After Oliver fell asleep, cuddled up with his plushy toy train, Mandy and I do the dishes in silence. I can tell she’s thinking—so hard I can almost feel it.
She’s in the middle of drying a frying pan when she abruptly turns to me. “How long were you married?”
“Ten years officially, but Ellie and I have been separated for nearly two. She asked for ‘space’ one night. A few months later, I realized I was more relaxed, more…myself—not walking on eggshells, wondering if I was saying the wrong thing all the time—so I filed for divorce. She didn’t fight me.”
“No children?”
I shake my head. “We tried. Eventually doctors told us she wouldn’t be able to get pregnant.” No reason to get into all the medical stuff, and I doubt Mandy cares about my ex-wife’s ovaries. “It’s one of the things that changed her perspective on life, I think. After we heard that without something like IVF she wouldn’t be able to have kids, she started focusing on ways to improve herself, which I supported. She wanted to go to college. Fine. I was busy with the gun range. She helped when she could. But…we started living two different lives and grew apart.”
“Did you want children?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you still?”
I tucked that hope away years ago, after the doctors gave Ellie and me the bad news and she refused to discuss adoption. But now? “If the opportunity arises, I’d like to. The sooner the better. I want to be young enough to enjoy them.”
Mandy nods. “Is Ellie your age?”
“Six years younger.”
“Do you think the age difference was the problem with you two?”
The easy answer is no. When Ellie and I got married, we were both in our twenties and at roughly the same place in life. But I’m not sure that’s what Mandy is really asking. “Maybe. I don’t know whether the age difference had anything to do with her refusal to try working it out. Maybe it was immaturity. Or maybe it was the realization that her thirties were just starting and she didn’t want to spend them tied down to someone she didn’t see a future with?” I shrug. “I don’t know. But she was always looking for something. Herself, I think. I’m not sure how much of a role age played in that.”
“Thank you. I’m not trying to be invasive.” She sets the frying pan aside and blinks up at me in the too-bright kitchen. “I’m trying to figure out if we’d be a good fit.”
I suspected as much. “Take your time. When you decide, I want you to be sure.”
“Does my age bother you?”
“I’ve given it thought, but no. Does my age bother you?”
She shakes her head. “I was never attracted to anyone my own age. Even in fifth grade, I had a crush on my teacher.”
“When did you first think of Barclay as something other than your dad’s friend?”
“Honestly? I don’t think I ever saw him that way.” Mandy hesitates. “It’s funny. My mother was always reluctant to let me spend summers with Harlow at the Reed house because she worried Maxon or Griff would try to hustle me into bed.”
“Did they?”
“Never.”
“Were you ever interested?”
She wrinkles her nose. “They were like older brothers to me, teasing, tormenting… So no.”
I nod, taking that in as I put away the last of the dishes while she wipes down the counter. “Be right back.”
“Sure.”
A few steps later, I exit the front door into the Hawaiian night. The breeze is balmy, the air perfumed. I flip on my phone’s flashlight and check the front gate. No evidence of tampering, and it’s shut tight. Then I walk the perimeter of the house. Since there’s no fence at all in back—wouldn’t want to block the ocean view—there’s nothing to deter intruders. I wish the house itself had an alarm system. That wouldn’t be fool-proof, either. But an extra layer of security would give me some peace of mind. The best I can do now is to hope that Mandy’s would-be killer has no idea where to find her—and be ready in case he does.
After ensuring both the front and back doors are locked tight, and checking the windows for the second time today, I’m satisfied that Mandy and Oliver are as safe here as they can be.
When I enter the kitchen again, she’s finishing a conversation. “Call me tomorrow and let me know you’re okay. Yes, I’m fine.” She pauses. “Oliver went right to sleep. He was exhausted. When will Evan be home?” Another pause. “Good. Stay with Noah and Harlow until then. Sounds like they could use the extra pair of hands since Noah’s mother hurt her ankle.” A last pause. “You, too. Good night.”
That must have been Nia. “How’s your sister?”
“She’s all right. She took your advice and decided to stay with family until her husband returns from London on Wednesday.”
I approach Mandy, fighting one hell of an urge to put my hands all over her. Instead, I cup her face. “You look tired, baby. Why don’t you let me tuck you in?” When she raises a brow at me, I shake my head. “Just sleep.”
“It’s too early. If I go to bed now, I’ll be awake at three a.m. But I’m too tired to return most of these texts and calls I missed earlier.”
“From who?”
“Well, I did text my brother back. Otherwise, he would have sent out the National Guard, but Maxon will have to wait until morning.” She sighs. “And Bruce.”
That raises my hackles. I have no reason or right to be jealous…but I can’t help it. “What does he want?”
“All the predictable stuff. He wants to know where I am so he can come out here and talk to me. He’s crazy enough to do it, too.”
That sends off alarm bells. “Is he crazy enough to harass and threaten you?”
She frowns. “I can’t even picture that. Bruce doesn’t seem like the violent kind.”
Maybe not, but anyone with enough motive can become violent.
“Besides, why would he try to hurt me when he says he just wants me to know how deep his feelings for me are?” She falls quieter. “He wants me to marry him.”
I stiffen. “How do you feel?”
“I’ve resisted because I’ve worried he has his nose too far up my father’s ass. But since Dad tried to buy you off so Bruce could marry me, I’m convinced. Nice to know my instincts were right.”
“Sounds like.” I’m just glad she has no interest in Bruce. If I make Mandy mine, he’s one less bastard for me to fight off.
“Now that Oliver is down, I’m going to take my evening shower. I’ll be back.”
While she does, I find the pump to blow up my inflatable mattress, fit it with some sheets stashed in the closet, grab a quilt and a pillow, and hope it will be comfortable enough to catch some z’s.
When I’m done, I saunter out to the living room to wait. A moment later she emerges, looking clean and wearing a short, silken champagne-colored bathrobe belted around her small waist. A thick braid falls over one dainty shoulder. Her feet are bare.
I’m instantly turned on.
What would it be like to go to bed with her every night and know she’s mine?
“Oh, I feel so much better. Best part of the day, after a long shower and once I’m wearing my favorite frilly nightie.” She stretches, and I try not to look at her rising breasts or her short hem making its way up her thighs. “TV?”
“Sure.” I don’t watch much, but if it makes her happy—and takes my mind off sex—fine.
We both plop onto the sofa, then turn to each other with a matched set of scowls. She’s gaping in shock. “This is the hardest sofa I’ve ever sat on. There’s nothing comfortable about it.”
I nod. “It’s like a damn rock.”
We end up on the floor together since the rug is actually softer. I lean back against the hard-as-stone sofa. Mandy falls against me and curls up to my side, and it seems so natural when I wrap my arm around her. She rests her head on my shoulder as I flip on the TV.
“What do you like to watch?”
“Anymore? I barely have time. But I don’t want to get too involved, so no bingeing.”
“Sure.” I flip a little and find the start of a house hunting show. “This work for you?”
“I love these shows. You ever watch them?”
I didn’t even know these were a thing. “Can’t say I do.”
Over the next thirty minutes, we see a same-sex couple trying to choose a new house in Phoenix. At the end, we both agree house two is the better option, even though it’s a bit of a fixer. But the couple on the show picks house one because it’s move-in ready.
“I don’t get that.” She gestures to the TV. “A little elbow grease can be fun, and you get to make the place your own.”
I shrug. “Yep. Besides, the house they picked seems way too small.”
“Totally.”
Another episode starts, this time starring a single woman buying her first place after a divorce. She wants to be in the heart of Chicago, close to all the restaurants, bars, and her friends. Option number one is astronomically expensive, and when I look down to say something to Mandy about it, her eyes are closed. Her breathing is deep.
She’s fast asleep.
I smile at her, then lift her into my arms, haul her against my chest, and head for the master bedroom. She doesn’t weigh much, and it seems even more mind-blowing that she fought off a knife-wielding intruder alone.
Inside the cool, dark space, I tip her onto her feet and steady her. “Time for bed, Mandy.”
“Wha…?” she mumbles, barely opening her eyes.
I’m not shocked she’s exhausted. Sure, she napped earlier, but not nearly enough to make up for the six hours of sleep she missed last night.
Banding one arm around her waist, I pull the covers back, then peel off her silky-soft robe. Underneath, she’s wearing that champagne nightie I saw earlier that reveals at least as much as it covers. Forcing myself not to gawk, I lay her down, head on the pillow, then cover her.
“Good night, Mandy.” I kiss her forehead.
She doesn’t even stir.
Smiling, I back away, then follow the faint golden glow of the nightlight into the walk-in closet. Oliver is sprawled on his back in the middle of the crib, his stuffed toy train cuddled in one lax palm.
He really is a cute kid. If Mandy decides to give us a chance, I’ll be spending a lot more time with him. Even twelve hours ago that would have terrified me because what do I know about kids? But now I don’t mind. In fact, I kind of like it.
On my way back out of the master bedroom, I glance at Mandy one last time. She’s already grabbed the spare pillow and rolled to her side. I draw the black-out drapes, hoping the darkness will keep her asleep come sunrise. Then I double-check both the interior and exterior of the house, tightening locks as I go, before retreating to my makeshift bedroom to scan my phone. It’s still early. I’m not quite tired, and nothing on the device is holding my attention.
What about Mandy’s phone?
I shouldn’t snoop or pry, but I need to make sure her location services are turned off. I don’t know if her father or anyone else can ping her device and view her whereabouts. I fucking should have thought of that earlier, but the last time I did any bodyguarding work, tracking phones wasn’t a thing.
With a sigh, I manage to work my way upright from the floor and find her device in the kitchen. It’s not password protected, which is a bonus for me now…but I’ll need to persuade her to correct that later. A quick scroll proves she doesn’t have much on the phone except pictures of Oliver. Her emails are scant and mostly informational—news headlines, bills, bulletins from her alma matter, and the like. True to her word, she has no social media loaded. In her settings, I see her location services are turned on. Cursing, I press the button to shut them off. But if her father or anyone who’s had access to her phone has already seen her current whereabouts, she’s compromised.
If that’s the case, I’ll need a quick Plan B.
When I’m back at the home screen, I settle my thumb over the button to darken her phone when a text appears. It’s from Bruce.
Please tell me where to find you. I’m worried.
“Motherfucker.” I wish this guy would go away.
But he won’t, and neither will her father—unless and until she tells them to.
I shouldn’t do it. I know I shouldn’t, but I start reading their text string, which started a few hours ago. And I get pissed.
I just heard from your dad that someone attacked you last night. Are you okay?
Fine. Thanks.
Let me protect you. Tell me where you’re staying. I need to see you, to talk to you about us. You shouldn’t have to protect Oliver alone. I’ll be there for you.
We’re friends, Bruce. I’m not ready to talk about more. I’ve hired a bodyguard, so I’m safe. Don’t worry. We’ll talk when I’m home.
I’m not giving up on you.
Mandy didn’t reply after that, and this asswipe is texting her again. Doesn’t he know when to quit?
She may not be cynical enough to question whether this jackhole is being paid to care so damn much, but I am. Sure, I understand why a father may want to make sure that his daughter finds a good husband. But Douglas Lund is going about this like a controlling bastard who didn’t like Mandy’s previous decisions so he’s decided to make her future ones for her.
It’s not going to happen, pal.
I darken her phone, traipse back down the hall, and after a pause to ensure she’s still sleeping peacefully, I grab some clean boxers and find the bathroom on the other end of the villa. After a short, scalding shower, I arrange my Glock beside the mattress, within easy reach, then fall onto the inflatable again, lace my fingers across my stomach, and stare at the ceiling, wide awake. I’m hyperaware of Mandy in the next room.
It’s going to be a long night.
Somewhere after midnight, I finally drift off and have a few weird-ass dreams I barely remember. I don’t know why I’m suddenly awake. Then I hear footsteps in the hallway just outside the room. I tense and reach for the weapon, pointing it at the doorway just in time to see a shape emerge from the shadows toward me.
“Tanner?”
“Mandy,” I breathe and shove the gun aside. “Something wrong?”
“I can’t sleep.”
Despite her exhaustion? I get to my feet and grope unsuccessfully for my T-shirt and shorts. “You afraid, baby? Don’t be. You’re safe. I’m making sure of it.”
She fumbles through the dark until she grabs my hand. “I…I need you.”
Given how independent she’s had to be since Oliver’s birth and how difficult it is for her to trust, admitting that couldn’t have been easy.
“Sure.”
“Thanks.” She tugs on my hand and leads me toward her bedroom.
“Let me grab my clothes.”
“No. Now. Please.”
There’s a note of need in her voice that pulls at me. I grab my Glock. “Would you feel better if I checked all the doors and windows again? Went through the house, top to bottom, to make sure we’re alone?”
“I’m not afraid of an intruder right now.” She reaches the side of the bed and flips on the nearby lamp. She’s looking right at me. “I’m afraid of how I feel.”
Tears sheen her eyes, and I can’t resist setting my weapon down and cupping her cheek. “Why?”
“I swore I’d never fall for anyone again, and in one day you’re about to make a liar out of me. I feel so close to falling…”
Is she serious? My heart revs. I take her other cheek in my palm until I’m cradling her face and staring into her eyes. “You don’t have to be afraid. Go ahead and fall as hard as you want. I’ll catch you.”
“It’s not that simple.” She presses her lips together like she’s fighting not to let those tears roll down her cheeks. “You don’t know…”
“Then tell me.”
Mandy looks torn. “You may not look at me the same after you know the whole truth.”
Is she talking about Barclay? Is she going to divulge the details about their affair? Has she decided to give us a chance? “Yes, I will.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
The self-defeat in her tone hurts. “You can tell me anything, baby. As long as we’re communicating, it’s going to be fine. What do you need to talk about?”
“We shouldn’t go any farther until you know what happened with Barclay. And if you can’t forgive me, I’ll understand.”
I can’t imagine why she thinks the story will make a damn bit of difference to me. But the look on her face says she’s terrified it will.
“I just appreciate the truth.” I guide her to sit on the mattress, then sink down beside her. “Go ahead.”
She wrings her hands and takes a deep breath. “I always had a thing for Barclay Reed. I think I was…ten, maybe, when I first thought about him romantically. That sounds silly, but I mean in a first-crush, teen-heartthrob kind of way. I had pictures of him. I envisioned what it would be like for him to look at me like that. I imagined him kissing me. But I had no expectations until I turned thirteen.”
“Thirteen?” My eyes bulge.
“Oh, nothing happened then,” she assures me. “Except…he looked at me. Just once. But that’s all it took for me to be convinced I was in love and we were fated to be together.”
I want to kill the bastard all over again for ogling a child. “Exactly how did he look at you?”
“Like a woman. That summer I was spending a few weeks with Harlow, as I usually did. The Saturday before I flew home, she and I were hanging by the pool. He sauntered into the backyard and said something; I don’t even remember what. I just remember standing on the deck, getting ready to dive in again, when he pinned me with this gaze. I shivered, despite how hot the day was. The bottom of my feet were burning, but I was frozen by his stare. My cheeks got hot. My stomach fluttered. He scanned me from head to toe. I knew exactly what he was thinking.”
“You were a girl.”
She nodded. “But I didn’t feel like one. And I didn’t want him to see me as one.”
“Then what?”
“Nothing that summer or the one afterward. The summer before I turned sixteen…that’s when everything changed.”
Just like Griff suggested. I feel myself get even tenser. “Did he seduce you then?”
“Yes…and no. We had sex.” She licks her lips. “But I was the one who initiated it.”
Is she kidding?
She jerks her stare down to her hands. “You look horrified. I don’t blame you. When I say it now, I am, too. But you have to understand. I’d been completely obsessed with him for fully a third of my very short life. I couldn’t imagine ever feeling differently about him. Back then, I was convinced I loved him and that he would love me too if he just knew how I felt. It was dumb and naive—”
“It doesn’t matter. He took advantage of you. You were a child, and he was a grown-ass man who should have said no.”
“That’s what my therapist always says. And you’re both right. As an adult I see that, but that night I saw an opportunity to be with him and I took it.”
So did he. I grind my teeth together. “What happened?”
“Stephen, Dad, and I were supposed to go camping for the week with Barclay, Harlow, and Griff. We’d done it the summer before and had a great time. But Griff never showed. He and a bunch of college buddies ended up in Mexico instead. Harlow got sick the night before we left, throwing up everywhere. My dad suggested cancelling everything, but Barclay insisted we still go. When Harlow got better, Linda could drive her up to the site, no problem. So the rest of us went. Everything was fine the first day, but as night fell, Stephen started throwing up, and we thought he’d caught what Harlow had. Then he started running a fever, too, and complaining about excruciating abdominal pain. My dad panicked and drove Stephen to the nearest hospital—and just in time. He had an emergency appendectomy an hour later.”
“That left you and Barclay alone.”
She nods, a heart-rending mixture of guilt and shame wrenches her soft face. “It was too dark to pack up the campsite and head down the winding mountain road, so Barclay told my dad we’d leave at first light. I was so thrilled. Worried about my brother, yes. But I was determined to make the most of my time with Barclay. We had dinner, but we didn’t talk. We eye-fucked.”
I’m furious. Mandy was just a kid. Yeah, maybe she’d been developing a woman’s body, but she had visions of Barclay being a romantic hero. The asshole should have been a responsible adult, not a predatory lech grooming her to be his underage sex partner.
“Amanda…” I don’t know what she’s planning to say next, but I want it to stop. “You don’t have to tell me anymore.”
“I do. Everyone blames Barclay for what happened. But I had a hand in it. I can’t deny that.”
“You didn’t know any better.”
“I didn’t stop to think about the future or the consequences or anything like that, true. But I was pretty sure I knew what would happen when I lunged at him and pressed my lips to his.”
I want to block this out, but she seems compelled to tell me. I can only guess it’s because she’s trying to gauge whether we have a future. And she won’t trust any assurance I give her until she’s spilled all the gory details.
“He kissed you back?”
She nods. “From the second our lips met, it was on. We climbed into the tent, and my clothes were off two minutes later. I helped him get me naked.”
There’s the self-blame in her voice again, and I’m so angry that I’m struggling to keep my temper in check. “Look, I know where you’re going with this. If you think he only had sex with you because you encouraged it, you’re wrong. From what I’ve heard of this guy, it was just a matter of time before he hit on you. Stop blaming yourself. He’s the one who took advantage of your eagerness and naiveté.”
“I wasn’t so naive that I didn’t know we were going to have sex. In fact, that’s what I wanted.” She frowns. “I just didn’t expect it to be so rushed and to hurt so much.”
That pisses me off even more. I don’t want details but… “Did he just jump on you and shove his way inside you?”
She flushes and looks down. “More or less. And I did everything he told me to since I figured he knew what he was doing, but it wasn’t as if we’d planned anything. Except…” She frowns. “He had condoms. So…yeah.”
“He was prepared, then. Why else would he have brought them on a camping trip with his buddy and their kids unless he had a plan?” Granted, he couldn’t have plotted Stephen’s appendicitis, but he may have been cooking up something else in the hopes of getting Amanda alone. “It wasn’t your fault, Mandy. Even if you thought you wanted to have sex with him that night, you were too young to understand everything that would follow.”
“I think you and my therapist speak the same language.” She tries to joke. “But you’re right. I never stopped to think about the after part. I convinced myself that life would be perfect if he wanted me, too. And, of course, I was sure he would never have sex with me if he didn’t love me. I’d known him most of my life, so it never occurred to me that he would hurt or use me.”
At fifteen, she had no way of knowing how crazy lust and the forbidden drive some men. “So you were surprised when your life wasn’t perfect after he took your innocence?”
“Yeah.”
“He didn’t love you, Mandy.”
“He didn’t.”
“He preyed on you.”
“I know.”
“And he hurt you.”
“A lot. I mean, I expected losing my virginity to be painful. A couple of my friends had already done it with their boyfriends, so they told me. I even overheard one of Stephen’s girlfriends talking to him about her disastrous first time with another guy. But I expected Barclay to care, you know. But he was so impatient. It was horrible.” She shakes her head. “And I was such an idiot. I wrote off his rush as passion neither of us could control.”
I don’t blame her for trying to make the unnecessary pain he’d inflicted fit with the world view she saw through her rose-colored glasses, but she simply hadn’t been worldly enough to know that Barclay could have done so much to make the experience good for her.
“Did he apologize afterward?”
She laughs bitterly. “No. He kissed me again, told me he’d been wanting to do that for two years, and was glad I was willing to let him. Then he swore the painful part was over, donned another condom, and…we did it again.”
“Jesus.” Barclay Reed was clearly not just a pig and a pedophile, but a selfish asshole, too. The world is better off without him. I wonder how Griff turned out to be a seemingly good guy with half his genes and an upbringing courtesy of Barclay. It’s a miracle.
But the look on Mandy’s face tells me she’s expecting my condemnation. “I’ve shocked you.”
“You didn’t, baby. He did. He should have known better. He should never have touched you.” I rake a hand through my hair. If this is hard to hear, I’m sure it’s doubly hard for Mandy to tell me. “What happened next?”
“I learned one thing about Barclay fast; he was insatiable. I don’t know where he got the stamina, but we spent most of the night having sex.”
“You must have been sore and exhausted and…” I’m stunned, and frankly, a little sick to my stomach.
“Completely. I told him that, too.”
“And he still wouldn’t leave you alone?”
“No, but I didn’t ask him to. I wanted to be everything he needed. I was still convinced he would only be with me if he loved me, especially after he introduced me to the wonderful world of orgasms.” She gives me an acidic, self-deprecating twist of her lips. “Barclay was a lot of things—a liar, a thief, an asshole. But once my hymen was no longer in the way, he was incredible in bed. I’m ashamed to admit that, for a long time, I took pleasure as a sign of love.”
“I’m sure that was far more about his ego.”
“Completely. I know that now.” She looks away. “Long story short, Stephen was fine by the time we got to the hospital. I lied to my father about why I looked so tired and was walking funny. Barclay backed up my story, all while winking at me behind Dad’s back like he loved the secret we shared. A few days later, as he hugged me goodbye at the curb at LAX, he whispered that my pussy was his and I’d better not share it with anyone. I promised I wouldn’t. And for the next seven years, we carried on in secret. We grabbed every opportunity to be together we could. I even chose a college in Southern California to be closer to him. He lived in Maui at the time, but there weren’t any acceptable universities on the island. He was often in LA for business, though. We usually spent a few nights a month together.”
“And you still thought you were in love with him?”
“Absolutely. But when my senior year started, I really began thinking about our future. We spent a weekend together during my fall break, and I broached the topic of him leaving Linda.” She shakes her head at herself. “I was having my doubts that Barclay loved me. I tried to assure myself he must, but I still wanted him to prove it in some way.”
“What was his reaction?”
“He said he wanted to divorce Linda, but he had to move money around or she would bankrupt him. He said it would take a while. I understood him not wanting to give her half of his life’s work. Remember, I’d known Linda most of my life, too. She’d always been cold and unlikeable—at least to me. So I convinced myself their problems were of her making, probably so I wouldn’t have to see Barclay’s faults…or my own.” She shrugs. “Anyway, his answer disappointed me, but I was young. I had time. So I resolved to be patient. Then he moved from Maui back to LA and suggested I come to work for him after graduation so we could spend more time together while he got everything in order. I thought those were signs that he wanted to be with me.”
More so he could keep fucking her under everyone’s nose. “When did you figure out you two had no future?”
She’s quiet a long time. “At first, it was little things. The day I started at Reed Financial, this guy who reported to him—a total jerk named Byron—called me the ‘fresh meat.’ He said he wasn’t surprised that Barclay had hired me to replace his last assistant, who had just turned twenty-eight, since she was way past her prime.”
“He sounds like an absolute jackass.”
“A hundred percent. Then he said there was an office pool among his managers as to how long it would take Barclay to nail me. I was flabbergasted, but when I asked Barclay about it later, he told me Byron was an ass looking to stir the pot and that I should ignore him. Then I started hearing rumors about Barclay’s flings with past assistants, along with the fact that he’d also talked to them about wanting to leave Linda, but never did. During all this, Barclay and I would sneak away for quickies in cars, conference rooms, and airplanes. Occasionally, we’d find ourselves a hotel suite. But I began to feel like a convenience, not a girlfriend. Not the woman he wanted to spend his life with. Eventually, it hit me that we never had sex in either of our respective beds. My first few months out of college, I shared an apartment with Harlow to manage expenses, so Barclay never wanted to spend the night there. Of course, he never invited me to his house with Linda unless my whole family was in town. But it occurred to me that if we were going to have a future, shouldn’t we start telling the people in our lives about us? He just kept brushing me off, saying it wasn’t the right time. And before you comment, yes, I should have known by then he had no intention of marrying me, but I didn’t know how to stop hoping. I believed with all my heart that I loved him.”
“What ended it?”
“I got pregnant. He claimed he’d had a vasectomy…so I went off the pill. What was the point of taking it if I didn’t need to actually prevent pregnancy? My periods had always been regular…but I missed my first one after that. At first I told myself that my body was taking a while to restart normally, but when I vaulted out of bed one morning because I had to throw up, I knew.”
“And you told him?”
“Immediately. In a way, I was relieved. I’d been stunned when he told me he’d gotten fixed. How were we going to have kids in the future if he’d had a vasectomy? Yes, he had children with Linda, but I was going to be his new wife and I wanted kids.” She scoffs at herself. “When I told him I was pregnant, his first reaction was to grin, so I thought he was happy. Then he literally patted himself on the back and said he still ‘had it.’”
Just when I’m convinced Reed couldn’t be any worse, she proves me wrong. “What an asshole.”
“And I really didn’t figure that out until I asked him what we were going to do about Linda, his divorce, our future… He looked at me as if I was an idiot and told me he wasn’t planning on doing a damn thing. He would leave Linda on his timetable, not mine. Then he said he’d been trying to figure out when I’d catch on to the fact that I was just a convenient hole. He’d enjoyed getting me pregnant, but he had enjoyed knocking up more than one of his assistants in the past, too. He, Byron, and some of the other managers even had a betting pool on me, and he won because he’d managed the feat so quickly. But he didn’t want me anymore, especially since he hated fucking pregnant women. And he’d never loved me anyway. It probably sounds stupid, but I was shocked.”
“Not stupid. Horrifying. Calling him an asshole is too nice.”
“You’re right. But I was still gaping and reeling when he told me I should consider our time together a life lesson, that I should think more critically and be far less gullible before I climbed between the sheets with someone else. And, by the way, I was fired. If I went quietly, he would give me six months’ severance and pay me for the rest of my unused vacation time. If I thought about doing something silly like hiring a lawyer, going public, or telling my dad who’d fathered my baby…well, he already had an insurance policy. About a month prior, he’d asked me to grab the office’s petty cash fund and stash it at home because, according to him, someone had been stealing from him. I did what he asked, and he made sure the office surveillance captured me ’stealing’ so the police and the public would know I was accusing him of inappropriate behavior in the office to sling mud and cover my tracks.” She folds her hands together. “Apparently, he’d run this same scam on several of his other assistants. It always worked.”
I can’t even understand Reed’s depravity and I don’t want to waste time trying. Instead, I take her hand in mine, doing my best not to betray the depth of my anger. “I don’t even have a word low or filthy enough to call that man. Really, if he wasn’t already dead, I’d be hard pressed not to hunt him down and pull the trigger myself.”
“Thank you for taking my side, but it’s hard not to feel like the blame is half mine. I wanted so badly for the shimmering future I could picture with him to be real that I gave myself easily, made excuses, and overlooked obvious red flags.” She sighs. “So trust is hard for me now. I especially have a hard time trusting myself.”
And that’s the biggest problem. She wants to believe we have a potential future, but she’s afraid to take that leap of faith. I still sense hesitation. Shit. I can’t push her. I won’t. She has to want this enough to overcome her fears, and she has to believe in us enough to take a risk. I learned from Ellie that a relationship is no good if only one person wants it.
“I understand.”
“You’re not going to tell me how stupid I was?”
“For being young and naive? No. You went to him openly and honestly—”
“Blindly.”
“You have to forgive yourself for that. If you want to Monday-morning quarterback this thing, sure, maybe you should have seen the signs sooner. But the truth is, you shouldn’t have had to. A grown-ass man should never have defiled a child, then strung her along for years before plotting to ruin her life and wash his hands. The fact he didn’t give two shits about his own son or daughter you were having is just the cherry on top of his shit sundae.”
“Oh, he offered me money to terminate the pregnancy. If I did, he’d write me a glowing recommendation for a future job. He had friends in all the right places, if I wanted to provide the same level of…service he was accustomed to. Suffice it to say I told him to shove his offer up his ass and slammed my way out of the office. I never saw him again.”
Wishing I could inflict more violence on this fucking scum-sucking shitbag doesn’t do anything to help the pensive woman in front of me barely holding back tears. Instead, I squeeze her hand. “Mandy, baby…”
“I expected that to be the end of it. I left Reed Financial that day, resolving to find another job as soon as possible and have my baby on my own. I devised a stupid story about a one-night stand with consequences for my dad and my brother. But the truth came out a couple of months after Oliver was born, when Barclay got arrested. My family dynamics have been a mess since.”
I can only imagine. If they’re blaming her—and at least Douglas Lund seems to be—they’re idiots. But right now, my bigger concern is Mandy. “Are you still going to therapy?”
She nods. “It hasn’t been easy. Celeste, my therapist, still thinks I blame myself more than I should.”
“From what I’ve heard you say, I agree.”
“I’m still trying to reconcile it all in my head, but I’ve made a lot of progress.”
I bring her closer. “Good. But I hate that you believed his lies. He had to know what you were thinking.”
“About our future? He did. He never corrected me, just hauled me back to bed. So…I’m a train wreck. I haven’t had sex in way too long, and you’re the only other man I’ve ever kissed. Aren’t you sorry you ever thought you were interested?”
“Don’t try to deflect me with sarcasm. I’m still interested.” And I hate that she’s mentally flinching, giving us both an excuse for me to walk away before I’ve even had the thought to. “It’s going to take something far worse than the truth to shake me off, baby.”
Her smile is one of the prettiest things I’ve ever seen, and more precious because I know it’s real. “Why are you so understanding?”
“Did you ever stop to think that maybe you’re just used to a complete asswipe, so any normal guy seems like a saint?”
“No. I’ve met plenty of perfectly nice guys, too. Bruce, for example. Not interested.” She hesitates. “Couldn’t trust him. I tried, but…no. You? I trust. I’m still trying to figure out why.”
Just like I’m trying to figure out why I want Mandy so much. Not just sexually, though god knows that as we’re both basically sitting here in our underwear, I wouldn’t mind laying her back and making love to her. But I don’t know where her head is, and I need more time to process everything she’s told me. Though I’m not deciding about us. I’ve already done that. My heart knows, as crazy as that sounds.
I tuck a pale strand that worked free from her braid behind her ear. “Maybe we’re both doing something we should have done years earlier. We’re listening to our gut.”
Her smile widens to something so pure she seems to glow. “Maybe you’re right.”
Then she hides a yawn behind her hand, stretches, and closes her eyes. “I’m so tired.”
“Go back to sleep. I could use some extra z’s, too. If you need anything, I’ll be in the next room.” I stand, grab my Glock, then palm her crown. “We’ll worry about everything else later.”
As I turn to leave, she grasps my hand and tugs me back. “Stay. Please.”
“You’re not ready for sex, Mandy. And that’s not love.”
She lifts her soft blue gaze to me, and it’s a sucker punch to my chest. God, if I could wrap my arms around her and take away all her pain, I would right now. But doing anything else tonight would only confuse her more.
“You’re right. But would you lie here and hold me?”
The hard outer shell of my resolve cracks. I lay my Glock on the nightstand again. “Of course.”
“Thanks.” She tugs me down to the bed until I’m flat on my back with my arm around her. She curls up to my side, resting her chin on my chest. “In case you hadn’t figured it out yet, I think you’re amazing.”
“And I think you should stop buttering me up before I fall for you even more.”
“Why would I want to stop that?”
Honestly, I’m not even sure I could if I wanted to. My heart feels as if I’ve pushed it over the cliff and it’s now in free-fall. When it reaches the bottom, either Mandy will catch it…or it will shatter into too many pieces to put back together. I’m not sure which, but that doesn’t stop me from holding her closer, kissing her forehead, and falling into a deep sleep beside her.