Chapter 4
I tell myself I’m not going to think about Kaplan Fritz again.
That I don’t care if he’s in the hotel or that I met his mother or that he called me beautiful and said that there was nothing hot or sexy about bone-thin.
After all, he had wordlessly tossed me and our friendship aside seven years ago.
Therefore, he doesn’t get to live rent-free in my mind.
Not anymore.
And I’m doing decently well with that too. I mean, sixty-eight percent of my thoughts are on fucking Tod and my bitch-face cousin and about twenty-five percent are stuck on the job offer and what I want for my future. That doesn’t leave a lot of room for Kaplan.
Honestly, I hope I never see him again and I’m relieved we didn’t recognize each other in the car. Most likely, I’ll never run into Kaplan Fritz again. Or Tod McMillin. High-fives to that.
I just have to keep reminding myself that it’s the bad experiences in life that make us strong.
That build our character. That show us all we’re made of.
That help us to see the beauty at the end of the tunnel when we reach it.
The champagne is helping my confidence with all of this.
That’s for sure. It’s also been stopping me from second-guessing the major life-changing, rash decision I made this morning.
That confidence only slips marginally when I open the door to my suite and find four handsome men wearing matching frowns and tuxedos.
“Are you the four horsemen of the apocalypse sent to carry me to hell, otherwise known as my mother? Because if you are, I can already tell you, I plan to put up a fight.”
“Bunny, honey, we’re so sorry.” That’s my second stepdad, Elijah. He’s the vet and the most tender of the bunch.
Bunny. I’ve been Bunny since the day I was born.
It’s what my father called me the moment he saw me, and it stuck. Not just as a nickname either. I only shed it as my first name when I went to college, but it’s still what my entire family calls me. I don’t think any of them have ever referred to me as Bianca. My mother included.
I shrug, stepping back so they can enter the suite.
They head into the sitting area, and I quickly run and throw on a sweatshirt since I’m wearing a tank top and no bra.
When I join them again, my stepbrother, Ellis, who is Elijah’s son, is picking at the leftovers of my burger and fries while the others hover around the room, refusing to sit.
Great. This should be fun.
“Good burger,” Ellis garbles around a bite.
“I know. Help yourself,” I deadpan. I guess I’m done with my lunch.
“Bunny—”
I hold up my hand, stopping Duke before he can start. He’s stepdad number three, my current stepdad since my mom is still married to him. It’s also his last name I’m currently carrying since my mother made me change it with each new husband. I know if he’s starting, he’s here doing her bidding.
“You can tell her I think it’s crappy she didn’t come herself.”
His blue eyes cast down to the gold carpet. “She’s dealing with your aunt and cousin. It’s not pretty.”
“Good,” I snap, growing angry again at just the mention of my cousin. “Did Mom know?”
He shakes his head. “No sweetheart. She didn’t.”
Well that’s a relief at least. Duke may be foolishly in love with my mother, eternally on her side, but I also know he’d never lie to me.
“She’s in full-blown Mariana mode and your aunt and cousin are suffering her wrath.”
I cringe but then think better of it because, again, my cousin deserves it all. Even full-blown Mariana mode, which is something akin to when Mount St. Helens erupted. My mother is no joke.
“I’m just glad you didn’t marry the cocksucker,” Mitchell, my first stepdad, growls, his hands on his hips as he starts pacing an agitated circle about the room. “And I’m even more relieved we talked you into that prenup despite Tod’s protests that real love doesn’t require a financial contract.”
“Lying piece-of-shit, greedy-ass motherfucker.”
Mitchell points at Ellis like he just summed it up.
“Fucker wasn’t going to get a dime anyway.
” He turns that pointed finger at me, and I nod because I’m grateful for it too even though I didn’t marry Tod.
Because, yeah, lesson learned. Four trust funds—including one from my birth father—worth somewhere in the neighborhood of fifty-five million and growing every day with a lot of interest. Mitchell is a big Los Angeles attorney and the person who drafted the ironclad prenup.
He was my birth father’s attorney. It’s how my mother latched onto him after my father’s death when I wasn’t even a year old.
They lasted about seven years together before my mother divorced him and married Elijah.
That’s when we left LA and moved to Colorado, and I was Bunny Parker.
We lived there until I was about sixteen or so.
Then Mom divorced Elijah and married Duke and I became Bunny Barlow.
We moved to his ranch in Texas before I went off to college back in LA.
My mother, for all her faults, married wonderful men.
Caring men. Men who not only befriended each other for my sake, but still love me as their daughter.
All these years and despite the divorces and name changes, we’ve all stayed close.
Each one set up a trust fund for me when I became their daughter, and I can’t help but understand that part of them never wanted my mother to be able to get her hands on them.
I never lacked for positive male role models in my life.
Just anything resembling a positive, healthy relationship or a solid sense of self-worth.
My mother can be a toxic bitch even with herself.
“You don’t have to worry about Tod,” Ellis states, now going for my chocolate cake. I raise a don’t even think about it pal eyebrow at him and he wisely drops the fork. “We kicked his ass for you.”
My eyes pop out of my head. “You didn’t?”
A mischievous grin curls up the corners of his mouth. “He might be sporting a couple of black eyes, a broken nose, and some sore balls.”
A cackle burst from my lungs.
“No one fucks with our girl,” Mitchell grunts, still pacing because he doesn’t own a Zen bone in his body, only now his fingers are flexing and extending like he wants another go at Tod.
“I’m sure his father loved that,” I quip.
“His father isn’t speaking to him,” Duke notes.
“He stormed out just after you did. Fired him from the firm too. Right in front of all the guests, many of them clients. Told him any son stupid enough to get caught with his mistress on his wedding day is no son of his. Tod said he was going back to LA first chance he got.”
“Wow.” I collapse to the floor in front of the coffee table where the remains of my lunch and champagne are.
Pouring myself my fourth glass, I hold it up to him in a toast. “That’s the stuff of legends.
Part of me wants to feel bad for Tod, but that’s the old Bunny talking, and the old Bunny can’t come to the phone right now because she’s dead. ”
They stare at me like I’m not making sense, but I am. In my champagne-muddled mind, I’m making a lot of sense. I don’t want to be that old Bunny anymore. The sweet, innocent Bunny who gets trampled on and used. Eating shit because I’m too polite to open a mouth about it.
Running out of that wedding was the best thing I’ve ever done for myself. This is my awakening. The kick in the ass I sorely needed. At least that’s what I keep telling myself and I’ll continue to do so until I make it my bitch and my reality.
“Bunny, honey, are you okay?” Elijah sits down, knees spread, hands intertwined between them, giving me the stare.
He’s been through so much. We have together.
Forest’s death bonded me even tighter with Ellis and Elijah and I know he’s worried for me now.
“You can tell us. You can tell us anything. This is a safe, protected circle and everyone here loves you.”
“I know you guys do and I wouldn’t be sitting here with my head up if I didn’t have you on my side,” I tell him as I take a sip.
“I’ll be okay. I promise. I just have to figure out what’s next, but I was going to have to do that anyway.
Tod or no Tod. I’m hurt and embarrassed,” I admit.
“My self-esteem and pride are wounded. People who I thought loved me don’t and it sucks.
It seriously sucks and saying anything else would be a lie.
I thought I was going to be dancing and eating cake at my reception, not sitting here on the floor of our hotel suite drinking champagne by myself and eating room service cake. ”
“You can come home with your mom and me, sweetheart,” Duke offers, taking the seat in the chair closest to me. “She wanted me to tell you that. That she wants you to come home with us.”
“You can come home with any of us,” Mitchell throws out. “Your home is with any of us. You’ve always been our daughter and you always will be.”
That’s when the tears start again. I made it a whole hour without them, and here they are.
“Thank you,” I murmur, sniffling way too many times for it not to be gross and everyone to know snot is trying to escape my nostrils.
I’m tempted to follow after the only dads I’ve ever known as the lost puppy I could totally get away with being.
I could crawl home, whether that’s Texas or Colorado or California.
Hide out for a while. Put this nightmare and embarrassment behind me.
But then I wouldn’t be doing this whole self-exploration, Dr. Phil’s couch awakening thing any justice. It’s tempting to rely on others the way I always have. But at some point, I need to learn how to start relying on myself.