Defiance of the Heart (Book 2)

by Monica James

  “Holland? Have I caught you at a bad time?”

  “No, Chloe, it’s fine. It’s good to hear your voice.” Chloe Helm is an old classmate, and by chance, we stumbled across one another when I returned to LA. She has proven to be a great friend.

  Brushing my mussed hair from my brow, I sit up against the headboard. “How are you? Sorry I’ve been MIA. It’s been a crazy few days.”

  The last time I saw Chloe, she was saving my ass from being choked to death by a wedding dress. My subconscious must have known marrying Lincoln was a huge mistake. She probably has so many questions.

  “That’s okay. I thought you’d need some time to work through your feelings.” And she’s right. “What are you doing tonight?”

  After looking at my open laptop, the piles of scribbled notes, and five empty cups of coffee, I shrug even though she can’t see me. “Not much. Why?”

  “How about we go out for drinks? You sound like you could use one. Or two.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Sure. That would be great. Just text me the time and where to meet.”

  “Whoop!” she cheers. Her happiness is contagious, and after the past few days, I could use a night out. We say our goodbyes.

  Shutting off my laptop, I place the notepad in the bedside table drawer because I don’t want my mom stumbling across my findings.

  I want to discuss this with London first.

  As I’m rummaging through the drawers, deciding on what to wear, there is a soft knock on the door. Sighing, I put on my big girl panties and turn over my shoulder. “Come in.”

  My mom apprehensively peeks her head around the doorjamb a moment later. “How’d it go?”

  “He’s gone,” I reply, returning my attention to finding a suitable outfit.

  “Gone? Gone where?” Her footsteps grow closer, hinting she wants to talk.

  After our conversation this morning, I’m really in no mood for another lecture. “Back to New York apparently. Sylvia made it clear she wasn’t awfully upset that the wedding was called off.”

  I know I’m being blunt, but I can’t help it. I’m angry that after all this time, she still views London as the villain. I don’t want to disappoint my parents yet again, but London is a part of me, and I refuse to give him up again.

  “So what are you going to do? Are you packing?” I can understand her confusion seeing as most women would be chasing down their ex for an explanation. But I’m not most women. Going back to New York is the last thing I want to do.

  “No, I’m actually looking for something to wear. I’m going out with Chloe,” I explain, finally meeting her eyes.

  Her exhausted appearance stabs at me because I know I’m the cause of her pain. “Sweetie, I wanted to talk to you about what happened this morning.”

  “A lot happened,” I reply, distractedly pushing aside garments without really seeing them.

  “I hate this. I hate this friction between us.” She cuts through the bullshit as she stills me from rummaging through the drawer.

  My chest grows tight as I hate upsetting her. She has done so much for me. First and foremost, she gave me life. Most at her tender age would have taken the easy way out, but she is a Brooks, and we don’t take the easy way out.

  “I’m sorry, Mom, but I don’t know what you want me to say. I know how you feel about the Sinclairs. I don’t blame you.” She flinches, but I gently reach for her hand. “But I can’t help who I…love.”

  My confession has her closing her eyes and shaking her head.

  “Just how you couldn’t help falling in love with Dad.”

  “That’s a lot different,” she replies, imploring I see her point of view. “Your father didn’t torment me throughout my entire childhood, nor did he make my life a living hell.”

  “London went to juvie for me. If he hadn’t done that, I would have never gotten my scholarship. He also saved this family face by appeasing his psychotic mother—your once best friend.” It comes out a lot harsher than I intended, but she told me what she did. Why Kayla Sinclair hates this family so.

  Kayla had a crush on my dad. Apparently, all the girls did, but he chose my mother. The night of some party, where I was conceived, London was too. But his conception was far less romantic than mine. Kayla hooked up with Ralphie Arrington—not because she liked him, but because he was there.

  London and I were fated from that moment forward.

  It wasn’t like my dad and Kayla were dating, or even a thing, but coming from a home where she got everything she wanted, in her eyes, my mom committed the ultimate sin.

  “That was a lifetime ago,” she argues, which just cements my point.

  “Exactly. So how about you move on?” And then I see it.

  She can’t.

  This entire time, I was missing the most vital part. “You can’t move on, can you, because you can’t forgive yourself? Every time you see London, it’s a reminder of what you did,” I say, a revelation hitting me. How could I have not seen this before?

  She averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering.

  She’s afraid that my relationship will force her to face her sins, and even more frightening, she’s afraid she’ll have to face Kayla.

  This has nothing to do with London or me—it never has.

  “Oh, Mom.” I throw my arms around her, hugging her just as she’s held me endless times. “You were a kid. It’s time to let go of grudges.”

  She sniffs into my shoulder. “It’s easier said than done. Kayla and I were best friends. I will never forgive myself for doing what I did because my actions have hurt you.”

  “Shh,” I coo, rubbing her back. It’s nice to be able to comfort her for once. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I gave as good as I got.”

  She snuffles a muted laugh. “I have no doubt you did.”

  This breakthrough lifts a small weight from my shoulders. Maybe this isn’t hopeless after all. “I’m not expecting you to love London, and I know Dad won’t, but please, for me, give him a chance. He’s proven himself time and time again. You owe him that.”

  “Is he really that important to you?”

  I reply without pause. “Yes.”

  Sighing, she pulls from our embrace, wiping away her tears. Beneath her misgivings, misgivings she’s had for years, I see it—she concedes. She concedes for me. “Okay. You’re as stubborn as your father. I know you won’t let this go, and I refuse to lose you a second time.”

  I chew the inside of my cheek to stop my tears. “So you’ll try to like him?”

  “I’ll try,” she confirms with a nod. “However, your father may need a little more convincing.

  He—”

  I don’t allow her to finish because I pull her in for another tight hug. “Thank you,” I whisper into her shoulder, unable to wipe my smile clean.

  “Don’t thank me just yet. Let me talk to your dad.”

  “Okay.” I could press, but this is progress.

  After ten long years, I finally feel like I’ve got my mom back, and ironically enough, my love for London has caused it.

  She kisses my forehead as we pull apart. “So you and Lincoln are done?”

  “So done,” I reply with nothing but conviction.

  “Maybe tomorrow you can tell me what happened?”

  I know what she’s asking. We have ten years to make up for. “I’d like that.”

  She smiles, confirming I’m on the right path. “Say hi to Chloe for me.”

  “I will.”

  We stand staring at one another as though we’re seeing each other for the first time, and I suppose, in a way, we are.

  She leaves the room with a smile—much better than how she entered.

  When the door closes behind her, I shake my head in utter disbelief. Did that really happen? The happiness I feel within is confirmation that it did.

  With a skip to my step, I decide to make tonight a night worth remembering.

  I’m early.

  Chloe sent me a text to meet her at so
me chic bar with a name I couldn’t even pronounce. It wasn’t too far from Absinthe of the Heart, which could be a dangerous thing if I have one too many martinis.

  “Hey!” Chloe finds me sitting at the bar.

  “Hey yourself!” I reply with a little too much pep, but after the talk with my mom, I’m feeling peppy—a word I never thought I’d ever use to describe myself.

  Chloe laughs and gives me a hug.

  I really wish Chloe and I had hung out more in high school. She is such a breath of fresh air, and in this town, that sparkle is needed.

  “You look hot,” she says with a whistle, eyeing me up and down playfully.

  Fingering my short lace hem, I smile. “Thank you. It’s new. I decided I needed some retail therapy.”

  Giving up on finding anything suitable to wear, I did my hair and makeup at my parents’ and caught an Uber to the mall. Once there, I picked out some racy underwear and this sexy red dress and heels. I asked the shop assistant to throw away my clothes since I would be wearing this outfit. When she took note of the brand name, she looked seconds away from having a heart attack.

  But I was shedding my skin—literally.

  This dress caught my eye because it’s something I would never usually wear, which is why it was perfect. It hugs me like a second skin with a high neckline to make up for the short hem. The crochet lace material is sexy and fun, but the short sleeves give it a touch of class. The monster gold stilettos match my clutch.

  My makeup is light, but my plump lips are my feature, and they’re coated in bright red. My long hair falls naturally. The waves are the perfect beach hair look.

  “Well, you decided right, damn girl!” She bumps me with her shoulder as she takes the barstool beside me.

  While she’s waiting for the bartender, she spins in her seat and doesn’t waste a second. “Tell me everything.”

  Her interest in my life is a nice change because even though I have a few acquaintances back in New York, I can’t say I have a close friend who I can talk to like Chloe. “Lincoln and I are over,” I reveal, and Chloe almost loses her balance.

  “What? Over as in over, over?”

  “Yup,” I reply, reaching for the olives in my martini and pop them into my mouth.

  “How? What? When? How?” she questions, focusing on the how. But wasn’t she the one who noticed London’s and my attraction to one another? She knows why and how.

  I decide to share what I can because I don’t want anyone knowing about Emily until I speak to London about her. “Turns out Lincoln hasn’t changed all that much since high school. He and his family still see mine as trash, and I can’t be with someone like that.”

  “Wow.” Chloe’s mouth opens and closes like a goldfish.

  “There is a bunch of other stuff, but let’s just say…good riddance.” I raise my glass in salute.

  “Other stuff?” she asks, raising a knowing brow. “That stuff wouldn’t have to do with London Sinclair, would it?”

  The moment she says his name, I down my drink in one long gulp.

  “Oh my god! What happened? Did you kiss?” She clutches her hands to her chest, ready to swoon if the time calls for it.

  When my cheeks rival the color of my dress, she squeals. “Don’t even answer that. Your face says it all! This is unbelievable. I knew it! After I saw you two together…” She fans herself with a smirk. “This calls for a celebration!”

  She stands on the base of the barstool and lets out a loud wolf whistle. When the entire bar turns our way, I burst into laughter.

  “I’ll have your best bottle of champagne, thanks,” she asks the bartender who looks back and forth between us with a smile. I wonder what he sees. Whoever he sees, it’s the first time in a long time I’m not reluctant to be me.

  He nods, ensuring he winks at Chloe before rivaling Tom Cruise in Cocktail as he flips our glasses. I nudge her with my elbow. “Looks like I’m not the only one celebrating.”

  With a bottle of champagne in front of us, Chloe and I celebrate well into the night, and it feels fucking fantastic.

  “Oh, my god!” Chloe screams to be heard over the cover band rocking out on stage. “I love this song!” I have no idea what song it is because, to be fair, I don’t even know my name. I am so drunk. Actually, I passed drunk about two bottles of champagne ago.

  Chloe and I caught up on the past ten years, and as the conversation flowed freely, so did the booze. I know I’m wasted because I’m dancing. Yup, I’m one of those drunks.

  I have no idea of the time, but I don’t care. I haven’t had a girls’ night out in forever. Letting down my hair is exactly what I needed.

  A small part of me wonders if maybe I’m a psychopath as this isn’t normal behavior for someone who just found out their fiancé is the devil reincarnate. I should feel some kind of sorrow, right? But I don’t. If anything, I’m relieved.

  The anger is still festering, but I can focus on that tomorrow because now, this blue cocktail requires my full attention.

  Chloe and I bust out the moves, but I’m quite certain I look like I’m being electrocuted.

  As the band finishes whatever song we’ve been bopping to, I see my bag flash. Certain ET is hiding within the silky confines, I close one eye to concentrate on holding my drink and open the clasp. It takes three attempts, but I get it open.

  “Here, give me your drink.” Chloe giggles, extending her palm. She’s a lifesaver.

  However, when I see that ET is actually my phone alerting me to the twenty-something missed calls I have, I know I’ll need more than a lifesaver to save me from the wrath of London.

  “Oops.” I chuckle, holding up my phone to show Chloe the evidence.

  She squints as she leans in close. When she sees London’s name and the missed calls from him, she covers her mouth to mask her laughter. “Oh, shit.”

  The text I left him was that I was okay and that I loved him. He’s just worried because that’s what he does when it comes to me.

  “Aww, stop it,” Chloe gushes while I roll my eyes. I’m pathetic. “You are too cute.”

  “I better call him.” Just as I’m about to wade through the masses, Chloe loops her arm through mine and drags me out the door. She’s still holding my glass, which she passes to the bouncer as we leave.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, looking behind me at the bar. Or I think I’m looking at the bar we were just in. Everything looks the same.

  “Why are you calling him when you can see him? Absinthe of the Heart is only a few blocks away.”

  Her suggestion sobers me the fuck up, and I plant my heels against the pavement. “Noooo, that’s a bad idea. Bad idea.”

  Her pink glossy lips tip up into a mischievous smile as she continues hauling me down the street. “No, it’s an excellent idea.”

  “No, I mean it. I can’t see him. I’m drunk,” I whisper from behind my hand, before snorting hysterically.

  “And? What’s the worst that can happen?” she questions, leaning into me as we stagger a slow walk.

  Memories of London’s mouthwatering cinnamon scent as he took me roughly against that tree assault me, and I blister a bright crimson.

  “Oh, we are so going!” she says, clearly reading my inner thoughts.

  “I can’t,” I press, as another memory bumps into me, and that’s of Sandy—the barfly who wanted to suffocate me to death with her fake boobs. “London’s ex?” I phrase it as a question since I still don’t know what she is to him. “She works there, and if I see her, I will chop suey her ass.” To emphasize my point, I attempt to karate chop a pole with a war cry, but instead hit a passer-by. “Oh, my god! I’m so sorry.” Thankfully, my blow barely made a dent, and he laughs while I flee in horror.

  I need to stop this now. But the sane Holland is shaking her head. I’m on my own.

  “Good. All the more reason to go. It’s time you stopped taking a step back. London is yours, and everyone needs to know.”

  How can I argue with that?r />
  The fact we almost face plant about ten times should have been my clue to take a cab home. But that’s what I would normally do. And seeing as I’m trying this new Holland on for size, we continue our trek until the familiar flashing sign comes into view.

  My heart skips a beat.

  This name is not only clever, but it also portrays so much. At the forefront, the name is clearly a play on words—absence makes the heart grow fonder. However, seeing as this is a bar, London has used the word absinthe instead. It also contains his nickname—sin.

  I also wonder if he opted for absinthe because it’s how he dealt with the absence…of me.

  Cue swooning.

  All this speculation is giving me a headache. So I decide to just ask London instead.

  Sadly, there is a slight problem. And that’s the line of about a hundred people standing in my way. “Damn,” Chloe mutters, standing on her tippy toes to see how far away from the door we are.

  The sensible thing to do would be to call it a night, but I blow a raspberry at sensible.

  Scanning the scene before me, I sway to the left and yelp. “It’s him!” I yell a little louder than I anticipated as the partygoers in front of me subtly move away from the crazy person.

  “Who?” Chloe asks. I turn her head to the direction I’m looking, and she laughs.

  “Oh my god, it’s the bouncer who you totally owned.”

  Primping my invisible collar, I drag her toward the front of the line. She apologizes to the annoyed patrons, but I promise to buy them all a drink. As I elbow past a guy who looks like he could be John Travolta’s stunt double in Grease, I stumble toward the red rope and give an exaggerated wink. “Hey…” Shit. What’s his name?

  At the time, London was dragging me out of here like some underage troublemaker, so his name was the least of my concerns.

  When he sees me, he raises his eyes to the heavens.

  “Hey…Mango!”

  Chloe purses her lips as she turns sharply to look at me with a grin. “Mango?” she mouths while I shrug.

  “It’s so great to see you.” I flick at the red rope boldly. “I promise to behave this time.”