Chapter 19
LANEY
I woke up in Gwen’s bed, tangled in lemon-printed sheets and regret. The ceiling fan above me was spinning softly, stirring warm air around the room. Early morning sunlight pooled along the edges of the curtains, letting me know that yesterday’s dreary weather had passed.
Wondering if it was some kind of ominous sign about my marriage that even the skies had chosen only yesterday to be gray, I groaned and wished that the weather could’ve taken the drama in my life with it.
The fight with my father and running away from Sterling filtered back into my consciousness like a sticky mess of melted toffee I couldn’t seem to scrape off my brain.
After I’d left my house, I came straight here and I hadn’t spoken to either man since. Sterling had tried to call. Twice, which I suspected was a record for a guy like him, but I hadn’t picked up and he hadn’t left a voicemail.
My phone buzzed again. It was already in my hand. I hadn’t slept much and it seemed like even this last, short stint hadn’t been deep enough for the device to slip from my fingers. When I finally brought myself to glance at it, I groaned again.
Sterling W: Are you okay?
I stared at the message. Not a paragraph. Not an apology for butting in when I’d told him I would handle it myself. Just those three words, simple, clean, and completely confusing—like everything else about him. Why do you keep asking me that? Do you even care?
In response, I sent him a thumbs-up emoji. Maybe it was passive-aggressive, but that was all he was getting from me. At least it was a reply, and besides, what did he want me to say? That everything was fine and that having that kind of argument with my dad was normal? Because it wasn’t.
I doubted he wanted to know that I wasn’t okay. Because I wasn’t really, but also, I kind of was. I was frustrated, and angry, and apprehensive, but I wasn’t contemplating flinging myself off a bridge or anything quite as drastic as that.
All I needed was space—and time to breathe.
A second text came through from him a few seconds later, but I didn’t read it. Gwen nudged the door open with a hip, holding a cardboard coffee tray with two mugs in it and a bag that smelled like heaven dipped in cinnamon sugar.
“You’re alive,” she announced, too perky for how early it was, but she was one of those morning people. “You’re also still here, which means I get to talk to you about your extremely questionable life choices.”
Another groan flowed out of me and I flopped back against the pillows. “Can we not?”
“Nope, it’s too late to get out of it now.
Plus, I brought moral support, caffeine, and fresh pastries.
” She carefully balanced the tray on the bed and sat on the edge, already opening the bag containing the pastries.
“So, have you heard from your dad yet? I still can’t believe you didn’t tell him that you were getting married. ”
I grabbed a pillow and fluffed it behind my back as I sat up, knowing I had to face her—and the world—at some point today.
Yesterday, I’d come to seek sanctuary here and she’d given it to me.
I’d filled her in on what had happened and she hadn’t questioned me much, probably sensing I’d been just a touch too close to fleeing the country and changing my name.
“I didn’t mean to marry him like that,” I said. “It all just happened so fast.”
“There are, like, a lot of steps involved in marrying someone,” she said. “It’s kind of hard to trip into it without finding a minute to talk to your dad.”
I glared at her and she held up a hand.
“I’m not judging,” she said, mouth full of chocolate-chip croissant.
“Okay, I am but only a little. You could’ve told him.
You told me and we don’t even live together, but you’re a grown woman, Lane.
Honestly, what you did might be unconventional, but you didn’t join a cult or run away with the circus.
You married a hot billionaire who gave you a rock so big it could anchor a yacht. ”
I pressed my palms to my face. “I just wish my dad understood why.”
Her voice softened and she handed over my coffee. “He will understand. Eventually. You’re not the first daughter to do something big without her father’s blessing and you won’t be the last. He’s just shocked, but that doesn’t mean he won’t come around.”
“Maybe, but you know him. Coming around isn’t going to happen on anyone else’s timeline and I kind of need him to get onboard now. I don’t know how I’m going to do this without his support.”
Which was why I should’ve told him about Sterling’s proposal the same night he made it.
I’d had my reasons not to, but in retrospect, I could see why he’d handled the news exactly the way he had.
I didn’t blame him in the least. I just needed him to understand that this had been the right choice.
I needed him in my corner, where he’d always been.
After breakfast and too many blueberry danishes, I finally headed back home to change. Gwen had offered to let me avoid my house entirely, but I needed clean clothes—my own. At this point, what I wore felt like the only part of my life I had control over.
As soon as I pushed our front door open with the same creak it’d had since I could remember, I knew Dad wasn’t here. The place was quiet in that way that spoke of a complete absence of life. He wasn’t just sleeping—he was out.
I’d expected he would be. When he wasn’t working the graveyard shift, my dad was always up and out before most people had had their second dream, but I still stood in the middle of the kitchen for a long minute, listening for nothing.
That was when I saw it. A note stuck to the fridge with a faded Space Mountain magnet we’d had my whole life even though none of us had ever been to Disney World. I recognized Dad’s cramped, all-caps handwriting immediately and I strode over to it, sliding it from under the magnet as I read.
SORRY FOR BLOWING UP. WE NEED TO TALK. CAN’T TODAY. CASE IS A NIGHTMARE. DON’T DO ANYTHING STUPID UNTIL THEN.
Guilt raced through me like a living, breathing being that had taken up permanent residence inside me. I hated that I was adding to his stress. He didn’t need more. He needed rest. Retirement. A break from mangled bodies, bloody crime scenes, and interrogation rooms.
Technically, I could give that to him now, if he’d take it, but I knew without even broaching the subject that he wouldn’t. He was too proud. Too stuck in his ways. Too passionate about his job, regardless of what anyone else thought about it.
Finally leaving the kitchen behind, I headed to the bathroom and took a shower, then changed into a pair of soft, worn jeans and a comfortable shirt, piling my hair on top of my head. Then I went to the store.
The scent of those baby powder diffusers hit me the second I opened the door, and for a moment, it felt like everything made sense.
Between these four walls, I was safe. In control.
I could forget about the Instant Husband I’d somehow mixed up for myself like powdered lemonade. Just add water. Or in my case, a ring.
I snorted into the stillness of the shop, relieved that it wasn’t open yet.
Soon enough, Anna would arrive for her shift.
Luella had Sundays off, but for now, it was just me and my routine.
I tucked myself behind the counter, fired up the computer, and let the familiarity of a regular workday settle over me.
Invoices. Scheduling. Budget tracking. Something about all of that made the world feel less chaotic.
Until the bell over the door rang. I didn’t even look up at first. “Good morning, Anna.”
“Laney.” His voice hit me in the spine and I straightened on instinct.
Sterling.
I looked up slowly, and by the time I made eye contact, he was only a few feet away from the counter, in another of his ridiculously well-fitted suits that probably cost more than I made in a month.
This one was gray—not dark or light. Just gray.
With a white button-down shirt, a tie that matched the suit, and even a starched white pocket square.
In another universe, the sight of him in that suit and the way it stretched in all the right ways over his broad shoulders and toned arms was probably making me gawk.
Despite everything else, the man really was attractive in a way I hadn’t encountered very often, with his features looking like they’d been sculpted to perfection over years of intense labor by a master sculptor and that dark hair always styled just so, like nothing had ever ruffled him even a little bit.
I had the sudden urge to get up and push my fingers into his hair just to find out if it was capable of being tousled, but the expression in his blue eyes stopped me. Icy and sharp, they stared into mine like he could see straight through me. “You ignored my calls.”
I nodded. “Some people might’ve drawn the conclusion that it was because I didn’t want to talk to you.”
Naturally, he ignored the jab. “What about the second text?”
“I didn’t read it.”
His jaw ticked. “Rough day?”
I shot him a flat look. “You railroaded my attempt to tell my dad about our stupid marriage in my own way. So yeah, you could say that.”
He didn’t apologize, but I hadn’t expected him to. Sterling seemed like one of those people who didn’t actually feel remorse, probably because every move he made was calculated. Nothing happened by accident or had consequences he hadn’t already accepted before he’d done it.
Without saying another word, he rounded the side of the counter and dropped onto the stool beside mine like he belonged there.
I shifted away from him. “What do you want?”
“To watch my wife work for a minute,” he said as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
He folded his hands in his lap, completely calm and unshakable as always as he took a long look around the shop.
“This place is important to you and we’re married now, which means it’s important to me too. ”
“We’re not married and I’m not your wife until the paperwork is filed tomorrow.” I wasn’t saying it in an attempt to be difficult or stubborn. “Stay if you want, but we’re not even officially open for a couple more hours. Nothing interesting is going to happen.”
“Something interesting is already happening,” he observed as he watched my fingers clicking keys on the ancient laptop. “How old is that thing?”
As if to answer his question, it started making a whirring noise I knew meant it was starting to overheat. Next, it would freeze. I sighed, getting up and plugging in the tiny fan we kept there for this very purpose.
Sterling kept watching my every move, then sighed and slid his wallet out of his inside pocket. He opened it, pulled out a card, and surprisingly held it out toward me.
I frowned, my gaze snapping over to it when he just held it there, hovering right in front of my nose. My breath stalled in my lungs when I realized it had my name on it, but not my actual name. My new name.
In letters that looked like they’d been printed in real gold, against a sleek, matte black background, were the words Laney Westwood .
My stomach did a flip. My mouth turned bone dry and my heart started hammering in my chest. “What’s that?”
“It’s a card,” he said slowly, as if he wasn’t sure why he had to explain this to me. “It’s your card, actually. We discussed this. I’ll take care of your daily needs and what you need today is a new computer, which reminded me that you didn’t have this yet.”
When I still didn’t move to take the card from him, he set it down on the counter with a soft snap and rose from his seat. “Go buy a new computer, Laney. I’ll pick you up from your place at six.”
“You will?” I frowned, finally looking up into his eyes. “Why?”
“I’m introducing you to my family tonight so that tomorrow we can start our lives as a married couple and put this weekend behind us. Pack your bags, darling. I’ll send someone for them in the morning, but it’s time for you to come home.”