Chapter 10
ten
WEST
Eden gives me the silent treatment on the drive home.
It’s impressive, considering how vocal she usually is.
She doesn’t even put music on like she said she would.
Instead she sits next to me in the passenger seat with her arms crossed and her brow pressed against the window, like she’s planning her escape.
I should probably apologize. No idea what for, but it usually works.
But I don’t. Which is my first mistake.
I shift gears and let out a long breath. “You’re very quiet,” I murmur. “Should I be worried about your blood sugar?”
Nothing. Not even a twitch.
I glance over at her again. Her jaw is tight as she stares out at the road, the morning sunlight catching the curl of her ponytail. The tension inside the SUV feels as thick as molasses.
“Stop sulking,” I tell her, because I hate the silent treatment. I grew up with it and I never want to go through it again. Give me shouting any day.
That gets a reaction. Her head whips around so fast I almost miss the flash in her eyes. But she still says nothing.
I glance at my watch as I take a right onto the road that leads to the North House. I have back to back meetings this afternoon. I could have lunch here and take them in the office, but the thought of hanging around with Ms. Murderous isn’t exactly enticing.
She pulls the passenger door open before I even come to a stop in the driveway.
I kill the engine and watch her march up the front steps like a woman on a mission. Her arms swing, her ponytail bounces. Her fury is pretty impressive.
But I don’t follow right away. I sit in the driver’s seat, trying to work out what to do next. I don’t even know what I’ve done wrong and she won’t tell me. Maybe I’m supposed to guess like a kid in a pop quiz.
It’s as though I’m thirteen again, getting the silent treatment for missing some invisible expectation. The same way I did when I disappointed my parents.
When they were actually in the same country as me, that is.
I shove the car door open and get out, slamming it harder than I need to.
She’s already disappeared by the time I walk in, but I can hear her stalking around the kitchen, opening and shutting cabinets.
And she still hasn’t said a word.
When I reach the kitchen doorway, I lean against the jam, watching her fill a glass of water.
“If you’re trying to communicate solely through cupboard slamming, I rate it a solid six out of ten. Great rhythm, poor volume control.”
Nothing. Tough audience.
She takes a sip, slow and deliberate, like the water is the tastiest liquid she’s ever had slide across her tongue.
Jesus, she’s really good at the silent treatment.
But then she slowly turns around, her water glass clutched tight like it’s the only thing keeping her from hurling it at my head.
“You left me,” she says, voice low and tight.
I frown. “This morning? I didn’t want to wake you. It was early, your door was closed.”
“No note. No message. No explanation. Just…” She shakes her head. “Gone. Like I’m completely unimportant. Like I’m a stupid kitchen appliance.”
“I had meetings,” I say. “You knew I was working. Last night and today. I’m trying to build a resort here.”
She slams the glass down on the counter, not hard enough to break it, but close.
“Don’t you dare gaslight me. I’m not mad because you have a job.
I’m mad because you didn’t even think about me.
You didn’t think about how I’d feel when I woke up and you were gone.
Didn’t think that I might get bored staring at four walls like some kind of mail order bride. ”
I open my mouth. Then close it again.
“I gave up everything to come here,” she continues, her voice rising. “Do you get that? My travels. My plans. Not to mention my damn morals. And you? You gave up nothing. You’re just getting what you want. As usual.”
“I didn’t force you to come here,” I say, quietly.
“No,” she snaps. “You just made it look like the only option. And you haven’t even had the decency to say a nice word once we got here. You treat me like an inconvenience.”
Her eyes are glassy, but her voice doesn’t waver.
“You promised me a job. And you hadn’t mentioned it until the bar.
When you needed a reason for me to come with you.
Didn’t even take me in for my first day.
Or show me around the place. What is it you want from me, West?
Just to sit here and look pretty? Like a Blow Up Wife without any of the damn benefits? ”
“The benefits,” I repeat.
She gives me a dirty look. “It’s okay, don’t panic. I’m not expecting you to stride into the house and bend me over the kitchen counter like any other newlywed husband would.”
Okay, now that image has seared into my brain. I try to blink it away.
And fail.
“Careful,” I murmur. “Keep talking like that and I’ll start to think you’re interested.”
Her mouth opens. Nothing comes out.
Then she huffs out a laugh, dark and incredulous.
“You really don’t get it, do you?” she says. “This whole thing might be a joke to you. But it’s not to me. I don’t do things halfway. And I sure as hell don’t play house for fun.”
She grabs her glass, takes another sharp sip, then slams it down again. “And if it helps, when I said benefits, I meant not feeling lonely in your own home.”
She turns on her heel and stalks past me, her body brushing against mine as she storms out into the hallway.
For a second, I just stand there, her words echoing like a slap.
Not feeling lonely in your own home.
Then I push off the counter and follow her down the hall.
She’s halfway to the stairs when I catch up, my hand closing gently around her wrist. She stops, stiffens, but doesn’t shake me off.
“I wasn’t trying to shut you out,” I say quietly. “I just... I’m sorry. I’ve never done this before.”
She turns her head slightly, but still won’t look at me. “Done what? Lived with someone?”
I tip my head to the side. “I always figured I’d be hard to live with. Turns out I was right.”
That gets her. Her shoulders soften, just a little. Enough to make me brave.
“I should’ve checked in. I should’ve waited for you this morning. I thought I was giving you space. Turns out, I was being a dick.”
She finally turns, her gaze sharp but watery. “You think?”
I give a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, I do.”
Her eyes search mine. For what, I don’t know. Proof maybe. That I’m not just saying the right thing, but actually mean it.
“I don’t want you to feel lonely here,” I say. “That wasn’t the plan.”
There’s a beat.
Then another.
And then she exhales slowly, all that fury bleeding out until what’s left between us is just heat and ache. I’m still holding her wrist. I look down, realizing how delicate it is. I could break it with a hard enough squeeze.
Like I could break her spirit.
“You still owe me a job,” she mutters, running her tongue over her bottom lip.
I nod. “You’re right. Let’s start over tomorrow morning. I’ll take you in, show you everything.” I’ll ask my assistant to clear my schedule. It’s the least I can do.
She eyes me carefully, like she knows she’s found a chink in my armor. “I want a desk with a view,” she says, her mouth twitching.
“I’ll make it happen,” I say solemnly.
We’re still close. Too close. And the air between us starts to shift again. It feels thicker, electric. Like our fight stripped everything down to the raw truth.
And because I’m still an asshole, I find myself pulling her toward me, just to see what she’ll do.
She doesn’t pull away.
Instead, her body tips into mine, her breasts against my chest, her thighs against my legs. As though some part of her remembers that wedding chapel in Vegas. The soft lights, the breathless kiss, the moment everything changed. Her head tips toward mine, her breath catching in her throat.
And I think of how she tasted.
My hand slides from her wrist to her waist, my thumb catching the edge of her shirt. Her skin is warm beneath the fabric. I curl my fingers around her, pulling her closer still.
She lets out a soft breath, her eyes flicking to my mouth.
But this time... I don’t move.
Because wanting her is easy. Cleaning up the mess it would leave? That could take forever.
I take a step back instead. The air between us cools by degrees.
“I have to go into work,” I say, my voice rougher than I want it to be. “You good for this afternoon?”
She hesitates. Then nods. “I’ll survive.”
I nod, too. Then grab my keys and head for the door, every step heavier than it should be.
Because if I’d kissed her just now?
I’m not sure I would’ve stopped.
EDEN
As soon as I hear his car pull away I walk upstairs and throw myself onto my bed. My skin feels like it’s on fire. The argument, the way he softened when he heard me say how lonely I am, and then, the way he looked at me. I was one breath away from kissing West Abbott.
Kissing him again, actually, my brain reminds me and that makes things worse.
Because that first kiss? It was the best kiss of my life, damn it.
I roll onto my stomach and groan into my pillow.
My body is thrumming, like someone plugged me into the electricity.
And the worst part? He barely touched me, yet I’m still so turned on I don’t know what to do with myself.
All it took was his hand on my wrist. Then my waist. Like he was testing the charge between us.
And God, it was hissing like a live wire.
I roll onto my back and glare at the ceiling, feeling the ache between my legs. It’s just because I have to live with him. And he’s a good looking man.
Okay, he’s hot as hell.
But he’s still West. Somewhere beneath all those narrowed eyes and low words is the man who smiles harder than anybody I know.
Taking a deep breath, I look over at my half-unpacked backpack. With the clothes West left in the closet, I haven’t bothered to unpack most of what I brought with me yet.
But I still know what’s in there.
A fleshy pink vibrator, courtesy of the Vantaggio Bridal Suite, because they’re classy that way. I found it in the bathroom, gift wrapped for the bride. I have no idea why I brought it home. Maybe I wanted to annoy him even though he has no idea I’ve got it. But now…
Now I’m considering using it.
I bite my lip and give the backpack a side-eye. It sits there innocently, like who, me?
Ugh. No. I can’t. Not while his scent is still clinging to my skin. Not while I’m thinking about him.
My phone starts to vibrate and I grab it like a drowning man grabs a lifejacket, opening it up to see that Autumn has sent a message to the family group chat.
Autumn: Family barbecue on Saturday. Be there or be square (at Hudson’s of course.) Wyatt, Zach, any chance of you two making a cameo appearance? I might have to break out my tiara if the whole family is together for once.
Wyatt:
Zach: Look at our baby learning to speak. For those that need a translation, that’s no, I have to work on the boat, and thank god for that…
Autumn: So what’s your excuse, Zachary?
Zach: Currently in Florence. Chasing a lost Cirro Ferri painting. Sorry, kids, you’ll have to play without me.
Hudson: And does there also happen to be a poker tournament in Florence this weekend?
Zach: I plead the fifth. Anyway, what about Eden? I like it much better when you use these chats to keep tabs on her.
I roll my eyes at that. Of course my brothers like me taking the heat off them.
Eden: I’m going to the barbecue. I’m on Liberty, remember?
Zach: You made it!
Wyatt:
Zach: I give it two days before you’re gone. Five tops. She’ll be off and we won’t hear from her again until she’s up a mountain in Bali.
I wrinkle my nose at him even though he can’t see me. But before I can tell him to shove his mountain where the sun doesn’t shine, Autumn replies.
Autumn: Ha, that’s where you’re wrong. She’s working for West. She’s staying with him, actually.
Zach: HOLD ON. WEST IS LETTING HER LIVE WITH HIM?? Has anybody run a wellness check on him recently?
Zach: I mean, I love the guy, but let’s be real, he lives like Batman. I hope Eden has earplugs for when he brings women home. Or, you know, a team of them.
Wyatt:
Not this again. I type furiously.
Eden: You guys are actual children.
Zach: Children who know West has the sex appeal of a Bond villain and the emotional availability of a brick wall. You’re the one living in his lair. With a close up view.
Hudson: Enough. West is one of the best men I know. I trust him with my business. With my family. And yes, Eden, that includes you.
My stomach twists. Hudson means it. He trusts West to take care of me. To protect me. If only he knew the truth.
That I’m lying in West’s house, imagining what it would feel like to climb onto his lap and find out exactly why he attracts so many women.
God help me, this is going to be a disaster.
Autumn: Eden, I forgot to ask earlier. Can you bring dessert? And no, sarcasm doesn’t count.
Zach: Bring a ménage à trois. West’s favorite dessert.
Eden:
Zach: Gotta go. Stay strong, sis. And maybe get an eye mask and some earplugs.
Eden: Thanks for the advice. I’ll give it all the consideration it merits.
Wyatt:
Zach: Touché. But seriously, sis, blink twice if West starts growling in his sleep. Or if he walks around shirtless. If he’s your boss, that’s an HR issue.
Eden: I’ll add it to the official incident log. Right under “Brother made me consider faking my own death to leave group chat.”
Zach: We love you too, Eden.
I drop my phone onto the bed and stare at the ceiling. My family is so stupidly weird. One brother thinks West Abbott is secretly Batman. One only speaks emoji. One trusts him with my life.
And me? Yeah. I’m the idiot who married him.
God help us all.