One Wrong Choice (A Cruel and Beautiful Book Book 3)

by A. M. Hargrove

  “Jimmy’s outside?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “You’ve let me waste all this time,” I say, grabbing my purse and heading for the door.

  “Jenna, that’s his job. He drives and waits and drives some more. I promise you, Father pays him well to do that,” he calls after me.

  “Okay, let’s go then.”

  He catches me at the front door.

  “First, kiss me.”

  Ten

  Brandon

  “It feels like forever since we’ve spoken,” Jenna says.

  It has been a while, and we’ve seen each other less over the last few weeks. Kenneth, or Kenny as she sometimes calls him, the senator’s son, has been in town more often. Not that I blame him. If Jenna were mine, I wouldn’t leave her alone as much as he does.

  “You sound happy.”

  Her voice through the phone is upbeat, something she wasn’t the last time we spoke.

  “I am. My mother is treating me as though I won the lottery. You should have seen her face when I introduced Kenny to her. She’s been over the moon for weeks. I swear, she would plan my wedding if she could.”

  This is the point where a friend should be happy. But hearing her contemplate marriage with another guy isn’t the highlight of my day.

  “I saw your picture in the paper,” I tell her.

  Rather I saw her and Kenneth together at some function. She had been stunning in a red dress that looked like it had been sewn on her body.

  “Oh, that,” she says. I can almost picture her waving a hand, trying to play it off like it’s nothing.

  “You must be happy he’s spending more time in Charleston these days.”

  I wait for her to disagree with me, which is stupid and the reason our friendship is so tenuous.

  “Yes and no. The endless parties and events to attend make it hard for me to keep up with my job. He thinks I should quit.”

  “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t want to. Mother seems to think that it wouldn’t be socially acceptable for me to continue to work when I might marry him one day. She thinks I should volunteer for a local charity. And it makes sense, but I like earning my own money. I’ve put a few feelers out for jobs at local charities. Kills two birds with one stone.”

  At a loss for words, I say nothing.

  “Brandon,” she says tentatively.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you still there? Which is a stupid question because you just responded, so don’t answer that.”

  Doing my best to be what she wants me to be, I ask, “How was D.C.?”

  She’d gone there to hang out with Cate, whom she hadn’t seen in months.

  “It was awesome. I think Cate might find love again if she’d let it happen.”

  “With Drew?”

  Because I’d heard all the stories.

  “Yes. He’s in D.C. Talk about crazy. Anyway…”

  I don’t ask anymore. Hearing about her spending time with Kenneth would be torture.

  “What about you?” she asks.

  The time has come for honesty.

  “I’m seeing someone.”

  Her silence is more truth about what we could be to each other. Yet, she’s hell-bent on staying with a guy that I know from our conversations doesn’t make her completely happy.

  “Wow, is she nice, pretty?”

  She tacks that last part on as almost an afterthought. The woman in question I’d met by accident and maybe at the right time. I’d needed someone to fill a place that I’d been holding for Jenna. “She’s a little jealous of you. I guess I can’t blame her. I think in the name of both of our relationships we should cool things off.”

  “What? Wait?” she asks, panicked.

  “I can’t imagine Kenneth likes knowing you have a guy friend who has a little crush on you. And, well, I need to give my full attention to—”

  “No! Besides, he doesn’t know about you.” Even though I figured he didn’t, it feels like a gut punch to hear her say it. “You… you can’t do this. I need you.”

  “Jenna, I’ll be honest. I can’t do this. I can’t move forward with someone else because I keep hoping you’ll change your mind about us.”

  “No, you are not breaking up with me over the phone.”

  “We aren’t breaking up because we aren’t together.”

  “Please… Brandon. Let’s just talk about this.”

  “A conversation won’t change anything.”

  “Just come over to my parents’ house. I’m here for Sunday dinner. Please, just come and talk to me. At least let me say goodbye in person.”

  Therein lies the problem. I’m weak when it comes to her. Ever since the first time I met her, I’ve been half in love with her. I can’t allow myself to fall completely. She’s unavailable, to me at least. Yet, I find myself agreeing. She gives me the address, and I drive my truck over there.

  She’s at the curb, waiting with red-rimmed eyes. My resolve starts to crack as I get out to meet her. Instead of ushering me into the house, she whisks me around the side toward the back. There are trees, and we keep walking until we’re near one with a makeshift ladder attached. Above is an ancient treehouse. What a life she must have lived. Nothing like my own. But that thought is shattered as I realize she has us hidden.

  “What’s going on? Why the camouflage?”

  “Kenneth’s on his way,” she admits.

  I search the sky for patience.

  “Jenna.” I take a breath and decide to get this over with before I say something stupid. “We can be friends, but I think we need to stop talking so much or hanging out. It’s not good for either of our relationships, and it’s not good for us.”

  Her hands latch onto my arms. “Brandon, he’s not going to be here much longer.”

  I honestly think she believes that’s the solution.

  “But the woman I’m seeing will be. And it’s not fair to her that I’m holding back. It won’t be forever. I just need some distance from you.”

  “Brandon,” she begs. “I don’t want things to change.”

  “I do. I stand here, and I want so very much to kiss you, Jenna. You know this. You’re my one weakness. Please, just let me go.”

  Her eyes start to water. “I wish…”

  “That I had the right last name or no tattoos.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  The fight is instantly in her eyes.

  “It’s the truth,” I say.

  “It’s not.”

  “I’m not going to fight with you. We’ll always be friends. I just need some time.”

  “If I give you that?” she asks.

  “Who knows what the future holds. Just promise me one thing?”

  “What’s that?” she asks.

  “You’ll be happy. If you marry that guy, I hope he’s everything you ever wanted. You deserve nothing less.”

  I start to turn.

  “Wait.”

  Her gray eyes hold me in place. She steps forward, and for a second her focus dips to my mouth. I lick my lips, wanting, but not hoping.

  “Maybe we could go out on a double date and things could be less awkward.”

  A bark of humorless laugh escapes me. I shake my head, but she hasn’t let go of my arms. Her touch burns a hole in my soul I fear will never be filled. I take her arms, ready to break free of her hold.

  “You and I both know that will never work.”

  “Something has to. I feel like I’m losing a piece of my heart if you walk away.”

  “Jenna, please,” I beg, needing to leave before she convinces me to stay, because she will.

  Her face turns as I lean to kiss her cheek in an effort to say goodbye, in the absence of words that won’t form.

  “Brandon—”

  “Am I interrupting something?” A man appears from out of nowhere. The resemblance is clear. This must be her brother.

  We break apart, releasing each other as if we’d been caught lik
e teenagers in her bedroom after curfew.

  “Sorry.” I glance at Jenna. “I should go.”

  “No, wait,” she says, reaching for me.

  But I slip away, moving in the direction from which we came. Like a thief, I steal into the shadows, but not before I hear him say, “Jenna, let him go. Kenneth’s here.”

  Part II

  Present — A Few Years Later

  Eleven

  Jenna

  Dad clinks a fork against his glass to get everyone to stop talking. “Can I have your attention, please?” A hush falls over the room as all eyes turn to stare at him. “I’d like to make an announcement, one that my wife, Julia, and I couldn’t be happier and more thrilled about. My daughter has agreed to become Mrs. Kenneth Balfour. Can we raise our glasses and toast the newly engaged couple?”

  Kenneth’s arm tightens around me as we accept the toast of congratulations. My smile, the one that doesn’t quite reach my eyes, is pasted on and it seems like it’s been there for the last few days. I wonder if it stays there while I’m sleeping. Kenneth’s soft lips touch my cheek and I look up to him, exactly like a newly engaged woman should. This is what I want, what I’ve dreamed of since I was a little girl. Isn’t it?

  And then the masses hit. My parents’ friends surround us, hugging and kissing me, and shaking Kenneth’s hand.

  “Let me see that block of ice on your hand,” one of them says. I hold out my hand with a smile.

  “Shade your eyes, because it’s a doozy,” I say, laughing. And it is. Kenneth went way overboard with this one. It looks like a bubble gum ring. When he gave it to me, I asked him if it was real. Obviously, it was, as could be seen by the hurt look on his face. Me and my big mouth. But, jeez, how was I to know he was going to spring for a damn boulder?

  The proposal itself was something out of a magazine. I should’ve known something was up when we flew in his family’s private jet to their beach house on a remote island in the Abacos. We landed on Marsh Harbor and then went by yacht to their private island, which was amazing. Kenneth had mentioned they had a place there, but I never imagined it was so grand. Six bedrooms, each with ensuite, plus several dens, an open kitchen, and beautiful terraces that led to a private white sandy beach made for an exquisite vacation. It was truly stunning. When Kenneth asked me to marry him, the thought of saying no never entered my mind. Our stay was idyllic, but it didn’t hit me that I’d consented to become Mrs. Balfour until we returned to Charleston.

  “I can’t wait for you to show off your ring to your parents,” he said as we landed. Wasn’t that something the woman usually said?

  “Yeah. Me, too.” I acted excited, but the truth was, I had to pretend.

  Now, here we stand, in the midst of my parents’ friends, and I’m still pretending to be excited. Is this how every bride-to-be feels? Everyone asks me about our wedding plans. Where is the event going to be held? What’s my dress going to look like? Where will we honeymoon? Are we going to buy a house? The fuck! Who the hell thinks of all this shit at once?

  Kenneth is acting more like the bride than I am. “May,” he says with confidence. It comes out as if we’ve talked about this when we haven’t. “Perhaps at the yacht club or maybe at Mother and Father’s. We have a few places in mind.” We do? We haven’t discussed any of this. Keep smiling, Jenna. Maybe he’ll sew your dress for you, too.

  Someone says, “Ahh, a nice traditional wedding then, I see.”

  “Yes! That’s exactly what we want,” he says.

  Wait! I want to elope. What the fuck are you saying? I grind my teeth so hard they actually make a noise. Kenneth’s exuberance makes me wonder why he’s not clapping his hands. I need Cate. Where is Cate?

  “So, Jenna, what kind of dress do you want?”

  As I get ready to answer, Kenneth says, “She’ll wear Monique Lhuillier or Valentino. Definitely couturier.”

  “I will?” I ask.

  His responses up to now have been so matter-of-fact it’s hard to believe we haven’t talked about this.

  “Mother will arrange everything.”

  He says it so nonchalantly, as if I should know all of this. Doesn’t the mother of the bride have a role in this? And here I thought I would wear a simple dress that perhaps I could wear again. Where did Diva Kenneth come from? OMG! He’s probably going to make me say yes to the dress. What the hell am I going to do?

  Suddenly, I’m being dragged away by a hand on my arm. Kenneth looks up and grins at my abductor. “Handle with care. I don’t want anything happening to the future Mrs. Balfour,” he says.

  “Don’t worry. She’s my sister. I used to beat her up. She can handle a lot,” my brother, Ben, says. Thank God he’s rescuing me. I hope he brought a bottle of Herradura Reposado. I know Añejo would be asking for too much, but I sure as hell can’t drink that shit tequila at the bar. And I’m going to need several shots. Pronto.

  He pulls me way off to the side and asks, “What’s with that look on your face?”

  “What look? And where’s my shot or five?”

  “Exactly. You look like a vision of yourself from Madame Tussauds. Scary as shit. Your face is super creepy right now, Jenna.”

  “Stop. It is not. Where are my fucking shots?” I whisper-yell at him.

  “Calm down.” He holds up the bottle of my favorite poison, and when he looks around for a glass, I rip the Herradura out of his hand.

  “What the hell!”

  I open the top and take a slug of the stuff. The liquid gold burns its way to my gut, but it’s a sweet burn and I say, “Ahhh.”

  “Are you okay? I mean, really okay. You’re acting strange.”

  “I’m great. Just dandy.” I put my super-duper plastic smile back in place. “See?”

  “Jesus. Are you sure you want to get married?”

  “Of course, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure? I got this terrific ring. Look.” I shove my hand under his face. “And my fiancé is planning the whole thing. Did you know we may have our reception at the yacht club or his parents’ place, and that my gown will be couturier? What the fuck more could I want?”

  “Do you love him?” he asks.

  “Love him? Well, yes, I do.” I take another gulp of Herradura. Holding the bottle out toward my brother, I say, “He’s a wonderful man, a fantastic provider. Kenneth is smart and cute, too. Look at him, Ben. See, he has on that silly little bowtie. And it’s not even tied properly.” I giggle and take another swallow. “Thank God you brought this. I was in need. And look at Mom. She’s so happy now that I’m not going to be a spinster.” I guzzle more of the golden nectar.

  “Hey, sis, take it easy on that stuff. You’re going to get hammered if you don’t.”

  “Yeah? That’s okay. So listen to this.” I tug on his sleeve and pull him closer so I don’t have to talk so loud. “I was strolling by a couple of her friends, and she apparently leaked the news to them, and they said—Oh, boy, Julia is thrilled. She was so worried that Jenna would never get married. Now she can relax and wait for the grandbabies to arrive. Can you imagine? Why would she say that? And am I a broodmare to her? I don’t even know if I want kids. I bet she never says that about you and Sam.”

  “Does Kenneth know?”

  “Know what? That Mom thought I was going to be an old maid?”

  “No.” He runs his hands through his hair, and I pull them out. “That you might not want kids.” He tries to grab the Herradura away from me, but I won’t let him and take another slug instead.

  “Why would Kenneth want to know?”

  He gives me a frustrated look, one that he’s famous for. “Jenna, are you serious? The dude comes from old Charleston money. Of course, he’s going to want to carry on the Balfour name. You need to tell him if you don’t want kids.”

  “It’s not that I don’t want kids. I just might not want his.” As I see his eyes nearly bulge out of his head, I realize what I said, so I quickly say, “I meant not right away.”

  “What the fuc
k aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing! I swear.”

  “Answer me this without thinking.”

  Oh, boy. I take another long swallow of my Herradura because he’s going to ask me something I’m not sure I’ll be able to answer. And right as I finish, he snatches the prized bottle away from me.

  “Benny,” I whine. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Because you’re half-soused. That’s why. Now, answer me this. Are you in love with Kenneth?”

  “There you are. I thought I heard my name.”

  I look up to see the object of our discussion. “Hi, Kenny. Benny…” That rhymes, and it’s just too funny. “Kenny and Benny.” I laugh again. When no else laughs, I decide to finish my sentence. “Anyway, Benny was just telling me about how much fun he and Sam had on their honeymoon,” I say.

  “Sounds like a competition. Come on, Jenna. There are some people who’ve been asking about you.”

  I wobble on my shoes as he escorts me off. And am I in love with Kenneth? What is love, anyway? I saw my bestie Cate fall to pieces when she went through all she did with Drew. I can’t say I feel like that because I’m not in that position. And when Ben went through that rough spot with Sam, things got messy. But again, I’m not in a position to compare because it’s not the same. Kenneth is kind, caring, and considerate. What more should I want, right?

  “Honey, remember your parents’ friends, the McCoys?” Kenneth asks. What is this? Has he met everyone here already?

  “Yes, how are you?” They give me an odd look, as does Kenneth. The words had been hard for me to enunciate.

  “We’re fine, dear, and congratulations to you two.” After some small talk, we move away.

  “How much have you had to drink, Jenna?”

  Waving my hand, I say, “Just a few sips of tequila. Why?”

  “Because you’re slurring your words. Terribly.”

  I don’t normally notice, but his words suddenly sound haughty. His Southern accent is thick with the tone of old money and a man used to getting what he wants.