by Kylie Scott
"Yes."
"What happened?"
"I was getting ready for the ceremony and someone sent me a video of him getting it on with another guy."
"That's why you ran?"
"That's why I ran." I slumped back in the seat. "Why? What would you have done?"
"Gotten the hell out of there."
I gave him a nod, relaxing further. "Good."
"Dick isn't my thing. Would have had to have been drunk as fuck to have gotten engaged to a guy in the first place." From beneath his brows came a sly look. "But yeah, I'd have definitely bolted."
"Ha-ha."
The smile came slowly, but again it was definitely there. Strange--he smiled and the weight on my shoulders lightened. All of the dust and darkness in the house faded from view. Maybe it was just me not feeling so alone, I don't know. But it helped.
"No way I could've pulled off the underwear and dress as well as you," he said contemplatively, thumb rubbing over the rim of his coffee cup.
"No?"
"I lack some of your finer assets."
"Aw, that's sweet," I drawled, laughing softly. "I'm sure you look lovely in drag, Vaughan. But I appreciate you saying that."
"No problem." He took a sip of coffee, watching me all the while with those intense blue eyes. Not once did they stray down to the assets in question. Probably too busy admiring my fine collection of scratches, bruises, and general hot bridal messiness.
I shifted in my seat, fussed for a minute. Though really, what was the point? I looked like hell. Might as well just roll with it. I huffed out a breath and did my best to let all of the dross go. Everything would be okay. Life would go on. Me and my insane situation had even managed to raise this man's spirits a little.
Yes, I'd made a mistake. Shit had definitely happened. But things weren't so bad. Apart from my fine collection of scratches, bruises, and aching muscles, I still had my health.
"You've got a killer smile," he said, still staring.
Heck, he was serious. Probably just being kind. "Thank you."
A nod.
He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, little lines appearing between his brows. "You weren't tempted to have a show-him-up, out him in front of all the guests?"
"Honestly?" I took my time and pondered the question, turning it over inside my head. "I wasn't afraid, exactly, I just ... they weren't my people. All of those guests were business acquaintances, contacts, friends of his family. Most of them I'd never even met. Guess I haven't been in town long enough to make my own friends. I've been either busy working or I've been with Chris. My parents couldn't make it and I've pretty much lost touch with the girls I went to school with.
"I don't really care what those idiots over there think of me. As for what they think of him, he made this mess. He can clean it up himself. I just wanted to remove myself from the entire situation, pronto." I stared over his shoulder, lost in thought. "I guess I was embarrassed. How could I not be? He played me for a fool."
He made a small noise.
"Anyway."
"And that's how you wound up in my bathtub?"
"Yes." I gave him a strained smile. "I realized a bit late that I had no money or cards. Hiding out for a while until things settled down seemed like a smart idea. Have my meltdown in private."
"Mm."
"Speaking of which, guess I better head back around, check out the damage." I took a fortifying gulp of coffee. "Get out of your hair and go fetch my purse."
"No rush."
"Think I've probably taken up enough of your time with my drama," I said with a small laugh. It fell flat. I should give it a few days to sink in before attempting to make jokes. Right now things still felt raw, on edge. Like I might burst into tears again at any moment. Either that or go into some sort of psycho rage. Too many emotions were bubbling away beneath the surface. It didn't feel like there was enough of me to contain it all. One small crack and everything would start pouring out all over again.
No. Nope. I straightened my spine. I could handle this. I could and I would.
"Seriously." He waved a hand, motioning for me to stay seated. Then he stretched, raising his arms up above his head then gripping his elbows and cracking his neck. "You don't really want to go back around there yet. Fuck knows, I wouldn't want to."
"Are you sure?"
He nodded. "Yeah. You being here also gives me a damn good excuse to put off dealing with my own shit."
"You've got drama too?"
A shrug. "Doesn't everyone?"
"A side effect of breathing, I guess."
He smiled.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Nothing about your sex life didn't make you think he might be gay?" Vaughan asked.
"Um..."
"If you don't mind me asking."
"Well, yes. I mean no, I don't mind you asking. But yes, our lack of intimacy should have made me think twice." Oh, god. It really, really should have. What with the lack of screwing, I'd screwed up magnificently. Shame filled me. "I still can't believe I fell for his crap."
"Guess he was convincing."
"He sure was."
"Least you didn't go through with the wedding."
I huffed out a breath. "Hell no. As soon as I saw..."
A nod.
"I'm not sure it's actually sunk in yet, that I'm not getting married today. I'm not spending the rest of my life building a home with him."
"It's big."
"Yeah." I folded my hands in my lap. "I got carried away and took a leap of faith. It just didn't pay off."
He said nothing. Not like there was anything to say.
"Trust is a bitch. Anyway." I shook it off. Time to move on, et cetera. If I kept telling myself as much, eventually it had to sink in. "To answer your question. Honestly, Vaughan, we didn't have much of a sex life to speak of."
"What?" Elbows on the table, he leaned in, getting closer. "When was the last time you two fucked?"
I blinked. Not "had sex." Not even "made love." Fucked. Like language even mattered, and yet ... maybe I was a prude. I'd never thought of myself as one, though as today was showing, I knew shit.
"Lydia?"
"Sorry. Just mentally beating myself up again."
"Stop it. That's not going to help."
"No, it's not. But kind of hard to avoid today."
"Mm."
Tattoos covered his arms to the wrists. Black and gray, mostly, with traces of color erupting here and there. An electric guitar with an ornate skull above it. A diving bluebird surrounded by licks of flame. Beautiful ink work. Whoever he went to was an artist.
Opposite me, he pushed back his pale-red hair, waiting on me to answer his question.
"Well, we were waiting to have sex. His family are religious and quite traditional." My fingers meshed and twisted in my lap. "Big on appearances and stuff. Yeah..."
Little lines appeared between his brows.
"But he told me he loved me all the time. And he'd call several times a day just to check on me, to see if I needed anything," I said with just a hint of desperation. "He respected me. Without a doubt, he's the most adult, well-adjusted person I've ever been in a relationship with. We wanted the same things, a stable economic future and a family, two kids. We were both ready to settle down. Marrying him made perfect sense."
"Sounds great," he deadpanned.
"I thought it was."
He sat forward, leaning his elbows on the table. "Let me check I've got this right. You guys were together for months, getting married."
"Yes."
"And absolutely nothing between the sheets?"
I pursed my lips, readjusting my turban-towel hairdo. You know, buying some time. If only I'd kept my mouth shut and just let the guy gawk at my breasts. Much better than having this humiliating conversation, especially with him. The man was obviously some sort of ridiculously cool Idaho sex god. Who the hell even knew such a thing existed?
"Lydia?"
I growled or moaned. It was definitely
one or the other, I'm just not sure which. Emotionally, things were in upheaval. "There was some couch action. We messed around, we just didn't go quite that far. Well, we sort of did it."
His brows went up. "Sort of?"
"Yes."
"Babe, if you're not sure what you did with this prick was sex or not, then it's not. Let's get that straight right now."
My grin was a forced, ugly thing. "Right."
"Guy was dating you and he didn't want any?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Does he have a dick?"
"Yes, Vaughan, he has a dick."
"You sure about that?"
I looked to heaven. No help was forthcoming. "It's kind of you to think that."
He laughed, gaze sliding down to my breasts for a millisecond. "No. Just being reasonable."
"Some people believe in celibacy before marriage."
"You don't."
He had a point. No way was I acknowledging it, however.
"Do you?" he persisted.
"I believed in him." My pride was a sad small thing. I could feel it sinking slowly to the floor to play dead. "You know, I thought talking about this would help, but it's not. Can we stop now?"
"No. I want to understand this."
"God, get in line." This time, it was a definite moan of despair. Pitiful. "I'm not even sure I can explain it anymore. And you don't want to understand it, you want to mock it."
"That's not true. C'mon, I'm trying here."
Brows high, I gave him a look most dubious.
"I am. But you had to suspect."
"Or maybe he was a damn good actor and I was one of those sad lonely women who get taken in." The ugly truth. My stomach twisted and turned, making me want to heave.
"But--"
"Stop. Please." God help me, I could take no more. I softly banged my forehead against the tabletop and stayed there, facedown. "Can I convince you to press charges? I think maybe I should go to jail after all. A nice, quiet jail cell might be just the thing."
"You're not going to fucking jail."
It'd been worth a try.
"Hey, I'm sorry you got screwed over, but shit will sort itself out."
The weight atop my head shifted and then my towel turban disappeared. Straggly damp blond strands feel around my face. I sat up, pushing back the whole mess.
"Sorry," he said, throwing the towel in the general direction of the kitchen counter. "I was trying to give you a comforting pat on the head."
"Thanks."
A pause.
"No straight guy could stay away from that rack," he said quietly. "Just saying."
"Not everyone's a tit man."
"Well, they should be," he scoffed. "Breast is best."
I snorted, laughing a little despite myself.
The room quieted again, both of us lost in our own thoughts for a moment.
"I'm on your side, Lydia."
"Thank you," I said. "And I know what sex is, Vaughan. Okay? There were hands, but neither of us came. Things got interrupted. He interrupted them, there was an important business call or something. Therefore, 'sort of' on the sex."
Dead silence from the other side of the table.
"What?"
He held up a finger. "I'm still not mocking you."
"Okay."
"But anyone who'd stop feeling up or finger banging a woman in favor of taking a fucking phone call is an inconsiderate asshole you shouldn't be opening your legs for."
"I'm seeing that now."
"I'm serious, Lydia."
I studied the tabletop, needing a moment to pull myself together. "How long have we known each other? What, half an hour, an hour?"
"Ah." Turning in his seat, he checked out an old wooden clock on the kitchen wall. "Yeah. About that."
"Are you aware that most people wait a little longer before discussing the rules of etiquette in regards to finger banging? Who they should and shouldn't open their legs for? Things like that."
"That so?"
"It is."
"Well, fuck." He sat back, outright grinning at me, and it was stunning. Ridiculously so. The wide pull of his lips over white teeth, the amusement lighting his eyes. His thumb beat against the tabletop, moving the tendons in his arm, shifting all of the complex ink work on his skin.
Couldn't help but wonder what his own drama was over.
"Most people don't turn up in my tub in a wedding dress. But tell me, babe, how's that worked out for you? Following all of the rules, being polite and toeing the line? Doing what most people do?"
"My name's not babe."
His shine dulled down to a patient smile. "How's it worked out for you, Lydia?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
"Why did you have no one to run to today? Why's no one got your back?"
"A last-minute emergency came up with my parents' business. They were really apologetic, but ... sometimes things happen, right? It's nothing personal, they're just the kind of people that live to work. That's their life. I can pretty much count on one hand the number of birthdays, Thanksgivings, and Christmases we celebrated on the actual day." I got busy finger combing my hair as best I could. It kept the fidgets from taking over. "Just as well they didn't come to the wedding."
Nothing was said. Though there seemed to be a sadness in his eyes, an understanding. Chris had blue eyes, but different from Vaughan's. Darker. Flecks of hazel muddied their depths. Chris's eyes had never struck me as being particularly expressive. Not like Vaughan's. I guess it was all the secrets he was keeping, all the lies. Eyes as windows to the soul, or not. You can't see into someone if they won't let you.
"Honestly? The way I've lived my life has worked out shit for me, Vaughan."
He just stared.
"Apart from letting Chris make me look like a total idiot. I was working with my fiance, so I'm assuming I'm now out of a job. I gave up my apartment to move into the big house, so I have no idea where I'm sleeping tonight." I crossed my arms over my breasts, covering up as much as I could. Nothing about laying myself open felt good. Of course, maybe it wasn't supposed to. Especially not to a veritable stranger.
Whatever. The situation was what it was, and no matter how much anger I worked up at Chris, I'd played my part in getting here. I'd made bad choices. No point pretending otherwise. "It's not just Chris's fault, though. I think you could safely say I'm exceptionally shitty at relationships. We were constantly moving around when I was a kid. After a while I just didn't bother making friends anymore, you know? It's easier."
He just watched me.
"I even pretty much kept to myself in college. Just concentrated on study and my waitressing job. Because work is everything, right? The guy I dated was pretty low key too. Neither of us were party animals." I breathed out through my nose, shoulders slumping. "That romance kind of fizzled out after graduation."
"Yeah?"
"He had this great opportunity overseas and I just wanted to find somewhere nice and settle. I tried a few different places. Coeur d'Alene was the first one that felt right. I'd make some friends outside of work, get to know my neighbors." I stared off at nothing, avoiding whatever expression he had on his face. "That's what's normal, right?"
"One version of it, sure."
"Hmm." God, listening to myself try and explain my life made me want to forcibly throw myself off the nearest cliff. Or have a really full-on spa day. Either would probably do. "Given my history, its amazing I thought I had a clue what I was doing with Chris at all. I was the perfect target for his fuckery."
I forced a smile. "Idiot is definitely the word."
"Don't say that," he admonished. "You were a little naive maybe, inexperienced. But you're not an idiot."
"Thanks. Anyhoo, enough of my pity party. So," I said, squaring my shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. "I'm guessing you don't follow the rules or worry about being polite and toeing the line. How's that working out for you?"
The corner of his lips twitched. "Honestly?"
"Honestly."
"Shit," he admitted, lacing his fingers behind his neck.
"Yeah? How deep?"
"Broke, out of work, probably about to lose this place."
"Wow." I slumped in my chair. "Aren't we a pair?"
"Aren't we?" His self-deprecating smile grew. "No money. No hope. No nothing."
"Basically."
His head fell back and he gazed up at the ceiling. The strong lines in his neck were way pronounced in this pose. I couldn't quite see the tattoo peeking out beneath the collar of his tee. Words, but I'm not sure what. He raised his head enough to look at me from beneath his brows. "They have booze back over the fence at your fancy party?"
"Heaps. Really good stuff too. Lots of craft beer."
"Nice. We should go steal some."
I nodded instantly. Crazy ideas deserved support. "We should. It's half my wedding, it wouldn't really be stealing. You're going to have to help me get back over the fence again, though. I think I pulled every muscle from the waist down getting over it the first time."
"I can help you get back over the fence."
"Done, then," I said. "Tomorrow, we figure our lives out. Tonight we'll toast to our crappy situations and drown our sorrows."
We smiled at each other in kinship.
"How serious are you about this?" I asked, more curious than afraid. Mostly.
A shrug. "You got to go back there sometime. Might as well make it worth the trip."
"I guess so." My forehead furrowed. "Alcohol would be good."
"I definitely need a drink to deal with being back here." He slowly shook his head, lips curved downward. "Shit is fucked, babe. Like you wouldn't believe."
I didn't mean to laugh. Not at his misfortunes, nor mine. Lord knows, nothing about it felt funny. Vaughan frowned at me. Only, then he started laughing too. First a little, then a lot. Soon the noise filled the room, startling the old house from its silence. He laughed until his wide shoulders shook and all that bright hair fell in his face, obscuring the cut of his cheeks. I in turn cackled my ass off until tears streamed down my face.
None of it should have been funny, but it was hilarious. And we, our lives, were the joke.
I guess sometimes there's no right response but to laugh. So we did. Strangely enough, it really did help.
Sitting in a stranger's kitchen, confessing all, was the last damn place I expected to find myself on this day of all days. Yet here we were. I'd spilled a stack of doubts and deep, dark secrets while the man opposite remained a mystery.
Just then he combed back his wild hair with long fingers, looking my way. A smile still lingered about his lips. A warm one. Perhaps even a suggestive one?