Forgotten Promise (Forgotten Series Book 2)

by Virginia Wine

  “Both of us?” Gen asks.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I was wrong, don’t even consider leaving this man.”

  “Don’t worry.” Rolling my eyes at the notion.

  After a relaxing ninety-minute massage, we walk over to the boutique in our white fluffy robes. Gen still challenged with the flip-flops, I notice she takes them off and throws them in the next available trash can. And now she’s barefoot. We reach the shop

  “Oh my.” Pretty, momentarily blinded by its extraordinary luxury.

  “You have to try this one, Bryer, it’s beautiful, and your favorite color.”

  “A girl after my own heart.” Comes a voice from behind the counter.

  A thin cute well-dressed man who looks like he may indeed know fashion approaches. The next thing I know I’m twirling in a full- length mirror feeling pretty.

  “It’s perfect, the short flirty soft yellow fabric is so you.” Gen gushes.

  “The delicate beading with the sweetheart neckline flatters your figure.” The man says, now standing less than a foot away, touching the fabric as if it was his baby blanket.

  “Here, try the shoes.” Handing me silver beaded strappy heels.

  “Happy Birthday to you, Bryer.” Gen air kisses me.

  “Okay, sold, let me change.” Painless, and much easier than I thought. Gen’s turn, I wait, and wait. “What are you doing in there?” I ask, not surprised by the time factor required for perfection. My nerves are getting the better of me.

  “What do you think I’m doing? I am alone.” She giggles.

  “How many did you take in there?” And I hear the door latch open.

  “Save your breath.” Gen strolls out, anticipating my response.

  She’s dead on, she knew I would not like it. I crinkle my nose. “Jury’s out,” I say slowly, watching her in the mirror in an electric blue number that could possibly glow in the dark.

  “I love it,” she says, enjoying every angle.

  “Well, of course you do.”

  Silence from the man now standing behind the counter, pretending to do paperwork.

  “Ring us up.”

  This is so Gen, to each his own. “It’s time to go,” I say, the butterflies stirring in anticipation. Or I’m going to vomit.

  Chapter Five

  ~Bryer~

  We change at Gen’s house, under strict orders not to come home until exactly six o’clock. Fine by me, I’m not anxious for this Kodak moment to start. We spend two hours, primping and talking and laughing. I’m ready in thirty minutes. I just watch Gen tediously work her magic to perfection.

  “Seriously, Gen, do you see yourself getting married in the near future?” She turns, peeking out of the bathroom in question.

  “What’s brought this on?” Worry on her face.

  “Well, Cash’s diabolical return, bringing up all the forgotten promises. All the heartache I went through with him. And now I’m considering going down the same path with Nathan.” Admitting how my trust was destroyed by his actions, and my self-esteem crushed, the scars follow me even now.

  “I know forever is scary, Bryer, but not when you’re with the right man, and you are. So quit worrying, will you?” Turning back to perfect her pink lips.

  “I don’t have to worry about you going all soft on me.”

  “That’s a hell-no.”

  Gen drops me off at the door, so she can park next to the other cars. I shyly walk in, and as luck would have it, I arrive unnoticed. The aroma is incredible, a sweet floral scent as I step into the great room. And it all makes sense, flowers everywhere.

  And there he is, Good Lord what a sight. He’s leaning on the bar, casually fuck-me sexy. His messy waves still slightly damp, the sexy black V-neck showing off his sculptured chest, his arms, and I’m making out the eight pack that is the object of my desire.

  He’s holding a long stem yellow rose and reaches out to hand it to me. “C’mere, baby.”

  Frozen in my tracks.

  “Happy birthday, Bryer.”

  And the room comes alive, yellow roses, dozens of them, balloons to match. “There ought to be a law against this.” I smile bashfully. How will I get through this?

  “You aint seen nothing yet.”

  As he whispers in my ear his hot breath teasing my thoughts. I hear the intake of breath, obviously coming from me.

  “You look good enough to eat,” he says, twirling me around under his arm. “Loving your birthday dress.”

  “Thank you by the way.” His eyes racking over my body head-to-toe, seeing smoke where’s there’s fire.

  “Happy birthday, Bryer.” Clayton kisses my cheek. “How old are you?”

  “Same as you.” Not answering his question on purpose.

  “Oh. My. God,” Gen says as she walks in.

  And I immediately look for Clayton’s reaction. His laser focus on Gen, he must like electric blue. I step over to Nathan

  “This is going to be a show, should I make some popcorn?” He laughs.

  “Let the hurling of insults begin.” He whispers back with a smile that touches my ear and causes goosebumps down my arms.

  “Nathan, not bad,” Gen says then sits her yellow-wrapped present on the bar.

  “Wow, an almost compliment. Thanks, Gen.” Nathan teases then gives her a hug.

  “This is beautiful, Nathan, thank you.” I compliment him.

  “I’ll have you know, I planned the entire thing, if you’re looking to personally thank anyone later, in private, when we’re all alone.” Humor in his eyes.

  But I know him well enough, he’s not joking around. Lucky me. “There will be thanking, you can count on it.” Reaching up to kiss his cheek.

  ~ ~ ~

  “So, Gen.” Clayton slowly approaches his prey. “Where’s Runner?”

  “You mean Walker? He’s traveling, and you know his name.” Making a sound of annoyance.

  “I beg to differ.” Scoffing, he heads to the bar for a drink. “Runner seems to be M.I.A a little too often.” His statement fading the farther away he gets.

  The doorbell rings, and Nathan strolls over to get it, but mouths the words over his shoulder, “I don’t want to miss this.”

  And I laugh, knowing he’s referring to the Gen and Clayton show.

  I watch Graham walk in. I’ve only met him once, so that’s sweet of him to come.

  “Welcome to the over-the-top birthday party for me.”

  He just laughs. “Happy birthday, Bryer.” Noticing the hot men in this room, every last one of them.

  “Thanks, grab a beer, or…”

  “What’s the red stuff in the punch bowl?” I ask.

  “Sangria.”

  He smiles.

  I give him the thumbs-up, wondering where that idea came from. Totally random.

  “The appetizers look amazing, Nathan.” As I fill my plate. I can’t help but notice the shit-eating grin on his face, he’s so proud of himself, and he should be. I love him even more, what was I worried about?

  “Having sex is like playing bridge. If you don’t have a good partner, you’d better have a good hand.” They both crack up, as Clayton proceeds to tell Graham jokes, old jokes, and Clayton thinks he’s hilarious.

  I glance over to Gen watching Clayton, irritation written all over her face. Won’t be long now.

  “My mother never saw the irony in calling me a son of a bitch.”

  I thought I heard Graham snort a laugh, they were amusing themselves like kindergarteners misbehaving in class. I head for the sangria.

  “Really mature, Clayton,” Gens starts, with a look of disinterest.

  But she’s anything but.

  “Immature is a word boring people use to describe fun people.” Is Clayton’s witty comeback.

  “Here’s a good one, Graham. Surprise sex is the best thing to wake up to, unless you’re in prison.”

  Even Nathan is laughing and heads over to join in. “That’s it, Clayton, play hard to get.”
>
  “Shut up, dick-fuck.”

  “Way to make friends, man, I think she hates you.” Nathan strolls away, chucking.

  “I think someone needs a time out,” Gen adds.

  “Do you hear that? It’s the sound of no one caring.” Clayton quickly rebuts.

  “I’m visualizing duct tape over your mouth right now.” Her retort, lightning fast.

  “Did you think of that all by yourself?” Clayton’s eyes give him away—he is crushing over this woman and is completely clueless how to get her.

  “You never shut up, do you?” Gen strikes.

  “Are you always like this, or just guys you’re attracted to?” Sending an air kiss her way.

  “Fucking mental, you are aware you’re still talking, right?” Rolling her eyes, attempting to ignore him, yet she’s not.

  I notice Graham slowly moving away from the brewing storm and approaching us.

  “So when did they break up?” he asks.

  “Ah, they’ve never dated, this is foreplay,” Nathan answers with a straight face. As he walks to the center of the room. “Dinner,” Nathan yells. “I have strict instructions from Mary Ann. Then presents. Bryer.” He smiles, knowing I’ll hate that part.

  I start to sweat, I never have been comfortable being the center of attention. I’m accepting of the fact I’m among friends, but it doesn’t alleviate the pressure.

  From out of nowhere, two servers appear in white shirts, black pants, and crisp white aprons, and we all are told to take a seat.

  “Impressive, Nathan,” I say as I scan the table set to perfection. I think I saw his chest puff out, but I can’t be sure.

  “We will be serving Beef Wellington, grilled Portobello’s sautéed in wine, Asparagus Parmesan, with Italian Pan Napoletana Bread.” One by one our plates appear, and there are sounds of praise, delicious, tasty, yummy, nom nom…The champagne is poured and toasts are made.

  “To Bryer, may all her dreams come true,” Gen starts.

  “Cake or presents?” Nathan asks me.

  “I’m still so full.” So I’m forced to answer presents. And at that very moment, there are a pile of yellow-wrapped presents in front of me. Oh God.

  “Mine first,” Gen yells.

  No surprise there. I open the small square box and it’s a necklace, a half of a heart.

  “See, I’m wearing the other half.” Holding it out from her neck in pride.

  Feeling emotional at her thoughtfulness, I swallow it down. “I love it, thank you, best friend. It’s perfect.” As I raise my hair so she can put it on me, we both hug, and I’m not surprised how safe I feel around her, my sister of sorts.

  “There just may be hope for you yet.” Clayton glances at Gen.

  “Working my last nerve, ass-oholic,” she says without making eye contact.

  “Go ahead open mine, Bryer,” Clayton says, ignoring her rebuttal.

  “The card first?”

  He nods.

  I open it, smiling way too big for my comfort. “Ten pole dancing lessons, at Bitter Sweet Studios. “ I meet his eyes in question.

  “Gotta keep the man interested.” Clayton smirks.

  “Clayton.”

  Nathan’s tone laced with disapproval, but I notice the wink.

  “Go on.” Nodding to his other gift.

  Opening the yellow wrapping paper I see a CD. Easy-E. I look up at Clayton. “Rap?”

  “Pssh, what? There’s definitely good rap out there.”

  “Thank you, I think.” Setting it down, noticing the warning label eighteen or older, content may not be suitable for children. It’s most likely not suitable for me as well.

  “That’s mine, I didn’t get the yellow memo.” Graham laughs.

  I open it, and it’s a journal with a beautiful pen. “Graham, that’s a perfect gift. Honestly, you didn’t have to.” Who is this sweet guy?

  “I wanted to, Bryer.”

  “Well, thank you.”

  “Baby, here’s mine.” A large envelope.

  I open and start going through the papers.

  “Vegas? A private jet? The tower suites at the Wynn? Four nights? It’s too much, Nathan.”

  “It’s not, it’s perfect for what I have planned. Let me make it special.”

  His look of love so pure, I could only accept gracefully. “Thank you, I can’t wait.”

  “Me either.” Kissing me, and not holding back.

  The doorbell rings, interrupting our kiss.

  “Who else is coming?” I ask

  “No one, maybe more staff for the cleanup. Let the staff get it, they’ll be here until everyone leaves,” he answers with one more swift kiss.

  And in walks one of the wait staff, holding a box with two balloons tied with ribbons.

  “I assume it’s for you, birthday girl,” Gen says.

  “No card. Okay, who did this?” I ask. I see a lot of shrugs and eyes looking around the table, no one owning up to it. I untie the balloons, and they float to the ceiling. Slowly unwrap the box, it’s familiar, too familiar. My heart starts to beat out of my chest, and I don’t want to open it.

  “What is it?” Nathan so innocently asks.

  “Who’s it from?” Clayton chimes in.

  But I already know all the answers. Panic sets in like a full-blown inferno. I open it, and there sits a two-carat round, white gold engagement ring—Cash’s ring.

  “What the fuck, Bryer?” Nathan stands, anger directed at me.

  I understand, I deserve it.

  “What is this, Bryer? I won’t ask you again.”

  His chest rising and falling too fast, I can feel the anger floating off him, and I don’t blame him one bit. “It’s the ring Cash gave me.” I shock myself, uttering the words that cause me to catapult back to the painful memories of my life with him.

  “You were engaged?” Shock, disbelief in his voice, and hurt in his eyes.

  “Yes, I broke it off obviously and gave the ring back, threw it back actually.” I say as if no one is listening, but of course everyone is. You can hear a pin drop.

  “And you kept that from me all this time, don’t you think I would have wanted to know why he had such a claim on you? It makes perfect sense now.”

  I watch as he paces back and forth, fingers running through his hair.

  “Ah gotta go,” Clayton says, tugging on Graham’s shirt.

  “Bryer, thanks for…” and Clayton pulls him down the hall.

  “Bryer.” Gen takes my hand. “I’m so sorry he did this. We both know he’s a bad guy. This is him trying to control your relationship. Please don’t let him.”

  Her voice of reason comforting in the midst of panic. I’m aware Nathan is listening to every word, maybe it will allow me the opportunity to talk to him. Cash is fucking napalm, he’s dangerous, and anyone in his path will be destroyed.

  “I love you, sweet girl.”

  She continues holding both of my hands, mine shaking in her grip.

  “You didn’t deserve this, or to have your birthday ruined. I’ll leave you to pick up the pieces.” Gen kisses my cheek and leaves.

  I hear the staff leave behind her, and we’re alone.

  “So, when will I get the truth, Bryer?” Clenching his fist, in a way to calm himself enough to handle what just happened.

  Chapter Six

  ~Nathan~

  Jesus, talk about a punch in the gut. My thoughts go back to Vegas, the plan, the proposal, the ring. All ruined. Tainted. Stung by the news that she loved Cash enough to want to spend her entire life with him. A jaw-dropping bomb just landed between us. Questions circling my mind, I thought we didn’t keep secrets, shared everything.

  “Unbelievable,” I say after what feels like hours of silence. I’m sitting across the table from the woman I love, knowing she didn’t trust me enough to share this detail of her life.

  “Why?” She still hasn’t spoken one word, explaining nothing. The word chump comes to mind as the burn intensifies. “I need to know more, am I h
aving a conversation with myself?” The hurt coming out in ways I’m not proud of.

  “Not intentionally.” She speaks.

  “Then why keep the secret? Do you still have feelings for him?” She looks up as if I just struck her. Hurt in her eyes, but still no fucking words—her silence is only fueling the crazy thoughts in my mind.

  “Yes or no, Bryer?” Why is she hesitant to answer? Fear increasing with every second.

  “Of course not.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, fucking finally. “Then explain,” I say, recognizing the scorn in my voice, but I’m unable to reel it in.

  “I don’t have a good reason, I just didn’t want you to know he meant that much to me.”

  Jesus, that hurt. Maybe I don’t want to know all the details. “Any other skeletons in the closet?’ I know I sound dick-ish, but I’m having a hard time making sense of it all. Hiding this on the grounds I wouldn’t be able to handle it is unsettling.

  “Not that I know of.”

  Not exactly the answer I need. “Cash just got the last laugh, Bryer, and at my expense. I’m going to bed I have an early morning.” I may be acting like an ass, the hurt taking a front seat controlling my actions, but I’m letting it.

  “Nathan, wait.” The anguish obvious.

  “Not tonight, Bryer, whatever is said tonight will only be coming from a place of anger.”

  She winces at my words.

  And with that I leave her sitting there, not wanting to risk the words that I might regret tomorrow. Trust is a fragile emotion that can be put to the test and easily broken. I look back to see her sitting alone amongst her entire birthday celebration. Maybe I’m being a dick, maybe I’m caught up in a testosterone battle, and he just won this round. Fucking prick.

  I wake while it’s still dark, I never heard her come to bed but there she sleeps peaceful and devastatingly beautiful. It takes everything I have not to touch her or take her hard. But that’s my body speaking, not my heart. When did love turn a man into a pussy? Tragic realization as I grab coffee to go, I notice everything has been put away, cleaned with no trace of the party, the gifts, the balloons, the fucking ring gone, or hidden. I do notice she left the flowers.