“You’re being ridiculous,” she huffed, “and this isn’t the time or place to have this conversation.” Her heart was in her throat as she scanned the crowd for a lifeline, a friendly face, to help diffuse the situation before it escalated, or worse, before Carter saw. But there was no one. The longer she stared into those soulless chocolate pools, the more panic began to settle in her stomach. It became clear that she needed to put as much distance between herself and Trey as possible before their hushed tones turned into a full-blown shouting match.
“Carter Thayer is Peter Pan,” he mused, more to himself than Kensie. His body shook so violently the ice in his drink rattled.
“What did you say about Peter Pan?” she asked. Her subconscious screamed at her to get the fuck out of there, but her curiosity won out in the end.
How?
How could he know about Peter Pan? There was no way, she never even spoke the name in his presence.
“That morning in my apartment,” he shook his head, recalling the memory, “you got up to make coffee and left your phone sitting on the breakfast bar. You were so pissed and I was trying to get you to calm down. I barely even remember. There was a message from Peter Pan. I only caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t think anything of it. I just assumed it was a work thing, like how you call Rachel, Cruella de Vil. It didn’t even cross my mind again until now, watching you, watching him sing about Neverland. God,” he finished, downing the contents of his glass, “all this time he’s been fucking you and laughing at me.”
“I’m not doing this here,” she insisted, brushing past him. He had her and judging by the look on his face, he knew it. Months of secrets, lies, and deleted messages and phone calls. Taking every precaution to keep her infidelity a secret, and he had the key all along, he just didn’t realize it opened Pandora’s box. Now that he figured it out, now that he’d opened the box, all the ugly things hidden inside had flown out, along with whatever fleeting hope he had of ever getting his girl back.
There was nothing she could say, no way to spin this in her favor, and quite frankly, she didn’t want to. She was sick of the lies and the hiding and putting everyone else’s feelings above her own. She’d done her part. She donned the dress and smiled as they all judged her, and now she was done. Who said she had to stick around for the party? Getting drunk in her room and talking to Jamie’s belly would be more fun than being here with these people anyway.
“No,” Trey gritted, grabbing her elbow, “you’re going to fucking talk to me.” He pulled her forward, guiding her away from the dance floor, away from the sanctuary of the crowd and back towards the path she took when she snuck away to meet Carter before. His strides were long and quick, and soon, she was stumbling to keep the pace.
“Trey—” she yelped, her foot tangled in the long gown, the one that was custom made for another woman, a woman who was two inches taller. Kensie fell forward landing on all fours, a garish ripping sound pierced her ears as angry tears pooled in her brown eyes. “Stop this right now,” she pleaded, looking up at him, completely at his mercy.
“That’s not going to work this time, sweetheart.” His voice dripped with venom as he wrapped his fingers around her forearm and hoisted her to her feet. He regarded her for a moment, sadness and anger battled for dominion. His love for her—his hate—both left invisible scars on his handsome face.
“You’re causing a scene.” She was hoping to appeal to the rational man she’d known for the past year. To the man who looked before he leaped, the man who thought through every decision before choosing the best possible outcome. But one look at his hard face told her that man was gone. The Trey she knew had vanished, and in his place, was the teenage boy who committed felony vandalism over a girl who never really loved him. It was déjà vu, high school all over again.
Trey looked around, most of the wedding guests were standing in a semi-circle surrounding the dance floor. They watched Reagan dance with her father, unaware of the conflict raging on behind them.
Kensie took his temporary distraction as a chance to break free, but his grip on her was tight. “You are going to talk to me, so we can do it here, in front of everybody, or you can come with me.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Always so fucking stubborn,” he snapped, bending down and throwing her over his shoulder. That’s when it happened. That’s when her blood ran cold. She didn’t need to look to the stage to know he was watching, she felt his gaze. “Please, just put me down.” She fought, digging her nails into his back.
Trey tutted, dismissing her attempts to break free. His hand grazed her bottom, holding her to him as he carried her away from the reception. The last thing she saw before they exited the garden was Carter’s face as he threw the mic stand down and hopped off the stage. The fury and resentment that had been slowly simmering these past ten years finally boiled over.
“Is that what you like?” Trey growled, pushing forward through the vineyard. If he was aware that Carter was following them, his voice didn’t betray it. “You like being treated like a whore, don’t you? You could have just told me. I can fuck you like a whore too.”
“You’re being an asshole.” She pounded her fists into his back, but he only squeezed tighter. Almost as if he could just hold on tight enough, everything would go back to normal, his world would be right.
“And you’re an idiot if you think he really loves you.”
“I was an idiot to think I could ever love a man like you. You don’t know him the way I know him. Now put me down and I’ll try to convince him not to fuck up your face, much,” she added with a sneer.
He laughed, a cold and hollow laugh, dropping her on her feet. “I know him better than anyone. You forget there was a time when we were inseparable. I know all his deep dark shit and he knows mine. Just because you’ve given him a few blowjobs doesn’t mean that he’s been magically transformed into a good person.”
“I get that I hurt you, I do, but fuck you. You’re the last person I’d look to for advice on someone’s character. Especially when you’re acting like a jerk.” She was sorry for the pain she’d caused, and maybe she deserved his anger, but she wouldn’t stand for the name calling and slut shaming, and she certainly wouldn’t let him reduce her relationship to a petty revenge plot.
“I thought that’s what you wanted? A jerk, like Carter? I can be that. We perfected it in high school.” He grabbed her ass and pulled her to him, his mouth crashing down onto hers.
“Get off me,” she growled, biting his tongue. She was going to tell him to go fuck himself. She was going to tell him that if he ever put his hands on her again, she’d cut off his balls, but before she got the chance, a tattooed fist went flying into Trey’s jaw.
“Are you okay?” Carter asked, looking her up and down, panicked. She could only imagine what she must look like. Tear stains streaking her makeup, lipstick smudged from Trey’s kiss and a rip in her dress that ran up the length of her leg. “Baby, did he hurt you? I swear I’ll kill him if he hurt you.”
“I’m fine. I just want to get out of here.” She said it because it was true. She wasn’t hurt, not physically, not emotionally, even her pride was still intact. She had already shed all the tears that she ever would for Trey Knight. He ruined any sympathy she had left for him when he forced himself on her. She was done, and she wouldn’t make apologies for her happiness any longer.
“No, stay,” Trey sneered, wiping at the blood on the corner of his mouth.
“Carter, tell our girl to stay.” He was a man possessed, driven mad by betrayal.
“Back the fuck off, Knight.” Carter’s voice was deadly, as he took a protective stance in front of Kensie.
The air under the setting Napa sun was impossibly thick. The two men stood almost nose-to-nose, both mentally preparing for a bloodbath in one of the most serene places on earth. The lights from the courtyard twinkled, a spotlight showcasing the main event.
“Or what? You w
on. You stole my girl and got your revenge, congratulations,” Trey boiled, giving CT a round of applause. “Ten years too late, but hey, I deserved it, right?”
“It isn’t like that,” Kensie said from behind Carter. She looked to him for confirmation, but he was focused solely on Trey, some unnamed emotion flashing in his eyes. “This isn’t about you.”
“Oh, come on, Kensington, you went to USC, you aren’t that fucking stupid.”
“Call her stupid again, I dare you.” Carter’s fist clenched at his side. That emotion, the one she couldn’t decipher, it was still there.
“You’re taking this a little far aren’t you? You fucked her. You proved your point. I get it. We’re even.”
“That’s enough.” Kensie, Carter, and Trey all turned, finding Penelope standing in the courtyard, flanked by her eldest son and daughter.
“What the fuck?” Reagan cried. There was only one word to describe the look on her perfectly painted face, devastation. Her big day, her moment, ruined. They promised their shit wouldn’t spill over onto her, but there they all were, knee-deep in it.
“What on earth is going on?” Annabelle huffed, coming from behind. “John and Thomas are doing what they can to contain the situation. Hopefully your felon won’t embarrass us any further.”
“Annabelle,” Grant warned.
“No, son, please let me,” Penelope said in a voice so controlled it made Kensie wince. This moment was ten years in the making and neither Carter nor Trey nor Annabelle knew that the cat was out of the bag. Hell, the cat was halfway to Mexico.
“The only embarrassment here is you and your felon,” she said, cutting her eyes to a shocked Trey. “Kensington could never be happy with an opportunist like you, get over it.”
“Excuse me?” Annabelle gasped, looking to her friend of thirty-plus years.
“You heard me. I know all about what really happened all those years ago, and I see right through you, down to your nasty, narcissistic core. You’re lucky my daughter loves your son, or else, I’d make it my personal mission to destroy you. But make no mistake, if you or your evil spawn over there ever speak to Carter that way again, you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable life.”
“Mom?” Reagan questioned Penelope with wide eyes. “You know?”
“Yes, it seems as if your brother went to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“What?” Reagan and Grant shrieked at the same time.
“His only sin was being loyal to that selfish…asshat.” The word didn’t sound right coming from Penelope’s mouth. It was so out of character that it made Annabelle take a step back, unsure of how to proceed.
“Dude, is this true?” Grant barked, taking a step towards Trey. His mother caught his wrist, and with a slight nod towards Reagan, reminded him of where they were.
Silence befell the courtyard, as everyone gaped at the two poised women sizing each other up. No, they wouldn’t throw a single punch, nor would they raise their voices above an acceptable octave. Years of ingrained manners wouldn’t allow for them to behave so commonly, but they would wage war; one fought at charity events and in social clubs. One fought with power and prestige. Their battle would be epic, and Kensie wasn’t sure Seattle was large enough to contain the fallout. But for now, the masks were firmly in place, they had a wedding to host after all.
“Carter, dear,” Penelope called.
He swallowed, misty-eyed, looking at his mother, his protector again, for the first time in a decade. “Yes, Mother.”
“I’m sure Ryder and Javi can perform without you, right?” He nodded slowly. “Good, enjoy the rest of your night with your gorgeous girlfriend.” She smiled, twisting the knife further into Annabelle’s chest, before heading back to the reception.
“That was intense,” Kensie said after a long, uncomfortable silence. They’d ridden up the elevator in it. They changed out of their wedding clothes and bathed in it, her in yoga pants and a white tee and him in a pair of gym shorts. Now they sat on the couch in the two-room suite stewing in it.
It was maddening. She couldn’t read his stoic face. He was lost in his thoughts, no doubt replaying the events of the day.
“How’s your hand?” Kensie asked. It was bleeding, split open from the force with which it had connected with Trey’s jaw. She got up to retrieve a damp towel from the bathroom, then returned to clean the wound, split for the second time in as many days.
“Thank you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.
She shrugged, unsure if he meant thanks for cleaning his hand or thanks for telling his mother the thing he never could. “Does it hurt?” she asked. She wasn’t talking about his hand.
“No, it looks worse than it feels.”
It was quiet, again. Eerily so, like the end of days. She didn’t know what to feel or think or even what to say. Everything was out in the open, everyone knew and what would happen next, she wasn’t sure.
The rational side of her brain knew that these secrets and lies had been left to fester for far too long, but she couldn’t help thinking that she’d opened this can of worms. Had she kept her mouth shut and her legs closed, none of this would have happened.
“Hey,” Carter said, taking the blood-stained towel from her hand, “don’t do that.”
“Do what?” she asked averting her gaze. How did he always know? He could read her like a book and, yet, she still felt wholly out of depth when it came to him.
“This shit isn’t on you, baby.”
“I should have never said anything to your mother. I just couldn’t tell her no. I know what it’s like to be absent from you and we were only broken up for a short while. I can’t imagine the pain she must have felt.”
“No, I’m glad you told her. I’m glad it’s out. I almost feel like I can breathe again.”
“Almost?” she asked. What else could there possibly be?
Now it was his turn to look away. He tossed the towel on the table and grabbed her hand, before pulling her onto his lap. She rested her forehead against his, waiting for him to speak, unsure of what he might say.
“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.
“You deserve more than me.”
“I will love you forever.”
“Ditto,” she smiled, kissing the tip of his nose, “but we aren’t getting married yet,” she teased, needing to lighten the mood. They’d spent enough time in the shadows, and despite the chaos that raged on under the Napa Valley stars, they were finally free. No more heavy shit. No more secrets. No more lies.
“Yet?” His lips touched hers. His scent, masculine with a hint of whiskey, invaded her senses.
“Eventually.” Another kiss, this one tasted of desperation. Sad, blue eyes found her brown. “Let’s just be happy.”
“There isn’t anything I want more in this world, but first I have to tell you something and I’m scared shitless.”
“Anything,” she assured, although the look in his eyes told her this wasn’t going to be a good something. In fact, she regretted the word as soon as it escaped her lips.
“I knew who you were.” His voice was a whisper.
“What?”
Confusion.
Another kiss.
More sadness.
“The night we met, I recognized you from a picture on Reagan’s Instagram. You and Trey and her and Liam, on Memorial Day.”
“What?” She stood, raking her fingers through her stiff hair, sticky from the hair spray the stylist had used. She knew the picture well. It was taken downstairs at the onsite restaurant, when they’d visited in the spring. The trip was the turning point in her and Trey’s relationship. It was also when Annabelle finally accepted it. She was the one who had snapped the picture. That trip meant so much to her, she had it framed and kept it on her desk at work.
“I knew who you were and I fucked you because of it.” Finally, he breathed. His final confession released into the atmosphere like a noxious gas.
“You knew the en
tire time,” she coughed, choking on his words.
“Yes.”
“Now what, you’re breaking up with me? Or were we really ever together?” That was the million-dollar question. Did he ever really love her or was this all some elaborate scheme gone too far. Was she a casualty of their war? Or did she hand herself to the enemy on a silver platter?
“I love you, you know that.” He stood, stalking towards her. The pain was there, the regret, but also, the determination. That unnerved her.
“When?” she barked, pushing her palm into his bare chest. His heart pounded beneath her, a frantic rhythm that reminded her of her favorite Lithium song. It would have been poetic had it not been so tragic.
“When, what?” His knuckle grazed her cheek as he took another step forward, and then another and another until he closed the space between them. He clutched his hand on top of hers, pulling it from his heart, eliminating the last of her defense.
“When did it stop being about revenge?” Kensie croaked. Her voice sounded as broken as she felt.
“My attraction to you was real, my feelings for you are real. It’s just my motives then weren’t as pure as they are now.” He made it sound simple. Like ABCs and 123s. Like his confession hadn’t shattered what was left of their trust. Like it wasn’t the iceberg that sank their unsinkable ship.
“Okay, but when did it stop being about revenge?” she repeated. “When I told you I was falling in love with you? When I was sick, and we decided to try again? In the van when you spilled your soul to me?” she yelled.
“I don’t know, but the thought of leaving made it real. Us going on tour, and the possibility that you might not want to wait for me, that gutted me. I knew then that you were the most important thing in my life and that losing you would be the hardest thing I’d ever done. Harder than the year I spent in jail and harder than the ten I spent keeping my family at arm’s length. I knew I had to let that shit go because you deserve better. Baby, I love you.” His lips found hers, his tongue prodding at her mouth, begging for entrance, for forgiveness.
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