by Stacey Lynn
For the first time in months, the old Camilla reappeared. It disappeared in a flash, so quick I wondered if I imagined it. “In a hurry to get back to your farm girl?”
“Don’t,” I hissed. It had taken her longer than I thought it would for her to bring Rebecca into this. But no one, no one would ever disrespect her. And definitely not this woman. “Don’t you dare bring her into this. You wanted your game, Camilla, but that’s not a card you get to play.”
“Please.” She rolled her eyes, and sipped her champagne. “She’s already in it. Tell me what it is about her you like so much.”
“That she’s everything you’re not.”
Pain slashed her eyes and vanished. God, how did I stay married to this woman? Much less love her so damn much? She was sitting across from me and I felt nothing but the itch beneath my skin to get out of there as soon as possible.
“What? She’s poor?”
“No. She’s kind.”
She licked her lips, and if it could be done elegantly like her tears on the talk show a few weeks ago, she managed to do it. “Lovely. How cute.”
Sexy and cute. Beautiful and smart. Motivated and sad. Honest and pure. Rebecca was everything Camilla could only pretend to be. I was done wasting my time.
I picked up the other envelope, my winning hand and set it on top of the divorce settlement she hadn’t bothered to open. “Before I left town, I hired a private investigator.”
“You…what?”
“Yup.” I pushed down the satisfaction as Camilla’s expression paled. “And not only do I have first-hand evidence of one of your affairs, he uncovered twelve other men you’ve been with during our marriage.”
“Cooper—”
I ignored her plea-filled tone. Like I’d listen to her beg me now. I smirked victoriously. “He also found photographic proof you’ve been with men even while you’ve been begging me to come home. Go ahead” —I flicked my hand toward the envelope— “take a look.”
She lifted her champagne to her lips. Red fingernails tapped the crystal. “I don’t need to.”
“I have more than enough proof to take this to the courts. Our prenup states in the case of infidelity, we walk away with what we brought into the marriage. If you walk out of here tonight without signing our divorce settlement, one I had drafted today in light of this new evidence, I will take that folder, plus copies I have in my car, and hand them to every single photographer waiting for us outside.”
“You wouldn’t. You wouldn’t take a hit like that to your pride again.”
“God, please, Camilla. I no longer give a shit. You orchestrated this and you’ve lost. Give me a slice of honesty and I might reconsider, but you’ve had your chance and you could have walked away with millions from me. Instead, you’re proving yourself to be one of the vilest women I’ve ever met. End this so I can go home.”
“Home? To Kansas?”
I hadn’t even realized I’d said it. But damn she didn’t miss a beat. Yet a heat suffused my chest at the thought. A peace I couldn’t ever remember feeling. It was insane. Not the time for reality to hit me like a slap to the face.
I was falling in love with a woman who would want nothing to do with my life or my career. I was falling in love with a woman who would never leave her land.
And I didn’t give one, tiny, shit.
“My home is no longer any of your concern. Sign the papers.”
She set down her champagne and opened the first folder. At least she had the grace to seem embarrassed by the photos my PI had taken. She was in a few positions I’d never seen before and she and I had always been adventurous. When I saw them, I felt nothing. They were like looking at poorly made porn photos taken of strangers. That was all Camilla was to me.
She closed the folder and opened the next one, scanning the papers. “The house? You think I’m going to agree to only getting the house?”
“I told you I’d reconsider if you could be a decent person, but don’t play me for a fool and expect me to be kind to you.”
“You always were too nice, too trusting.”
I took it as a compliment.
She chewed on her bottom lip, fingertip tapping the table. She did it when she was thinking, and for the longest time I thought it was cute. Always tapping her fingers. The gentle click grated my nerves.
“What do you really want, Camilla? Why play this game? Is it to salvage your pride?”
“No one will hire me,” she said, and her honesty stunned me. “My agent is on the verge of dropping me. I’m getting too old for spreads, replaced by models barely into their twenties. And now, everyone thinks I’m some evil woman.”
“Quit acting like one,” I said, in a rare moment of not bothering to filter my words.
“I’m broke, Cooper.” She peered up at me through lashes so thick and long it was obvious they weren’t real. She was always so made up, I’d long gotten used to it, but some mornings, I wanted to touch my wife, not the plastic version of her. Although who knows? Maybe she was always fake. “I thought if you and I could at least pretend to work on our marriage, I could get some work. Then we could split amicably.”
“We could have done that in the beginning if you hadn’t played your games. It’s too late for that. Now, if you’re broke, you can sell the house. That’s ten million at least you can live off but that’s all you get.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“You’re wrong.” And I was done. I took my first drink of my water and grabbed my wallet from my pocket. “Sign the papers, Cami,” I said, using a name I’d called her early when we began dating that she despised. “Now, or I leave with the photos.”
“You’re going to destroy me.”
“And like I said, had you been honest with me, I would have worked with you.” I stood and dropped a fifty-dollar bill onto the table. Quite the tip for a single glass of champagne, but I wasn’t waiting for change. “I don’t enjoy being a dick to you. I have a lot of wonderful memories of us, but the problem is that now, I don’t know when I started being played or if any of it was real. I would have had your back, but not like this. You don’t get to treat me like shit and expect me to lay down and beg for more.”
“Please, I can be different.”
“No. You can’t.” I stood to my full height and glanced outside. A few of the photographers had left. A handful of groups in the restaurant were glancing in our direction. I gestured toward the files still in front of her. “What’s your decision?”
She opened her purse and pulled out a pen. “I hope you can sleep at night knowing you’ve just ruined me.”
God, it was amazing how narcissistic she was. She couldn’t even see how this was all her doing. Nothing I’d said had left any impact on her. If I’d had second thoughts about dissolving my marriage to her and giving her nothing other than the house, her attitude now confirmed I’d done the right thing.
She scribbled her name on the signature page and handed me the files.
“I’ll have Paul get a copy of these to Stefan as soon as possible. Take care, Camilla.”
I left the restaurant without looking back and when lights flashed in my eyes, questions shouted at me so loudly they rang in my ears, for the first time ever, I stopped for the paparazzo. “Thank you everyone for coming tonight. You can take this as my official statement that my marriage to Camilla Rinaldi has been dissolved amicably. Please respect our privacy.”
I ducked my head from the lights and stepped toward the Town Car I’d had waiting for me, pulling to a sudden stop as soon as a question was shouted that chilled me to my bones.
“Cooper! I hear the woman you were photographed with is your new girlfriend, Rebecca. Are you heading back to be with her? What is your relationship with the widow?”
Shit. I froze while that question pummeled against me, chilling me to my core. They’d already been looking into her. Which meant soon, they’d find out everything about her down to her favorite color of underwear.
I
slid into the Town Car and shut the door behind me, faces of photographers crammed against the windows for a shot of me. I’d spent a decade masking my expression, but I wasn’t hiding anything then.
It’d taken Rebecca what felt like forever to want to take a chance on me, and even now I didn’t know where I stood with her.
No doubt hearing the news of her husband’s death splashed across gossip magazines would send her running before I could get on a plane back to her.
Twenty-Eight
Rebecca
“Are you going to be okay here alone?” Brooke asked, pulling to a stop near my front porch. “You went really quiet tonight.”
“I’ll be fine.” My voice was monotone. I felt nothing but that pain and anger I’d clung to for so long.
After that photo, the memories of the last night with Joseph rushed through me with the force of a tornado. I had pushed aside my wine and spent most of the night listening to Brooke and Kelly while they didn’t bother hiding their concerned glances in my direction. But I was lost in a sea of horrific memories.
When Jordan had stopped by, he’d been obvious with his concern, but I still didn’t tell anyone.
Everyone in town loved Joseph. I loved him. I had loved him with my entire being and in one night—one text and one voicemail that came through on his phone when I was using it to check the weather—everything changed.
I’d never told a soul. I didn’t see the point in maligning his name. Would we have stayed married? Would I have kicked him out anyway? There was an ellipses on our life together, not a period, and all because one night, one damn night three weeks before he died he hadn’t kept his dick in his pants.
My hands curled into fists at that familiar ache.
“Thanks for tonight,” I mumbled and opened the door to Brooke’s car.
“You know we’re here, right? Always? For anything.”
She leaned forward, almost to the steering wheel and I bent down through the open door. “I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t better company.”
“You know that photo means nothing too, right?” Kelly asked. Her hands curled around the passenger headrest to lean forward from her seat in the back. “We even saw the announcement he made after.”
It hadn’t even been an hour after that photo of Cooper popped up on Brooke’s phone when another alert came through, this one of him outside the restaurant, waving a folder in the air with the announcement saying the Hawke-Rinaldi marriage was officially over.
Then there’d been a mention of me. My ranch. The fact I was a widow along with speculation of what our relationship was. Which meant someone was already searching for information on me, and how ridiculous.
I just wanted to take care of my cattle and goats and be left alone. But that didn’t mean someone in town wouldn’t talk if the opportunity presented itself.
Jenni Akers would do that, that conniving, selfish, home-wrecking bitch would absolutely talk to a reporter if given the chance.
Hell, I half-suspected she was the one who took the photo of us in the first place even though I didn’t remember seeing her at Down Home that night.
But she’d spill. She’d spill everything, and then I wouldn’t be hiding the fact that my husband had slept with the biggest bitch in town.
“I’ll talk to you guys later.” I closed the door to Brooke’s car and hurried up the steps to the porch, pulling my keys from my small handbag on the way.
Once inside, I locked the doors and waited until Brooke’s taillights vanished from the long driveway.
“God. What a disaster.”
I kicked off my shoes, not bothering to put them away or fix the rug I kicked up in the process and headed upstairs. It was eleven o’clock, late for me on a good night and I should have come home as soon as I knew my night was ruined. But, I was so hell-bent on trying to move on, even with being in a crappy mood, assaulted with memories of Joseph I tried so damn hard not to relive but couldn’t be helped, I had let Brooke and Kelly convince me to stay longer.
They were only trying to help, but without knowing why that simple stupid photo turned me into such a wreck, they couldn’t shake me out of it.
Thank the Lord for good friends who would try anyway.
“Whatever,” I grumbled, flipping on the bathroom faucet. I scrubbed off my makeup and prepared for bed, crawling into sheets that still hinted at the memory of Cooper.
I couldn’t escape either of them tonight, and the harder I tried to sleep, the more I tossed and turned.
Eventually, I gave up, and grabbed my phone from my purse. A mindless scroll through social media apps I never bothered to update would put me to sleep.
I slid back under my covers and tapped the home button on my phone, only to see my screen taken over by missed calls and texts from Cooper. The last text came only thirty minutes ago.
If you’re still awake, call me. We need to talk.
We really did. My thumb tapped the screen while I debated.
We could do this now or later. There really was no point in him returning to Kansas. I could call Max and he would schedule someone to ship all of his leftover clothes back to him.
But that meant never seeing him again.
A slow pressure built in my chest, tightening my lungs until it hurt to breathe.
I didn’t want to say goodbye to him. I also didn’t know how to let him in enough to trust him, not when he’d still leave eventually.
It was smartest to cut ties now, before I fell too deep.
“Damn it.” I dropped my phone into my lap and gripped my hair. “None of this was supposed to happen. Now what do I do?”
My gaze caught on the photo of Joseph and I on the nightstand next to the bed. It had been his side of the bed, his favorite photo of us. Taken on our third anniversary, it wasn’t anything special except we’d been dressed for the wedding of Gloria Whitman’s granddaughter. My yellow and white dress had a loose skirt and the wind blew it up around my knees. In the photo, my back was to Joseph, but his hand was at my stomach. His other hand had been holding down my dress from a gust of wind and I’d smiled at him over my shoulder.
It wasn’t posed, and we were both laughing, me thinking he was ridiculous, him looking like I was the only thing he ever saw.
Which ended up being the ultimate lie.
I reached over and picked up the photo. Before I could stop myself, I threw it across the room. It dented the wall opposite my bed and thumped to the floor.
It didn’t even break. At least clean up would be easy. As my hand fell into my lap, my ring sparkled and I growled at the damn beautiful diamond I’d promised never to remove.
I yanked it off my finger and threw it too, completely unsatisfied as it landed to the carpet without a whisper of a sound.
“I hate you. Why would you do that?” I whispered the lie into the air. Like I had done every time I’d said it since Joseph died, I didn’t get the answer I needed. Not a single I’m sorry. Not a single explanation. Not a single thing to settle the turmoil he’d created and left when he took off out of the house, pissed off I’d found out, pissed off at me because I didn’t give him time to explain before kicking him out for the night. Which even then I’d known was a mistake. Where else was he going to go except to Jenni’s?
He didn’t though. He called Ryan. He went to his house and he told him everything and then he’d called me on the way home, left a message because I was still too pissed and hurt and angry to talk to him.
He told me he loved me. He told me we’d talk when he got home.
Then he lost control on an icy road and I never saw him or talked to him again.
My phone rang in my lap, jumping me out of that horrific night. Ryan showing up at my house, me so confused because Joseph wasn’t with him. Jordan following right behind and why would he be at my house so late unless he’d heard and came to kick Joseph’s ass?
The phone rang again. Cooper’s name glared at me from the black screen, his name in blinding white letters.
<
br /> I answered it. At least this time, I’d get closure.
“Hello?” I asked, my throat bone dry.
“What’s wrong?” Cooper immediately asked. Sometimes it felt like he read me better than I could. It wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“Nothing. I’m tired. Why are you calling?” I leaned back in my bed and pulled the covers up my lap. As soon as I did this, I’d cry myself to sleep and figure out another way to start over.
A gentle sigh came through the phone. “You saw photos. Or you’ve heard I was with Camilla tonight. It’s not what you think, Rebecca.”
“I know.” I plucked at a ball of lint on my vibrant-colored quilt. My mother had a friend of hers, Cathy, make it for Joseph and I as a wedding gift. She was so talented she won blue ribbons in the state fair every year for her original designs.
The quilt was beautiful. Some days, I considered burning it.
“She signed the papers,” Cooper said. “That’s all the dinner was for at the restaurant. Well, it wasn’t even dinner really—”
Determination had thickened his voice, but he didn’t need to beg me to believe him. “Brooke has your name on Google Alert,” I said, and huffed, my cheeks burned at the admission we’d essentially been stalking him, or that she had. “And don’t ask why. We were at dinner tonight at the resort and saw the pictures of you at dinner with her and then leaving.”
“Then you know it’s over.”
His marriage was over. Instead of filling me with relief like I thought it should, because now at least I wasn’t on the same level as Jenni, wanting a married man, it did the opposite. A marriage ending was rarely something to celebrate. “I’m sorry. How are you doing?”
And why was I still dragging this out? The thought of telling him goodbye made me want to vomit and yet it was still the best thing I could do. Even if something between us grew deeper, he’d still leave. Joseph couldn’t even stay faithful in a small town of a few thousand. How could Cooper if he was globe-trotting the world starring in movies?
“I feel relieved. I’m glad it’s over and I can put it behind me. But we’ll talk more about it later. I know it’s late, I just wanted to hear your voice before I went to sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”