Shattered Heart: The Donnellys, Book 3

by Dorothy F. Shaw

  Heaviness settled in her chest as Cyn wrapped her hair in a towel and pulled on her robe. No matter how hard she tried, she ended up in this same place with all her relationships. Alone and lonely—while her heart remained committed to a guy who never truly committed to her.

  With Carlos, she’d begged, cried, yelled, talked, demanded and then yelled some more. And it’d gotten her nowhere except alone. Every so often he’d cast bait, usually right when she was about to leave his ass, and Cyn would latch on, hook line and sinker. For a year out of their two years together, she’d been playing this cat and mouse game with him, and the lack of real connection in the relationship had worn out its welcome for sure.

  Cyn shed the robe and pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. There was a quart of ice cream in the freezer with her name on it, and some work she needed to catch up on. Just as she settled on the couch, Ben & Jerry’s “Boom Chocolatta” in one hand, client schedule in the other, her cell rang.

  Seeing it was Carlos, she set the schedule down, picked up her phone. “Hey there.”

  “What are you up to, baby?”

  “Just on the couch. Wishing you were here.”

  “How was dinner?”

  Cyn frowned. It always felt so deliberate when he ignored her little mentions of missing him or wanting to see him. But again, his work kept him pretty busy, so maybe he wasn’t even aware he was doing it. She let out a sigh. “Dinner was nice. I wish you’d been there. I got to meet Sonja, Jimmy’s girlfriend. I really think you’d like Jimmy. Celia is home too, but you’ve met her before. Anyway, how was your work thing? Get that all taken care of?”

  “Yeah. Pretty much.” The sound of him yawning came through the receiver. “What’s her story?”

  “Who? Sonja?”

  “Yeah.”

  “She’s a single mom. Criminal defense attorney in Manhattan, and from what I can tell, she’s very refined.”

  “Refined?”

  “Yeah.” Cyn laughed. “I dunno, she’s just really formal and precise. Totally not Jimmy’s type. It’s kinda funny actually, seeing them together. But he’s happy I guess, so, whatever.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  Cyn waited before replying, hoping he might mention wanting to see her. Something…anything along the lines of, “Hey I miss you, why don’t you come over?” Or “I’m coming over, I need to see you,” would do. When the silence stretched longer than Cyn could bear, she broke it. “So, I miss you.”

  He cleared his throat. “Miss you too.”

  “Do you?” She rose from the couch and headed for the kitchen.

  “I said so, didn’t I?”

  Cyn placed the ice cream back in the freezer. “Yeah. It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  She sighed and pressed her fingers to her forehead. “I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you, is all.”

  “Just been busy, baby.”

  “Always busy, Carlos. Seriously, I get it. My business of planning corporate events isn’t all photo booths and dunk the CEO games, you know? I’m beyond busy too, but come on.” Frustration and sadness peppered her tone. Hating how whiny she sounded, Cyn cleared her throat and continued. “I mean, I have an appointment first thing tomorrow morning with a client in North Hollywood, but I still make time for us.”

  “I get it. Look, I’m about ready to collapse into bed, but we’ll find some time soon.”

  Cyn’s heart fell and she swallowed past the lump that’d formed in her throat. Asking for attention felt gross on too many levels. Most times she managed to bite her tongue and not ask to see him. But sometimes, in moments of weakness she’d take her chances and ask.

  And right now was a moment of weakness. The dinner with her brothers and their plus-ones had poked at her loneliness in a big way. Being single was one thing, but being lonely while in a relationship was entirely another. With a deep breath she placed her bet on his answer. “How about I come over now and crawl in bed with you?”

  He sighed. “Where’s your appointment in the morning?”

  “North Hollywood.”

  “All right. I guess if you’re at my house you’ll be closer to your appointment, so it makes sense for you to stay here.”

  The lump made a reappearance and her heart got heavier. He didn’t want her to come over because he wanted to see her, or at least if he did, he didn’t say it. Instead he gave a reason of convenience. “That’s not really a good reason.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “No. Not really, but whatever.”

  “Cyn, why does there have to be a reason anyway? Just grab your stuff and head over. But fair warning, I may be asleep by the time you get here, so hurry up.”

  Cyn walked to her bedroom. “Fine. I’m packing a bag now. See you shortly.”

  “Okay. Text me your ETA when you get in the car.”

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed her overnight bag from the closet. “Of course.”

  “See you soon.” He disconnected the call and Cyn tossed her phone on the bed.

  The situation sucked, and she loathed always being the one to ask and press for time with him, but at least she’d see him tonight. Even if it was spent sleeping. She pulled her toiletries bag from the cabinet in her bathroom. The stupid thing was always ready to go. And she had a steady supply of travel-sized bottles. God forbid Carlos let her keep any of her things there. That’d be far too much like she was moving in or something—as far as he was concerned anyway. But really, she wasn’t. It would just be freaking easier to not have to drag shit back and forth and simply have shampoo, conditioner and body wash there. Maybe a toothbrush too.

  When she was finished topping off what she was missing in the toiletries bag, Cyn grabbed a change of clothes, stuffed them in the duffel and slid on her flip-flops.

  She tossed her bag across the front seat of her four-door Jeep Wrangler, started it up and texted Carlos, letting him know her twenty-minute ETA. With a sigh, she backed out of her driveway.

  Things weren’t perfect, not even close, but she’d take what she could…for now.

  Chapter Four

  Shane knocked on the front door of his childhood home and waited. Most people had a key to their parents’ home, especially if it was the same one they’d grown up in. But not Shane. And definitely not his mother. She’d changed the original locks on the house long ago, probably four times over since, but once he’d left home, he’d never been given a key again. Hell, every time there was a new man in her life, the doorknob probably got replaced.

  The door swung open and there she was… Her shoulder-length blonde hair was curled at the ends to perfection, framing her beautiful, nearly wrinkle-free face. The makeup was a bit overdone, but that was always the case with a former Texas high school debutante/pageant queen. She stepped onto the front stoop and pulled Shane into an embrace. “Darling, it’s so good to see you!”

  He patted her back. “Good to see you too, Mom.”

  She backed away and ushered him into the house. “Did you just get in?”

  His mother kept moving, obviously on her way to the kitchen, and Shane followed. “A few hours ago.” He glanced around, noticing the new furniture and decor in the various rooms, and couldn’t imagine what on earth needed updating. Everything looked pretty damn updated to him.

  “Oh, I see. At Joey Donnelly’s then?” She moved to the kitchen island. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  He took a seat at the table. “Water’s fine. And yes, I was at Joey’s.”

  “That’s nice. How is he? My goodness, must be awkward seeing him after all this time. I’d heard he’d gotten married.” She brought him a glass of water, complete with fresh ice from the freezer, and set it on the table.

  Shane shifted in the chair and chose to ignore her presumptuous statement as his mother took the seat to his
right. “Joey got married a couple of years ago. He and his wife, Stephanie, just had a baby.”

  “So many children in the Donnelly family. Always amazed me. I never understood why anyone would want that many kids. There must be endless amounts of grandchildren now. That Roseanne was definitely made for having kids. I tell you, you’ll never hear me complain about not being a grandmother yet. I just can’t picture it. Of course, Derrick has grandchildren and they come over once in a while.” She leaned close to him. “I usually schedule my hair appointment and spa treatments on those days.” With a chuckle, she patted the side of her hair. “Of course, Derrick hasn’t quite figured out the connection, so don’t tell him.” She smiled and Shane didn’t miss the devious glint that had sparked in her eyes as she raised her cup of tea to her lips.

  He just looked at her. This was his mother, the woman who never really wanted to be a mother to begin with and was never afraid to make that fact known. And now, she had no issue expressing her disdain for grandchildren. Plus, she’d pretty much insulted Mrs. Donnelly, which poked so many of Shane’s nerves it wasn’t even funny.

  Because she’d never really wanted kids—something his mother never hid from him—Shane’s relationship with his mother had never been great. After his father passed, when Shane was fifteen, it’d gotten worse.

  It was exactly the reason why he spent as much time as he could with the Donnellys. Mrs. D was a saint as far as he was concerned. Their home, though a bit chaotic because of all the kids, was a far better place to be. During his childhood, he’d had more peace there than anywhere.

  Shane took a long gulp of his water, drowning the words he wanted to say. His mother would make a horrid grandmother. He couldn’t even imagine her playing with kids. God knows she’d never played with him. Giving himself another second to get his anger under control, he swallowed another mouthful of water, managing to not choke on his agitation and set the glass down. “I’ll be sure to make a note.”

  “Oh, a note! Yes, thank you, darling. That reminds me.” His mother rose and moved to her purse. When she came back to the table she held a small sheet of paper in her hands. She set it down and slid it over to him. “Here are the things I need you to work on while you’re here.”

  Shane read it over. It was a very detailed list of everything she wanted done—complete with little drawn boxes he could check off when he’d finished each item. Controlling and anal, the perfect combo… Not. He looked at her. “Great!”

  She cleared her throat and pointed to the list. “As you can see here, there’s quite a few things. Do you think you’re capable or will you need to hire some professional help?”

  Shane bristled and once again—though he had no idea how—he shoved it down. “No, Mom. I think I can handle everything on here.”

  “Wonderful!” She clapped her hands together. “Derrick should be home any minute. You’ll stay to meet him, won’t you?”

  Shane wanted to meet this new guy as much as he wanted a hole in his skull. In an effort to keep the peace he forced a smile. “Of course. I’m always happy to meet the flavor of the month.” Shit… The comment rolled out before he had a chance to stop it. He mentally braced himself. She’d either ignore it, or lose her blonde mind. No telling which.

  His mother’s smile didn’t falter. Guess she was going to ignore the jab. Lucky him. Her practiced grin actually stayed in place longer than even he was used to. Frozen, as if her face was carved from marble. But she blinked a few times, rather rapidly and the vein in her forehead might’ve bulged just a little. He had to give her credit. She had that fake expression down pat. Years of teen beauty queen practice paid off. In full.

  As the silence stretched, Shane’s guilt kicked in. Maybe he’d actually hurt her feelings. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  “Whatever for, darling?” She looked away and sipped her tea, eyes still blinking away.

  Things never got any easier between them. Of course, Shane didn’t help the situation much when he said shit like he’d just laid down. Plus, being such different people only made their relationship harder. Shane was more like his father, and it always felt as if his mother resented him for it—more so after his father died.

  No matter what Shane accomplished, he never felt like his mother was proud of him. Not when he excelled at school or sports, or even in the damn Marine Corps. If he’d died in Iraq or Afghanistan, and the military had delivered the Medal of Honor to her, Shane was sure it wouldn’t have been enough. He glanced at her as he took another drink of water. Being born had been his only crime. Shane let out a sigh and shifted in his seat. There wasn’t much he could do about his life sentence.

  “Charlene, where are you, gorgeous?”

  “In the kitchen!” His mother jumped from her seat and had a compact mirror pulled from her purse checking her lipstick faster than Shane could track.

  Shane frowned, watching her primp. “You look fine, Mom.”

  Derrick had arrived. Oh, joy.

  Chapter Five

  Cyn curled her feet beneath her on the couch and turned on the television. It was Saturday night and she hadn’t heard from Carlos all day. She could’ve gone dancing with Angie but opted for ice cream and a juicy, cry-her-eyes-out chick-flick instead. Cyn had texted Carlos a few times, receiving no response. She’d also called once and gotten his voicemail but hadn’t left a message—why bother? There wasn’t anything to say. Apparently he’d gotten busy, probably with work or some other bullshit excuse he’d make.

  Regardless, everything was more important than her, so right now she was all about the fuck it and fuck him attitude.

  Flipping through the pay-per-view listings, her phone rang. Glancing at the screen she saw it was Carlos and in one motion, swiped the screen and pressed the device to her ear. “Hey.”

  What she got back was the furthest thing from a reply, but instead a lot of muffled sounds in her ear.

  “Carlos, you there? Can you hear me?” No response, just rustling…until she heard a woman’s voice in the distance.

  Next was a woman giggling. What the fuck? And then Carlos’s muffled voice, “Come here, baby. No really. You got something there, let me get it for you, sweet thing.” More giggling, followd by a very distinct “Mmm” sound.

  “Oh, hell no!” Cyn stood and the remote slipped from her lap, landing on the floor with a thud. “Carlos!” No response—except for more rustling sounds, plus another moan.

  This was not happening. Could not be happening. Except it was.

  “Carlos, you mother-fucking-cocksucker!” Rage flowed through Cyn like hot lava as she stormed to the kitchen. “I can hear you, you asshole!” How could he do this to her? Better question was, how long had he been doing this to her? No wonder they hadn’t been spending time together. No wonder they hadn’t been having sex either! He was so very obviously banging someone else.

  The phone disconnected. Cyn pulled it from her ear and stared at the screen. Her whole body felt hot, yet her blood ran ice cold through her veins. Carlos had blown her off and ignored all her texts because clearly something had come up—that something being his dick. Cyn may’ve been blind—or choosing to be blind—to what he’d so obviously been doing but that didn’t make her stupid. She was however, a very pissed-off woman who was about to show him exactly what happened when her temper was invoked. She’d been holding tight to one final straw, and the asshole just broke it.

  Cyn put on her sneakers and headed out the door to Carlos’s house. When she arrived, she parked—purposely blocking in his bullshit poor man’s Mercedes in the driveway. She stalked up the cement walkway toward his door, her anger making every inch of her skin itch. She raised a shaky hand to the door, clenched it into a fist and pounded.

  No answer.

  Of course there was no answer. The bastard was probably already fucking the chick Cyn heard on the phone. Cyn pounded again, and didn’t stop poundi
ng until the door finally swung open.

  “What the fu—”

  “Exactly! You sonofabitch!” Cyn pushed past him into his living room.

  “Hang on, baby.” He grabbed her by the arm, halting her.

  Cyn jerked out of his hold. “Hang on to nothing. Where is she, Carlos?”

  “Who?”

  “Ugh, you are such an asshole!”

  “Um…”

  Cyn whirled around to find a petite redhead standing at the edge of the hallway. “Her!” She pointed at the woman before glaring back at Carlos. “Who the fuck is she and what the fuck—” Cyn looked back to the redhead and propped her hands on her hips. “What the fuck are you doing in my boyfriend’s house?”

  The woman’s eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.

  “Baby, it’s not what you think.”

  Cyn glared over her shoulder at him. Was he seriously going to deny what she was seeing with her own eyes? Her temper went into overdrive and fury raced through her like a raging river. There was no fucking way she was going to stand there and listen to this bullshit. “Not what I think? Really? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  * * * * *

  Cyn sat on Ryan and Maiya’s back porch, rocks glass full of Jameson in hand, bawling her eyes out. But she’d done it. She’d finally ended it with Carlos. And it’d gone down with a bang.

  Maiya lit a cigarette and blew out a stream of smoke. “Honey, he’s a douchebag and I know it’s cliché to say, but you’re better off without him.”

  Cyn took a swig of booze and then sniffled. The alcohol burned on its way down her throat, warming her insides but doing nothing for the chill that had settled in her bones. “I know.” She shrugged and stared into the golden liquid. “I mean, yeah, it’s cliché, but it’s true. Bastard doesn’t deserve me. God, I can’t believe he brought her home to his place. And tried to deny anything was going on!”

  “I honestly don’t know how you didn’t go all Lorena Bobbitt on him.” Maiya drew on her smoke. “Hell, I would’ve.”