by Skye Turner
*
I’m pleasantly buzzed and ready to head home. I don’t want to drive, so Bently says he’ll drive me. He’s got the morning shift, so he refrained from drinking tonight. Our friend Remy follows us to my place so he can bring Bently home.
As we drive, I lay my head back against the headrest of my truck and close my eyes.
AnnaBeth’s face pops into my head. I’m buzzed and tired, so I just let the memories play.
Bently breaks into an especially hot one with a question. “Ty. Are you ok, man?”
I crack my eyes open and regard him. “Yeah. I’m good. Why?”
He grimaces. “Because you’ve been banging women like crazy, man.”
My brows arch and I just look at him. “You fuck a different woman every night. Are you lecturing me?”
He chuckles. “No, not at all. I’m just saying, you seem like you’re trying to fuck AnnaBeth out of your system.”
I open my mouth to dispel that ridiculousness, but he cuts me off before I can say anything. “No, man. You’re picking up women left and right. Even before she came along, you never did this. I know that things ended badly with you two and I heard Tif mention that AnnaBeth is engaged now. But, don’t turn into this guy. Don’t be the guy that uses women because one woman hurt him. You’re better than that.
“You’re better than her, man.”
I laugh harshly. “Better than her? Dude, I’m a paramedic. I make forty-thousand dollars a year. She has millions in the bank and that tool she’s marrying has millions more.”
Bently glares at me. “Money doesn’t mean shit. It means you have millions in the bank. It doesn’t make you better and it doesn’t mean you have class.
“You are a classy dude.” I try to answer him again, but he talks so fast, I can’t get a word in. “Yeah, you aren’t from the same world as the princess, but I’d say you’re the lucky one. You can live your life and do what you want to do. She has all of these expectations and everyone has a plan for her.”
I look at him and shake my head. Is he serious right now? Is he defending her?
“I’m not making excuses, because what she did was fucked up, but Coralee… she told me a bit about what’s expected from her.
“The princess doesn’t like that life, man. She feels trapped. We don’t know what that’s like.
“I’m just saying… there’s probably more to the story and I don’t want to see you become someone you hate because of a woman.”
Thankfully, we pull into my driveway. Bently parks the truck and cuts the engine. I see Remy pull in behind us.
He hands me my keys and opens the door. Before he gets out, he turns back and says, “Don’t become me, Ty. You’re not me and you’re better than this bullshit you’re doing now.”
He closes the door and I sit in the truck for a bit.
Is he right? I am screwing a lot of women and I don’t care for any of them. I purposely pick the ones I know are fine with casual sex. But, am I becoming just like the men I detest? Not meaning Bently. He has his reasons.
Thinking about this past month… I realize I am acting like an ass.
Time to straighten up.
I’m better than this.
They pull out of the drive as I wave from the door. Turning on lights as I walk through the house, I stop in the hall bathroom and stare at myself. I still look the same, but I have strain lines around my eyes and mouth and my green eyes are flat and dull.
It’s time to bring some sparkle back.
How the hell do I do that though?
*
AnnaBeth
“What linens would you like? The ivory or the onyx?” My mother is asking me as we look over the throngs of bridal books spread over the table in the ladies sitting room of the mansion.
The consultant is going on and on about some bullshit and I just want to run from the room.
I want to scream, “I don’t give a shit which linens you pick. I don’t care about the damn flowers. And I honestly don’t care about the cake!” But, I can’t do that.
The air in this room is stifling. I wish they’d open a window.
I don’t even hear anything anyone is saying to me. It all sounds like bees droning in my ear. For the past month, I’ve smiled my plastic smile and attended every event on the arm of my “fiancé.” I’ve accepted more false congratulations than I can remember and I’ve dodged every question about the wedding and honeymoon thrown at me with an absent smile and haughty expression.
My mother tells everyone the nerves of planning the wedding of the century are making me tense, but the reality is the weight of what’s happening to my life is consuming me.
Standing up, I walk to the balcony. My mother exclaims from behind me, “Where are you going, AnnaBeth? We need to make these decisions. If we don’t act quickly, we won’t have everything the way we want it.”
You mean the way YOU want it…
Looking over my shoulder, I smile tensely and say, “You pick. I’m going to take a brief walk. I have a slight headache and I think the fresh air will help. I’ll be back shortly.”
Grandma Clarabelle is sitting in her chair near the wall with her tea. She watches me and I feel as if she’s looking into my soul. She struggles to stand. “I’ll accompany you, child. I could use some fresh air myself.”
My mother sputters from the settee, “You can’t both leave. We have so much to do.”
Grandma chuckles. “I’m certain you can handle it, Rosalind. It’ll be just perfect. Just the way you want it. My granddaughter and I are taking a walk.”
Mother purses her lips as I take Grandma’s arm to help her outside. She calls out, “Don’t take her too far, AnnaBeth.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes as I reply, “Yes, Ma’am. We’re just going to walk to the garden.”
Without waiting for a reply, I head to the garden with Grandma Clarabelle on my arm.
We walk in silence and I take deep breaths in the fresh air. It helps quell the anxiety attack that’s lying just under the surface. As we reach the garden, Grandma Clarabelle points at a bench.
Nodding in understanding, I lead her over and help her sit down. I follow and plop ungraciously onto the bench beside her. She chuckles. “You’re carrying the weight of the world around on those slight shoulders, child.”
I look at her in surprise. She’s old, but she’s sharp and she notices everything. “What do you mean?”
She laughs. “Child, I’m not blind. Why are you marrying that man?”
I’m taken aback.
Why am I marrying Stanton? Does she really think I’ll answer that?
I’m not surprised she’s noticed my lack of enthusiasm. But, I can’t believe she thinks I’d tell her. Grandma Clarabelle speaks her mind. She frequently tells my father he’s being ridiculous and she hates prestige and what she calls “the snobs,” meaning everyone she’s around except the house staff.
I give her my plastic smile. “I’m marrying him because he’s… compatible and he asked. We’ll have a good life.”
She harrumphs. “No.” My gaze flies to hers. She points at me. “That’s complete horseshit. No, you’re marrying him because my foolish son has you thinking it’s your duty. It’s not.”
I’m speechless.
She looks around at the garden and then glances up at the beautiful blue sky. “This is not the old days, child.” She looks back at me. “You should marry for love and because you meet a man that makes you crazy. Crazy with frustration. Crazy with desire. Crazy with want. Crazy with love.
“A man that the thought of being without is pure torture.” She smiles at me. “That man does none of those things. He might make you crazy, but the only crazy you’ll get with him is the kind where you fantasize about stabbing him in his sleep.”
My mouth flies open and I gasp. “Grandma!”
She chuckles. “What? You feel nothing for that man but annoyance. I can see it clear as I can see that sky right there.”
I lau
gh lightly and cough. “That’s not true.” She looks at me in blatant disbelief. “Ok, so maybe I’m not filled with passion for him. I don’t love him. You’re right… but that can come with time. I can learn to love him…”
She says, “Ummm hmmm. It doesn’t work like that, child. You deserve better than to settle. I can’t tell you what to do. You are an adult, though my son treats you as if you’re not. You are.
“You can make your own choices, but that’s what you need to do. Make your own choices. You need to live your life for you. It’s the only one you’re going to get. Don’t waste it.”
I sit in contemplative silence as I listen to her talk.
Finally, she pats my knee and says, “We’ve been out here long enough. Any longer and Rosalind will send one of the staff out for us. I’m certain she has some other menial task or choice for you to make about a wedding you shouldn’t be having.”
She’s right. My mother will send someone out looking for us. After all… we have a schedule to keep and an image to uphold…
Strangely, that thought is not as concrete in my head as it once was.
Picturing the man I’m about to marry, my face grimaces with distaste. It starts to morph into another face and as the auburn hair and bright green eyes take shape, my heart lightens.
I take a calm breath. The first I’ve taken in far too long.
I smile.
We reach the French doors and they open from the inside. My happy bubble fades as Stanton pops out and says, “Where did you wander off to? Did you forget I made reservations for lunch at the Club?” He looks at his watch and annoyance crosses his face. “If we leave now, we’ll have time to eat before all of the best picks are gone. Really, AnnaBeth. You need to be more responsible.”
Grandma Clarabelle brushes past him and turns to me as she once again settles into her chair. Her brow arches and she pierces me with her gaze. She completely ignores his presence. “Think about what we talked about, child.”
Stanton looks from me to her and frowns. “What did you talk about?”
She sharply retorts, “Seeing as it was a conversation with my granddaughter and you were not involved, that is rightly not your concern. Don’t you have someplace to be?”
He mutters and takes my hand. He pulls me behind him, grumbling the whole time.
Looking back, I see Grandma Clarabelle staring after us. My mother is watching too and she looks uneasy.
As I’m shepherded into the car and subjected to another lecture, I gaze out the window and tune Stanton out.
Chapter Seven
Ty
One month later
During our shift yesterday, Tifanie asked me to accompany her to Grandma Clarabelle’s birthday bash. I’ve often accompanied her to these types of things over the past three years. She needed a male body, the food is always off the charts, and the alcohol is abundant. Of course I agreed, and no part of me accepted because of the thought of seeing AnnaBeth…
Of course not.
It’s been about two months since that day she came to my house and told me she was engaged. For the first month, I was a total manwhore and used women just to unsuccessfully squash the memories. I’ve been much calmer this past month though.
She no longer occupies every waking thought. In fact, I’ve just about convinced myself that I wasn’t in love with her and she was just another bedmate.
Yeah… almost.
I’m humming as I grab my shoes from the closet and slip my feet into them. Tif is picking me up in a few minutes. I’m excited to see Grandma Clarabelle. I love that old woman. She’s spunky and has no filter. It’s awesome. She’s exactly like what I imagine Tif will be in sixty years. I wish AnnaBeth had more of her traits.
A honking horn alerts me to the fact that Tif is here. Closing the door behind me, I head down the steps and out to her car. I stop dead in my tracks and my mouth actually pops open in surprise. Then, laughing, I open the back door and slap Cruz on the back as I climb in. I mutter, “About fucking time, man!” as I settle in.
Tifanie laughs and I can hear how happy she is. It warms my heart while sending a pang at the same time.
I want that.
Snap out of it. You cannot show up at Chateau du Bellaforte all down in the doldrums. Especially since AnnaBeth and Stanton will be there. The perfect society couple.
It makes me want to hurl.
How the hell is she actually with that pansy ass prick?!
Enough! Doesn’t matter. She made her choice and her choice was NOT you! Besides, no one in the glass house even knows you were ever involved. They’d just think you were a dick.
Oh wait, they already think that.
Except Grandma. She loves me.
Nope, I’m going to play the part of the guy they all love to look down on. All the while I’ll be secretly laughing because I’ve had the princess in every which way imaginable.
Cruz and Tif are talking in the front seat and I can see the guy is nervous. It makes me laugh. Seriously¸ he’s a famous fucking drummer. He’s in the most famous rock band around and he’s uneasy about meeting the snooty Bellafortes.
I help Tif fill him in on the important people and I see him get even more antsy. Finally, I take pity on him. “Just remember, they’re all snobs and won’t like you anyway, no matter what you do. As snobby as they are, act twice as indifferent.”
Tif agrees with me and gives him a pep talk. I back her up.
We turn the last bend and the gates come into view. The mansion is in full view. Cruz gasps and I mutter, “Check that shit out.”
Chateau du Bellaforte is a beauty. It’s huge and majestic. It looks like it stepped out of the pages of a romance novel. Tara from Gone with the Wind has nothing on this place. And AnnaBeth lives here…
Speak of the devil.
She’s standing on the porch next to Stanton. Even thinking his name makes me want to punch him in the face. Her face is blank as she looks at the vehicle, but I see her hands clench and the knuckles turn white as she notices me in the car.
Good, be on edge, princess. Welcome to my hell the past two months.
Opening the door while staring straight at her, I say loudly, “Where’s the alcohol?” and I head up the porch steps. She steps out of the way just as I get to her. I hear her inhale sharply as I pass.
Grinning, I cross the porch to Grandma Clarabelle and lean down to kiss her wrinkled cheeks. Her arms come around my neck to hug me tightly and I whisper in her ear, “Ready for some fun?”
She throws her head back and laughs and heads sharply turn toward us.
Tif mouths, “Thank you,” as they make their way up the stairs. I don’t mind taking the focus off of them. Not at all.
I wink at her and grab a glass of bourbon from a server’s tray before standing at Grandma’s back. Tif and Cruz walk over and greet her. I don’t miss the way people stare at them and chatter. AnnaBeth is glaring at them both.
Senator Bellaforte, Tif and AnnaBeth’s father, coughs and stands to get everyone’s attention. He greets Tif in his usual haughty, lord of the manor tone and asks for an introduction. She appeases him. The air is thick with tension, so I call out as I grab another bourbon, “Y’all know me! No introductions needed.”
A few people laugh uneasily, but most focus on Tif and Cruz and the Bellafortes. Everyone is waiting for a scene.
Stanton gives them one. He rudely calls out from beside AnnaBeth, “Yes, it is a gallant home. I’m certain it’s overwhelming for you. I doubt you’re used to this level of class. People unlike us are usually in awe.”
The fuck did he just say? I’m going to beat his ass. Oh, hell no.
I see the rage in Tif’s eyes and decide to handle the situation. Calmly taking a sip of my drink, I pierce him with my green gaze. “Stanton, I’d say I’m surprised at your audacity, but shit, let’s face it… I’m not.” I take another sip of my bourbon and feel it burn as I swallow. “You’re a pompous ass. I mean what kind of man proposes to one sister a
nd when she flatly refuses, immediately starts courting the other sister?!” I laugh flatly to show my disgust. “Yet, you speak of class?!”
I salute him with my glass. AnnaBeth is glaring at me as she starts to shake. Her gaze is so sharp I’m surprised I’m not bleeding out all over this white porch. Ignoring her and focusing on Stanton again, I finish with, “By the way, that man you’re trying to insult is not an idiot and is, believe it or not, a celebrity.” Stanton glares at me before he looks uneasily at Cruz. “In fact… I bet if you combined all of your stuffed shirts and your supporters from this magnificent Gala, more people would know who he is over all of you.”
Everyone is staring at me in shock or apprehension. I pop a cherry into my mouth from the martini glass belonging to the woman next to me. “Oh, was that rude? Oops, my bad. I think I need another drink.” The waiter is smirking as I wave him over. Taking one off the tray, I glance up at AnnaBeth. She and Stanton are both standing there rooted to the floor with rage on their faces. She’s shaking as she tries to hold onto the rage clearly displayed on her face.
That’s right, princess. Hold everything in. God forbid you have an actual real reaction to something.
I can’t help it. I take one more jab. “How about I grab you one, AnnaBeth? You’re looking a little peaked. Might take that edge off and remove that stick from your ass.”
I swallow more bourbon as Grandma Clarabelle throws her head back and laughs. AnnaBeth loses it and starts sputtering. Grandma Clarabelle calls out to her, “That man is what you need, child… not that weasel beside you.”
I choke on my drink and my gaze leaves the horrified expression on AB’s face to focus on Grandma.
What. The. Hell? Does she know about us? How could she know? There’s no way she knows.
Yet, the clear eyes staring back at me are telling me a completely different story.
*
AnnaBeth
Why would Grandma Clarabelle say that? What did she mean? Why would she say I need Ty?
I can’t even think.
My emotions are so all over the place, I don’t know what to do or what to say.