My bottom lip quivers and I sit there stunned into silence.
"Darnnit, woman. Say something. Aren't you happy?" I hear the impatience in his voice.
I sputter a cough, the bubbles shifting around me as I sit up. "I am happy, Jim. So much. Thank you."
Suddenly, I feel bad for all the shitty thoughts I've had about Jim over the past few months. Maybe he isn't such a bad lawyer after all. But just when I think that Jim and I are about to share a sentimental moment, true to his nature, the old jerk bursts my bubble.
"Good," he spits out. "Now expect my bill in the mail. I'm not running a charity over here."
Never mind.
I laugh through my joyful tears. "Of course, Jim."
"Bye now."
"Bye." With wet, trembling hands, I set my phone on the edge of the sink.
I just know that Reuben is somehow responsible for this. He’s the reason that Zayn is dropping his alimony request. I don't know what he did but it's so typical of him to find a way to take care of me, even when I'm pushing him away. The past two weeks has been an emotional challenge like no other. Resisting the urge to answer his calls, denying my body's need to feel him. It's been hell.
I can't help the twinge of wanting coiling around my ribs.
I love him.
But love isn't enough to make me forget what he did, is it? He withheld important information about his life. He's a stranger, a stranger that I'm in love with, but a stranger no less.
Yes, I’m insanely grateful for all the things he’s done for me but I can’t let him off the hook so easy. I take a big gulp of wine and turn on my Kindle, trying to numb the hurt at least for tonight.
Chapter 36
Reuben
Ryan's hospital room is tense as fuck.
I prop myself up on the ledge of the window and glance around at my family. My mother sits in a low upholstered armchair with perfectly coiffed hair, a well-tailored skirt suit and a trembling bottom lip, knotting her handkerchief in her hands. Griffin stands, leaning against the counter beside her, arms folded across his wide chest and the twitch in his jaw betraying his anger. My niece, Vanessa, senses her father's tension and snakes her arms around his waist. He looks down at her and smiles, draping an arm over her shoulder. My father and his new(er) wife sit to the left of the hospital bed, holding hands. She looks nervous, as she should be. This is supposed to be a family meeting. I have no idea why the gold digger is here. Ryan sits upright in bed with a light sheet covering his legs. He looks defensive as ever. I'd be defensive too if I'd pulled some life-or-death shit that forced the whole family to gather for this reluctant bedside reunion.
Marquette clears his throat ceremoniously. "I've asked you all to be here today because Ryan's assault affected me more than you'll ever know," he begins. "It terrified me to think that my youngest son was barely hanging on to his life."
Griffin grunts. "Oh, really? Come within inches of death. All those years, that's what we had to do to get your attention," he mumbles under his breath. His bitterness mirrors my own. The man was never there for us. Yes, we were taken care of financially, but he was never our 'dad'. He wasn't at our soccer games or graduations. Not once did he throw a damn ball with me. And I resent the hell out of him.
Marquette sighs. "I know. I haven't been a good father all these years. I've been focused on money and business to the detriment of my family."
"You also focused on chasing any young thing in a short skirt," my mother looks up and adds bitterly. Marquette's much-younger wife squirms uncomfortably in her seat.
"I was never a good husband to you, either," he confesses on the heels of a sigh. "I apologize for all my shortcomings. But, it's time for change. It's time to change directions." His wife squeezes his hand and offers him an encouraging smile. "This is something that Gemma has been prodding me to do for a while but I was too hard-headed to listen. Ryan's attack brought it back to the forefront and finally convinced me that this is the right thing to do." He glances around the room, as if shedding off the last of his doubts. "I've decided to dismantle my business. And distribute the proceeds of the sale evenly amongst the three of you. It's time for me to step back from the constant rat race and take time for family and for living life. I'll keep what I need to live comfortably and to make sure that my Gemma is taken care of when I pass but I'm handing over the rest of it to you, my sons."
Griffin and I exchange a look, sharing stunned silence. Our mother watches Marquette with narrowed eyes. "What's the catch?" She asks in a cutting tone.
My father shrugs. "There's no catch. I just want to make sure that my family is taken care of. And more than anything, I don't want to work so hard anymore."
I keep quiet as I observe him, trying to figure out his motives.
Then, he looks at me directly and says, “Just in case you’re wondering, I know what you boys have been up to in Reyfield. I know that you’ve been trying to buy up all the businesses you can get your hands on in order to block my condominium project –"
I cut him off. “You’re going to put a lot of people out of work. We’re just trying to stop you from doing that.”
“None of that matters anymore. I don’t want to start a war with my sons. You win. Okay? I just want peace. I want us all to figure out how to be a family again. That’s the most important thing.”
Griffin looks as suspicious as I feel. "I won't believe any of this until I see it in black and white. I won't fall for your lies, dad."
Marquette gives his wife a small nod and she leans over and pulls a leather bound folder from the designer handbag sitting at her feet. She hands it to him. "Don't get me wrong. This transaction won't be finalized tomorrow and it will take some time, inventorying all of my assets from across the globe," he hands documents to each of us as he speaks, "but I'm in the process of assembling a brand new legal team to spearhead the operation. This document is a promise. It's legally enforceable...This transaction is going to happen."
Gemma smiles at him, pride beaming off of her in waves.
Then Ryan asks the question we've all had at the tips of our tongues. "What do you expect from us in return?"
Marquette blinks hard, warding off tears. "All I want is a fair chance to be your father."
The room falls silent as my brothers and I exchange glances with our mother. None of us know how to react. This scenario is so far from what I'd expected when I walked in here today.
Mother speaks, owning her role as matriarch of the family. "The boys are going to need some time to process this." She stands, gathering her purse and her silk scarf. "We should go. Give them some time to discuss it."
Gemma stands, slicking down her stylish blonde bob before helping my father to his feet. My mother takes Vanessa by the hand, bribing her away from her father with promises of chocolate swirl ice cream with sprinkles on top.
As they're moving toward the door, I hear my niece questioning my mother. "Does this mean we're going to be rich, grandma?"
My mother laughs under her breath. "Oh darling, we were already rich. Now, we're going to be filthy rich." The little girl laughs, clapping gleefully.
I probably shouldn’t grin but I can’t help it. My mother’s such a fucking role model. Shaping young minds, molding the future.
As she passes Gemma on the way to the door, the two women exchange a look of mutual respect. "Thank you," my mother whispers in a strained voice. Gemma touches her on the shoulder and gives her a small smile.
Eventually, they all exit the room, leaving me alone with my brothers.
Griffin drops into the empty armchair. "Well, I didn't see that coming."
I chuff. "Tell me about it. Looks like the bastard is getting soft in his old age."
"Might be that young little thing that's hanging off his arm." The side of his mouth curves up wickedly.
I shake my head in warning. "Careful now. That's your stepmother you're talking about."
He guffaws. "Yeah. Sure. The chick is barely old enough to bab
ysit my kid."
I'm eager to get back to business. No more small talk. "Do you trust him, though?" I question, waving the promise offer in the air.
"I don't know." Griffin shrugs. "Seems too good to be true. But I'll have the lawyers look over it, obviously."
The lawyers...
Those useless sons-of-bitches? Quite frankly, they need to be replaced. "If the lawyers were competent and doing their jobs properly, I wouldn't be in the mess I'm in with Isla right now."
I've explained to Griffin that Isla somehow found out about Delia and the baby. Knowing Delia, she probably hired a private investigator to track me down in Reyfield and when she found out that I was getting close to another woman, she decided to strike out against me.
And now Isla wants nothing to do with me. She won't accept my calls and she refuses to speak to me until we're standing face-to-face.
Well, congratulations, Delia. You've exacted your revenge.
I'm anxious to get back to Reyfield but there's no point in going back there until I have everything I need to make things right with the woman I love.
"Who's Isla?"
Ryan's voice pierces through my thoughts. I'd almost forgotten that he was even here. I look into his tired face and see the key to resolving all my problems.
Thank god you woke up, you little bastard.
He's had a few days to rest, he's regained his mental faculties. It's time to put him to work. I walk over to his bedside and roughly tussle his overgrown hair. "Isla Hamilton is my future wife," I announce confidently. "Now let me tell you how you're going to help me win her back."
Chapter 37
Isla
With a forced smile etched on my lips, I approach the small group of forty-something women in their power suits and red bottom heels huddled near the station set up for sampling facial masks.
"Welcome to Prasanna Light Oneness Studio and Spa," I say. "Can I help you with anything?"
The tall brunette glances down at my fitted white T-shirt which bears the studio's name in elegant cursive script. "You're the owner, right?" she asks with a bright smile.
I smile back. "Yes, I'm the owner." Pride pulses in my chest. "I'm Isla."
Her curvaceous blonde friend speaks up. "The place is really lovely," she says. "And I’m so excited that it's less than half an hour outside of the city. I think I'll be here every weekend because god knows I like to be pampered after a hard week at the office." Her group of friends nod in agreement.
This is so exciting. The renovations are complete, six new workers have been hired and today is the grand reopening of the new and improved Prasanna Light Oneness Studio and Spa! The place is gorgeous. The scuffed up plywood floors were completely torn up and replaced by high-quality dark wooden flooring. The harsh fluorescent bulbs have been replaced by softer ambient lighting. The paint is fresh, the windows gleam and the studio generally has the best of everything. Brand new massage equipment, state-of-the-art beauty treatment center and my Nordic spa. Squeal! And most importantly? The friggin’ roof doesn't leak.
Reuben really went all out and it looks like it will pay off sooner than later. The turnout here is incredible. The ladies of Reyfield have shown up in large numbers along with countless women from the city.
The only thing missing is Reuben. I told him I won't talk to him unless he's standing right in front of me. I won't let him bullshit me over the phone. So far, he's stayed far away from Reyfield which only reinforces my belief that he’s been playing me all along. He led me to fall for him all while he had a fiancée and child waiting for him on the other side of the country.
I'm fucking crushed. But I have to keep reminding myself that I can't think about that now. I have a studio to run and I have a group of potential customers standing in front of me just itching to swipe their Black Cards.
"I heard that you have thermal baths?" asks the petite, caramel-skinned woman in the group.
I smile. "We certainly do. Let me show you ladies around." I usher the women toward the baths, explaining to them the concept of alternating heat and cold, followed by a period of peaceful relaxation. I answer their questions, going into detail about the benefits of the practice. They seem particularly interested in the detoxifying and skin rejuvenating aspects. I leave them as they're stripping down to their overpriced underwear and sheathing themselves in our plush robes.
I wander back into the party and find my best friend lingering by the food table. Sammie holds a tiny plastic cup up to the light and peers at the thick liquid inside. "Is there banana in this?"
Trying not to roll my eyes, I point out the label sitting on the tray of sample beverages. It clearly says 'banana-kale smoothies'. "It's got banana in there," I say rubbing her belly, "Now drink up. Baby Hannah needs all the potassium she can get."
Faith and Grace push through the crowd, both looking flushed but rejuvenated. "Oh my god, that sauna, Isla..." Grace shakes her head. "There are no words."
I give my friends a weak smile. "Yeah, it seems like these renovations turned out okay after all."
The studio has been closed for the last few days to facilitate the installation of the sauna, the pool and other amenities. And the grand re-opening party seems to be a success. Dozens of potential clients mill around, taking in the newly-developed space with its lilac walls and top of the line equipment. The guests seem to appreciate, not only the new facilities but also the expanded menu of Herbivore. It seems that knocking down the wall between the coffee shop and the yoga studio was a great idea. The wide array of healthy fast food options is likely to draw my students to the eatery after each class and the opportunity to participate in activities that benefit their wellbeing will surely appeal to Herbivore's health conscious clientele. I wish that Reuben was here so I could tell him how brilliant that idea was.
"Hun, don't be modest," Faith says "This place is phenomenal. Don't sell yourself short." She glances around cautiously before adding. "I can't wait to get Maxwell into that steam room for a quick fuck."
Sammie laughs, holding fast to her belly and throwing her head back. Gracie glares at her little sister. "Don't you dare!" That causes me to laugh, too.
I allow myself a few more minutes to chitchat with my friends because it’s only a matter of time before someone else approaches me with a question. Too bad I can’t concentrate on anything they’re saying.
"Hey, you okay?" Sammie asks, her eyes following mine as my gaze lingers on the door.
My best friend’s pregnancy has really heightened her perceptiveness. I briefly consider lying or pretending that I don't know what she's talking about, but these are my girls; if I can be vulnerable with anybody, it's them.
"I – I don't know if Reuben's coming," I confess. "I'm nervous as hell to see him." I know that he knows the big event is taking place today. I was cc'ed on the emails that the project manager has been sending to update him but in his replies he didn't indicate whether he'd be here today.
Faith gives me sympathetic eyes. "Oh honey, you still haven't talked to him, have you?"
I shake my head. "No. It's not like I've been avoiding him for the hell of it. I just don't want to have his conversation over the phone. I want him to look me in the eye and tell me why he hid his child and fiancée from me." I drop my eyes to the floor. "Because a part of me is obviously a glutton for punishment."
Sammie rubs my back in small circles. "It has nothing to do with being a glutton for punishment. You deserve answers, honest answers. You were starting to feel things for him. You need to know that you weren't crazy. You weren't imagining that he was feeling things for you, too."
"That sounds about right," I say with a small nod.
He seemed to be so into me. Our energies were so in tune. Our connection seemed so pure. How could I have been so wrong? How could he look at me the way he did and touch me the way he did, then turn around and keep something so crucial from me?
Right then, Nancy and Delores show up at my side, both outfitted in their best polyeste
r tracksuits. "Isla dear, we just finished that excellent new asana yoga class. Now, I'm ready to be pampered," Nancy informs me as she adjusts the terry-stretch headband holding her silver hair out of her face.
"Is that so?" I say with a chuckle.
Delores butts in. "Any chance I can get that hunky business partner of yours to give me a foot massage? He told me he likes to be hands-on in his business ventures and I intend on holding him to it." She winks.
"Reuben isn't here," I say in a quiet tone that barely rises above the chatter in the room.
Delores frowns. "I sense trouble in paradise. Did you two already screw things up?"
"I'm afraid we did." I swallow down the sadness clenching around my throat.
Dirty Stranger (The Dirty Suburbs Book 3) Page 18