Chapter 28
Baylor
“Why are you leaving?”
Lauralee wrangles away from me and looks around as if checking to make sure no one is listening. Setting her eyes on me again, she whispers, “I played my part. Now I’m leaving.”
“Three hours? That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She walks away like I won’t follow her.
I’m right on her heels, willing to follow her off a cliff if that’s where she’s headed. “You’re not going to talk to me about it?”
“What’s there to say?”
I catch up to her, matching her pace while trying not to look like I’m fighting with my bride at a company party the day after we got married. “Telling me what’s wrong would help. What did I do, Shortcake?”
She stops, tilts her head to the side, and hits me with a glare so hard it about knocks me backward. “Don’t call me that. You’ve lost your privileges.”
I balk. “My privileges?”
“Yes. You’ve lost them as my husband and my friend. You can call me Lauralee or Ms. Knot. That’s it.”
“I prefer Mrs. Greene.”
She scoffs with an exaggerated eye roll. “I bet.”
A clue to what’s fucking going on would be nice, but it doesn’t seem like I’ll get that luxury. “Why are you always saying that? You’ve said it three times today.”
I swear that steam shoots from her ears. “This is why I can’t talk to you. You do stuff like that and expect me to just fall over like a domino at your whim. Not this time.” She starts for the house again, giving the partygoers surrounding the pool a wide berth.
I know better than to push this too far in the middle of the party.
We go inside. I give her some space to get ahead of me again, sensing she needs it.
And though I have plenty to say, I wordlessly follow her to the bedroom.
As soon as I close the door, I keep my tone lowered and say, “Please talk to me.”
She’d already launched her suitcase onto the bed, but her hands stop after she unzips it.
With her back to me, I can tell the debate she’s having with herself by the way she shakes her head before looking down, clenching her eyes closed.
She finally turns around, tears streaking her cheeks, but she holds her head high.
“Tagger texted earlier when you were in the store. I’m not sure if you got it. ”
“What did he text us about?” I’m already pulling my phone from my back pocket, but dread is kicking in. My heart starts thundering in my chest when I touch the screen to see a missed call from a client, which I knew about, but beneath is a buried message chain.
“It wasn’t to us. It was to you. You left your phone in the car when you got the ice cream.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fucking hell.
She sits on the bed, her b ody leaning on the suitcase as if she needs the support. “I can explain,” I start as I tap on his name.
“I’m sure you can, Baylor,” she replies with no argument, but it doesn’t sound like there’s room for the truth either. “Or should I say bet?”
I read both of his messages and then look back at her. My feet want to move, but I hold myself back, thinking that this is about respecting her space and not me right now. When a tear dangles from her chin, I whisper, “I’m sorry.”
She nods and pushes herself up like this is the last of her energy left. Flipping open the suitcase, she whispers, “I bet.”
Fuck me.
“I know you’re hurt, Lauralee.” I take a step closer, not wanting to creep up on her, but I can’t stand the distance.
Turning around, she huffs. “You know because you’re the one who hurt me.”
“I did.”
“Knowingly.” She drops her head into her hands and starts crying, her sobs muffled, but the ache is heard.
It’s fucking torture to see her in pain, but especially because I caused it.
Did I really think this would end any other way?
I’m so fucking stupid. When she lifts her head, her brown eyes shine with gold and those beautiful flecks of green in the evening sun streaming through the window.
“I fell in love, but I was nothing more than a bet to you.”
“I love you. That is real. When you said it felt real last night. It feels fucking real to me, too. I didn’t even know I had a soul until you came along.”
“But you decided mine wasn’t worth the vows you spoke.
” Putting her hands on her hips, she looks down at the carpeted floor and shakes her head again.
When she looks up, she says, “I don’t know how to get a divorce since this is new to me.
” She laughs without humor in it. “Twenty-four hours. Must be s ome kind of record.”
“We don’t have to make any rash decisions. Nothing has to be decided right this second. Please. Let’s?—”
“The worst part is that I don’t even know if I can afford a divorce, but let me make one thing clear. You and I are through.”
The words are sharp, cutting right into my chest and severing my heart.
Like my soul, it didn’t come to life until I fell in love with her.
That confession won’t help, and other words don’t come, the ones that would make this right as she hurries to pack and abandon my life.
Losing her is the last thing I want. I can’t.
She grabs three dresses from the closet, pulling them from the hanger.
“I was naive. I didn’t know what I was getting into.
That’s what I get for following my heart instead of my head.
” Throwing the dresses in the suitcase and fisting her hands at her sides, she yells, “I married you because I loved you. If I didn’t .
. .” She sucks in a harsh breath. “This wouldn’t—” She shuts her mouth abruptly, grabs a small bag from the nightstand, and tosses it on top of her clothes.
I brace myself for the response before daring to ask the question. “This wouldn’t what, Lauralee?”
“This wouldn’t hurt so much.” She sinks onto the bed, her feet barely reaching the floor. “I trusted you had changed. You haven’t.”
I walk to the far side of the bed and sit. I’ve never felt worse in my life. “If I could change this?—”
“You can’t. It’s done, and we’re over.”
With our backs to each other, I tell her the truth because I may never get another chance to. “I made the bet because I had already won it.”
That sits in the air be tween us like a dark cloud keeping us apart. I look down at the wedding ring on my finger. Nothing ever felt right until I was wearing it.
The bed shifts from her side, causing me to look back over my shoulder. My eyes meet hers, and she asks, “How?”
None of this is going to help my case, but I can’t lie to her now that it’s out in the open.
“Tagger was catching onto me being gone and coming home early. He was digging for information, figuring I was seeing someone.” I blow out a breath but keep going.
“We had already had sex but agreed we weren’t ready to share our relationship.
That’s when he bet me my mom’s car that someone as incredible as you would never give me the time of day.
But Lauralee, we had already had sex. I knew I’d win, but the win wasn’t going to come out until we decided to go public. ”
She studies my eyes before her gaze lowers to the bed.
So I hurry to finish. “Was it stupid to make the bet in the first place? Yes. Immature. Absolutely. I regret it so fucking much. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve to be part of something that two fuckups didn’t think through.”
Reaching for a loose thread on the comforter, she looks back at me. “And you will win your mom’s car? That’s the prize?”
“You are the prize. That car isn’t mine unless you’re in my life, not because of a damn bet, but because if you never wanted us to go public, I’d gladly lose the car if I have you.”
With a sigh, anger escapes her. “I’m trying to piece this together to give you the benefit of the doubt. The car isn’t yours because Christine owns the majority share of the ranch, which also means Tagger does. This is because you and Griffin gave most of your shares to her for running it?”
“Yes.” It doesn’t surprise me that she knows the details. She’s my sister’s best friend. And it was a big deal, a gift we gave our sister since she had more than earned the ranch and farmland. “My ass of a best friend knew exactly what he was doing by including the car.”
“He dangled it in front of you, and you grabbed the chance you were given to own it.” Sliding her knee on the bed, she angles more of her body to face me. I hope that’s trust I spy reentering her eyes. It sure looks like it. “Does that sound right on target?”
“Bull’s-eye.” That she’s even granted me the benefit of the doubt has hope returning that we can work this out.
She leans back on the stack of pillows lining the padded headboard as if she’s not in such a rush and holds her hand with the rings up in front of her.
“It’s really crappy to find out about this, especially through his text.
I understand the reasoning. I know your mom’s car is important to you.
” Sitting up again as if she can’t sit still, she twists the wedding band around her finger.
“You could have just told me about it. I would have made sure you won without throwing our relationship under the bus.” She throws her hand out.
“Marriage aside, we were dating, Baylor. We were in a relationship, even if we hadn’t defined it.
I was supposed to be your partner, someone you can tell anything to and would be on your side, but this . . .”
Just when forgiveness is within reach, it slips through my fingers again. “Please give me a second chance. I love you.” The words cause my heart to ache and my throat to tighten. “We’re real, baby.”
She turns her back on me again when she drops her feet to the carpet.
I can plead all night, but I can tell she’s decided.
Pushing off the bed, she comes around and stands in front of me.
I wedge my legs apart so she can get closer.
“This marriage may have been created out of necessity,” she says, resting her hands on my shoulders, “but I still deserve respect. ”