Make Me Yours (Bayshore Book 3)

by Ember Leigh

  “D-Day! What up!” Carl uses my frat nickname whenever possible. He sounds exactly the same as always, and in my mind’s eye, he’s still the bulky football scholarship frat guy I met my first year of school. In reality, though, he’s balding a little and bulkier, but not because of football anymore. Mostly just beer.

  “Oh, nothing much.”

  “Not getting ready to do some Black Friday shopping?” He cackles like this is the funniest thing ever. “I bet you could get some scalpels half off today, right?”

  I smirk. “Home Depot, maybe. Definitely wouldn’t get them from Wal-Mart.”

  Carl laughs. “No, dude, I just wanted to see if you were in town. I had some business that took me over west of Cleveland—”

  “Where are you?” I push to standing, scratching at my bare chest as I look out over the sparkling lake. All the trees lining the boardwalk are bare, but the sunshine makes up for it.

  “Bayshore, dude.”

  “No way. So am I. What are you doing here?”

  He sighs. “Honestly…my girlfriend is from here, and she and I have been on the rocks for a little while, so I wanted to surprise her, take her out shopping.”

  “That’s nice. She go to Bayshore High? Maybe I know her.”

  “I don’t fuckin’ know. So you wanna meet up? Let’s get lunch, dude.”

  “Yeah, lunch sounds great.” I twist to look at London, pointing at the cell phone and giving her a thumbs up sign. Not like she can hear Carl’s side. She’s brushing her hair, staring at me through the mirror from the other side of the room, giving me a quizzical look that says What are you trying to tell me? “I’m gonna bring my girlfriend too. That cool? I bet we all went to school together.”

  I catch London’s private smile and the start of a blush on her cheeks. She likes it. So do I, actually.

  “Yeah, dude, sounds fuckin’ great.” There’s no limit to the number of f-bombs former frat brothers will drop when talking to each other. “I’d love to meet her. You text me the time and place, and I’ll see you there, dude.”

  We hang up, and I’m all smiles, but as soon as I pocket the phone, a pang of doubt hits me. The last time I brought a love interest around one of my old friends, they started fucking around behind my back. But that’s not going to happen here.

  “Who was that?” London asks, nudging me with her shoulder as I sit down on the vanity bench beside her.

  “An old frat brother. He’s in town, and we’re going to get lunch, and I’m outing you as my girlfriend whether you like it or not.”

  “Girlfriend? I thought I was supposed to be your fiancée.”

  My heart rate picks up. “Do you still want the job?”

  She resumes brushing her hair, staring at herself in the mirror. “If it’s the only option…”

  Excitement unfolds inside me, but I hurry to squash it. I don’t want to get ahead of the game. “I met with the board members earlier this month. They say I’m at the top of the list. I even told them I was engaged, not married, so it doesn’t mean we have to have the ceremony right away.” The words are tumbling out of me. “If we did it by January, maybe February…”

  She’s nodding, still staring at her reflection, but I catch a tremble in her chin.

  “What?”

  She shakes her head, setting the brush down. “Nothing. It’s fine. I always wanted an August wedding, but I can try to figure out a new theme set around February. Maybe Valentine’s Day or something. Frigid cold and ice.”

  My heart sinks a little. She doesn’t like it, but she’s going along with it. “Well, we could always do a getaway thing…quick and simple, a weekend in the Caribbean where we hire it all out…”

  “I doubt half my family could go abroad on such short notice. Most of them don’t even have passports.” She nibbles at her bottom lip.

  “Puerto Rico, then. Or, hell, south Florida.”

  Tension creases her face. “We’ll figure it out.”

  But her words lack conviction. By the time we’re ready, I’m feeling guiltier and guiltier. As we’re walking from the hotel to the lakefront restaurant where we’re meeting Carl, I try to sweeten the pot. We’ve been talking about it on and off between other conversations, and I feel like we’ll be hashing out details nonstop over the coming weeks.

  “I’ll give you my credit card,” I say as we’re scuffing our way down the boardwalk. The lake breeze today is fresh and crisp. I take a deep breath of Lake Erie, trying to calm the distant anxiety that has been swirling inside me all day. The voice inside me whispering that I’ve been here before and heartbreak is lurking around the corner. “You can get any wedding dress you want. Spend whatever you want.”

  She smiles up at me, but it’s not genuine. “That’s sweet of you.”

  Her lack of enthusiasm settles like a boulder inside me. I can’t shake it. The fact that she’s not one hundred percent excited about this bothers me more than I anticipated. I repeat my logical rationale to myself: It’s a temporary solution to reach a larger goal. Everyone ends up happy.

  Everyone except maybe London.

  As we’re nearing the restaurant, a place called E. Lago, fronted by lake-facing floor to ceiling windows, London gets a text. She swears after she reads it.

  “It’s my Mom.” London looks upset as she pockets the phone. “I need to go home real quick.”

  “What happened?”

  “She’s locked out of the house with all of her purchases from this morning and is freaking out. My Dad is stuck in line at Walmart for Black Friday. I have the only spare key.”

  “Don’t they Black Friday shop together?”

  She sends me a severe look. “Don’t you know? Divide and conquer. At least in my family.”

  I look behind us. The restaurant is less than fifty feet away, and if I looked hard enough, I could probably pick out Carl’s face in the long line of windows. “That’s fine. Do you want me to take you?”

  “No. You go meet your friend. I’ll be back, just order me…I don’t know. You pick. Like Zimbo’s.” She sends me a sweet smile and pushes up on her tiptoes to kiss me.

  “Hurry back,” I tell her.

  “Promise.” She sends me one last rosy-cheeked smile before hurrying back down the boardwalk the way we came. The loss of her at my side feels like a whoosh of cold air, and I try not to feel too disappointed as I head into E. Lago without her.

  I spot Carl immediately, tucked into the corner, flanked by windows on both sides. I guessed right—he was mere feet away from us, probably shit talking me through the glass as we approached. He looks a little concerned as I walk up to him.

  “Carl!” I hold out my arms for a bro hug. He claps my back forcefully.

  “There’s D-Day,” he says, but the smile fades quickly as we sit down. He’s already got a frosty glass of beer in front of him. His knee bounces as he crosses his arms over his chest. “I thought you said you were bringing your girlfriend?”

  “Fiancée,” I correct him with a grin. “And yes, she’s coming. She just had to run home for a minute to help her mom. She’ll be coming soon.”

  Carl’s frowning as his gaze bounces back and forth across my face. “Can I be honest with you?”

  “Of course.” I smile up at a server as she stops by to take my drink order. “It’s Black Friday. Let’s start with a beer.”

  She snickers and heads away. I bet everyone else in the place is using the same excuse to drink early. Carl palms the top of his head. His dark blond hair has thinned to where you can see his scalp now. His mid-thirties have not been kind to him in the hair department.

  He clears his throat. “I know her.”

  “Who? London?” Something about the way he’s acting now is dropping enough red flags to make a blanket. My gut cinches, waiting for the big reveal. The surprise history. The darkest part of me is suddenly clenching and fearful.

  “Oh yeah.” He whistles low. “We used to work together. She’s why I’m here.”

  It takes a mi
nute for his words to settle in, to remember that he said he was here to visit his girlfriend. She’s his girlfriend. That’s fucking impossible.

  “Seriously?”

  Carl nods, fishing for his phone. “I had no idea she was the girl you were bringing along. Christ, I would have warned you.”

  “Warned me about…”

  “That we’ve been dating for the past three years!” He shakes his head, his mouth a thin line as he swipes through screens on his phone. The server returns with my beer and offers to take our orders. Carl orders a perch sandwich; I do the same, even though I’ve lost my appetite.

  “I thought you said you two were on the rocks…” I begin, a very unsavory knot tightening in my gut. I’m still hesitant to believe it fully, but there’s a certain macabre side of me dancing in glee right now, pointing its finger at me chanting I fucking told you so. The majority of my body is swirling in disbelief and confusion. Because there has to be a mistake. He mistook London for someone else. It has to be.

  “We have our issues, don’t get me wrong,” Carl goes on, something wry twisting at his lips. And then he turns his phone around so I can see the screen.

  And there they are.

  Him and London.

  Plain as fucking day.

  “Huh,” I say, scanning the photo up and down no less than a hundred times. She’s wearing a fur-lined coat. The wind is whipping through her hair. And it looks like they’re standing in front of Lake Erie. I can’t tell anything else. For all I know, it was taken last week.

  All of my excitement, happiness, and starry-eyed hope crumble to the ground in useless shards. I shift my gaze to the lake over his shoulder. There’s a really special brew of humiliation and rage burbling to life inside me. Accompanied with that gut-wrenching sense of déjà vu.

  I’ve been here before.

  And I specifically never wanted to be here again.

  “I suspected she was a fucking slut,” Carl mutters.

  “Carl,” I say, his name coming out harsher than even I expected. “Watch your mouth.”

  “Am I wrong?” He brays an incredulous laugh, gesturing to the space between us. “She was here just a second ago. I’m sure she had to leave because of some convenient emergency. It was just like that with her fucking client too.”

  “Her client?” I’m reaching for my phone, wanting to text London, but can’t figure out how to unlock my phone. I type in the password three times while Carl continues—each time wrong.

  “Yeah. Didn’t you ever wonder why she just up and moved to Cleveland? She was blacklisted in Columbus.” Carl looks really serious now, his frown bordering on a scowl. “Because she sluts around with clients.”

  I make a fist and press it to my mouth, unsure if I should scream or pinch my entire body, checking to make sure I’m awake. This doesn’t make any sense. But I’m staring at a man I’ve known since I was eighteen who is telling me things that I don’t want to believe, but with startling accuracy.

  Why is London on his phone? Why is he in Bayshore, of all fucking places? Why does he know more about London than I do?

  Bile is churning in my gut, and I’m suddenly not hungry. London texts then.

  LONDON: Can we meet at the hotel room?

  I stare at my phone, unable to comprehend anything.

  My worst nightmare is coming true. I am fucking doomed to be cheated on. By everyone. But especially right when I’ve decided to open my heart and take the plunge to get married.

  It happened in residency. And what do you know—another cheating scandal unfolds the same day London and I began talking seriously about our future.

  I’m not just angry. I’m heartbroken. But I’ve got to keep it together.

  “I guess what I don’t understand then is why you’re here,” I say slowly, trying to remember how to string together sentences.

  Carl narrows his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I fucking love her. She’s a great fucking lay and—” He cuts off, frowning into the distance. “Whatever. I’m an idiot.”

  Anger sears through me. A great fucking lay. Has she been screwing both of us? The flashback to my ex is too painful. She was the whole fucking reason I decided that closing myself off was smarter. And here I am again—in the same boat, because I forgot the lesson. Carl might be an idiot, but I’m a bigger one.

  “Maybe we both are.”

  Carl and I share a heavy look. Highly unpleasant silence settles between us, broken only his slurping his beer.

  “Sure didn’t think our reunion was gonna go like this,” Carl mutters.

  My phone vibrates again.

  LONDON: Dom, did you see this? Will you meet me at the hotel?

  I fumble with my phone to respond, finally remembering how to use my damn fingers.

  DOM: Yes.

  DOM: Why aren’t you coming?

  DOM: Do you know my friend?

  As I’m about to write a fourth question, I set the phone down. I’m not in the right state of mind for this. I chug nearly my entire beer while we wait for the food. Part of me still can’t trust what’s coming out of his mouth, because of the way my med school buddy lied to my face for a year straight, before it came out that he’d been fucking my fiancée the whole time.

  But the bizarre circumstance of him being here—in Bayshore, seemingly waiting for a woman who is also usually not in Bayshore but now suddenly is—seems too suspect. It can only be because they arranged it. It can only be because London has been lying to me.

  Somehow, we manage to talk about the rest of our lives. Carl updates me on his business and his Columbus life, and I give him the executive summary of my cardiological endeavors.

  The food comes then, and we eat in silence. This is, by far, the worst lunch I’ve ever attended, even though the perch sandwich is great.

  While we’re waiting for checks, I ask him, “So what now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you going to confront her?”

  Carl shrugs. “I haven’t decided yet. What about you?”

  “Yes. I’m on my way to talk to her now.”

  Carl looks out the window toward the lake. “Sorry it came to this, man.”

  His words ring through my head as we say goodbye and I head back toward the hotel. I’m more than sorry it came to this.

  I’m fed up and over it.

  Chapter 30

  LONDON

  I don’t think I’ve spent a worse hour of my life than the one waiting for Dom to return to the hotel room.

  I went back to the restaurant, as promised. But I didn’t even make it past the hostess stand.

  Once I saw Dom with Carl, I bolted. I didn’t think or decide—I just acted. Because as soon as I saw that man, I knew why he was here.

  A month and a half of unanswered emails, some of which were getting belligerent. He’s not here on some peacemaking mission. The whole motive of why he “wants me back” is suspect anyway. He’s a sociopath looking to dominate me, and what are the odds that he’s Dom’s frat brother from OSU?

  I can’t even imagine what they must talk about during lunch. And deep inside, I’m praying that they don’t put two and two together. I know Carl will stir the pot—I just know it.

  As soon as Dom returns to the room, his face betrays it all. Dread flows down around me, coating me, making me so anxious I can barely move.

  “Dom,” I begin, once he’s shut the door behind him and hasn’t looked at me once. Maybe I should try the casual route. “Did you bring back any food?”

  He massages his temples. “I totally forgot.”

  “That’s okay. I can go grab something.” I wipe sweaty palms against my skinny jeans, and I watch him for a signal. An impossibly heavy silence fills the room.

  “Did you—” I begin.

  “You know Carl,” he says at the same time.

  “Yes. He’s my ex.” My mouth is suddenly so dry I feel like I haven’t had a sip of water in th
ree years.

  Dom stands with his hands propped on his hips, studying the floor like he’s trying to solve a math equation written there. “Why didn’t you tell me about why you relocated to Cleveland?”

  My heart is racing so fast I feel like I’m going to faint. I sink down onto the edge of the bed. “I touched on it briefly once before. I told you there was an issue with my former employer—”

  “An issue? You were blacklisted.”

  I don’t even know where to begin with this story, and already the tears are threatening my composure.

  “For fraternizing,” Dom goes on. “Which sounds an awful lot like what’s going on here.”

  The outrage strikes first, but it’s dominated by shock. My mouth flaps as I struggle to formulate a response. “Fraternizing?” I can only imagine the story that Carl fed him. “That’s bullshit—”

  “I guess I just don’t understand why you’d string both of us along.” Dom rubs his face. He hasn’t made eye contact with me once since he set foot inside the hotel room.

  “What do you mean string both of you along?” Now my voice is quivering. I’m ten seconds away from ugly crying. “Carl has been emailing me for weeks—no, months—and I haven’t written him back once. He’s desperate. And he’s a liar.”

  “I don’t know.” Dom’s voice is faint, distant, like he’s mentally checked out. He walks toward the big bay windows facing Lake Erie and frowns out at the scene. “It’s just a little too messy for me.”

  “Messy?” My mind is freewheeling, a top spinning out of control, and no matter how hard I try to anchor myself, I can’t. “Yeah, you could call it messy. You could also call it unfortunate. Inconvenient. Fucking terrifying is another adjective, because this man who I halfway dated for three years has suddenly decided that he wants to hunt me down. A man who never really saw me as more than a pair of legs, even though I tried desperately to make something meaningful with him. And still, at the end of it? I don’t even think he knew anything about me.”

  Dom says nothing, which only stokes my anger further. The longer he acts like this, the more he’s drilling home his point. One hour with Carl has superseded everything we shared together. A man he sees but once a year—or less—has more credibility than I do.