Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Lauren
I wasn’t great in the kitchen, but I could make a decent shrimp and thyme-lemon linguine. Was I cooking a return-home meal for my boyfriend because I felt guilty?
You betcha.
I wanted him to know he was the first person on my mind. Not anyone else.
Fucking Nazarov. I was so pissed at him.
Not only had he blindsided me with that kiss, he had yet to return those signed papers, and just the sight of him this morning, wearing little more than an erotically thin towel and that know-it-all smirk told me all I needed to know: I had to exit this mess as soon as possible.
First order of the day: be honest with Thad.
The doorbell rang and I jumped out of my skin. He stood on my threshold with a bunch of flowers and a bottle of wine.
“Hey, babe!”
“Hi! How was your trip? You must be so tired.”
“A bit.” He leaned in to kiss me, a quick peck, which made me feel … guilty? Oh, this would not do. I had pulled away as soon as I could from Alexei’s firm lips. I was not the criminal here.
I took the flowers and wine and led him to the kitchen.
“I couldn’t believe it when you said you were going to cook.”
“I can cook! Don’t you like knowing I can still surprise you?”
“Sure. And don’t worry, I won’t mind something simple. I’ve been wining and dining clients all week and I am done-zo with rich food.”
“Just a light pasta dish. Nothing complicated.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He looked around the kitchen. I had sectioned off a part where I could cook, but it was still a bomb site with floorboards unfinished, paint peeling, cupboard doors hanging off the hinges. Never mind the construction site gauntlet through which he’d passed.
“Not much progress here, huh?”
Well, if you helped …
That wasn’t fair. I shouldn’t expect Thad to give up his weekends to work on my dream. Maybe when we were engaged, he might feel differently.
“Tell me all about your trip. Who did you meet?”
He launched into a detailed breakdown of his various meetings and how amazing it was, working with all these rich oil sheikhs in Dubai, who were interested in investing in cryptocurrency.
Half-listening, I added salt to the pot followed by the linguine, then olive oil to the pan with half a teardrop of finely chopped garlic.
“Not too much, babe. You know I hate when the kisses are too stinky.”
I didn’t enjoy that either, but I wasn’t sure I needed to be told.
I added a little extra. “I’d love a glass of wine, too.”
“Oh, of course, where are my manners?” He placed the half-drunk glass he’d poured a moment ago down on the counter and grabbed another stemmed glass from the rack. “Can I help with anything?”
“I’ve already set the patio table. You can bring the wine out there, if you like. This’ll just be a couple more minutes.” I threw the shrimp into the pan and attacked a lemon with a grater, imagining it was Alexei Nazarov’s superhero jaw.
As soon as Thad left the kitchen, I relaxed. These days, I was so stressed.
After dinner, Thad brought the dishes in while I sat on the patio and watched the sunset.
The sky was a heady mix of vibrant oranges and glorious pinks, with ribbons of yellow fighting to get a look in.
Better to peer up than down at the old deck, which was in serious need of repair.
Once I had the kitchen sorted, I would start on this, or maybe the gutters, or the roof shingles.
The metaphor for my disaster of a life was a little too close for comfort.
A pop that sounded like champagne being uncorked echoed in the kitchen. A few seconds later, Thad appeared with two flutes of bubbly.
“Did you open the bottle in the fridge?”
“Yeah, I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
I had been holding onto that for when I signed Riley Thorne.
“But we still have wine here.” It’s not what he did, it’s why.
My anemic objection couldn’t stop what was happening. In freeze-framed horror, I watched as he set the full glasses on the table.
Moved his hand to the pocket of his Tommy Hilfiger shorts.
Extracted the ring box with a flourish.
I broke out into a cold sweat. Not now, not now …
“I thought about doing this at a nice restaurant, but you went to all this trouble, and the sunset is beautiful and …” He got down on one knee, which was a terrible idea because, splinters. “Lauren Yates, would you—”
I held up both hands. “Thad, I have to stop you there.”
“W-what?”
“I have something to tell you and it’s important you know before you go any further.”
He blinked. Waited. Still on one knee, but a bead of sweat now rolled down the side of his face.
“It might be better if you …” I gestured weakly to the chair where he had earlier sat and ate half his pasta because he was going low carb.
The moment stretched painfully; after what seemed like an age, he hauled himself upright and took a seat, placing the ring box on the table.
“There’s only one way to say this … I’m already married.”
“You’re …” He looked understandably confused. “Married?”
“Yes, it happened in Vegas about a month before I met you, but I only found out about it recently. I’ve been trying to get it annulled. It was an accident. A huge mistake. And I have to get a lawyer involved to handle the paperwork.”
It was a lot, so he took a moment to process it.
Finally, he asked, “How did this happen?”
“How else? Alcohol. A mass wedding of Elvises and Marilyns. Me thinking it was a joke. And him, too. He didn’t realize until he came across the marriage certificate not long ago and reached out.
I’m working on getting it fixed so that it never happened.
I swear to you I did not know I was married when I started dating you. I would never have—”
He held up a hand, rather imperiously. I did not enjoy that. “I was about to ask you to marry me.”
“Yes, I figured that was why you had champagne and a ring and were down on one knee. But I can’t, in all good faith, answer when my situation is in limbo. I know this must be painful to hear.”
He stood and paced a moment, hands on hips.
“Why didn’t you tell me before I opened the champagne?”
“I was trying to get it fixed and then you went out of town and—”
“You still decided I didn’t need to know. I thought we trusted each other.”
He was right. For most of my life, a lack of trust and honesty had impacted all my relationships, especially with men. Yet here I was, unable to practice what I preached.
“We do. I screwed up here, Thad. But you know how I like to take care of things myself.”
He scoffed. “Do I ever. You wouldn’t even let me hire someone to fix that running toilet.”
“Because I wanted to learn how to do it myself and I didn’t have time until the hockey season was over.” It had been a kind gesture, but Thad often thought he knew better. Like someone else I know. “I wanted to tell you sooner, but it didn’t seem like a phone conversation.”
“So you just found out?”
“About two weeks ago.”
He looked flabbergasted. “Before my trip? Is that why you wouldn’t stay over at my place the night before I left?”
“I-I felt weird about it, as I’m technically married to someone else. Not because I have any feelings for this person. In fact, Ass-arov is being an absolute dick and—”
“Ass-arov? Do you mean Alexei Nazarov?”
“Yes. We ran into each other in Vegas and then, this mistake happened.” Passive voice, darling. I’m not to blame.
His entire demeanor changed. It was almost as if … was my boyfriend fanboying my husband?
“You’re actually married to Alexei Nazarov?”
“Against my will! I’m trying to get out of it.”
He grabbed one of the flutes and slammed an entire glass of my signing-Riley celebratory water. “But he’s an amazing player.”
“Sure, but that doesn’t mean I want to be married to him. I’m trying to get out of it and he’s dragging his heels.”
He crossed his arms, looking smugger than I’d ever seen him. “Is he in love with you?”
Sheesh, don’t sound so shocked.
“No, not at all. He’s got some weird idea that the universe is telling us something. Bullshit Russian lit versions of life. They have a stupid proverb for everything.” I stood and placed my hands on his folded arms. “He’s not what I want. You are.”
A shiver shuddered down my spine. I ignored it.
His lips curved in a smirk. “Maybe you could stretch it out. Get him to pay you alimony.”
I laughed nervously, and he joined in a second later. That same unease shivered through me. “I don’t need his money. This will be over soon, but in the meantime, could we place the proposal on ice?”
He cupped my waist with his hands and pulled me close. “So if we slept together, we’d be having an affair? Sounds kind of naughty.”
I had to say, he was taking this very well. After the initial shock, he seemed to understand that we had ourselves a very fixable situation.
This was exactly the kind of person I wanted to marry. A reasonable-minded problem-solver, not an emotionally stunted secret hoarder, toying with me like a cat would a comatose mouse.
The affair comment irked me, though. I didn’t want anything Nazarov-related to taint what I had with Thad. I would not be using this crazy situation to improve my sex life.
Which was fine. Absolutely fine.
“I’m so sorry that this happened. I have a top-notch legal team on it, gathering all the paperwork necessary to make this go away.”
Best not to mention that the divorce papers had been drawn up and sent several days ago, only to be ignored by my ass of a husband. I would keep that romantic dinner and locker room kiss to myself as well.
He chuckled. “It’s kind of wild. I don’t want to share you, but if I had to choose anyone …”
“Not funny.” I was no longer enjoying this. I preferred when he was moody and jealous.
Like Alexei.