Chapter Forty-Two
FORTY-TWO
Jake
Niall Greensboro has been my family’s butler for as long as I can remember.
He drove me to boarding school when I’d been too scared to ride alone in the helicopter.
And when I got older, was no longer scared, he offered to take me anyway.
On those long drives, we talked about books, movies, normal topics kids want to chat about with their parents.
But I’ve never deluded myself into thinking he’s a father figure. He has a loving wife who lives in a midsized cottage down the street. His daughter is a microbiologist in Providence. He’s here because my family trusts him, and he’s remained here because we pay him well.
So when he calls me this morning to tell me he’s quitting, I make it a point to meet him at the estate. Warm sun streams through the kitchen, and Niall pours bourbon into two glasses. “It’s just not the same since your mother passed.”
“I thought the parties had died down.” Looking around the room, I don’t see any broken bottles on the floor or holes in the wall. The shattered windows have been replaced from the last rager three weeks ago—the party where Phoebe was drugged.
Niall pushes the glass toward me. “They have. Your brother must have gotten some sense in him, or the repair bills were adding up.”
“Or his reputation was taking a hit.” I raise the glass to my lips.
Niall sighs heavily, disappointment etching his brows. “That too.”
“It’s not Maxwell Abbot, the staff manager, is it?” I ask him, thinking about Everett Tinrock’s alias. I’d hired him for the con, but if he’s not treating my staff well—
“No.” Niall waves a hand. “No, Maxwell has been a fantastic manager.” He laughs. “If you ask me, he’s a little too lenient with the time off, but…everyone here loves him.”
That’s good and terrible at the same time, since I’ll have to find a replacement once Everett leaves town. “Then what is it?” I ask.
Niall stares out the window at the yard. Groundskeepers mill about the bushes, trimming the hedges, planting new annuals for the summer and fall. Cosmos and sunflowers. “Things are different now. I don’t know how to explain it. There’s just a shift here, and I think it’s time for me to move on.”
His gaze descends upon me with a great deal of concern. “Have you ever thought about that?”
I don’t follow. “About what?”
“Moving on.” His brows rise. “It’s not too late for you, you know. To get out. Take whatever your mother left you and go. Start fresh somewhere else. Build another life. You don’t need to be tied to all this.” He waves a hand around the room.
It sounds like a question he’d been ruminating on for a while.
I can imagine most of the staff have whispered about it.
Why doesn’t Jake just take the money and run?
Leave the headache to his belligerent older brother.
He’d also never ask me a question so personal unless he knew he wasn’t going to work for me again.
“I wish it were that easy, Niall.”
“Why can’t it be?” he wonders. “This was never your legacy.” I see what he wants to say. I hear it in my head: You’re just the thirdborn heir.
“It was never my legacy,” I agree. “But I made it my purpose.”
He meets my eyes in understanding, and he raises his glass to me. I finish the drink with him, and we discuss severance. My body feels weighed down, especially when he asks me what I’m doing tonight for the Fourth of July.
“The Bennets are having a party,” I tell him. “If you want to swing by for the fireworks—”
“No, that’s all right. Me and the missus are visiting Sabrina in Providence. We have plans for a family cookout.”
I smile. “That sounds great, Niall.”
Before he leaves, he gives me one last look, and I’m struck by the sheer pity in his eyes. “Take care of yourself, Jake.”
I can’t muster a smile this time. I just nod and watch the door swing behind him.
Air. I need air.
I head out into the gardens. The fresh flowers and warm breeze don’t hit me.
So I keep walking and walking. Until the tennis courts come into view—and my heart drops straight out of my chest as I see two figures alone on the court together.
Her platinum-blonde hair is unmistakable, and his self-assured arrogance could never be replicated.
Hailey and Trent.
Trent and Hailey.
They stand near the net only inches apart.
She didn’t tell me she’d be here. My pulse thumps in my ears. Adrenaline starts to surge. I run. Too worried to think clearly other than get to her.
My feet slow to a tortured lull as soon as I see my brother drop on one knee. Color drains from my face. My despair doesn’t register that this is the plan.
It feels too fucking real.
I keep walking. Each footfall beats a heavy pulse in my eardrums. Trent stands up just as I make it to the gate. He slips a ring on Hailey’s finger, and when he sees me approach, he quickly turns back to his bride-to-be and swoops her around the waist, twirling her.
I can’t stomach it. I rush the court. “Put her down.”
Trent sets Hailey on her feet, her windblown hair hiding her face. My brother wears the biggest self-satisfied smirk. “Jacob. Don’t tell me what to do with my fiancée.”
My throat dries. “What the fuck is going on?” I’m not looking at my brother. “Hailey?” She wears a black tennis dress like he’d invited her onto the courts. She didn’t tell me she’d be here. Was it to save me from this? The agony of watching the woman I love being proposed to by the brother I hate.
“We’re getting married,” Hailey says wistfully, her gaze pinned to the giant diamond on her finger. She either doesn’t want to look at me or can’t bring herself to.
“Today,” Trent tells me.
“What?” I’m dumbfounded. That is not part of the plan. Today? Already?
Trent’s smile only widens. “Why wait, right?” He takes Hailey’s hand. “I need the town to understand I’ve never been interested in Phoebe Smith. I’ve been secretly in love with her best friend this whole time. This nonsense about me wanting Grey’s wife was truly a misunderstanding.”
My stomach knots. “And what do you get out of this?” I ask Hailey.
Her cheeks flush.
Trent doesn’t let her answer. “She gets to be Mrs. Trent Waterford. A title that every woman in this town would have died for. And I get to be the husband you can’t be, Jake.
The one that will let her privately have as much fun as she wants.
” He tilts his head toward her. “Isn’t that right, Hay-Hay? ”
Hailey’s cheeks flush. “It’s a good deal.”
“It’s a great deal.” He keeps his eyes on me, his smile a fixed feature as he relishes my misery. “I’d invite you to the wedding, but we’re eloping to the courthouse.” His fingers thread through her hand.
I’m going to be sick.
She doesn’t look at me.
I want to go with her.
I want to make sure she’ll be okay.
I want to stop my brother if he tries to consummate this sham of a fucking wedding.
My wants turn into cant’s as I watch them both walk away. How is it that this is the plan, and yet everything feels so out of my control?