Chapter 18
eighteen
MARILEE
The edges of my vision go fuzzy as I take in the sight of my ex-husband, who I haven’t seen since our divorce was finalized three years ago.
He’s still effortlessly handsome with his broad football-player shoulders straining against a navy-blue suit, a cocky grin on face, his black eyes penetrating me with a stare that makes me feel like he’s cut away my clothing to see the mess beneath the fancy dress.
Donny’s arm is slung low around some blonde woman’s hip. She’s curvy and well-endowed in all the ways I’m not, just like most of the women he cheated on me with. “Good to see you, Marilee. You clean up nice,” he murmurs in a low voice, his words a mix of condescension and charm as he leans in to whisper something into the blonde’s ear. With a casual tap on her butt, he sends her drifting toward a distant table.
Over her shoulder, she shoots me a disdainful sneer—a silent girl-code proclamation that “he’s mine.”
Some part of me wants to warn her that he’s not a prize. He’s a hellion who will ruin her life, just like he ruined mine.
But no. My life isn’t ruined. In fact, before he stepped onto this dance floor, I’m pretty sure I was about to kiss my best friend, a man who, even when we were just friends, treated me with more decency than the man in front of me ever did.
And if he can see beneath my mask, I can also see beneath his, to the black heart beating under his suit coat pocket. With Jordan’s hand still looped around my back, I tilt my chin in defiance at this man who thought he could bring me down. Who did bring me down.
But because of good people in my life, I am back on my feet.
Jordan squeezes my hip, and I glance at him. Smile. “I think we were just about to go eat, weren’t we?”
Donny hates nothing more than being ignored—something I learned the hard way. When I’d retreat into my baking to think, he’d take my supplies right off the counter in front of me and toss them against the wall like a toddler, demanding I give him the attention he “deserved.”
The memory shakes me, just like all of them do, but then Jordan says, “We were,” and we are walking off the dance floor, away from Donny Franklin, away from his hold on me.
Before I can fully exhale, Donny’s hand seizes my arm with surprising force, nearly throwing me off balance with the abrupt stop it causes. “Are you two actually…together?” His sneer is laced with venom.
Jordan pivots sharply to confront him. “Let go of her. Now.”
Donny’s burly hand tightens on my upper arm. “Ooo, you’re a real tough guy now, huh, Johnny?” he quips with a derisive lilt.
“Listen to him, Donny,” I hiss. “Let go of me. You’re making a scene.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” With an almost casual chuckle, Donny releases his hold and raises both hands in a theatrical, playful surrender as if we were old acquaintances sharing a private joke. “No need to get all defensive, sweetheart. I was just surprised to see you here is all.”
He runs a palm through his slicked back hair, and a designer watch glints in the light. Something rumbles in my gut… Did he buy that with my money? Or is he honey trapping that blonde woman? Maybe she’s a rich heiress. He’s clearly set his sights higher than me. I never quite knew why he chose me in the first place. Probably he sees me as his greatest mistake.
Ironic then, that I feel the same way about him.
Judging by the fumes coming off of Jordan, staying in Donny’s vicinity for any longer is probably unwise. But I have to know what he means. “Why would you be surprised to see me here?”
“Oh, it’s just that Johnny boy doesn’t exactly have the capital to afford a place like this, what with his crappy job, stuck in that useless town. Not unless he struck it rich or inherited something from dead parents like you did.” Donny tilts his head to look at me with something like pretend pity. “And we all know you’re worth nothing now, so…”
Growling, Jordan lunges. “How dare you?—”
I pull him back. “Stop it. He’s not worth it, Jay.” Because the last thing Jordan needs is for anyone to see him attack Donny. Not when he’s got an ongoing custody battle over being a negligent father. I glance around and see more than one person subtly videotaping our interaction. We’ve definitely attracted an audience. “Let’s go sit down.”
“Good, yes, rein in your attack dog, Marilee.” Donny laughs, his tone mocking as he addresses me. “He always was making puppy dog eyes at you back in school. Made it all the more delicious that he couldn’t have you.” His words slice through the air as he steps closer, towering over me. His finger glides down my arm—exactly where he had clutched it moments before—as he lowers his voice to a conspiratorial hum. “It’s the only reason I kept you as long as I did…so he couldn’t have you. What other reason would I possibly have had to want such a mess for a wife?”
I shudder at his touch, but I don’t have to for long, because Jordan’s there, shoving him back, his voice steeled with raw protection. “That’s my wife you’re talking to, so you’d better watch your stupid mouth.”
I can’t even speak. My whole body strums with his words—with the delight in them, with the horror in what I see shifting in Donny’s eyes. Oh no. If possible, they’ve gone blacker, deeper and darker, the way they always would before he flipped the switch from charming guy next door to calculating villain.
“Oh ho, now, really? Your wife ? Bravo, Johnny.” Donny slaps Jordan on the back, and I want to slap him . “You finally got the girl.” His wilting gaze rakes down every inch of me, and I feel naked and exposed under the chandelier light that’s suddenly blinding and intense. I want nothing more than to crawl into a hole. Then, he pivots back to Jordan. “I shouldn’t be surprised. You always did want my sloppy seconds.”
And Jordan—my peace-loving, tender-hearted best friend—hauls off and punches Donny Franklin in the nose.
Howling, Donny grabs his face and screams. Blood falls between his fingers. “I think you broke it, you complete lunatic!”
“And I’ll break more if you come near her ever again.” Jordan reaches for my hand. “And for the record, it’s Jordan , not Johnny, you total waste of space.”
Then he pulls me to the hotel lobby, not stopping to look backward, not stopping to grab my clutch. We just keep barreling toward the elevators. I don’t know where, but it’s with Jordan, and I don’t care.
Before we step through the open elevator door, I glance over my shoulder at my ex, who is ordering someone to call a doctor, and the blonde who has leapt to his defense, and the waiters all crowded around him. I’m shaking from the inside out—with relief, with terror, with his words still bouncing around in my head.
Sloppy seconds.
Worth nothing.
A mess.
And when the doors finally close and we are alone in the small space, the noise of the lobby cuts out, and Jordan turns to me. “Are you okay?”
It’s then that every bit of emotion seeps from me. All I can do is slump against him and sob.
He tucks me against his side and murmurs soothing words of comfort, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to my temple. His protective grip is fierce, a reassurance I’ve never known before—not from my dad, not from Blake. For the first time, someone has physically defended me like this, punching away my past and guarding my future.
Nobody has been a truer friend than Jordan Carmichael.
And I…I absolutely love him for it.