Maybe summer camp. I went every year in Vermont until I was thirteen. I was always socially adept and I loved camp because it was one big social event. Swimming and horseback riding and laughing in the bunk when I was younger. Gossip and games and checking out boys when I was older. Sophie had despised camp and I had spent a good chunk of time insisting that my friends let her hang around with us because I always felt sorry for her that she couldn’t make friends. She was too smart, too factual, too serious. She made people uncomfortable.
I was always hugely confident then because conversation and making friends came easily for me. Drawing my feet up onto the chair, I pulled my sundress over my knees and hugged them. I stared at the sky, at the brilliance of the stars floating over the canopy of trees, and wondered where was that bold little girl who turned cartwheels and performed camp cheers in front of a hundred people. I spent the summer tanning to a golden bronze while my hair lightened to nearly white and I was happy because I knew who I was.
Now I had no freaking clue.
I lifted my phone and unlocked it with my pass code. My screen said I had forty-seven texts and six voicemails. The social media notifications were in the hundreds. Clearly everyone was tagging me and questioning the wedding that didn’t happen.
I started to scroll through them. They were predictable. Concern. Anger. Fear that I had lost my mind entirely. My mother seemed to think I was kidnapped. I sent her, my father, and Sophie a group text.
I’m fine. Just need some time. I’m sorry.
I wasn’t sure what else to say. How did I apologize to my father for his tremendous waste of money? Or my mother for humiliating her in front of her peers?
It was chilly in the night air so I went back in the cabin and dragged out my wedding gown to use as a blanket. Or maybe just because I wanted to hold it and cry. My heart was more than a little broken, but I also realized it was my ego that was very bruised.
I kept searching my messages, and there, buried in the list of texts from a dozen other people, was the last text Bradley had sent me. At 8 P.M. Three hours after our wedding was to have happened. It was a picture of him in his tux looking wasted, his arm groping a girl’s breast in a bar while she was laughing.
Without even thinking about it, I hurled my cellphone into the woods with all the strength I had. It went sailing through the air and landed with a soft thump in the brush.
My stomach clenched. What, had I expected Bradley to cry? To feel sorry for himself?
Right now he was probably having sex with the girl in the picture.
And I had had sex with Christian.
It should have felt like the perfect revenge. Instead it felt like a new beginning.
The door to the cabin opened with a creak and Christian came out onto the porch, scratching his chest and looking sleepy and sexy. “You okay?” he asked, his voice gravelly.
“Yes. I’m fine.” I actually was. Just sad. Disappointed. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”
The moonlight was cutting through the trees and I could see his expression, though I couldn’t really read it. “I got worried when you weren’t in bed.” He was completely naked as he came down the steps and moved toward me.
With a sigh he sat down heavily in the chair next to me, looking adorable and bleary-eyed. His hair was sticking up in the front.
“I couldn’t sleep.”
His hand snaked over and he laced his fingers through mine. “Is there anything I can do?”
He really was sweet. “You’re already doing it.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m kind of looking at you draped in your wedding dress and I’m a little worried you may be going off the deep end.” His voice was easy, calm. He didn’t actually sound worried about my mental health.
“I was cold.” I squeezed his hand lightly to let him know I really was okay.
“Maybe a blanket would be better.” He stood up and went back into the cabin. He returned wearing his boxer briefs and carrying the plaid blanket from the bed. “Give me the dress.”
For a minute I debated tussling with him to retain possession of my wedding gown, but then I realized he was right. A blanket would warm me up. The dress just left me feeling cold and numb. He hooked the gown over his arm and dropped the blanket over me. He disappeared inside again while I snuggled under the blanket. He returned with some newspaper and a lighter.
“What are you doing?”
“Starting a bonfire.”
And he did, with the efficiency of a Boy Scout. Or more like someone who had lived in Maine his whole life. “Isn’t it kind of late for a fire?”
“Are you going back to sleep anytime soon?” he asked, glancing at me over his shoulder. The muscles in his back rippled as he rolled newspaper and laid it in the fire pit.
“No.” I was wide awake. “Shouldn’t you put shoes on? Or pants?” Starting a fire in underwear seemed a little risky.
“Don’t worry, I won’t set my junk on fire.”
That was a terrifying thought. “Good to know.” I watched him and thought about his son and that horrible girl who was Camp’s mother. “Were you in love with Ali?” I asked. Maybe he had been heartbroken too, like me. Deceived into believing someone was a better person than they were.
Christian snorted. He went to the porch and pulled some logs off the woodpile stacked there. “No. I had a crush on Ali growing up. I just wanted to win her over, if that makes sense. It was fucking stupid.”
“But you got Camp out of it.”
He nodded. “Yep. He makes all of the bullshit worth it. I love that little guy with everything inside me.”
That warmed my heart. I could see how much he loved his son. “You’re a good father.”
“I try. I need to pick him up in the morning. I don’t like to go too long without seeing him.”
He wasn’t looking at me, just creating his wood pyre. Christian was hard to read. He didn’t display a huge amount of emotion. But I believed everything he said was the truth. He didn’t play games, even when he was flirting. He had so far always flat-out told me the way it was going to be. I appreciated that. “That’s fine. Do you want me to stay here so you can spend some time with him by yourself?”
I didn’t want to interfere in his parenting. Though if I were being totally honest, I didn’t want to be alone. I’m not good at alone. I never have been. I’m social by nature.
“You can come with me.”
I was relieved. “Okay.”
Christian set his masterpiece ablaze. He blew on it to get it going. “Tell me about your job,” he said, still not looking at me. “What do you do exactly?”
He had an amazing skill for keeping me calm. Being with him was so easy. Frighteningly easy. I launched into a description of my responsibilities and told him how rewarding it was to pair birth mothers with adoptive parents and how I always cried when the babies were sent home to their family.
“You really like kids, don’t you?” he asked, sitting in the chair next to me.
He had created a beautiful fire that danced in the dark, the warmth allowing me to relax my shoulders and my death grip on the blanket. “I love kids,” I said, glancing over at him. “I want at least four.” Without warning a sob wrenched out of me. “I thought I was going to have that.”
“Come here.” Christian stood up and took my hand. He pulled me to my feet. “Come sit with me.” He dropped back down into his chair and urged me to sit on his lap.
I dragged my feet a little. I didn’t want to let him comfort me. Because I already liked him too much. It was confusing and unnerving and crazy and a bad idea to actually like Christian. But he was determined, and I found myself on his thighs and leaning back against his bare chest. I sighed, hugging the blanket around us.
“How old are you?” he asked me.
“Twenty-six.”
That made me laugh a little. “I’ve always wanted to be the shit.”
“You already are in my eyes.” He kissed the top of my head.
I snaked my arm around his waist and looked up into his light eyes. “Likewise.”
Then I had to look away because something was shifting inside me—something crazy, something that made zero sense.
I turned back to the fire, afraid that I had metaphorically jumped into the scorching hot flames.
Christian and I sat there and talked, cuddled together, until the sun started to rise over the water and shed light on us.
Dawn. A new day.
Chapter 10
“I’ll just be a minute,” I told Bella. “I’ll grab Camp and be right back.” I didn’t want her coming into my mom’s house and having my sister grill her. I knew how Charlie could be, and Bella didn’t have the armor to fend off barbs from my bitchy sister.
She gave me a smile. “Sure.”
We had barely slept the night before. Maybe two hours this morning. She looked tired, her face free of makeup, shadows under her eyes. But she didn’t seem upset. If anything, she exuded a sense of peace and calm. Like she knew she’d made the right decision even if her entire world had exploded. I reached out and tweaked her nose. “Be right back, pretty girl.”
Bella and I had talked easily in the middle of the night for hours, until the fire died down and the sun had risen. She wasn’t the entitled rich girl I had assumed she was. She wasn’t even the superficial material girl she seemed like she could be. She was exactly what I had thought she was—sweet and kind. But she was also intelligent and thoughtful and passionate.
Man, I had fucked up. I had thought I could just have sex with her and be done with it. Things were getting way too complicated already and it had only been a day.
I went inside my mom’s house and spotted my son in his high chair. “Hey, buddy!”
He gave me a grin, his mouth smeared in oatmeal.
“Hey,” I said to my sister, who looked tired. “Where’s Mom?”
“Church. It’s Sunday.”
I lifted Camp up and hugged him to me. There was just something about his baby smell and the weight of him in my arms that made life worth living. He was awesome. I started pacing the kitchen, just so I could bounce him up and down and see him smile. “I’m taking Camp for the day.”
“Where are you going?” Charlie sipped her coffee, her hair sticking up.
“The camp. I’m staying there with Bella.”
Charlie choked on her coffee. “Dude, are you insane?” she squawked at me. “There is a missing person’s report out on that girl! Her dad is a fricking billionaire and her fiancé is a lawyer.”
I couldn’t exactly argue that I wasn’t being stupid. Because I was. “Why the hell would they file a missing person’s report? I didn’t kidnap her. She texted me asking me to pick her up. So I did.”
“And you hid her in the woods and screwed her.” Charlie rubbed her temples. “Oh my God. I’m going to have a father and a brother in prison and another one in rehab. This is just great.”
That annoyed me. I stopped pacing. “I didn’t do anything illegal. And neither did she. She’s an adult. Walking out on your wedding isn’t a crime. Now get me some of your clothes for her to wear. All she has is a wedding dress.”
“I think that makes me an accessory.”
“To what? What crime did Bella commit? Failure to yield to a dickhead? Aggravated assault on a wedding veil? Illegal possession of crystals?”
This was all fucking ludicrous.
Despite herself, Charlie cracked a smile. “You’re having a lot of fun with those, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I shrugged. “I helped a friend if that’s what you want to call it. Bella’s family is out of control if they’ve involved the cops. This is all an overblown misunderstanding.”
There was a knock on the door. We both froze. I don’t know why. But given what Charlie had just told me my first reaction was that it was danger.
“What do we do?” Charlie whispered. She started to walk backward like she could disappear down the hallway.
“Answer it,” I told her. “Bella is in the car. We have to get rid of whoever it is.” Bella was my concern. I wasn’t worried about me.
“I hope it’s a guy cop,” she murmured. “I can get them to do what I want.”
And she thought the men in our family were the fucked-up ones? I rolled my eyes as she fluffed her chest by yanking on her bra straps.
But when she pulled the door open, me hanging back in the kitchen, I saw it was Bella.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But it’s very hot in the car. Can I come inside and get a glass of water?”
“Sure,” Charlie said, her voice flat. She opened the door wide, turned, and left Bella standing in the doorway.
“Sorry,” I said when Bella stepped into the living room. “I didn’t think I was going to be this long. I’ll get you some water.” I shot Charlie a death stare. “Charlie, this is Bella. Bella, this is my sister, Charlie.”
“It’s so nice to meet you,” Bella said, holding her hand out.
Charlie snorted. “Christian says you need to borrow my clothes. Sorry they aren’t designer. And my boobs and hips are bigger than yours so I’m not sure how this is going to work, but I’ll find you sweats or something.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.”
“Whatever.”
“Charlie,” I snarled at my sister. “Don’t be a dick.”
But she was unmoved. She was nothing like our mother in personality. She was like her father. The real one. Not the one she thought she had.
Sometimes I wanted to tell her, especially when she got like this. But I just couldn’t do that to her. How did you explain to your sister that she was the result of your mother having an affair with a rich guy while her husband was in prison? You didn’t. Though I was tempted when she got all high and mighty about “rich bitches” to blow the lid off and point out her biological father was exactly that. A rich bitch.
But I never did.
Charlie just walked away with a parting shot of, “I’m not the one with a son to lose custody of.”
That was a direct hit. I winced. I couldn’t help it. Bella saw it.
“What does she mean? Are you in a custody dispute?”
“Nope. Not at all. Ali is in town, as you know, but she hasn’t asked to see Camp.” I played it off. I sounded confident. But there was a trigger of fear that had started to pull back with Charlie’s warnings and I didn’t like it. I couldn’t lose Camp. That would kill me. I couldn’t have him subjected to Ali’s apathy.
I reminded myself this was temporary, this time with Bella. I couldn’t take on her problems and she couldn’t take on mine. And neither of us wanted that anyway.
Bella chewed on her bottom lip. Her hair still looked overdone for a casual Sunday. All those curls were intact, despite me keeping her in bed most of the afternoon the day before. Even her lips still looked stained. Money clearly bought some kick-ass makeup and hair.
She reached out and tickled Camp’s belly, giving him a smile. “Hi, little guy,” she whispered. Then she looked over at me with troubled eyes. “I don’t want you to get in trouble, Christian,” she said. “Maybe you should just take me to a hotel.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Charlie agreed before I could speak.
I shot my sister a glare. “You don’t need to go to a hotel.” I handed Bella a glass of water.
“Well. Maybe I should just call my parents. I mean, I’m going to have to eventually.”
“Did you text them last night that you are okay?”
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She nodded. “Yes. I don’t think they are worried about me so much as they are probably angry and upset.”
So she clearly didn’t know there was a missing person’s report filed on her. Though now I wondered if Charlie had just made that up. I watched Bella sip her water. “Do you want to go home? I can take you home right now if that’s what you really want.”
There was a touch of both panic and passion in her eyes. “No. I don’t. I want to stay with you.”
If I had to label what I felt right then, I guess I would call it satisfaction. “Then you’re staying with me.”
Even if it was stupid. Even if my gut clenched when she reached out to hold Camp and he readily moved into her arms. Even if I felt shit I had no business feeling when she cooed to my son and looked every inch a woman who should be a mother.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” Charlie asked. “In my room?”
“Sure.” I followed her, knowing exactly what she was going to say. “Save your breath,” I told her once we were out of earshot of Bella. “I know this is stupid.”
“If you know it’s stupid, why are you doing it?” Her normally snappish voice was soft and filled with concern. Her eyes held worry.
That unnerved me a little. Charlie was an unemotional badass. She didn’t worry. “I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “I really don’t. But I can’t stop myself.”
“Tell her she has to call her family. Like, now. So they chill out.” She turned and dug in her dresser and pulled out some shorts and a T-shirt. “Here. Just, seriously, be careful.”
“This isn’t a big deal,” I told her. “So she bailed on her wedding, so what? Don’t people do that all the time?”
“It happens. But it doesn’t mean you should roll around in other people’s mud with them.”
The Breakup Page 13