by Nella Tyler
“You’re a fool,” Leonard told Dexter. “If you think I’m going to support this, this, relationship you have with this woman, you’re an idiot, too.” He looked across the table at me, and I stared back, wide-eyed, horrified at what was happening.
“I won’t sit through another minute of this.” He stood up from the table, setting his napkin on his seat. Without another word, he stormed off.
“I’m going to go talk to him,” Dexter said. I heard the front door open, close, open, close.
I sat in the chair. I was in a billionaire’s dining room in Florida. What the hell was I doing? The urge to cry bubbled up in my throat. This was a charade gone too far. I’d gotten too far in for my own good. All the time I’d spent insisting that it was harmless, I was avoiding the truth.
This wasn’t harmless. It was the most dangerous risk there was. It felt like I was back in my final night at Jason’s apartment when I went upstairs and started to put my things together. Everything felt ultimate, done for, dead. I left the dress that Dexter bought me hanging neatly in the closet and wrote him a note that I left on the dresser.
Suitcase in tow, I called a cab. Dexter’s car wasn’t in the driveway or garage, and I knew he’d probably gone off to fight his father. He would learn the risks that came with defying someone so powerful, without the intermediary force of his mother, and he would understand that I couldn’t exist in the same world as him. It wasn’t meant to be; it couldn’t last.
I got in the cab and drove to the airport, checking flights as the cab drove on. There was a red-eye available to Houston.
I hit ‘book now.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Dexter
My hands gripped the steering wheel so hard I thought I might rip the appendage off my car. I followed the bastard the entire way back to his house, driving as close to his tail as I could in an effort not to lose him. When he finally got out of his car, I was quick to get out of mine.
“Don’t you fucking walk away from me!” I shouted. I couldn’t stop the hot anger that spilled into my mouth. It tunneled from my ears, filled my brain, blurred my vision. I’d expected maybe a bit of awkwardness. I’d never expected this.
“You would take that tone with your father?” Leonard stopped in his tracks and glared at me. I remembered the years I’d spent under the scrutiny of that glare. Now, instead of piercing me, it bounced off like nothing.
“You’re no fucking father of mine.” My hands made fists at my sides. “You don’t give a shit about me. You never have. You think you’re the only one who hurt when she died?”
The silence in the lawn only lasted a few seconds before my anger kept on.
“We had no one. We thought you hated us! We still think you hate us! And now, after I’ve given blood, sweat, and fucking tears to this company, after I’ve given you everything I had, I finally have the chance to be happy! I tried to see the good in you. I tried so fucking hard to justify giving my life over to your goddamn enterprise. There’s no good left in you!”
My father stared at me. He didn’t say anything, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d killed him with my anger, and he’d died standing straight up.
“You’ll never have the company,” he said. He sounded scared.
“You can keep it,” I seethed. “I have no need for an enterprise built on racist shit from an asshole who couldn’t even care about his own kids. I quit, you bastard.”
I left, then, before I could do anything stupid. I got in my car, forced it in reverse, and drove it home. I expected to hit something. I wanted to hit something. I wanted to get in a fight. I hadn’t allowed myself to feel this genuinely angry in years, maybe ever, and all I could think of was how much worse Briella must feel.
It was all my fault, really. I’d insisted that she come down and meet him, hadn’t I? Even if I offered her a way out, the pressure had been mine from the start, and now she’d been insulted by a piece of shit that wasn’t worth my time.
I’d just quit my job. Perhaps I still needed to file a formal resignation with HR, but I’d essentially, finally, quit my job. I’d never expected to do that. I’d expected to work that very job until the day that I died, and everything else that happened in my life happened for that company. Mason Investment was the only thing that I cared about, the only thing I needed to see grow.
Briella was the only thing that I cared about now. When I got home, I threw the door open, eager to make amends with her and assure her that this was my fault and that I’d fixed it.
But she wasn’t there.
I called her name to no answer. I called her phone, and heard nothing. I ran upstairs to see if maybe she was tucked away in the bathroom or taking a shower. When I walked into her room, I saw a note sitting on the dresser. Dread filled my stomach as I read the note.
Dear Dexter,
I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. I didn’t want to make this harder than it already was. I don’t belong here. I don’t know if I ever could. I’m going back to Houston—it’s where I belong. I shouldn’t have ever believed otherwise. I’m sorry for dragging you into this.
Love,
Briella.
I didn’t have time to process this emotionally. I turned off the entire conversation that I’d just had with my father, shoved it down into my stomach to deal with later, and got back in my car. If I lost Briella now, there was nothing I could do. I would be out of a job, out of a life, and without anything to keep me going. I would be like Tyler, wandering from place to place in search of some kind of belonging.
Tyler had been right about Dad. He wasn’t right about the life he had to lead. I knew that I could salvage this. I nearly wrecked my car parking it at the airport and shoved cash at the attendant who asked me to pay the fee.
I had no time for careful counting. I started jogging past the thick clog of people standing around in suitcases, pausing only to look at where the terminal was. I could still catch her.
I was stopped by security.
“You can’t go past here without going through security, and you’ll need a boarding pass,” the guard said.
I cursed under my breath and then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw her. Briella was setting her shoes down into a tub, getting ready to go through security.
“Briella!” I called her name across the airport. People were staring at me; I didn’t care. I couldn’t care.
Briella stared at me, too, eyes wide like she was frightened. I didn’t want to frighten her. I didn’t want to do her any more damage than I already had. But instead of rushing through security where I couldn’t reach her, she pulled out of line, walking up to me carefully.
“Briella, I’m sorry. This was all my fault. This entire thing, this trip to Florida, my father, it’s all my fault. I should have known. I should have known better. I can’t... I’m in love with you.” The apologies, the confession, it poured out of my mouth too fast for me to put back in.
She stared at me, eyes wide, lips parted like she might say something but didn’t know what. “You have the business,” she said finally, like she was reminding herself why she left.
“Fuck the business.” I shook my head urgently. “I quit. I quit, Briella. I can’t work another day in that office with that bastard. I won’t. I have enough money to get by. I don’t need him or that fucking enterprise. I don’t want to work another day for him, Briella. I want to be with you. That’s all I could ever want.”
Briella ran forward, wrapping her arms around my waist. I held her close to me, afraid that if I let go, she’d be gone forever. I loved her, and I’d never loved anyone before. I couldn’t lose her now, when everything was falling apart. Everything could fall apart so long as she was there. She was the only thing that mattered.
“What do we do?” she asked me, voice muffled against my chest.
My arms were shaking from how emotionally drained I was. “We go home.”
EPILOGUE:
“Could you have my assistant close up the office buil
ding? Thank you.” I finished up with the secretary on my way into my house. Things were certainly much more hectic after two years of dating Dexter, but I’d gotten myself an office for my business, a few employees, and an assistant to boot—although the assistant was much because of my father’s concern that I would work myself to death with Bri’s Wedding Services.
My house, too, was a personal spot of pride for me. It wasn’t easy to find something that I could afford, but thankfully, I had Dexter with me. It was a step down from what he was used to and a step up from what I was used to—granted, he stayed in his own house a good amount of the time, but he stayed at mine, too, more often than my father would probably like.
I could smell something in the kitchen, and I knew Dexter must be cooking. I walked in and saw him chopping something up at the counter. “Hey, honey!”
“Briella, you’re home!” Dexter gave me a hug. Even after all this time, his hugs still managed to make me feel safe in the world. He never raised his arms at me unless it was to give me a hug. I couldn’t imagine loving anyone more.
“I am,” I said. “What have you been up to today?”
“Thinking,” he said.
“Oh?”
“About how lucky I am.” He leaned against the counter and smiled. I could see the edges of one of his tattoos when his shirt hiked up in his lean. “I could be working a thankless job at a shitty corporation, and instead I’m working for a really, really good person.”
“My dad’s just glad to have you, I bet,” I said. It turned out that Dexter’s timing couldn’t have been better when he quit. My dad turned his attention to a shipping company, and he couldn’t quite get it off the ground. With the help of Dexter’s money and employment, things seemed to be running smoothly. Dexter could still pour his heart into work, and now, it was working for good.
Dexter smiled. “He’s coming over for dinner, right?”
“Yeah, do we have any hot sauce?”
“Of course.” Dexter and my father both adored hot sauce on everything, and I’d learned to ignore how bizarre it was that they couldn’t just enjoy food without setting fire to their mouths.
I heard a knock at the door and let my father in. He was smiling; he did a lot of smiling lately, now that he was having better luck with his company. Well, it wasn’t luck; he’d employed someone who would work tirelessly to make sure that everything ran smoothly.
“Is Dexter in the kitchen?” Dad asked.
“In here!” Dexter called, having only heard his name.
We followed him into the kitchen, and my dad shook his head. “The man’s worked all day, Briella!”
“So have I!”
“So has she!” We both exclaimed at the same time. We grinned at one another, and my
father laughed heartily at the situation.
“I like cooking.”
“That’s why I keep you around,” I informed him.
“You don’t find men who work that hard anymore,” Dad said. “You just don’t. I could hire 10 men and I bet they couldn’t do the job he does.”
“I know. He’s incredible.”
“I’m right here!”
“We’re complimenting you,” I retorted, and swatted his shoulder.
We had yet another phenomenal dinner. Dad could never seem to heap enough praise on Dexter’s shoulders, and no matter how much he heaped, Dexter never seemed to fully understand or feel that he deserved it. I talked to him late at night sometimes about how he still felt like he’d abandoned someone, left something behind. Mason Investment had hit the shitter since he quit, and his father had appointed Tyler as his successor. People started pulling their funding; no one wanted to go to the firm.
Tyler, of course, delighted in it. He did everything he could to make sure that people knew exactly what the successor to the Mason throne was spending his money on. He got to party all the time while bringing ruin to the family name.
Leonard Mason was alive, of course, still in Florida. Dexter hadn’t spoken to him since that fateful night two years ago when he’d quit his job. Sometimes I thought to bring it up, but it didn’t seem like we needed to. We were away from it all.
This was enough.
After dinner, I decided to do the dishes, just so I wouldn’t feel like Dexter was overworking himself. Dexter still stood beside me at the sink, and I noticed him making a lot of eye contact with my father.
“Are you making fun of me or something?” I asked him.
Dexter shook his head. “No, there’s… there’s something I have to tell you.”
I expected him to have something to say about his father or the corporation. Every day I feared he’d wake up and realize what he’d walked out on. “Oh. Um, yeah, sure.” I set down one of the dishes. “All ears.”
He cleared his throat rather formally, like he might start giving a speech. Dad was sitting down at the table with a grin on his face. This all felt rather strange.
“I love you, Briella. I’ve loved you since I saw you at The Amelie two years and some months ago. After watching our relationship grow, and after seeing you prove again and again to be the only woman I could ever be with, I only have one thing to ask of you.” Dexter knelt down, and I couldn’t understand.
He withdrew a ring box from his pocket and popped it open. “Will you plan one more wedding? For us?”
I clapped my hand over my mouth and instantly looked at my father. He was grinning, sitting up in his chair.
“My dad’s here,” was all I could think to say.
“I knew he had to be,” Dexter said.
I nearly cried at how considerate he was. I didn’t know what to say. I would need to get a different place, and we would certainly need to start looking at caterers now before the prices went up in the spring.
“Don’t leave the man hanging!” Dad exclaimed.
I shook my head and shrieked a laugh, jumping up and down slightly to contain my enthusiasm. “Oh my God, yes!” Didn’t that go without saying? “Of course, yes!”
He slid the ring onto my finger—I hadn’t even gotten a good look at it yet in all the excitement, but I had the feeling he’d probably consulted Nina about it. He pulled me in for a hug, and I wrapped my arms around him, smiling madly.
Everything in the world had changed since the day that I met him. But now, it finally felt like I could go home.
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SECOND CHANCE
By Nella Tyler
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Nella Tyler
Chapter One
Lauren
The house was alive with music, laughter, and glinting bursts of light that seemed to be ricocheting off the walls with excitement. There was a low drum of excitement that pervaded through the house and seemed to grow with each passing minute.
I stood in the center of the Morgan’s massive, open-plan living room, just underneath their simple, rustic chandelier that still managed to look extravagantly opulent, and gazed around the room. I loved moments like that, when everyone was so uninhibited that they forgot to be conscious. Everyone’s bodies seemed to be moving in a gentle rhythm that matched the understated vibrato of the music.
I plucked another drink from the tray of a passing waiter and moved towards the corner of the room so I could observe the moment and commit it to memory. I could see Beth and Ty talking by the massive sliding doors leading to the pool. My mother was by the grand spiral staircase, chatting to Mr. Morgan, and I could tell from the way she kept touching her face that she was nervous about being in such posh surroundings.
The truth was I knew exactly how she felt. It was how I had felt the first time Chase had
brought me home to spend the day working on our science project for mid-terms. I had looked around in awe, admiring the eclectic blend of antiques and modernity that had come together seamlessly to create his childhood home. I had felt as though I didn’t belong and it was only after I felt well and truly embraced by Chase and his family that I had started to feel as though I wasn’t an outsider any longer.
My eyes moved away from my mother towards Chase, who stood in the center of the room, surrounded by a few of his teammates. He was wearing one of his favorite jerseys: the one with his name and number on the back.
I knew I wasn’t biased in thinking he was the best-looking guy in the room. He had classical features that managed to give off casual ease and raw masculinity all at the same time. His brown eyes were bright and just a shade lighter than his hair, which he kept ruffling through with his hand every few minutes, betraying his discomfort at being the center of attention.
“What are you doing skulking in the corner?” Mrs. Morgan’s voice cut through my quiet observation.
I turned to her and smiled. Chase had gotten his looks from his mother. He had her warm brown eyes and her dark hair that now held streaks of gray running through it in tasteful layers that looked more like highlights than anything else.
“I was just…observing,” I admitted.
Mrs. Morgan smiled as she followed the direction of my gaze. “He looks happy.”
“He should be,” I said. “Being awarded rookie of the year for the Los Angeles Rams is a huge accomplishment.”
“I have to admit, I wasn’t very happy when he decided to drop out of college to join the NFL,” Mrs. Morgan said.
“You weren’t?” I asked in surprise, turning to her. “Chase told me you were very supportive.”
She smiled a secretive smile that suggested being a parent sometimes required a certain amount of tactful deception. “I was supportive of the fact that he finally seemed to be passionate about something,” she explained. “I wanted him to have a purpose in life, and I figured that it was better than having him enlist.”