The contract between Brock and Mackenzie, and how the two of them are treating their impending marriage as nothing more than a business deal. How I feel betrayed by both Brock and Mackenzie. Mikaela listens intently, not interrupting me once. She lets me get it all out, and I don’t feel judgment from her, not for a single second.

  “I think you might not be looking at the entire picture,” she says as she thoughtfully taps her index finger against her lips.

  I raise a brow.

  “What makes you say that?”

  She just smiles.

  “I just think that maybe you need to get more facts before you decide what the whole story is.”

  “Do you know more than you are saying?”

  “I’ve shared everything that I can share with you.”

  “So there is more?”

  She shrugs. “Not my story to tell, Ash. But I think that if you dig just a little deeper, you can find some of the answers you are looking for.”

  She raises her glass, and I raise mine in reaction.

  “Let’s raise our glasses to those who love we love from a distance.”

  Our glasses clink as they make contact.

  “Cheers.”

  Apparently, me wearing his mom’s dress was a foregone conclusion because the fitting is scheduled for tonight, and he only just asked me five minutes ago! At the same time, Brock is also thoughtful and invited Amber along. The fitting is at Gigi and Pop’s house in the Hamptons, and Amber is over the moon. She’s never had a driver outside of a cabby, and she is elated the entire drive up here. When we get to Gigi’s, I find out what is really going on: a dress fitting and a mini bridal shower. It’s sweet, but very unexpected.

  Turns out, Gigi can throw a party! She has gone all out, and when we arrive at the house, we are greeted by a server holding a platter of champagne flutes. Then we are led to a room in the back of the house that is set up as a dressing room, and this is when I see the dress for the first time. I am so happy I said “yes to the dress” before I saw it because it’s easily the most stunning dress I have ever seen. It embodies old-time glamour and has a plunging V-neck. The classic A-line silhouette has an illusion open back with beautiful silk buttons and is made from lattice sequined lace. The dress has a gorgeous sweep train, and when I step into it, I feel like a princess. Luckily, there’s a girl to help me get into the dress because I definitely need help putting it on. When I step out from behind the partition and walk toward the enormous mirror in the center of the room, both Gigi and Amber start tearing up. I step onto the small stage in front of the mirror and twirl as I admire the dress in the reflection.

  “It looks exactly like I thought it would. It is perfect for you. You look stunning, Mackenzie,” Gigi says as she dabs at her eyes.

  My eyes dart over to Amber, who is a blubbering mess and just enthusiastically nods at me.

  “This dress is absolutely magnificent, Gigi. I am so honored to wear it. I don’t think I could have found a more perfect dress if I scoured the entire world for one,” I say with a grateful smile.

  “Thank you for wearing it, Mackenzie. I know that most young girls want a new frock, but this means the world to both Brock and myself,” she says as she takes my hands in hers. “And I was never sure I would be able to pass this on, what with both of our boys being so reluctant to date. Honestly, I thought the two of them would die alone. I don’t even think Brock looked at a girl before he met you.”

  Gigi doesn’t even know how right she is. Watching her be this emotional…the fact that we are deceiving her is making me feel really bad. I swallow hard, and I hope that my facial expression isn’t giving me away.

  “Well, the dress can be your something old and something borrowed, and I have your something new,” Amber says with a smile.

  “And I have your something blue.”

  I turn and find Mikaela Kingsley walking in.

  “You look gorgeous, M. Brock invited me. I hope that’s okay.”

  I walk over to Mikaela and hug her.

  “Thank you for coming,” I tell her with a genuine smile.

  We walk toward the sitting area, where I carefully lower myself into the seat, scared that I might damage this extraordinary dress. Amber digs in her purse and fishes out a small Tiffany Blue box. She rises, and with an elated smile painting her features, she hands it to me. I lift the lid and gasp when I see the delicate silver bracelet, and am even more touched when I notice that it has my birthstone. I’m tearing up—this is so not like me.

  “It is beautiful, Amber. Thank you so much,” I croak.

  I rise to my feet, and she hugs me. We hold on to each other for a moment. I’m so happy she is here with me since I wasn’t expecting dress fitting to be this emoti
onal.

  “My turn!” Mikaela says excitedly as she claps her hands.

  That puts a smile on my face.

  “Okay, so I’ve been asked to give you your something blue, and I hope you like it. I designed it myself,” she says as she hands me a small blue velvet pouch. I tug at the string, and it opens right up. When I reach inside, I lift up a delicate garter between two fingers. It is made of blue silk and is decorated with beautiful jewels.

  “Oh, Mikaela. It is absolutely lovely. Thank you so much.”

  I walk toward her and give her a big hug. This was so sweet of her.

  “Thank you all so very much. I wasn’t expecting all of this,” I say, choked up.

  I feel like a huge fraud. Besides Amber, these ladies think I am getting ready to marry the love of my life. All of the effort they are putting into this wedding is making me feel guilty. I am grateful that Amber insists on helping me out of the dress because I need a minute with her.

  “Don’t feel bad,” she whispers. “You are probably doing her a huge favor. She very likely won’t see anyone wear her daughter’s dress to marry one of her grandsons.”

  I know she is trying to make me feel better, but her words have the opposite effect.

  “She has been so amazing, and I feel like I am betraying her daughter’s memory.”

  Amber smiles.

  “You know what I think? I think that Brock’s mom is looking down and is grateful that you are helping her son like this.”

  Her words actually make me feel a little better. We take a moment to hug, and by the time we have taken off the dress and I am back in my regular clothes, I am in better spirits.

  Brock is very upset since Ashton stopped by the office early this morning. I am not one hundred percent sure about what happened, but judging from the phone call I just received from Brock, it wasn’t good. I’m fairly certain that Ashton won’t show up today at the farmers’ market. Brock told me he was pretty upset when he found out about our deal. As far as he knows, I’m just a gold digger, and he even went as far as calling me a whore. I’m not going to lie—that kind of stings. To be fair, he doesn’t know that Brock is gay or that I am his beard. But still, it hurts. Just in case he does decide to show up, I leave two hours earlier than I said I would and take Amber with me as a buffer.