by Jiffy Kate
She stiffens and I pull back to look at her. “What?” I ask.
“A plan…” she says, drifting off and climbing out of bed. With her pacing the bedroom naked, it takes everything in me to not go caveman on her—throwing her over my shoulder and taking her back to my lair. “He mentioned that the night we danced at our reception. I meant to tell you, but we flew back late and then…well, you know,” she says, alluding to our night together at my house after Dallas.
That weekend and following night at my house pretty much sealed the deal for me that she’s mine and she always will be.
“Everything has been such a whirlwind since…I kind of blocked your father from my mind. I needed that space for other things,” she mutters absentmindedly. “What’s his plan?”
Her eyes go to mine and they’re wide and worried.
Walking over to her, I fold her in my arms, placing her head under my chin and holding her to me, loving the way her body fits against mine and the way she smells—part her, part me…wholly us. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not,” I assure her.
“Okay,” she says, relaxing into me. “I have to get downstairs and get things going.” Her tone is reluctant and her words don’t match the tight grip she has on the back of my shirt.
“I do too,” I mumble against her hair before kissing the top of her head. “But I’ll be back later.”
A bit of her walls seem to slide back into place when I step away and look back at her from the door. I assume she’s overthinking my father’s plan or worried about Maggie being fired, so I leave it alone. When she doesn’t say anything, I tap the door frame. “Call me if you need me.”
She nods, but her eyes don’t meet mine and I don’t like it.
“CeCe?” I ask, drawing her attention to me. “You okay?”
What I want to ask is are we okay? I hate when she pulls away from me like that, especially after nights like last night.
“I’m fine,” she says, offering me a half smile. “I’ll…I’ll talk to you later.”
When she turns to head into the bathroom to get ready for the day, I see myself out.
I spent the better part of the day using mine and Maverick’s connections around town to locate Theo Duval. He actually wasn’t that hard to find. Mav made a call to Hotel Monteleone, and after kissing a few people’s asses, he found out Theo was scheduled to check out tomorrow morning, which means I need to act fast.
The sale on my house in Dallas closed a few days ago and the money hit my account this morning, which feels like perfect timing because I’m going to need the cash flow for what I have planned.
Hopping out of the cab, I slip the guy a twenty and adjust the cuffs of my suit. Lately, I’ve been living in jeans, but that won’t cut it for this. I need to look the part and play up the Rhys-Jones name, using it to my advantage.
As I walk into the illustrious foyer, I glance around before heading to the Carousel Bar. This place has always puzzled me. The fact that the carousel literally spins as booze is served seems like it would be problematic. Yet, people flock here. Thankfully, today seems to be a slower one and I scan the place for a balding man in a three-piece suit.
Maverick’s source said he’d be here.
With the bar turning, I wait for a full revolution before turning on my heels and deciding he’s not there. I’m not leaving until I find the bastard, so I make my way over to a sitting area and wait.
People mill around, some are staying at the hotel, others are here to see the grandiose chandeliers and the sparkling lobby. There are women dressed to the nines and men checking them out. One, in particular, garners my attention and I know it’s Theo.
He’s stockier than he looked in his photo online, but aren’t most people.
Social media is the worst thing that ever happened to our society.
“Mr. Duval,” I say, standing as he goes to pass me.
His head swivels and he meets me with a squinted stare, obviously trying to place me. “I’m Shepard Rhys-Jones.” I offer my hand and he shakes it, but the hold is too dainty for my liking and I have to force myself to not outwardly cringe. Get a fucking grip, man, literally.
You can’t do business with a flimsy handshake.
A dead fish handshake—the ultimate faux pas in business.
“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he says, hesitantly looking around.
“No, we haven’t, but I have a proposition for you.”
When his eyebrows shoot up in interest, I know he’s going to be an easy sell.
Too eager.
Too greedy.
I’ve known men like him my entire life. If there’s one thing I can thank my father for, it’s experience. By working my way up through our company, I’ve had the privilege of working with a variety of people from varying backgrounds.
Mr. Duval is your typical overachiever who doesn’t have the right skills to master his craft.
If I had to guess, he had a few lucky deals in the beginning or some sort of windfall. Then, he got in too deep with no safety net. Now, he’s pushing fifty and struggling to keep his head above water. On any given day, he’s more than likely one deal short of bankruptcy.
“Let’s have a seat.” Motioning to a secluded seating area, I allow him to walk ahead.
Even though he has a good twenty years on me, I have more experience in my pinky than he has in his whole fucking body. I can tell by the way he’s already eating out of the palm of my hand. A true businessman would never show their cards this early in the game.
“What’s this about?” he asks as we both take a seat. “I’m a very busy man.”
Sure you are, fucker.
“The commercial property on St. Louis Street,” I tell him, cutting to the chase. There’s no sense skirting the issue at hand. I’m also a very busy man. “How much would it take for you to walk away?”
His expression grows confused before turning skeptical.
“What do you know about that property?”
“Enough,” I tell him, not wanting to give away any more than I have to.
Clearing his throat, he looks around and adjusts his suit coat over his protruding stomach as the tiny beads of sweat on his forehead multiply. “It’s not mine to sell…yet, but when it is, I’d be willing to let go of it for one-point-five.”
Inwardly, I smirk, because I would’ve paid him two million, but now he’s going to accept one.
“I tell you what,” I say, leaning back to present a more relaxed front. “I’ll give you seven-fifty to walk away now.”
He cocks his head back and I think he’s going to actually stutter, but quickly collects himself and counters with, “What makes you think I’d walk away?”
“You’re obviously desperate and it’s going to cost you at least two-fifty in legal fees to see this thing through. So, I give you seven-fifty today, you walk and save yourself the headache of fighting a losing battle.” When it fully registers what I’m offering and implying, his plump face turns a darker shade of red. “On the off chance you win,” I add with a tilt of my head, expressing my doubt. “There will still be the painstaking process of putting it on the market and finding the right buyer. After you pay commission on a piece like that, you’re looking at a profit of about a million dollars, give or take a couple hundred thousand. So, the way I see it, you take my offer, sign an agreement I’ll have my lawyer send over, and be done with this whole mess.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife, but I love it. I live for deals like this. It’s kind of like a game of Monopoly, but with real money.
Let’s make a fucking deal.
“One and a quarter,” he counters.
With my arms stretched on the chair behind me, I lock eyes with him, begging him to break, wanting to see him squirm. When he does, I soak in the silent victory.
“One, and that’s my final offer.”
He sticks his hand across for me to shake, entirely too eager for my liking. If I was
him, I’d have made one last-ditch effort to try and get closer to my asking price, which just goes to show he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. But finally, I meet him halfway and accept the handshake.
When he holds on longer than is customary, I draw my brows together in question. For a second, I think he’s going to tell me to go fuck myself, but instead, he asks, “What’s in this for you?”
I shrug, trying to keep my cards close to my chest.
“So, you pay me a million to walk away, and then what?”
“Nothing.”
He’s confused again and I see his wheels turning. “What’s she to you?”
“She’s my wife.” It comes out more lethal than I intended, but I hope it’s enough of a warning. I hope he understands if he ever darkens her door again or thinks for a second about reneging on our deal, I’ll come after him.
And next time, it’ll be for blood.
Fuck the money.
Nobody messes with CeCe and gets away with it.
Chapter 26
CeCe
I got the call an hour ago from a frantic Sarah, letting me know that Avery’s water broke and Shaw was driving her to the hospital.
I called Paige and offered her double-time to cover for me on short notice and as soon as she got there, I ran to the Blue Bayou and Carys and I hopped in a cab. We’ve been pacing the waiting room, practically wearing the shine off the linoleum floor ever since.
Sarah and Paulie are keeping the bar and the cooking school running. Shaw is back with Avery. Maverick and Jules are taking care of the Blue Bayou until the baby gets here. And I’m not sure where Shep is. I called him once and texted twice.
Carys said he stopped by the hotel this morning but he and Maverick stayed locked in the office until he left.
I’m sure he’ll call when he can.
After last night and this morning, I had every intention of telling him I want out.
It’s too much.
I can’t stay married to him only to have my heart decimated when things between us come to an end.
And they will. Of that, I’m sure.
But now, with Avery having the baby and needing her support system to be intact, I don’t want to make waves.
I know my friends will support me, regardless of my decisions, but I want to break things off with Shep in a way that leaves the least damage. Part of me wants to hold onto as much of him as I can. I want the cliché. I want to still be friends. But the other part of me wants to run away and change my name, because I have no clue how I’ll look at him and not crumble.
My hope is he’ll move on, find someone else to marry, get his one hundred million dollars and be happy.
That’s what I want, right?
I’m not sure anymore, but that’s the story I’ve been telling myself. It’s the only logical course of action. I even made a pros and cons list a few days ago.
Pros of divorcing Shep:
He’s freed up to marry someone else who will play the part much better than me.
Everything can go back to normal, as soon as I figure out this business with the will contest and find a way to keep my life intact.
I’ll be able to get back to basics—taking care of myself and my family.
He’ll get back to his life.
I’ll get my safety net firmly back in place.
Cons of divorcing Shep:
I’m going to miss him.
And there’s a solid chance I’ll never marry again.
And I’m going to miss that too.
But this temporary pain is worth it to avoid having it multiplied. If we were to continue in this agreement, I’d be so in love with him there would be nothing left of me when he walks away. I’m not that reckless or selfish. I’m not my mother. People depend on me and I can’t let them down. If I did, where would that leave them?
“Avery Cole’s family,” a nurse calls out and Carys and I immediately turn for the door. “It’s not quite time, but we’re close. She’s dilated to a nine and we’re going to start pushing soon.” She smiles. “I promised Avery I’d keep y’all updated.”
“Thank you,” we say in unison.
When she leaves, Carys turns and studies me. “What are you thinking about?”
She’s always been able to read me like a book. There’s no sense lying to her because I’m sure my inner turmoil is written all over my face. It’s another reason I’ve been avoiding Shep like the plague.
I sigh, looking back to the door the nurse disappeared behind and think about lying, but I can’t. “I’m thinking…” I pause, swallowing down the lump that forms every time I think about it, let alone say it. “I think I’m going to ask Shep for a divorce.”
The confession is barely above a whisper, but Carys hears me loud and clear.
“What? Why?” she asks, her eyes growing wide as she walks closer to me. There’s disappointment and sadness on her face that I didn’t expect. I thought she’d sigh in relief or maybe tell me she was wondering when I’d come to my senses. “You’re…well, you seem like you’re getting along so well. And it’s only been a couple of months. Don’t you want to give it more time?”
Slowly lowering myself to a chair, I can’t make eye contact with her so I keep my attention focused on the door. “I can’t.” It’s the only thing I can manage. I feel the tears threatening to make their presence known.
“Is he that horrible to be married to?” she asks, sitting beside me and knocking her knee against mine, trying to get me to snap out of the melancholy, but it doesn’t work.
“That’s the problem,” I admit. “He’s really great to be married to. The best husband I’ve ever had.” A soft, sad chuckle escapes and I wipe my thumb under my eye, trapping a lone tear.
“Oh, CeCe,” Carys soothes, reaching over and grabbing my hand. “Honey, what’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this, Carys. I thought I could, but I can’t. I’m falling for him and I’m so freaking scared. I’ve tried to turn it off and force myself to think of this as the arrangement I agreed to, but I can’t. Every day, it becomes more and more real. He’s becoming…everything. And you know me, I don’t work like that. I can’t just give myself to him and wait to collect all the pieces when it’s over at the end of a year.”
“What if it doesn’t have to be over?” Carys asks, voicing my deepest desire, one I haven’t let myself even consider. “I think he might surprise you. He’s surprised me.” She smiles, shaking her head in dismay. “I’ve known Shep for a while and a year or so ago, I would’ve told you he was a perpetual bachelor, never getting married, but seeing the way he is with you changes my mind. You should talk to him about it. Don’t you owe him that much?”
Chewing on my lip to keep from crying, I turn to her. “I don’t know, Carys…” I try not to let her words give me false hope. She’s such a hopeless romantic and I know she wants me to have what she has, but I’m afraid she’s seeing it all wrong. “I think there’s a part of Shep that would tell me anything I want to hear to keep me from leaving before he gets his inheritance. I don’t blame him for it…it’s a part of him he can’t control. But I’m not stupid enough to believe this is anything more than what I signed up for.”
Her hold on my hand tightens and I squeeze back.
“I…I feel like I’m jumping off a cliff without a parachute…and the ground is too close and there’s no safety net…How can anyone feel this and not want to run the other way?”
She gives me a sad smile. “It’s called falling in love.”
“Maybe I’m not meant to? Maybe I’m destined to always be single? I think I’m wired differently than everyone else…there’s obviously something fundamentally wrong with me.”
There has to be, because no one in their right mind would walk away from Shepard Rhys-Jones.
He’s definitely worth the fall.
An hour or so later, the nurse comes back to the waiting room and gives us a wide smile. “The baby is here,” she says, motioning for us to
follow her. “And the mama is asking for the two of you.
Carys and I give each other hopeful smiles, partly due to happiness for Avery and the bundle of joy…and partly due to our conversation. I push the latter to the back of my mind for now and focus my attention on my new godson…or daughter. The anticipation is killing me.
When the nurse opens the door to Avery’s room, Carys and I both gasp but stay put in the doorway. Avery is sitting up in her bed, holding a tiny bundle, and it’s the most natural and beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I feel like, if we step inside, we’ll burst the perfect bubble they’re in so I’m completely content to stay here and watch from the sidelines. I assume Carys feels the same because she still hasn’t moved either, except to brush my hand with hers and look at me with tears in her eyes, mirroring my own.
“Are you two gonna come and meet my son or what?” Avery finally asks, laughing. She looks so beautiful. That pregnancy glow she’s been sporting has nothing on this.
“Are you sure it’s okay?” Carys asks timidly.
“Of course, it is, silly! Just make sure you wash your hands first before you hold him.”
That snaps us out of our trance and we both walk into the room quietly, but with great purpose. Carys and I agreed earlier I’d be the one to hold the baby first since I’ll be the godmother, so I head to the sink to wash my hands while she sits in a chair by Avery’s bed.
“Aww, he’s so cute! Does he have a name yet?” Carys asks, peeking over Avery’s shoulder and looking at the baby.
“He does. Ladies, meet Shae Brady O’Sullivan.”
Avery hands Shae to me and when I look down at his precious, sleeping face, I absolutely melt. “Oh, Avery, he’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen.” And, he is. Pink, chubby cheeks, pouty lips, and a dark smattering of hair, Shae is a perfect combination of his parents.
I can feel my ovaries warming up, but quickly push those thoughts out of my head. Just like I never thought I’d get married, I also have never thought much about having kids of my own. It always seems like something other women did, not me. But, now, I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to have a baby—Shep’s baby—and I start tearing up again.