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

by A. M. Hargrove

  “Hi, Mom. What brings you here?”

  “Jenna! What have you done to your lips? Oh, my God. Have you gone to one of those fly-by-night silicone injection places? My God. If you wanted your face worked on, why didn’t you say something? And we need to discuss this issue with Kenneth. You need to reconsider this engagement.”

  “Ah, fuck.” Only my state of inebriation would’ve allowed me to speak this way in front of my mother.

  “Jenna, for God’s sake. Watch your mouth. That is so unladylike.”

  “I will not reconsider the engagement. Kenneth and I are finished. We are over. For-fucking-ever. Understand?”

  And then the ultimate happens. Mr. Dark and Inky walks out of the bedroom, shirtless, of course, and asks with a sinful smile, “Is there a problem here, Cupcake?”

  To say that there are two totally speechless and shocked Rhoades women in my house would be a complete understatement.

  Twenty-Seven

  Brandon

  Jenna’s mom gazes at me then her eyes slip down to my chest. It’s then I realize in my drunken rush, I forgot to put on my shirt. Shit, those shots have hit me hard. I chuckle to myself, thinking of me being hard and…

  “Who are you?” her mom barks.

  Blinking a few times, I finally come back to myself. Wanting to take my cues from Jenna, I focus in her direction. That doesn’t help. She looks like a sexy marionette without her puppeteer, opening and closing her mouth without any words coming out.

  No other choice, I step forward and hold out my hand. “I’m Brandon Connolly.”

  Seconds tick by in fives up to twenty before her mother totally dismisses my hand and turns to face her daughter.

  “Why is there a half-naked man in your house? How do you expect Kenneth to take you back if he thinks there’s been impropriety on your part?”

  “Impropriety on my part,” Jenna spits, ready to blow. “He’s the one who cheated on me!”

  “Men will be men.”

  Her mom’s statement makes Jenna so red-faced, I glance around for a fire extinguisher. I have to shake my thoughts back into focus when Jenna speaks.

  “That’s exactly right. Some men do men, too, even when—”

  “Stop mumbling, Jenna. I taught you better than that.”

  My girl tries to shift and cross her arms over her chest to look menacing. Only her balance is for shit. She teeters to one side, and I hold my breath ready to lunge to break her fall if I have to. As she said, dancing drunk is not her forte, or anything on two feet while drunk.

  “Kenneth’s not interested in me,” Jenna begins again. Out of the corner of her mouth, I see her mumble, “Or any of my parts.” Then she speaks clearly, and I have to check myself. How did I even notice that as I’m barely standing upright myself? “He only wants to marry me because, like you and Dad, his parents are pressuring him to.”

  Her mom covers her heart, and her mouth opens ready for flies. Secretly, I wish some were buzzing around.

  “Jenna, we would never pressure you. You’ve been dating the man for years. You just needed a push. And why would you say yes if you didn’t love him?”

  Like a fly on the wall, I wait for movement. This could get very interesting.

  “Mother, I love you, but this needs to be said. You’ve been running my life forever. But not this time. I only said yes to Kenneth because you wanted me to, and not for any other reason. And now I’m saying no. No! No. No. I am not marrying him, so let it go.”

  I swear the earth begins to shake under her mother’s glacial glare.

  “Let it go? No, Jenna, I won’t let it go. You will not embarrass this family.” She points a finger at me. “You still haven’t explained who this man is.”

  It could have been the sternness in her mom’s voice, but I watch as Jenna begins to wilt before my eyes. There are many things I could have said to help. I could have said I’m the plumber or any sort of maintenance man to explain my presence. I could have said I was a mechanic. Instead, I hope based on what happened earlier, things have changed between us.

  “I’m her boyfriend, Mrs. Rhoades.”

  The slow way her mother’s head rotates on her shoulders reminds me of a horror movie where a clown doll comes to life.

  “Boyfriend?” she spouts like a geyser going off. “Jenna Margaret Rhoades, you will not dishonor this family. I understand you were hurt by Kenneth’s dalliance with some other woman.”

  Jenna purses her lips, and it shouldn’t be funny given the gravity of the situation. But her mouth looks like a miniature pink inner tube on her face. I blame the liquor I consumed for chuckling. Her mom’s face only makes matters worse. It’s screwed up comically. Jenna relaxes her lips, stopping anything she is about to say. That allows her mom to continue with her rant as if she only paused for a second mid-stream.

  “And trying to get that bee sting look so many women are after was also a bad idea. Obviously, the doctor you went to did a shoddy job. You have tiny creases in them that resemble bite marks.”

  A laugh escapes me, and I try to cover it with a cough. I remember Jenna and her first attempt at a blowjob. I tried to endure, but it was that bad, that painful. Finally, I had to get her off of me because it felt like she was dragging my dick over sandpaper or trying to chew me instead of blow me.

  Though she’d been so damn cute with her confession of having no skills. When she asked me to show her how to do it, as much as I cringed, I had to let her try again. And that time had been pure heaven.

  Jenna’s mom is still talking as I’d slipped into the memory.

  “And shoddy doctors will be all you get in the future if you humiliate this family. The Balfours are one of the oldest families in Charleston. Your opportunity to get out of this was before you told Kenneth yes and had an engagement party. Now is the time to suck it up!”

  One glance at Jenna and we both snicker.

  “I’ve done that, Mother,” Jenna says.

  Our joke over her words doesn’t go unnoticed. “Stop being flippant. Senator Balfour is graciously coming over for Sunday dinner. Kenneth has promised me he’ll do whatever to make this up to you. You will come and smile. You will make peace with Kenneth. And you will marry him.”

  She spoke slow and deliberate. Every word had been enunciated to drive the point home.

  “I will not,” Jenna declares.

  I want to kiss her in that moment.

  “Your trust fund is not irrevocable,” her mother says.

  Alarm covers Jenna’s face. “You wouldn’t.”

  “We all will have to do what it takes if you decided to date…” She glances at me. “Who are you again?”

  “Brandon,” I say.

  “Ah, yes. Brandon. And what is it that you do?”

  The way she says it, the only thing that might impress her is if I say I’m former President Kennedy’s long-lost son or the president of the United States.

  “I’m a mechanic.”

  “Ah, fabulous.” Her words are then aimed at her daughter. “You’ve had your fun. You got Kenneth back for what he did to you. But now is time for forgiveness. You and Kenneth can work something out.”

  She glances at me and then at her daughter.

  I wait for Jenna to stand up for herself like she did before, but there is panic on her face. And talk about total buzzkill. She isn’t going to say anything. She isn’t going to stand up for us. I can say something to even the playing field, but I don’t.

  Her mom faces me when Jenna remains mute. Jenna shakes her head at me, and with that gesture, my fears are confirmed. She doesn’t want me to say anything more, to make things worse, I guess. She means more to me than my happiness, so I do what I can to fix things for her.

  “When I said boyfriend earlier, I meant I’m a friend that’s a guy and nothing more. Jenna’s one of the best women I know. She’s smart and funny. Kenneth’s a lucky guy. And frankly, she’s smart enough to know better than to date a guy like me.” I pause for a second, hoping. Fiv
e, then ten seconds go by without any intervention from her. I don’t look in her direction, afraid of what I might see. “I should be going.”

  The smile that forms on her mom’s face is one of triumph. She knows that I’m full of shit, but she’s won. She launches into a diatribe of words not meant for me. I go get my shirt, shrugging into it quickly before leaving, never once glancing back. I can’t.

  Unable to drive, having consumed too many shots, I walk. Downtown is buzzing with activity. I call my brother.

  “Come hang with me?”

  “Hell yeah! Like you have to ask.” His next questions are where and when.

  I suggest a place, and he says he’ll meet me. Almost there, I ignore my phone as it chirps in my pocket. I’d been the fool to change Jenna’s ringtone to be unique so I’d never miss her call. I’m tempted to answer. Kissing her and being inside her had been a fantasy come true. But now reality has crept in. A Connelly will never be good enough for a Rhoades. How long have I ignored that truth?

  When my brother arrives, he’s not fooled by my sudden interest in brother bonding.

  “What gives? You look like the Grinch and someone stole your Christmas.”

  “It’s nothing.” I hold up my second glass, feeling like I want to beat my chest and tell Jenna’s parents to go fuck themselves. Good thing I don’t have their phone number. “Let’s just enjoy the night and drink it away.”

  “Bro, this isn’t like you. You have work in the morning. It’s that Jenna girl again.”

  “It’s not,” I lie. “Just drink up. It’s on me.”

  He doesn’t believe me, only stares.

  Clapping a hand on his shoulder, I say, “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

  His smile comes easy. “How much have you had already?”

  “Not near enough.”

  It’s going to take a lot to forget the one girl who makes me feel alive.

  “Good then. You probably won’t yell when I tell you Dad called and he wants to come down for a visit.”

  Twenty-Eight

  Jenna

  Practically shoving my mother out the door, with her protesting the entire time about how rude I’m being, I run around my house in search of my phone. Brandon left—and I honestly can’t blame him with the way my mother treated him. Talk about rude behavior. Once I sober up and straighten things out with him, I’m going to tell her exactly how I feel. But I have to figure this trust shit out, too. Was she serious or bluffing? I was always under the impression it was an irrevocable trust. Why would they set it up any other way? My understanding is that tax implications are crazy. Ben would know better. I need to talk to him … after the alcohol clears and my bouncing thoughts straighten out.

  Pillows fly in the air as I search for my stupid phone. I eventually find it under the comforter on the bedroom floor. My fingers shake so badly it takes me several times to hit Brandon’s name in my contact list. And when I do, he doesn’t answer. Even after I call him a dozen times. My heart sinks. And I’m ashamed of myself for not standing up to Mom, especially after everything Brandon and I shared. Gut-wrenching sobs, the kind that I haven’t experienced since Ben lost his best friend, gush out of me and I curl into a ball on the floor.

  When my house no longer sounds like a wailing banshee lives here, I try to figure out how I allowed all this to happen. An astounding realization nails me, and I’m filled with great remorse. It all centers on one thing—money. I agreed to marry Kenneth to please my parents, mostly my mom, because of her desire to level up her social status and for Dad to keep the Balfour account. Money. Kenneth is a great guy and we had some good times, but he was never the one for me, even before I caught him with Horace. I stayed for one thing—the stupid money—which I don’t even give a shit about. And then, I didn’t break it off with Kenneth even before he asked me to marry him, because of the status. I adored hanging out with Brandon and avoided him because I didn’t think my parents would accept him—in other words, he didn’t have enough money to suit them. And now—my mom tells me I may be cut off if I don’t do what they want, and like their little puppet, instead of speaking up, I let Brandon say those things and take the hit. In all likelihood, I just let the greatest thing that ever walked into my life, walk away. And damn, if I didn’t deserve it. If I were capable of it, I would rip my hair right out of my head.

  The phone that’s still in my hand starts ringing. Hoping it’s Brandon calling back, I quickly look at it, but am more than disappointed to see it’s not.

  “Hey, Bennie.”

  “Jenna, what’s wrong?”

  Just his question makes the waterworks open up again. Between the snivels, I explain what happened.

  “The guy from the import repair shop that I met that night you were out with the girls? He’s the one Mom caught you with?”

  “Yeah. But I ruined everything.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I explain everything that happened, from almost the beginning to now.

  “You didn’t ruin it, Jenna. You have to go and prove to him otherwise. Remember what an ass I was to Sam? If he cares about you, he’ll open up.”

  “I don’t know, Ben. We’ve been dancing around this relationship thing for a long time.”

  “How badly do you want it?” he asks.

  “Pretty fucking bad.”

  “Then stop wasting time and go for it.”

  Switching topics, I ask, “Hey, what do you know about my trust fund?”

  “Not much. Why?”

  “Mom’s threatening me if I don’t get back with Kenneth, she’s going to change it. She says it’s revocable. And you know how she is about the Balfour account? I’m sure that’s going to come up.”

  “Hmm. That’s something I haven’t thought about, but, Jenna, that’s fucking blackmail. Tell Mom to fuck off. Does Mom know about Kenneth?”

  “Huh. She thinks he fucked another woman and that men will be men—her words not mine.”

  “She actually said that?”

  A bitter laugh escapes from me. “Yes, she did.”

  “I wonder if she would feel the same if Dad slept around on her. You should tell her the truth,” Ben suggests.

  Then a light bulb flicks on. “No. I’m going to have a little chat with Kenneth that will include some ideas on my part for him.”

  “Like what?”

  “You’ll see. It will all be apparent at dinner next Sunday.”

  “Oh, Jenna, what do you have planned?”

  “Nothing malicious. Don’t worry. But in the meantime, can you do me a favor and try to find out about our trusts?”

  “Yeah. I’ll do you one up. I’ll get you all the information on that. I have access to it all. If it’s revocable, it will state it in there. But I can’t conceive of that. The taxes on it would be fucking nuts. And Mom doesn’t know shit about this stuff.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  “Jenna, do me a favor, will you?”

  “What?”

  “Go after that guy of yours. Life’s too fucking short.” He hangs up before I can respond, leaving me to stare at my phone. I decide to try Brandon once more, but no luck. He doesn’t want to talk to me. That’s okay. To be honest, I wouldn’t want to talk to me either. But I’m taking Ben’s advice. My teeth are sinking into this one, and I’m not letting go. I have to think how I’m going to approach him, but I’ll come up with something. In the meantime, I have another situation that needs addressing.

  My next phone call is answered on the second ring.

  “Jenna. What a pleasant surprise.”

  “I’m glad you think so. We need to meet.”

  “Tonight?”

  “No. In the morning. I’ll be at your place at seven thirty sharp.” I hang up. My plans are forming, but the first thing I need to do is sleep off this fucking Herradura.

  It’s not even nine o’clock when I crawl into bed. But I’m instantly surrounded by eau du Brandon. His scent is all over my sheets, and I want to rub it on my
skin so it sinks in forever. At first, the memories of what we did in this bed keep me awake because my blood is so heated. All I want is for him to be here with me. But my exhaustion takes over, and soon my alarm is beeping me awake.

  A shower and two cups of coffee later have me arriving on Kenneth’s doorstep.

  The door swings open to a smiling Kenneth as he bends down to kiss my cheek, only I step out of his reach. His confused look almost makes me laugh.

  “This isn’t a social call, Kenneth. We are going to discuss what will happen at Sunday dinner.” Poor Kenneth. A part of me wants to feel sorry for him, but I can’t anymore. He’s gone from wearing a happy face to appearing genuinely distressed.

  “What do you mean? Aren’t we going to be announcing our re-engagement?”

  “You’ve gone down the rabbit hole if you honestly think I would do that. Come on, Kenneth. Get real.”

  “But, Jenna.”

  “There are no more but Jenna’s. In fact, I’ve made a decision in this. If you don’t tell them this Sunday that you have decided you don’t want to marry me, I will blow your cover.”

  Casper has arrived. Kenneth’s face turns a whiter shade of pale, as they say in that song.

  “Y-you can’t mean that,” he stutters.

  “I mean every single word. Actually, it’s a promise. End this, now. I’m tired of these shenanigans and of my mother showing up at my house. Her threats are old, and I’m sick of them.”

  He grabs my hand, saying, “But, Jenna, I love you.” I believe him. In his own sort of odd way, he does.

  “I know. But I don’t love you.” There, I finally said it.

  He frowns. “Did you ever love me?”

  “Yeah, I did. And I love you now, but as my friend. However, if you keep this up, I won’t be able to say that.”

  Rejection and dejection weigh him down. It doesn’t make me happy at all to see him this way.

  “Kenneth, I truly wish your parents would accept you as you are.”