The Life You Stole

by Ann, Jewel E.

  Biting my tongue and unclenching my fist to take the club from him, I walked the fucking thin line between embracing Graham as a friend (that he most likely was not) and the enemy I feared most. Whatever the saying was about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer definitely applied to Graham Porter and his obsession with my wife.

  I squeezed in a few hours of actual work after golfing and picked up bread, bananas, a jar of pasta sauce, and toilet paper on my way home. Three sets of eyes and accompanying smiles greeted me before I shifted my Subaru into park a few feet from the toy-scattered driveway. Franz and Anya abandoned their plasma cars, charging at me as I climbed out of my vehicle. I barely got the door shut before they tackled me. Giving into their play, I stumbled back, folding to the ground to be their new jungle gym.

  “Da-ee!” Anya straddled my neck, planting her hands on my cheeks and showering my face with kisses while Franz shoved my knees toward my chest to hop onto my legs for me to teeter-totter him.

  “Oof! What did I do to deserve this? And what’s Mommy doing?”

  “Sweeping,” Evie called from the two-stall garage, all legs in her frayed-edge denim shorts, tight pink tee, and old, not-so-white Chucks. “Some of us had to work the whole day and clean out the garage.”

  “I love that we share our locations with each other. But you know … those aren’t always accurate, especially at this altitude.”

  “Pfft …” She pushed the broom behind a pile of debris to the middle of the garage floor.

  I lumbered back to standing, shedding two kids like a mama dog calling it quits on mealtime for her pups. They wandered back to the driveway clogged with way too many toys, and I retrieved the sack of groceries from the backseat.

  “What can I say?” I sauntered into the garage as her dirt-smudged face gave me the stink eye. “Graham wouldn’t take no for an answer. You know how that is … like when he gifts you an entire building.”

  Her scowl dropped from her face in less than a single breath, instantly replaced with a cringe. I continued toward the back door without giving her a second glance.

  “It slipped my mind.”

  I opened the door. “Like winning the lottery slips someone’s mind.” The door slammed shut behind me.

  Two seconds later, she opened the door, straddling the threshold to keep an eye on the kids while I prepared for her shitty excuse. “It was the day I saw you sharing a booth with the notorious home-wrecker. The building slipped my mind in the midst of feeling like my marriage was over.”

  “The building and the income from rent is worth millions, yet you let Adrianne distract you from sharing that with me?” I folded the sack and turned toward her.

  Evie glanced out at the kids before returning her attention to me. “Yeah, because my marriage is priceless.”

  Game over.

  “You’re not playing fairly.”

  “It’s not a game. It’s my life. The one where I have two young kids, a business, a husband with a connection to the afterlife and a new acquaintance with a terrible reputation for sleeping with anything that moves. Oh! And did I mention my best friends are rich and give me elaborate gifts whether I want them to or not? Wait! One more fun fact—I call my dead mother’s phone just to hear her voice and leave her messages.”

  I drew in a long breath through my nose and let it out slowly as my feet took me to my wife. After giving another quick glance to Anya and Franz, she tipped her head back, eyeing me with all five-and-a-half feet one hundred and twenty pounds of attitude, daring me to speak another word on the matter. My guy brain took a three-second time-out to imagine what I might have done to her if we hadn’t had the spawn squad for an audience.

  “Graham and Lila invited us to their place in the Hamptons for the Fourth of July. I think we should take the kids and your bikini and go.”

  After a few narrow-eyed blinks, her expression relaxed. “Really?” She squeaked with a jolt of excitement.

  Lila’s her best friend. Lila’s her best friend.

  In spite of my cautious Graham vibes, Lila would always be a part of our life, which meant Graham would be too.

  “Really.” I tugged on her braided ponytails, her hair nearly white from the summer’s sun.

  Evie threw her arms around my neck. “Roe, you’re the best!”

  I liked being the best. Maybe not the best golfer. Maybe not the best bank account balance. Maybe not the best at spewing off baseball stats. But the best husband would do … that and best skier, best lumberjack, best dad, and best lover.

  Fuck you, Porter … this woman is mine.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Evelyn

  “Nice life,” I murmured to Lila as the driver pulled into yet another Porter estate—or compound. What did you call it when someone owned half of the Hamptons? Okay, not half, but enough to build a small neighborhood if the houses weren’t all fifteen thousand square feet with pools, tennis courts, and putting greens.

  The guys, including Franz, rode in one vehicle while Lila, Anya, and I rode in another vehicle. Four adults, security detail, two kids with car seats, and luggage required a caravan of vehicles and space.

  “It’s so insignificant. Isn’t that why Graham is my husband and not yours?” Lila stared straight ahead through black sunglasses covering half of her face.

  I chuckled from the backseat with Anya. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “While I was traveling abroad and you and Graham were attached at the hip, eating at expensive restaurants, driving fancy cars, traveling to New York, shopping for designer clothing … remember I said those same two words to you on the phone? You had just returned from New York, and I was in Germany. I said you were living a nice life, and you told me it was so insignificant. Remember? The grass is greener on the other side scenario. You said it was all just things, and they lose their appeal when you have them so readily at your disposal.”

  “Coveting is half the fun.” I nodded as Lila glanced over her shoulder at me.

  “Yes.” Her lips twisted into a sad smile. “So it’s okay; you can covet my life and I’ll covet yours.”

  “My small log cabin and Jeep with a gazillion miles on it?”

  “Your kids who think you’re a queen and your husband who kisses your feet.”

  The vehicle pulled to a stop. I started to formulate my rebuttal, the simple fact that she could start her own family and that Graham worshipped her too, but I didn’t know if those were still facts or not.

  We spilled out of the two vehicles into the warm July sun and salty ocean breeze, sandwiched between acres of private land leading to the water and a twelve-bedroom, fourteen-bathroom mansion, fully staffed, and all ours for the next four days. Everything reeked of privilege. Ronin rushed our two kids into the house for a much-needed potty break, followed by Lila in her skinny denim capris, heels, and a blazer too warm for July.

  “Impressed?” Graham slid his aviators down his nose and winked at me as I gawked at my surroundings. He shone in his casual jeans and white polo. The wind made quick work of messing up his hair, which was a better look for him anyway.

  “Why? Are you trying to impress me?” I flung my purse over my shoulder and made my way toward the house.

  “Always.” He chuckled, right on my heels.

  But it wasn’t funny because I felt the truth behind that one word. I used to think Graham’s efforts to impress me were his way of hoping I’d run to Lila and gush about his amazing life, to gush about him. And sometimes I did. Maybe that was why they ended up together. However, they were in fact together. There was no need to impress anyone any longer—least of all me.

  I turned around so quickly he had to grab my shoulders to keep from knocking me over. “Why?” My head canted.

  His eyebrows furrowed. “Why what?”

  “Why try to impress me?”

  He rubbed his full lips together, but it didn’t hide his smirk. “It’s the challenge, Evelyn. It’s always been the challenge with you.”

&n
bsp; “So if I confess that I’m impressed, will the challenge be over?”

  “Oh, Evie, Evie, Evie …” He bopped the tip of my nose with his finger, pushed his glasses up his face, and brushed past me. “It will never be over.”

  By that point, it was hard to recall the exact moment I sold my soul to the Devil. Was it when Dad’s kidneys failed? Or was it before that? Was it that day in a bar off campus where a handsome guy everyone simply referred to as “G” bought me a beer and bet me two more that USC would kick Stanford’s ass? If it wasn’t that day—because I bet on Stanford and they made the most incredible comeback in the fourth quarter—then it was six months later when I lost a bet and didn’t have the money to pay up. Graham agreed to take payment in the form of my misery. Three shots of tequila.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  I honestly don’t remember how we got from the bar to his condo. I just remember him suggesting we do something stupid “just for the fuck of it.” Not hell of it; I really think he said fuck of it. It made me giggle. He later blamed my “adorable” giggle on his hands pulling off my shirt and groping my breasts over my bra. I remember thinking it was a bad idea, but I couldn’t recall saying the actual words because I apparently giggled again, which made him want to pull down my jeans. I for sure knew that was a terrible idea. As I started to express my opinion, he yanked the crotch of my panties aside and let his tongue assault me. Well, I let his tongue assault me because three shots of tequila and a warm tongue sliding between my legs, teasing my clit, felt pretty damn good that night.

  Sloppy. That was what I remembered about that night. Everything was sloppy—his groping hands, his face with me on it, the way he fumbled for a condom after giving me an orgasm.

  The awkward, drunk probing for the right place to stick his dick.

  The quest for my breasts when he couldn’t unlatch my bra.

  The condom slipping off three thrusts in because he only rolled it halfway on.

  The debacle of the second condom attempt when he couldn’t get the packet opened.

  The begging for me to let him go bareback and pull out.

  A horrid, embarrassing, awkward, drunk night of the worst sex ever between two friends.

  The next morning, we woke up on the floor—yeah, because we were too drunk to make it to the bedroom—half clothed and sulking in the silent embarrassment of the line we crossed.

  On a sigh, I shook my head to rid those memories from the forefront of my brain before scraping my flip-flops along the stone drive to the front door, the gates of a new kind of hell.

  “We have rooms for the kids next to yours.” Lila nodded toward the left.

  I followed her through room after luxurious room, basically eight houses the size of mine, before we reached the “wing” of the house that would be ours for the next few days.

  “Graham and I had Laura, the estate manager, get a few toys for the kids to make them feel at home.”

  “Lila, you didn’t have to do that. We brought some toys, and there’s a beach and a pool,” I replied.

  “Franz can sleep in here.” She grabbed the handle to a door on our right.

  “No. That’s Anya’s room.” We turned toward Graham’s voice as he, Ronin, and the kids caught up to us.

  “Whatever.” Lila shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But it does.” Graham plucked Anya from the floor, tearing her hand from Ronin’s hand. “This is a room for a princess.”

  Lila opened the bedroom door. When Graham pushed past her, entering first with Anya, Lila stumbled back a few feet, eyes flared, lips parted. My face morphed into similar shock at the room painted in soft shades of pink, a plethora of little girl dolls and toys, and a wood chariot toddler bed in the middle of the room.

  “Graham …” Lila whispered.

  He set Anya in her bed and kissed her cheek. “Do you like your room, Princess Anya?”

  She giggled and nodded.

  “So cool!” Franz raced into the room and jumped onto the bed with Anya.

  Ronin’s possessive hand slid around my waist, resting on my belly while he pulled my back to his chest. I didn’t miss the stiffness of his entire body.

  “Did I exceed your expectations?” Graham lifted Lila’s chin with his finger. He kept a playful smile on his face, but it did nothing to erase the tension in her brow or the overall vibe of discomfort between all of us.

  “It’s …” She managed a nervous smile. “It’s a bit more than a few toys.”

  “Yes.” He kissed her forehead and tucked her under his arm, shooting us a triumphant grin. “Lila thinks of Franz and Anya like her own kids. And so do I. So … this is what we would do for our own kids. Right, babe?” He tightened his grip on her waist.

  Lila swallowed, erasing the concern from her face. “Of course.”

  I wanted to yank her away from Graham and hug her. Anyone could see how blindsided she felt by his gesture—how guilty she felt for showing any sort of shock. Of course, she loved Franz and Anya like her own. But they were, in fact, not her children. Why did Graham do that? A complete slap in the face to my best friend who wanted children of her own.

  “Come on, buddy. We have a surprise for you too.” Graham beckoned Franz with a wave of his hand.

  When we stepped into the bedroom across the hallway, it felt like stepping into the ocean. Blue walls with hand-painted sea creatures, just as many toys as Anya’s room, and a submarine bed.

  “Is this mine?” Franz’s wide-eyed gaze landed on Ronin and me.

  “No. It’s not yours. Not our house. But it’s where you’ll stay while we’re here.” I narrowed my eyes at Graham.

  Of course, Graham returned a smirk at my displeasure, like he’d won. But it wasn’t a game.

  He released Lila’s waist and hunched down behind Franz, resting his hands on Franz’s shoulders while his lips settled next to my son’s ear. “It’s yours, buddy,” he whispered.

  Franz raced to the bed and bounced on it for a few seconds before frantically checking out the cool and really expensive toys.

  “Da-eee!”

  Ronin released me and crossed the hallway to see the doll Anya held while rocking in the little pink and white striped chair that fit her petite body perfectly.

  “You’re overstepping boundaries,” I said, knowing the only people who could hear me were Graham and Lila. She needed to know I was on her side, that I recognized how over-the-top and way out of bounds Graham stepped with his expensive gesture, gift, bribe or whatever the fuck he thought of it.

  “It’s money, Evie,” Graham said with a hint of exasperation as he turned his back on Franz and slid his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

  My gaze shifted to Lila, looking for help or more signs that I had every right to be upset about his gifts.

  Her eyes shifted to her feet for a few seconds. “Graham has more money than he’ll spend in a hundred lifetimes.”

  “We, Lila. Not just me.”

  Her head snapped up, and she eyed him for a few seconds before nodding. I had no idea what he so often said to her with a single look, but she always seemed to fall in line with him. And I hated it. I hated myself for throwing her into his arms years earlier.

  “It’s a packaged deal with us. We like to give elaborate gifts … because we can. And those who can, should.” She gave me a resolute nod.

  Who was that woman saying that shit? What did Graham do to my best friend? Rewire her brain?

  A satisfied grin spread across Graham’s face. He took a step forward, keeping his hands in his pockets, and leaned down to whisper something in Lila’s ear. Her cheeks turned red as she nodded. He stood back to full height and gave her a subtle nod toward the door.

  Lila shot me a quick glance and a half smile, nibbling her lower lip. “I’m going to take a nap. Let’s plan on heading to the beach in an hour.”

  My head canted as I squinted at her. “A nap?” I laughed a little. “Are you serious? It’s o
ne o’clock. Are you not feeling well?”

  “I’m fine. Flying makes me drowsy. A quick nap will make it so I’m less cranky later.”

  “Are you a two-year-old?” I coughed another laugh of disbelief. “Less cranky? Seriously?”

  “Nap is code, Evie. Do you want her to say what she really means in front of the kids?”

  My nose wrinkled at Graham, and when I slid my attention to Lila for confirmation, she kept her rather dead gaze on Franz. Where did the life go from my friend?

  “No, I don’t.” I grabbed her hand, giving it a squeeze. Still, she didn’t look at me, but she squeezed back. “I’m going to unpack a few things and get the kids snacks. The beach in an hour sounds perfect.”

  “Thank you, Evie.” She released my hand and disappeared down the hallway toward the opposite end of the house.

  “In case you’re still keeping score…” I said in a soft voice so only Graham could hear me “…I’m not impressed with the way you treat your wife.”

  He studied me with an unreadable expression, shoving his hands farther into his pockets, sending his shoulders toward his ears. Graham pulled off the boyish look on very rare occasions. I called them glimpses of the young man who befriended me years earlier.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry for the way you treat Lila? Sorry for the things you do to manipulate me? Sorry for buying my children’s affection? What exactly are you sorry about?”

  Twisting his lips, he dropped his focus to the floor between us, watching his feet as he stepped closer to me. “Yes.”

  Why?

  Why was Graham intertwined, glued, stitched, and cemented into my life? He acted like an errant child—my errant child. I didn’t know how to handle his bad behavior because he seemed to stay one step ahead of me. And on the worst days, the days he said and did the most hurtful things, I didn’t know how to un-love him. That was how he hurt me.

  “Franz, I’m going to unpack a few things. We’ll have snacks soon.”

  He ignored me. Why wouldn’t he? His new BFF, aka Uncle Graham, dropped a pretty penny on a roomful of toys. I questioned if we’d be able to coerce him out of the house to play on the beach.