by Lexi Ryan
“Are you sure I’m the one you owe an apology?” I shake my head then finally lift it to look at her. I was right. She looks broken. I hold up my hands, stopping her. “Forget I said that. Your relationship with the senator isn’t any of my business.” I meet her gaze for a beat, wanting her to contradict me, to tell me she is here because of us. She doesn’t speak. “You can stay in my spare room tonight, and tomorrow we’ll figure out what’s next.”
“Thank you.” A tear slips out of the corner of one eye and rolls down her cheek. “I’m not here to ruin your life. I know you’re happy and you have your life how you want it. I know I’m a complication.”
Standing, I tuck my hands into my back pockets. “Don’t presume to know anything about my life, Emma. We all publish our highlight reel online. No one’s life is as simple as it appears.” I turn and walk to my bedroom. When I shut the door behind me, I lean my head against it and squeeze my eyes shut.
I stretch out on my bed without bothering to change out of my jeans and End Zone T-shirt. Closing my eyes, I listen to the sounds of her getting ready for bed. The soft pad of her feet across the wood floor, the running of the tap as she pours herself a glass of water, the quiet swish of her brushing her teeth.
It’s not long before I can’t hear anything on the other side of the door, and I force myself to go through my own nighttime routine. I brush my teeth, wash my face, stare in the mirror, and wonder who the hell I’ve become. I can’t decide if I’m more disgusted with myself for letting her stay or for the way I treated her just now. She was supposed to get married today. There were probably hundreds of cameras trained on her in the church, and instead of walking down the aisle, she ran the other way. She had to have a good reason. But regardless of what she was running from, by coming here, she’s running right into trouble.
* * *
Keegan
Five Years Ago…
“Come with me.”
We’re on the beach soaking up the midmorning sun off the water, and everything seems perfect. But I know better than anyone that you can’t judge a situation by how it seems on the surface. Beneath this picturesque morning, a shit storm in the form of my father is angry and brewing.
She rolls to her side and pulls her sunglasses down her nose so she can meet my eyes. “Where are you going?”
I swallow hard. I’ve been thinking about this, trying to convince myself that I should let her go and walk away, but I can’t. “To Indiana. For college?”
What started as a cover for a con has slowly started to shape into a plan. When I told Emma I had an acceptance letter from Blackhawk Hills University and an invitation to be an “official walk-on” on their football team, I wasn’t lying, but it was all part of the con. I didn’t have any plans to go to BHU. I didn’t believe college was for guys like me, but I saw the opportunity to go as the perfect way to convince some rich girl to hand over a bunch of cash.
I loved playing football in high school, but I wouldn’t have dreamed of playing at a higher level. You see, if you’re a conman who was raised by a conman, you believe everyone else is a conman too. Even though scouts had approached me about playing college ball on their team, I always believed there was a catch. They didn’t really want me on their team. They just wanted me to sign my name on the dotted line so I’d be stuck at some college across the country and forced to pay tuition once they cut me from the team.
But after a few weeks with Emma, I’ve started to do something I haven’t allowed myself to do in years. Hope. Time with her has planted the seeds of a belief in something better than this life, something better than living for one con after the next. Something bigger and more rewarding than being a social parasite. More than anything, I want a chance to start over. With Emma.
“What would I do in Indiana?” She smiles, but I can tell by the way she drags her bottom lip between her teeth that she’s thinking about it.
“You could go to college at BHU. They have a great nonprofit administration program, and that’s what you want to do, right?” I reach across the sand and grab her hand, threading my fingers with hers. “I know it’s crazy, but I don’t want to leave you.”
“That is crazy.” She squeezes my hand. “Probably the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, but I really like the idea.”
I smile, and something lightens in my chest. “Think about it.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Keegan
I toss and turn and force my eyes to close but I can’t get to sleep. When I roll over to check the clock, it’s two a.m. I have a long day tomorrow, and I know I need to get some rest, but I can’t stop thinking about the woman in the next room. About what brought her here and why she slept with me when she was supposed to marry someone else. About why she ran away from her wedding while the whole world was watching.
“Fuck it,” I mutter, climbing out of bed. I might as well go watch some TV. Anything would be less frustrating than lying here trying to find sleep that won’t come.
When I walk out to the living room, I instantly sense I’m not alone. I click on a lamp and find Emma’s sitting on the couch, her knees drawn to her chest, her head bowed, her body shaking. “Em?” I ask.
Her head snaps up, and she wipes away her tears as she looks away. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry.” Her voice hitches on a hiccup from her silent sobs.
“Shit. Are you okay?” What a stupid question to ask a woman who came to me in her wedding dress.
She gives a watery smile. “I’m the punch line of every late night comedian’s joke. My mom hates me, I don’t know what I’m going to do with my life or where I’m going to be tomorrow, and I just let down one of the best men I know.” She wipes at her cheeks again and looks away from me. “I’m great.”
Striding over to the couch, I sink into the spot next to her, but I lean my head back and focus on the ceiling because it tears me up too much to watch her cry. “I’ve been a dick to you since you showed up here, and I’m sorry.”
“What were you supposed to do?” she asks. “Welcome me with open arms?”
I cut my eyes to her. “You thought I would, or you wouldn’t have come.”
She lifts a shoulder in a lopsided shrug. “It wasn’t fair of me to come here. It’s not your job to rescue me.”
Her words make me think of what Bailey said. Is this a rescue? “This guy you were supposed to marry? Senator Dellaconte? Did he hurt you?”
She meets my eyes and stares for too long, because I can already see the answer there. She wasn’t running away from some abusive man. She was just running. I can see the guilt in her eyes. “Zachary is my best friend. He’s an amazing man, and I know that might sound crazy, considering what I just did, but he’s one of the best people I know.” She shrugs. “What I did today…I don’t know if he’ll be able to forgive me.”
I look away. I really can’t handle listening to her wax poetic about her fiancé or ex-fiancé or whatever he is to her now. I was her best friend once too, and maybe I didn’t put a ring on her finger or plan a million-dollar wedding, but we planned a future together. “So this is my fault, then? You feel guilty about what we did last weekend, so you couldn’t marry your best friend and live happily ever after?”
“I just decided I wanted…more.”
“More what?” My voice cracks. When I met Emma, I was happy with my life. I didn’t think there was much better than moving from one con job to the next. Then she smiled at me, and that was the beginning of the end of that life. She smiled at me, and I wanted more. I get wanting more. I just want to know what her more is.
She shrugs and drops her gaze to her hands. “I wish I could explain.”
I draw one leg up onto the couch and turn so I’m facing her. I cup her face in my hands and swipe at her wet cheeks with my thumbs. It feels so good to have her here. Despite the anger and the confusion and how betrayed I felt in Vegas. Despite the fact that hearing her call him one of the best men she knows still makes me want to punch someone. “Why didn’t
you tell me you were engaged?”
“That was a mistake, but I was afraid to tell you.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “But if I’d known—”
“I was afraid you’d see through me and try to talk me out of marrying him. It was stupid. I know it was stupid. How many times can dumb Emma fuck everything up and run from her mess?”
“You’re not dumb. But I’m still the man you walked away from five years ago.” I cut myself off. I’m not talking about her marriage anymore, but I stop myself before I explain. I don’t want her to see the vulnerability sure to show itself when I confess that I don’t understand why, five years ago, she threw away what we had. How could she, in a heartbeat, go from planning to move across the country with me to telling me she couldn’t do it and she didn’t want to be with me anymore. I can’t bring myself to ask any questions that I think might involve Harry as the answer, so I drop my hands and back away. “I’m going to bed. Try to get some sleep.”
* * *
Emma
I hear the front door click closed and the deadbolt sliding into place. I’ve been lying here awake for the last half-hour, listening to Keegan making coffee and getting ready for his day. The clock reads a quarter after five. Where the heck is he off to at this hour?
I grab my phone off the bedside table and check for messages from Zachary. What I did wasn’t fair to him. But Becky’s right—everyone deserves more than a life with a man who’s in love with someone else. And it’s not just that I want better for myself. I refuse to believe that Zach has to settle for life with me when he wants to be with Charlie.
I type a quick text to him.
Lying low for a while. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me.
I’m still in the sweatpants and T-shirt Keegan gave me last night. I tuck my phone into the pocket while I brush my teeth and wash my face. My eyes are gritty with lack of sleep, and I feel like I walked away from my wedding three weeks ago, when it’s been less than twenty-four hours.
In the kitchen, I find a note on the counter in Keegan’s neat print.
Coffee in the pot. Eggs in the fridge. I’ll be gone all day. Make yourself at home.
I’m suddenly starving. Yesterday, the only thing I ate—if you can call it that—was the three mimosas I had while getting into my dress and getting my hair done. I didn’t have an appetite. I was like the death row inmate who couldn’t muster the enthusiasm to eat her last meal.
I pour myself a cup of black coffee and open the fridge, looking for some cream. Keegan’s refrigerator is a study of healthy eating. Orange juice, eggs, vegetables, ground turkey, and a package of chicken breasts. He doesn’t have any cream, so I settle for the milk from the door and add a splash to my coffee.
I stare at the carton of eggs. During the summer we spent together, Keegan cooked for me a lot. I remember him making eggs a few times. It didn’t look that hard. Biting my lip, I pull the carton from the fridge, find a bowl from the cabinet, and start cracking.
I never intended to turn out a spoiled little rich girl who doesn’t even know how to make her own breakfast. It just happened. My mom always had servants around, and when I moved out on my own, I hired a maid to prepare meals for me. When the food is there when you need it, you stop thinking about where it comes from.
I’m pouring eggs into a warm pan when my phone rings. I scramble to get it, using my dry hand to accept the call, and then place the phone between my shoulder and elbow. “Hello?”
“Emma?” It’s Zachary. My heart sinks and surges all at once. Relief that he’s calling me. Guilt that he had to.
“Zach? How are you?”
He clears his throat. I can imagine him sitting in his Savannah home, reclined on the couch, his feet stretched onto the ottoman in front of him and crossed at the ankle, a cup of hot coffee by his side. “You made a mess.”
“I know.” I find the paper towels and tear one off to dry my hands. “I’m so sorry, but I just couldn’t do it. We both deserve more.”
He draws in a deep breath. “Still an idealist at heart, I see.”
I sigh. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. It’s one of the million reasons why I love you so much. I just wish you could have made this decision before I was in my tux and getting pictures taken.”
I wince. “I’m the worst, aren’t I?”
“You know how to make a splash, I’ll give you that.” He pauses for a beat. “Are you with him?”
He knows me so well. Or maybe we both know I didn’t have anywhere else to go. For a girl the media declares is loved by everyone, I sure don’t have many friends. “Yes, but I don’t think he wants me here.”
“To be fair, you slept with him while engaged to someone else. It does put a damper on the whole reunited-lovers thing.”
“And it wasn’t exactly without baggage before Vegas.” I pace the living room while we talk, suddenly full of nervous energy I’m not sure what to do with.
“The media is swarming,” he says, a note of warning in his voice. “I’ll have to prepare a statement today.”
“The reporters will get off on the fact that you and Keegan have a past. Add his minor celebrity status because of his NFL career, and they’re gonna have a field day. Is he prepared for that level of scrutiny?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t think through how this might affect Keegan. I just ran. Just like you always do. “I hope this doesn’t screw with his life. After the way he looked at me last night, I think it might be best if I leave before it can.”
“Don’t do that. You can’t give up on him. Just because he didn’t welcome you with open arms doesn’t mean you should throw this away. He’s important enough to you that you ran out on our wedding—”
“I didn’t run out because of him.”
“Bullshit. If you hadn’t seen him last weekend, we’d be on our way to our honeymoon right now.”
Yes, our honeymoon, where we’d be sitting on the beach each fantasizing about different people. “Can you honestly say that’s what you want?”
Zach groans. “It’s complicated, Em. I want to be me, but I also want my career. My point isn’t about me, though. I know walking away last night was scary, and I know it wasn’t easy. Don’t give up on him and make it all for nothing.”
“You’re a good friend, Zachary. You’re going to make this country a great president someday.”
He makes a sound that’s somewhere between groan and laugh. “I hadn’t been selfish enough to want to make that happen.”
“We both wanted it.” Zachary was going to give me a life I once thought I could never have. Kids, love, a home filled with family instead of just servants. I want to panic at the thought of giving that up, at the possibility of a life alone.
“Listen, I might not be able to have everything I want in life, but you’re too young to give up—” He pauses for a beat. “Shit, turn on the news.”
I turn to the dark TV in the living room and shake my head as if he can see me. “I don’t want to see what they’re saying about me on the news.”
“Your mom is giving an interview on Good Morning America this morning. They just announced the teaser.”
“She’s not.” I close my eyes, imagining what she might have to say about her flaky daughter’s decision to cancel her own wedding at the last minute. I can imagine she’ll bring up my last-minute decision to back out of the Lucy Matters reunion. She won’t mention that I was a last-minute no-show to her wedding to Harry, though I’m sure she’ll be thinking it. “That’ll show me.”
“She’s just doing damage control. You know she has to.”
“She’d better leave Keegan out of it.”
“You can’t have it both ways, Emma. You went to him. He’s in it, whether you want him to be or not.”
I don’t like that. When Becky handed me the keys yesterday, everything seemed so simple. Get in the car and go to Keegan. But it’s just a mess. “Thank you for calling. I should go. I’m cooking.” On the ot
her end of the line, I hear coughing and sputtering, as if he’s choking on his coffee. “Zach, it’s not funny.”
“Not funny to you.” He sighs and chuckles quietly. “Just let me get the humor I can out of this mess of a situation. I love you, baby girl.”
The old nickname releases a knot from my chest. I let Zach down, but he doesn’t hate me. Relief makes me lighter. “I love you too, pretty boy.” I end the call and put the phone down on the counter. When I turn back to the stove, there’s a cloud of smoke over my pan of eggs. “Shit. Shit. Shit!” I grab the pan off the stove and throw it in the sink, turning on the faucet. More smoke billows up from the pan, and the smoke alarm overhead screeches.
I click off the stove before spinning in circles, looking for something to do about the smoke. There are big sliding doors at the back of the dining area, and I rush forward to open them and let the smoke out.
I leave them open as I take a chair from the table and climb onto it to reach the button on the smoke alarm. My ears breathe a sigh of relief when I silence it. Slowly, I lower myself back to the floor and rest my forehead on the counter.
Eggs in the fridge, he said. Like it was so simple. As if I’m not completely useless when it comes to the most basic life skills. Make yourself at home. And I almost burnt his house down.
Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Emma. Cut it out, right now.
I draw in a deep breath and lift my chin. Yesterday, I took a chance on a different life. A better life. If this is day one, I won’t let burnt eggs get me down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Keegan
Bailey storms into the storeroom and slams the door shut behind her. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
I look up from my clipboard and frown. I had the office over the bar converted into an apartment while we were doing the other renovations, and Bailey’s been living there. Judging by her sweatpants, tank top, and messy bun, I’m guessing she’s spent her morning off catching up on sleep. “Adding this morning’s delivery to the inventory?”