Chapter Nineteen
Magnolia
My mind was racing as I drove home from lunch with Charlie, thinking about everything she'd said about Vance, wondering if she was going to work up the nerve to put an offer in on that house, and if she did, if she'd ever talk to lawnmower hottie next door.
On the surface, lawnmower hottie was the polar opposite of the kind of guy I would've imagined for Charlotte, but then again, so was that house. And she wanted the house.
My mental wanderings ground to a halt as I pulled into the end of my driveway and saw a familiar car. Brayden had purchased the luxury sedan a few weeks before he'd officially finished his internship.
He couldn't afford to buy me an engagement ring, or help with the bills, but he had no problem coming up with the down payment for a $70,000 car. Asshole.
What was he doing here? What could he possibly want from me?
I parked my car at the front door and jumped out. I could hear voices at the side of the house by the back gate, and Scout barking.
I rounded the corner to see Vance, shirtless and wearing a pair of athletic shorts, his fingers gripping the handlebar of the stroller, his shoulders set.
I couldn't see Brayden's face, but I knew that tone of voice. Neither of them had noticed my arrival. I stopped for a second, curious to know what they were arguing about.
"You're just a fucking opportunist, aren't you?" Brayden said. "You've wanted Magnolia for years, and the second I'm out of the way, you just fucking move in?"
"Are you calling me an opportunist? You? You, who let her take care of you for years while treating her like shit and cheating on her? Get the fuck off her property before I call the police," Vance growled.
"Nobody's calling the police," I said from behind them.
Vance didn't take his eyes off Brayden when he said, "Magnolia, go in the house. I'll take care of this."
"Brayden, what are you doing here?" I asked, ignoring Vance. Brayden stepped to the side, away from the gate and toward me, allowing me to see his face. All signs of temper were gone, replaced by a smooth, almost smarmy, smile.
How had I ever fallen for this guy? With his perfectly pressed chinos and his starched button-down shirt, he was bland and dull.
Vance's golden skin glowed from a light layer of sweat, the lines of his tattoos stark and bold, his muscles tight with anger. Vance was so much more alive, more compelling, more everything than Brayden.
"Do you want to go put a shirt on, guy?" Brayden said to Vance, and I giggled. He gestured at Vance and muttered, "Ridiculous, running around without a shirt on."
Letting my eyes skim Vance's six-pack as he turned to face me, I winked and said, "Don't get dressed on my account."
"Wasn't planning on it, Sugar," Vance said with an exaggerated leer that prompted another giggle for me and a sneer from Brayden.
"Are you two together now? Is that what this is?" Brayden demanded.
Still ignoring him, I said to Vance, "Why does everyone keep asking us that? Why do these people think it's their business?"
"Because they're nosy and their lives are boring," Vance said, grinning at me.
"Charlotte's life isn't boring," I said.
"Yes, it is," Vance said. "Her life is beyond boring. Is that what you were talking about at lunch? You and me?"
"It's none of your business what we were talking about at lunch," I said, coming around the side of the stroller so I could check on Rosie.
I barely got a chance to see that she was fast asleep when Vance's hand closed over my upper arm and he hauled me back, away from Brayden.
I realized Brayden's presence was bothering him a lot more than he was willing to let on. Then I realized it wasn't bothering me that much at all.
Weird. Maybe all I needed to get over Brayden was to see him in the same space as Vance, to realize how little he meant in the big picture of my life.
He'd been a mistake, a waste of my time, and that was sad. But it was over, and I'd moved on.
Which begged the question, "Why are you here, Brayden?"
"I need to talk to you, sweetheart. There are things to say."
"She doesn't have anything to say to you," Vance shot out. I elbowed him in the side.
"There's nothing to say, Brayden. You cheated on me, then you broke up with me. It turns out that was the best thing you ever did. You got all your stuff out of the house. I checked after you left. Why don't you just get in your car and leave? If you come back, I'm calling the police."
"Sweetheart," Brayden said, his eyes heavy with false remorse. He held a hand out to me as if beseeching me to listen. Unfortunately for him, and for me, I knew him too well to fall for it. He kept going. "I made mistakes. I can admit that. But I want you back."
"Did you lose your job?" I asked evenly.
"No, but—"
"Did your girlfriend break up with you?" I went on.
"She doesn't have anything to do with—"
"You're right. She doesn't have anything to do with this. And I don't care if she kicked you out. All I care about is that you cheated on me with her while we were engaged. I care that you're a liar. But I'm done with you, so I don't care that much."
I turned to face Vance, giving Brayden my back, dismissing him. "Should we go put Rosie down? How long has she been asleep?"
"She'll probably wake up as soon as I unsnap her, but it's worth a try," he said, his smile warm and gentle.
"Did she like jogging?" I asked, smiling a little at the site of Rosie sleeping, not a snot bubble in sight, and at the sound of Brayden grinding his teeth behind me. He'd never liked being ignored.
"Maggie, just a few minutes. I just want to talk to you for a few minutes."
"No," I said, without looking over my shoulder. "I'm done with you. I have nothing to say."
His face hard, jaw set, Vance said, "If you're not in your car by the time we get in the house, we're calling the police."
"Maggie won't call the police on me," Brayden protested.
"Yes, I will," I said. I stepped to the side to give Vance room to turn the stroller around and said, "Scout, backdoor!"
My dog was not the brightest bulb in the box, but he knew what that meant, and he whirled from the gate and took off for the back of the house.
I concentrated on getting the door open for Vance to push the stroller through, hoping Brayden was leaving. I'd meant it. I would call the police. I just didn't want to.
To my relief, Brayden got in his car and drove away. I had no idea why he wanted to talk to me. I didn't believe for a second that he wanted to apologize. I don't think Brayden had apologized to me in the four years we’d been together.
The only reason he would've wanted to talk to me was if he needed me to do something for him. I was done doing anything for Brayden Michaels.
I had something much more intriguing on my mind, something he'd said. Charlie had said it too, only I hadn't believed her.
Before I could ask Vance anything, he said, "Can you get Rosie? I'm going to jump in the shower."
"I've got her," I said. She didn't wake as I carefully unsnapped her from the jogging stroller and lifted her into my arms.
The stroller was designed to carry a much larger child, but Vance had bought an infant insert to support Rosie’s head and spine in the big seat. It must've been comfortable because she looked like she'd been asleep for a while.
I had her tucked into the swing in the kitchen when Vance came back, wearing an old pair of jeans and a white button-down, untucked and unbuttoned.
I licked my lips. My brain couldn't quite register that we'd had sex that morning. It still seemed impossible. My body, on the other hand, had not only accepted the reality, but it was ready to relive it. First, I had a question.
"Is it true?" I asked. "What Brayden said, that you wanted to sleep with me when he and I were together?"
"You have to ask?" Vance came toward me, intent clear in his eyes.
It looked like his mind was in the gutter, right along with mine, but I wanted an answer before I stripped off his clothes and had my way with him. I sent a quick look at the swing, rocking the sleeping baby, before shaking my head at Vance and tilting it toward the living room.
He followed me out of the kitchen, through the sitting room, and into the formal living room. We rarely used it. It had a beautiful view of the grounds behind the house, but the furniture was stiff and a little too formal. My grandmother's style, not mine.
"What do you mean, I have to ask? You say that like it was obvious."
"It was obvious," he said. "It was obvious to everyone except for you, apparently."
"I didn't know," I protested. "You slept with so many women, and you never said anything."
Vance shoved his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and looked a little sheepish. "Yeah, well, I knew I didn't have a shot with you while I was drinking, and you were with Brayden then anyway."
"And after you stopped drinking?" I asked, cautious but curious.
"Just because I wasn't drinking, it didn't mean I had my shit together," he said, stating the obvious.
"You were still sleeping around a lot," I said, sounding exactly like a jealous girlfriend. I didn't care.
"Not as much as before, but yeah. You were engaged to someone else," he said, defensive.
"I didn't know," I said. "You sometimes made comments about my ass, but you never said anything real.”
"And if I had? Would you have left him? Or would you have quit working for me and shut me out?”
I thought about that for a minute. From where I was standing just then, after a night in Vance's bed, the thought that I would've quit my job and cut him out of my life was insane. We'd been friends.
But for a long time, I’d been determined to make things work with Brayden and I'd been positive there was no chance of anything with Vance. Would I have dumped my fiancé to find out?
"I don't know," I admitted. "I don't know. But I'm a lot happier with you than I ever was with him."
"Obviously," Vance said, rolling his eyes at me. "For one thing, my dick is way bigger than his. And for another, I actually know what to do with mine."
I burst out laughing at his arrogance. He was kidding, but only kind of. That's because while his words were funny, they were also accurate.
"You were really thinking about me that way, all this time?" I asked, crossing the room to him.
"For years," he said. "I've wanted you for years."
I stopped in front of him and reached for my zipper.
Lowering it slowly, I shrugged my dress off my shoulders and let it fall to my waist, exposing my breasts in a lacy black bra. I hadn't had time to go shopping lately, not in a store, but I could do a lot of damage on the Internet with a credit card.
Vance's pupils dilated, his eyes fixed on my bare skin.
"Did you know I’d been thinking about you too?" I asked, reaching for the open collar of his shirt. "Pretty much since the day we met."
"Really?" Vance’s voice was thick and slow. "What've you been thinking?"
"Why don't you let me show you?” I said, peeling his shirt off his shoulders and down his arms.