Chapter Two #2
"Probably not." His deep voice carries more easily now that the rain is a light mist. "Early bedtime for this one."
A chorus of "aww" fills the SUV, and I roll my eyes. Was that jealousy? It can't be. Or could it …
Trey helps Adeline into the front seat. Her eyes widen when she spots me, but Trey gives her a warning look before he shuts her door. She giggles, and I wink.
"I thought you were marrying that Jameson guy?" she whispers while we are still alone in the SUV. "That's why Berkeley wasn't at ballet."
My heart twists at the mention of my niece. Another person I've disappointed today. I’ll have to make it up to her too. I've really screwed this up.
"I was but…" I stall, the women's voices still floating through the car windows as Trey makes his way around the front of the car.
How do I explain to a nine-year-old that our marriage was designed to be a business transaction?
That Jameson and I were doing this for my company's future and his family's expectations—not love?
I'm not telling a young pre-teenage girl that I agreed to marry a man for…let’s be honest, a boost to my business and social standing that would have launched my little college startup into something so much bigger than I ever imagined.
I'd die if Adeline or Berkeley thought that marrying for any other reason than for love was acceptable. In my case, I had given up on the idea of finding love… mostly.
Though I suppose if I had really given up on love, I would have accepted my fate and wouldn’t have run.
Damn logic.
At the end of the day, I know why I agreed.
Jameson would make for a good provider, and from my conversations with him, he agreed to be faithful and make this marriage work for the good of his family and mine.
He would soon be the patriarch of his family and he seems like he’s ready to take on that role.
I know that marrying me—an arranged marriage—wasn't his first choice, but he was going to do it…
for his family. And I was doing it for Newport Staffing Solutions, its clients, and the hundreds of employees who have put their blood, sweat, and tears into our company and deserve the best benefits and stock options we can offer them to support their families.
"Please tell me Uncle Trey stopped the wedding and now you're running away together!" Her eyes sparkle with romance. “This would be the best day ever. Can I be a flower girl?"
“What? Where did you get that idea?” I ask.
My pulse jumps at the scenario she's painted—Trey bursting into the church, those green eyes blazing…tossing me over his shoulder and hauling me out of the wedding venue in front of hundreds of guests. It's an odd fantasy to have all of a sudden. The idea of it is absurd.
Trey’s never given me a reason to think he has any interest in me.
Those heated, mysterious eyes seem to be his default setting.
The man is practically being chased out to his car by a flock of man-hungry women who would be more than happy to keep him occupied.
What motive would he have for breaking up my wedding when he clearly has his hands full of eligible women?
"Come on… You two would make the cutest couple," she says, her knee bouncing up and down. "And, oh my gosh, you could come live with us. My Uncle Trey just bought a house two blocks from Berkeley's house. It's perfect. Then Berkeley and I would be cousins. And the house has a pool."
Heat floods my cheeks. Married to Trey? What an image she’s painting. "No, honey. Your uncle's just helping me. He's dropping me off at Berkeley's house after this. We’re not getting married."
"Oh..." The disappointment in her eyes mirrors an ache I didn't even know I had.
I chalk it up to wanting my own family…imagining my life in the suburbs like Isla, married to a man I love who's as obsessed with me as Kaenan is with her.
That man loves her more than anything in this world…
besides their kids, of course. That's why I started nannying for families in college to begin with.
I love being a part of a family, and I've always wanted one of my own…
a family with a groom I picked. Unfortunately, opportunities like the one I was offered with Jameson don't come around often.
Genevieve Holiday made me a deal I would be an idiot to refuse, and now look at me.
Outside, the mom brigade continues their assault on Trey. I watch as they follow him from Adeline’s passenger door to Trey’s driver’s side door.
"Such a bummer you missed today. Adeline was a superstar.”
"Good luck with your home game this week."
"We should get the girls together for a play date sometime.”
The words all meld together as they each talk over one another.
Finally, Trey seems to find a way to shake them off, giving a quick “see y’all next week” as politely but sternly as he can muster.
His eyes lock on mine as he opens his door, and then he looks away quickly, but not before I see something flash in those forest green depths—interest?
Or maybe that’s the look of regret. I can’t seem to read him at all.
He gets into the car and then puts it in reverse.
We turn onto the main road, and reality starts creeping back in.
By now, the wedding venue is probably in chaos.
Phones ringing, social media exploding, my board of directors crafting damage control statements.
And I have no cell phone to see any of it unraveling. Maybe that’s for the best.
As I catch Trey's reflection one more time, those eyes meeting mine for just a heartbeat, I can't bring myself to regret running. For the first time in six months, I feel like I can breathe.
I just hope the oxygen doesn't run out when we reach Isla's house.
TREY
Adeline’s giggle breaks the spiral in my head. “You’re such a great uncle…” she squeaks, mimicking one of the moms from the parking lot with terrifying accuracy, and then Adeline’s eyes are on Vivi in the back.
I clear my throat. “I see you found the stowaway.”
It comes out more gruff than I intended, but I can’t help it. I’m not used to this kind of chaos now in my civilian life—beautiful women in ballgowns popping up in my back seat like we’re in a rom-com.
Adeline lights up. “The wedding dress was hard to miss. Can we keep her? Please?”
“She’s not a stray cat, Adeline,” I say, trying to reason with her. “She’s a woman. And she has her own home.”
Even if she just ran from it like it was on fire.
“Boo…you’re boring,” Adeline groans, flopping dramatically in her seat.
Vivi laughs. That soft, breathless kind of laugh that makes something in my chest pull tight. I glance up, just in time to catch her looking at me in the mirror.
Her warm brown eyes rimmed with mascara just slightly smudged from the rain.
But fuck, she’s still gorgeous, and if it were up to me, Adeline would get her wish.
We’d bring Vivi home. At least for a night or two until I can figure out what’s going on with her and if she’s in any real trouble, but that’s not how this works.
Vivi asked to go to Isla’s, so that’s where I’ll take her.
I’ve barely had time to register what just happened over the last thirty minutes.
I take the turn slowly, getting us back on the road and heading for Isla and Kaenan’s place. As far as I can tell, none of the ballet moms saw Vivi. The tinted windows in the back were dark enough to keep her shielded. My eyes flicker to the rearview mirror again.
She’s still there. In the back seat. Wedding gown and all.
I could have sworn that I was hallucinating when I saw Vivi Ann Newport yank open the back passenger seat door to my SUV as I was pulling out of the wedding venue. But no, she’s still sitting in my back seat … in a damn wedding dress.
She didn’t even see me when she climbed in. Just yanked the door open and jumped in like her life depended on it.
Would she have gotten in with anyone?
The thought leaves a lead weight in my gut. What if it hadn’t been me? What if some jackass with bad intentions had pulled up instead?
Christ. She could’ve been hurt. Or worse.
She swears that Jameson didn’t hurt her, but nothing else makes any sense for why she just ran away from a billionaire groom. The kind of guy that most women in Vivi's upper-crust social circles would have salivated over.
So why the hell is she in my car, headed to her sister’s instead of to a life of luxury? It makes no sense unless something happened between Vivi and Jameson that made her run.
I’m not a guy who’s okay with half-truths. She’s not telling me something, and I need answers.
I shouldn’t feel this pull to protect her. She’s not mine. Not now. Not ever.
I’ve had a crush on Vivi since the first time I saw her—Oakley’s, the night before the regular season started in August. She wore this pink dress that complemented her tanned skin, stealing every pair of eyes in that place, including mine.
I remember Isla introducing us while Kaenan hovered like a prison warden. Vivi smiled like she’d been raised on etiquette and champagne, and I stood there in my jeans with old habits from the Army still baked into my bones. Civilian life’s been hard to adapt to.
I was barely a year out of the 160th Special Operations Aviation Regiment.
Still waking up in the middle of the night, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t there.
Still sleeping on the floor down in the living room to keep my wits about me.
Still hearing gunshots and the blades of my helicopter above my head.
Still figuring out how to be an uncle to a grieving nine-year-old who’d just lost everything.
Dating wasn’t just off the table—it was a foreign country for which I didn’t have a passport.
Besides…the last time I had ever had anything that resembled a girlfriend… Well, I don't think I ever have. Growing up, we never stayed long enough for anyone to remember my name, let alone meet a girl.