by J. C. Grant
“I'm getting dressed and leaving.” I pulled open the closet door.
“I'm heading over now. What time is she meeting him exactly?” I could tell he was already in the car.
“Eleven thirty.”
“I'll get there before her.”
“Don't let him touch her. Not a handshake, nothing,” I said, my voice dead serious. It was a request as much as it was a warning.
I was grateful we brought several changes of clothes over here in the last week. I grabbed some dark jeans and a black, long-sleeve thermal—they'd hide blood. I pulled on my boots, not bothering to lace them. Grabbing my keys and hat off the desk, I snapped my hat hard against my thigh, giving all this anger a tiny outlet before putting it on and pulling it down low. I opened the office door and called Chance to follow me. I knew I couldn't take him with me, it would draw too much attention.
“Kelly, I need you to watch Chance until I get back,” I said as I approached the front desk.
“Oh, sure. Yeah. No problem. When will you be back?” she asked sweetly.
“I'm not sure. A couple hours maybe?”
“Is this about Austin running out of here earlier?”
Love how naive this girl is... Running? Yeah, she'd better fucking run.
I'd warned her from the beginning, if she ran, I'd chase her and I would catch her. Every fucking time.
“Yeah. It is. I'll be back.” I walked out to find the truck waiting for me right by the door.
“I saw Mrs. Taylor leave and thought—” Shawn started.
This was the one time his crush on my wife was beneficial to me.
“Thank you.” I hopped in the truck and took off.
Speeding through Santa Monica, I only slowed slightly when I got into Beverly Hills.
Pulling into the valet line at The Beverly Hills Hotel, I looked at the clock. She'd been with that fuck for ten minutes at least.
I got out, leaving my keys in the ignition, taking quick, long strides into the lobby until I was inside the restaurant. Scanning the room, I looked for her, but saw Fergus instead. He motioned me in the direction of the patio. My eyes followed.
There they were.
Sitting in one of the booths. There were four corner booths with a huge, low umbrella in the middle, all the booths facing out. It created a cave-like atmosphere with more privacy than he needed to have with my wife.
The hostess approached and I pointed to where I wanted to be seated—in the booth right next to them. The backs were high enough to give privacy and, combined with the oversized umbrella, you could barely see anything that wasn't in the booth with you.
“Of course, sir,” she turned.
I pulled my hat lower and ended up leading her to the table in my impatience, sitting with my back to Austin's. Their voices were muted with the high-backed booth. I moved, sitting on the edge, leaning out slightly to hear them better.
“What does that matter, Austin? You're not legally married to him,” Zach said, his voice still muffled.
My blood heated and my heart pounded in my chest. My hands were shaking with the adrenaline pumping through me.
“We are,” Austin responded confidently. “Why don't you worry about your marriage?”
My breathing slowed at hearing her speak to him. She was so calm, so unaffected by him this time. I heard everything he said to her at her house and her reaction... I'd still been worried, but he didn't have the hold I feared. He didn't have any part of her.
“I'm not married. I never had any intention of getting married... If a guy is engaged for more than a year, he has no plans of getting married.”
“Good to know,” she responded, sounding bored.
“Look, I understand why you're with him, but I'm famous enough now. I don't need her. I left her.”
I clenched my fists and focused on not reacting. This place was packed; I couldn't hit him here. Not to mention, Fergus had moved closer, watching me now, not them. Austin's voice was clear, but Zach sounded odd.
“You don't understand. I'm with him because I love him, because I want to be with him.”
“I did this for us,” he hissed.
I knew Austin wasn't naive. I knew she didn't believe him—well, now I knew—but I still wanted to make him bleed.
“You told the press that David caught us having sex and that's why you guys fought. How is that love?”
“It's getting us more exposure.”
I listened as he said the exact wrong thing to her; it was like he didn't know her at all. She didn't want more exposure. I knew he was only interested in furthering his career, but I felt better having him confirm it so obviously. To me and to her.
“No offense, but you got your ass beat. I thought you were dead,” Austin whisper-yelled. “He broke your jaw. How does that help you? Sympathy?”
He got off easy.
And if he was looking for sympathy Austin clearly had none.
“It's fractured, not broken. How can you be with him? Can't you see he will do the same to you?”
He was sticking with his favorites—the marriage is fake and trashing me anyway he could.
“David would never hit me,” she dismissed without hesitation. “He was protecting me from you.”
I couldn't help but feel proud that Austin saw it like that, instead of seeing it as me losing it and turning into my piece-of-shit father.
“What happened? This was our plan. Are you that mad at me?” His fake charm was quickly fading.
“We didn't have a plan. I never planned a future with you. I had no intention of being with you long-term.”
Her words and tone… She was so cold. So uncaring.
“I get that I broke your hear—”
“You didn't.” My blood was boiling, but hers was ice. “I was never in love with you.”
“Yes, you were.”
“No, and you didn't love me. You didn't even know me,” she said matter-of-fact. “I have a costume fitting, and I'm bored with this. With you.”
“Austin, wait.”
“Let me explain this to you in a way you will understand. If you press charges against David, I will press sexual assault charges against you.” Her voice was devoid of any emotion. It was almost cruel. “Because that's what was happening when David walked in.”
That's when it sank in. She should've had anger or some normal level of human compassion. Something. But there was nothing there, she felt nothing, and it was an alarming realization.
“It was not. Austin—”
“You did and I will.” I felt her moving, sliding out of the booth. “And stop contacting me. David reads your messages, and he doesn't even care enough to mention it. He's not worried about you. Neither I am. Now run along, little boy. Find someone else to help your career.”
I knew where she stood now. Where I stood. Austin had my back, no matter what. I knew I needed to heed Elaine's warning if I wanted to keep it that way. I had to give Austin space before she started asking for it. I always knew it was in her—cold-heartedness—but to hear it, witness it… It would fucking kill me if she ever spoke to me the way she did Zach.
I watched as she walked out without ever looking back.
Now, I understood what her mom warned me about.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Austin
I checked my phone while I waited for the valet to bring my car, one missed call from David and no texts. My stomach sank. I would've felt better if there were twenty missed calls. The valet pulled up and I quickly tipped him, got in my car, and headed to my fitting.
The fitting was quick, but pure torture. No calls from David, nothing from Fergus, and I was too scared to call or even text David. I knew he knew. It was the only explanation. If he didn't know where I was, he'd be blowing up my phone, but he wasn't. Not even a text about me sneaking out of the gym without a word.
The silence was terrifying.
I left the fitting nervous about what awaited me. The drive home only worsened my anxiety. When I pulled into our
garage, my stomach turned. The Range Rover seemed ominous sitting in its spot. Everything was where it should be. Everything except me. Then I felt dread that maybe he hadn't noticed. Maybe he didn't care. Maybe he went on with his day without a second thought.
That was the worst possible scenario.
I realized miserably, that's why the lack of calls bothered me so much. It's like he doesn't even care.
Getting out of my car, I quietly shut the door, feeling like a teenager sneaking in, again. Or was that out? I was scared, not of David, of what I had done. I snuck out on him, ran away, with David's abandonment issues... Then there was the issue of would he even believe me when I told him the truth? Would he care?
I took a deep breath and stepped into the house. David's strong, wide, bare back was the first thing I saw. He was standing at the kitchen sink, wearing nothing but navy athletic shorts. He looked like he had just showered. His hair was wet and his skin was flushed.
“Hey, sweet girl,” he growled sexily, putting me at ease. He didn't turn around. His head remained down as he focused on his task.
“Hey.” I gently shut the door behind me.
“How did the fitting go?” He turned to the stove as I went around the kitchen island.
“Good.” As I leaned on the island counter, I noticed he hadn't looked at me since I walked in or asked about my disappearance. I blurted, “I met Zach at the Polo Lounge.”
He turned, slowly looking me over once. “I know.”
I huffed a heavy breath.
“I was there,” he said simply.
It felt far too good to hear that. It was also a huge relief that he knew what had happened, that he wouldn't think I was lying. That also explained why I’d felt his presence while I was there, I had thought it was my nerves.
“He said he was going to press charges against you if I wouldn't talk to him,” I explained.
“I know.” He was surprisingly understanding and patient.
“I'm sorry.”
“It's okay, I understand.” He was so sincere. It made me feel awful for sneaking away. And awful that he wasn't mad or jealous or... something.
It was so not what I had expected from him.
“By the way, I have a tracker on your car,” he said casually, turning back to the food.
I tried to get rid of the grin on my face. Repeatedly. But a new one kept forming.
Why does that make me feel so good?
I watched his muscular back shifting as he turned over whatever he was cooking. I didn't know why I wasn't annoyed. I would be later. Probably. Then again, maybe that's why he chose that moment to tell me.
“Is there one in me?” I tried to joke.
He looked at me over his shoulder, that eyebrow lifting as if he was considering it.
“Go take a shower.” He turned back to the stove. “Get comfortable. We're having a late lunch since you didn't eat.”
I didn't know if he was just guessing because I hadn't eaten at the Polo Lounge or if he actually knew. That was unsettling. Then I remembered Fergus.
He probably had Fergus following me. That’s probably why he's so fucking calm.
“And, Austin, don't ever fucking do that again,” he warned. “Don't sneak off on me and don't voluntarily see him. Ever.”
I realized then how stupid it was, after what had happened the last time I was around Zach. And I had a feeling from his tone, I was really lucky there hadn't been another fight.
“I won't,” I agreed.
I went into the bathroom and stripped down. I avoided thinking too much about anything and tried to wash the day away. Once I got out and dried off, I didn't feel much better than before the shower. Going into the closet, I tried to shake it off as I dressed in one of my favorite bras, a baggy sweatshirt, and the Property of David Taylor boy shorts—they were extremely comfortable and the only pair of boy shorts I currently owned. Chance pushed the bedroom door wide open just as I laid down on our bed. When he crawled up next to me and snuggled close, the need to cry overwhelmed me.
“Hey, you coming?” David asked from the doorway.
“In a minute,” I said thickly.
“Hey.” His voice was closer, softer. “I heard what you said to him. As much as I wanna kill him, the things you said to him, the way you talked to him—” he paused, sitting on the bed behind me “—I understand why you went, and now I know he doesn't have a hold on you.”
He never did.
I thought about what I'd said to Zach and how it would be confirmation for David. How it would make him feel better, good even.
“And Fergus followed you until you pulled into the driveway.” He waited for a response. When he didn't get one, he continued, “So, I know you're hungry.”
I was hungry.
“I made chicken enchiladas,” he coaxed. “Not squishy.”
I smiled at that. We still hardly knew anything about each other.
“If you hate it, I'll get you pizza.”
I laughed.
His hand rubbed up my side, lifting my top slightly.
“Mmmm.” His gravelly voice rumbled, lifting the hem of my sweatshirt up. He palmed my ass, then squeezed. “These look damn good.”
I smirked at him before getting up and making my way to the living area, David groping me playfully as we went.
My mood dampened instantly, noticing he'd set everything up at the dining room table, which usually meant an uncomfortable conversation was coming. I sat down, looking over the food he prepared as he went to my purse, retrieving my phone, not saying a word. He didn't look through it; he just placed it next to me then sat down. It was so strange for him... I ate in silent anticipation, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.
“Feel like watching a movie?” he asked, interrupting my thoughts.
“Yeah. That sounds—” My phone ringing cut me off.
We both looked at it, but neither of us reached for it.
“Austin, answer it.” His voice was gentle but firm.
Reluctantly I did.
“Tell me these pictures I'm looking at are old. Tell me you didn't go to the Polo Lounge today with Zach.”
“Elaine, I did. But—” I was exhausted from facing my past and the stress of worrying about David's reaction or lack thereof.
David took the phone from me.
“She did. I was there, and Fergus was there,” he explained, taking over for me. He moved the phone away and whispered to me, “Go find us a movie, sweetheart.”
Relieved by not having to talk about it, I pushed to my feet and headed for the couch. Half throwing myself down, I turned the TV on, searching the movies as my body sank into the leather cushions, but I still heard his end of the conversation.
“I was there. I know exactly what she said.” He paused. “I don't care what he said. I know firsthand what was said... He also said that he left the pop princess.” David was getting irritated at Zach's version. “No. Release I was there, that I followed my wife... I don't give a fuck what people think. I'm allowed to stalk my wife.” He got up and started clearing the table one-handed. Then he said, “Everyone already knows I kicked his ass.”
He looked at me then, shaking his head at whatever was being said, or maybe the entire situation—I didn't know which.
“Fine. No.” He ended the call and finished up in the kitchen, then made his way to me, crawling over and wedging himself between me and the back of the couch.
“So?” I gave in.
“It was a photo op. He had someone waiting there, taking pictures of you two together, already had them sold. They're everywhere.”
I closed my eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.
“He claims you were reconciling without your abusive husband around.”
I didn't respond. It didn't surprise me. Apparently, we were his only plan for getting to that next level.
“Whatever. You find something to watch?” he asked, his breath warming my neck. His large powerful arms wound around me, tuckin
g me in tight against his hard body, his thick thigh pressing between mine, comforting me. Suddenly the events of today felt surprisingly simple, inconsequential. Everything inside me uncoiled as I melted into him, absorbing him, his heat, his skin, his smell, his strength.
After today, I knew without doubt he would never let anything happen to me. He was my safe place, my home.
*****
Bright sunlight poured through the massive window wall, letting me know I had slept later than usual. I didn't have to look to know I was alone. I got up and went to the bathroom before making my way into the living room. Taking in their morning routine, I felt like I was witnessing some secret ritual. The TV was on, David was in the kitchen, and Chance was eating at his drawer—David had emptied out a drawer on the wall by the garage door for Chance's food bowl and snacks. It was perfect actually, perfect height and easy access. He had picked up a large water bowl with a pedestal stand, reminding me of a fancy planter.
“Hey. We're running late this morning. Hope French toast is okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered on an exhale as I walked into the kitchen.
“We all slept late.” He placed my coffee on the island just as I sat down. “I just got out of bed twenty minutes ago.”
I took a sip of my coffee, trying to remember last night.
“Did we fall asleep on the couch?” I asked after a moment.
“Yeah. Woke up at three and carried you to bed. Yesterday wore us both out.”
“Sorry, babe.”
“Stop it.” His tone shifted. “You have a colonic at eleven?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay, today I want you to get through an arm routine and do cardio.” He plated up the toast, setting one in front of me. “I'm doing a full workout today.”
My brain came to an abrupt halt.
I was stunned. I didn't think he would ever let me work out alone. Not at his gym.
I tried to cover my surprise as he came around and sat next to me.
“I have to catch up on some more work today, but I'll meet you back here,” he said, just before digging into his breakfast.
It seemed him being witness to my blackmail conversation yesterday had bought me some freedom. Soon as we finished, we rushed through our morning routine and got dressed. I put on some yoga pants and grabbed a tank top. To my surprise, he said nothing.