by Kait Nolan
“Ex-wife,” Sandy ground out.
At her vehemence, Waylan’s expression shifted to true shock. “You wound me, sugar.”
“Don’t tempt me.” Her eyes were spitting fire.
“Let. Her. Go.” Trey enunciated each word with the snap of a punch. Dimly, he sensed others crowding in behind him.
Seeing he was outnumbered, Waylan gave an ingratiating, forgive me smile as he released Sandy. “Aw now, I didn’t mean any harm.”
Trey snapped. He surged forward, grabbing Waylan by his lapels and driving him back. The other man stumbled, tried to bring up his hands in defense, but Trey slammed him into a tree.
“No harm? No harm? You pompous, selfish bastard.” He yanked Waylan forward and slammed him back again, hard enough to crack his head against the wood.
“Trey, stop! He’s not worth it.”
Trey turned his head to meet Sandy’s stricken eyes. “But you are. You always were. And it’s time we ended this.”
Her face paled, but she nodded once. It was all the permission Trey needed. He shifted his attention back to Waylan. “All you have ever done is cause harm to the people you were supposed to love most in the world. That stops today. For the rest of your life, you’re going to stay far, far away from Sandra and the son you never deserved.” He dropped his voice low, leaning in. “And on the off chance that the federal government doesn’t see to that, I swear to you that I will. I’m a well-connected man, Waylan. There is no limit to the extent of my reach. Do we understand each other?”
Waylan stared at him. “Who the fuck are you?”
“The man who loves her the way you never did.” Trey lifted his voice. “Chief!”
Police Chief Ethan Greer strode up, flanked by a man and woman Trey pegged as out-of-towners on the first glance. “We’ll take it from here.”
Waylan tensed, his eyes rolling toward the police. “Take what where?”
Trey released his death grip on Waylan’s lapels and slapped a faux friendly hand on his shoulder. “There are some folks here who’ve come a long way to have a conversation with you.”
The look of greasy panic that slid over Waylan’s face was gratifying.
Trey started to turn away. “Oh, one more thing.”
The other man gave him a wary look. “What?”
Trey clocked him, and nothing had ever felt more satisfying than the sing of impact up his arm and down his back. Something crunched beneath his knuckles.
Waylan hit the ground with a howl, both hands covering his face. Blood dripped between his fingers onto the crisp white of his shirt. “You broke my fucking nose!”
“Be glad that’s all I broke.” He looked toward the feds. “He’s all yours.”
Sandy’s arms were wrapped around her middle, and her cheeks were pale as she watched the officers of Wishful PD close in on her ex-husband. “What’s going on? Why are the police here?”
Trey wanted to take her into his arms, to comfort and shield, but he had no idea how she’d take the news. She hadn’t wanted him to get involved, and he’d ignored that directive. But he moved close enough his voice wouldn’t carry. “To take him in for questioning. He’s made some questionable friends the past few years.”
She shook her head in disbelief. “How did you even…?”
“I hired a private investigator.” He wouldn’t apologize for it. At long last, he’d done what needed to be done to get Waylan out of her life for good. Even if it meant losing her.
It was the federal agents who hauled Waylan to his feet, one on either side.
“I’m pressing assault charges!” he shouted. “There are hundreds of witnesses.”
There were, indeed. Trey looked around at the gathered crowd, all staring and talking. The whole thing had become exactly the kind of spectacle Sandy abhorred. Well, he’d take responsibility for his actions.
Flexing his aching hand, he turned to Ethan. “I’m not sorry. Do what you need to do.”
The police chief glanced around the crowd. “Anybody see anything?”
“Not a thing, Chief.”
“Nope.”
“Forgot my glasses.”
“Anybody know if there’s more cake?”
Expression neutral, Ethan turned back to Waylan. “Looks like you’re short some of those witnesses.”
“This is an outrage. I’ll have your job for this!”
“Be hard to do that from Baltimore,” the female agent said. “Get your ass moving.”
As the crowd parted to let them through, Ethan looked down at Trey’s hand. “You should get some ice on that.” Then he fell into step behind the others.
Chapter 12
He’d disappeared.
After issuing a stiff apology to Sandy and the bride and groom, Trey had slipped away. She’d been busy attempting to get the party started again, and when she’d turned around, he was gone. What did that even mean?
“Are you okay?” Cam asked.
Sandy hardly knew. Her ex-husband had just been hauled off by the police—and federal agents, no less! What the hell had he gotten involved in? What had he brought to her town? As the mayor, she wanted to follow their newly minted Chief of Police to find out. As the mother of the groom, she wanted to do whatever she could to salvage the night for her son.
“Are you?” she countered.
“It was a helluva wedding present, seeing him get what he deserved.” Cam gave an apologetic shrug. “I know you hate scenes, but it’s worth it knowing he’s finally pushed too far. I don’t think he’ll be back.”
No. No, Trey had made sure of that.
What did it say about her that part of her had enjoyed seeing him lay Waylan out flat?
She owed Trey an apology and a thank you. She owed him a lot more than that. She’d ignored Waylan, treated him as the irritation he’d always been, and the situation had almost gotten away from her. But even after everything, Trey had been there. He’d stepped in. He’d had her back. And if she’d let him do it sooner, maybe things wouldn’t have come to a head in front of the entire town.
Someone had switched the music back on and spectators were beginning to drift back to the party. Sandy knew better than to think anybody would be talking of anything else for weeks, maybe months to come, but she hoped the actual tone of celebration could be reclaimed.
She wished she still felt like celebrating.
Norah slid an arm around her waist. “You should go find him.”
Did Trey even want to be found?
“It’s your wedding reception,” Sandy protested.
“It’ll be going for a while yet, I suspect. You’ll feel better after you talk to him.”
Sandy looked to Cam.
He kissed her cheek. “Go. We’re fine here.”
Not knowing where else to look, she headed for The Babylon. Louis would probably be there. If she could find him, he could find Trey. Probably. As she passed the fountain, a man fell into step beside her. She tensed. Was he a reporter? Someone connected to Waylan? Someone after Waylan?
“Mrs. Peyton.”
Sandy stopped dead to get a better look at him and recognized the broad shoulders and big barrel chest. “You. You were at Tosca last night.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You’re Trey’s detective,” she realized.
He inclined his head.
So, Trey had still been protecting her, even when he wasn’t with her. And she was surprised to realize she wasn’t annoyed by that. She was…warmed by the idea.
“Before you go find him, there’s something you should see.” He pressed something into her hand.
Sandy stared at the jump drive. What was on here? Whatever dirt he’d managed to dig up on Waylan? “I don’t understand.” But when she lifted her head, the detective wasn’t standing there.
She turned a quick circle, but he was just…gone.
“What the hell?”
“Sandy!” Adele hurried over. “You okay, sugar?”
She curled her f
ingers around the drive in her hand. “I have a feeling I could use some moral support. Will you come to my office with me?”
“Of course.”
In silence, they climbed to the second floor of City Hall. The lights were still on from where the boys had dressed earlier for the wedding. Garment bags and other wedding detritus were scattered everywhere. Sandy picked her way through it and circled around her desk to plug in the flash drive.
Adele crowded beside her. “What’s that?”
“We’re about to find out.”
Inside the single folder was a lone video file. Surveillance footage? She clicked play.
It wasn’t surveillance. It wasn’t anything to do with Waylan at all. The screen filled with a garish, neoclassical chapel. Faint strains of “Love Me Tender” spilled out from the speakers as the camera panned toward the front, where Trey stood beside…Elvis, in a gold lame sport jacket, strumming a guitar and crooning out of tune.
“Holy shit. Is this…?”
“My wedding.”
Adele leaned closer to the screen. “Where are you?”
“In the back, I guess.”
As they watched, Elvis finished his song. Trey’s lips twitched with amusement, as he clapped the other man on the shoulder. “Hey, do you mind if I play her down the aisle myself?”
“Whatever floats your boat, brother.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Trey deadpanned, and made Elvis grin. The camera followed as he slipped behind the white piano set to one side. His fingers stroked over the keys, coaxing out the familiar notes of “Moon River”. Sandy’s heart squeezed. He’d played her favorite song. Adele wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
The camera swung back up the aisle to where Sandy stood, a bouquet of stargazer lilies in her hands, the glimmer of tears in her eyes. She began the procession, striding without hesitation or stumble toward the front of the chapel. She wasn’t drunk. At least not the kind of falling down, black out drunk she’d imagined. She knew what she was doing and who she was walking toward.
Trey finished the song and stood, joining her at the altar in front of Elvis, who beamed a crooked smile at them both.
“You two crazy kids ready for this?”
On the screen, Sandy handed her flowers off to an attendant and slipped her hands into Trey’s. In that moment—when her inhibitions were lowered; when she hadn’t been a single mom trying to prove she could do everything; when she wasn’t Mayor Crawford, with a reputation to uphold; when she’d let all the other crap go and she was just Sandy—she’d looked at Trey like he held the moon. And he looked back at her like he’d just handed it over with a big red bow.
“Yes,” they chorused.
In her office, with her best friend beside her, she whispered, “I married him because I wanted to.”
“Yeah, looks like you did.”
As she watched herself on screen, beaming at her new husband, she thought back to what Cam said about learning to love a strong woman and how he’d said partnership didn’t make Norah incapable or less. If Norah had believed that it did, if she’d pushed Cam away for trying to help and support her, Sandy would’ve been bitterly disappointed in her. What did it say about Sandy that she hadn’t held herself to the same standard?
She sank into her chair. “I think I’ve made a huge mistake.”
“Marrying him?”
“In how I treated him after.” Sandy scooped a hand through her hair. “I told him I wanted to give our marriage a real chance, but at the first sign of trouble, I reverted to what I’ve always done. Pushing him away and insisting I could handle things myself. The truth is, I’ve never truly given him a place in my life. In college, I couldn’t let him be more than a friend because I wasn’t free.”
“Appropriate.”
“Except he wasn’t ever just a friend.” She’d made him a lover in all but body and kept him perpetually on the sidelines. “I took advantage of his strength and the comfort he offered when I needed it, and never let him act on his need to protect me. And here it is, thirty years later, and I did the same damned thing.”
She’d accepted the parts of him she’d wanted—the kisses, the touches, the smiles, and laughter—the easy parts that felt natural and good. But she’d rejected his need to protect her. She’d kept him on the sidelines—again. Relegated him to secrecy and made him a shadow in her life—again. Because she hadn’t changed at all.
Miserably, Sandy lifted her gaze to Adele’s. “I owe him more than that. I owe him everything. And I’m afraid I’ve screwed it all up.”
Adele kicked back against the desk and crossed her arms. “Given that display at the reception—which, I’ve gotta say, was really hot in an alpha male badass kind of way—I don’t think the situation is irreparable.”
God, Sandy hoped not.
“The question is, what are you prepared to do to fix it?”
~*~
By Monday the green was back to normal. The event tents had been packed away and the dance floor dismantled. The only remaining evidence of the weekend’s festivities were the twinkle lights still wrapped around the trees. And, no doubt, the lingering gossip at Dinner Belles and The Grind.
Trey had never intended to bring any more disgrace on Sandy. Yet he couldn’t regret finally having the chance to act, to finish things with Crawford, once and for all. According to Kane, the bastard had been flown back to Baltimore yesterday. There were talks of plea bargains and relocation instead of jail time. Either way, she would be safe from him. Finally.
Maybe it was foolish to end his stay in Wishful back at the fountain. Trey certainly hadn’t gotten the wish he’d made—for the life he’d always wanted with Sandy. She’d warned him, hadn’t she? That you had to be careful what you wished for. Maybe it had been too selfish a wish. He’d meant it to be about them, but it had really been about him and finally getting resolution. Trey supposed he’d gotten that, in a way. Still, he was here to do better by her before he left town.
Clutching the quarter tight in his hand, he stared at the freely running water of the fountain.
I wish for Sandy’s happiness, in whatever form that may take.
He kissed the coin and tossed it in. The thunk was lost in the soft roar of the water. Well, that was it then.
A car screeched to a stop on Market Street. Like everyone else out and about on the green, Trey looked to see what was going on. Louis leapt out of the driver’s seat. Trey stared in shock as his unflappable executive assistant began to run across the green as if the hounds of hell were on his heels.
The other man’s hair was mussed, his eyes just a little bit wild, as he skidded to a stop beside the fountain. “Sir, I…didn’t know what the appropriate thing was. Maybe I should have called right away, but it seemed like something that should be handled in person…given the…the personal nature…”
Had Louis had some kind of family emergency? “Slow down, man. What the hell are you talking about?”
Louis just hit a button and handed over the tablet he carried.
A video played in the browser. And holy shit, there Trey was with Sandy. And Elvis. Damn, it really hadn’t been a dream. Here was their wedding in living color. Trey’s heart warmed. They looked so damned happy taking their vows. But his instinctive grin faded as his gaze tracked up to the header of the site hosting the video.
The ’Berg: Everything worth knowing in Wishful.
Oh God. Their Vegas wedding was posted on the town’s gossip blog. This was a disaster for Sandy. Everyone would know about their hasty marriage. What would this do to her reputation as mayor? He had to do something.
“Shut it down,” he commanded Louis. “Whatever it takes. I don’t care if you have to cut off power to the whole damned town until you can get it gone.”
“But sir, the internet is forev—”
Trey didn’t hear the rest as he bolted for City Hall, already noticing the eyes following him, the pointing fingers.
Damn it. Damn it. He didn’t wa
nt this for her. He’d been trying to respect her wishes on this at least. How the hell had they gotten hold of the video?
Trey raced past old Jerry Noble at the metal detector.
“Mr. Peyton?”
“Sorry, Jerry. Gotta see the Mayor.” He bypassed the elevator and sprinted up the stairs.
Avery looked up, startled as he hit the vestibule. “Mr. Peyton. Good morning. She’s—”
He burst into Sandy’s office.
“—in.”
From her desk, his wife looked up, eyes going wide. “Trey.”
He shut the door in Avery’s face. He’d apologize to her later. They needed privacy for this. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how it happened. The video was supposed to be locked in my safe. But I swear to you my lawyers and I will put a stop to this. I don’t care what they say about how the internet is forever. I’ll find a way to get this cleaned up.”
She just blinked at him. Why didn’t she look more upset? Oh, dear God. Did she not know about it yet?
Sandy rose and came around the desk. “I’m sorry. If I’d known you were going to feel this strongly about it, I never would have leaked the video.”
“Of course, I—Wait.” His whole world came to a screeching halt and flipped upside down. “What?”
“I’m the one who leaked the video of our wedding.”
“You? But…why?”
“I thought it made a statement.”
A statement? It sure as hell did. It told everyone in town that they’d had a quickie wedding in an Elvis wedding chapel.
A beat later, something else sank in: It told everyone in town that they were married.
She’d taken ownership of their marriage. She’d put aside her pride and let everyone in on the truth in the most public way possible.
Her computer chirped.
Trey was still staring at her when she circled back around to check it.
“Oh, Cam’s Skyping me.” She twisted the screen so he could see, then perched on the desk as she answered the call. “Hi, honey! Are y’all enjoying your honeymoon?”
“So not why we called,” Cam said. A fist shot out to thump him in the shoulder. “Ow.”
Norah came into the frame. “We wanted to congratulate you.”