Chapter 47
FORTY-SEVEN
Nova
It’s a line I would have teased Lake about if not for the fact that I’ve just looked up and spied George coming toward us.
“Um,” I whisper.
“Dude,” Knox says loudly, laughter bubbling up in his chest. “You did not just quote Mr. Darcy.”
Lake had.
Probably because I’ve had the movie on repeat over the last few days. There is just something about it that sucks me in and—
Not the time.
Just like it’s not the time to clarify why Knox knows that quote well enough to immediately remember it’s from Mr. Darcy.
Because George is coming closer…and my sister is behind him.
And they’re both wearing huge grins on their faces.
What. The. Hell?
“Fuck off,” Lake grumbles, shoving Knox back again, “and sit your ass down before you fall down.”
“I think he has major Darcy vibes,” Ella says conspiratorially, grinning goofily up at me. “All serious and broody and a kickass businessman with a hidden heart of gold.” She clamps her hand to her chest and sighs, fluttering her eyelashes up at Lake. “Are you worth ten thousand a year too?”
Knox grins, leans in, and taps his sister on the nose, nearly sending both of them toppling. They right themselves, and Riggs shoves a glass of water in each of their hands.
Smart man.
Because seriously, these two should not be allowed to coexist in the same city. They are Trouble. With that capital T. “How uncouth,” Knox says, setting the cup of water on the bar top. “Darcy would never deign to be a businessman. Everyone knows that the truly rich don’t work.”
They are hilarious.
And I read enough Regency-Period romance novels to know that’s true—or close enough, anyway.
And I want to hear them continue to banter. I want to watch Lake’s scowl deepen.
I want…to kiss the frown lines away, to tease a smile out of him instead.
But my ex is incoming.
“Guys,” I say, my fingers tightening on Lake’s, trying to get him to focus. “I—”
Too late.
George and Ashley have hit our orbit.
“What the fuck?” Ella says, lurching off her barstool and nearly toppling forward again.
Riggs snakes out a hand, draws her back against him, saving her from face planting, and clearly, I should have cut her off a few honey rosemary mules ago.
But I don’t have time to feel guilty about that.
Lake is turning, his fingers tightening on mine, drawing me behind him.
Putting his body between me and my ex and—
Butterflies.
“Are you fucking stupid?” Lake snaps.
I tug against his hold, trying to shift enough to see something that isn’t Lake’s broad back. He doesn’t let me move in front of him, but I do succeed in gaining a couple of inches to the left.
Which is enough to see George’s dumb face.
And my sister’s smirking one.
My sister who’s all but floating, tossing her head, sending the shoulder length—and the petty queen in me says crispy, since she’s far too fond of the bleach—floating behind her.
God, she’s even lifting her hand to—
Lifting her hand.
Her left hand.
I frown, lean closer, and—
Go absolutely still.
“You’re engaged,” I breathe.
Her smirk widens. “No, sissy. We’re married.”
I rock back on my heels. “What?”
George puffs up his chest, and my shock fades. What is their end game here? Do they think, after what they did, that I’ll be upset about this news? Does George think I’m going to beg him to give me some scraps of a relationship after he fucked my sister?
After he put his hands on me? After he hurt Steve?
And my sister—she’s staring at me just as expectantly. Like she wants to get a reaction out of me, like she wants to hurt me.
And…I suppose she does.
“I don’t get you,” I say to her.
She smiles coldly.
I shore my spine, straighten my shoulders. “I don’t get why you want to hurt me. What did I ever do to you?”
Her chin comes up and she looks away.
And…I want answers, but I have the feeling that I’m not going to get the ones I want.
“This is one of those times when you can just move forward, butterfly.”
I jerk, my belly fluttering as I look up, get lost for a moment into Lake’s pretty eyes of gold and green and brown.
I exhale, eyes sliding closed, then nod before opening them back up again.
“I sacrificed a lot for you,” I tell Ashley. “For both of you,” I add, flicking my gaze to George. “But what you did is unforgivable.” I look back to my sister. “I love you, and some part of me always will, but I can’t forgive you for deliberately trying to hurt me.”
“Don’t try to pretend to be all stoic and unaffected,” she snaps. “You hate that I finally got something you want.”
My lungs tighten, and I hold my breath for one long moment. Then I release it slowly, the truth dawning on me. “You’ve already spent the money you got from the jewelry.”
Her eyes narrow. “That’s none of your business.”
But it’s confirmation enough.
“Well, I’m not giving you anymore,” I say. “I’m done.”
Her eyes go to Lake and I can practically see the dollar signs flash to life.
That’s why they’re here.
To hit up my boyfriend because he has that big house, the sponsorships. I’m here and an in…to his wallet.
I inhale sharply, but Lake has clearly read the situation too. “Don’t even try it,” he says. “I don’t give money to users, and especially not ones who’ve hurt my woman.”
My sister gasps. “That’s—”
“Let’s go,” I murmur and start to turn away, shaking my head, determined to let this just roll off my back. I thought…well, it doesn’t matter what I thought.
The proof is right in front of me.
My sister only cares about herself.
My sister only wants to use me.
To hurt me.
I don’t want to do the same, don’t have the resentment she clearly does, and I don’t know that I’ll get an explanation from her tonight—or ever—that will make this all make sense.
So…I just turn away.
Ella is there, buzz clearly fading—or maybe altogether lost—from the drama. She grabs my shoulders, pulls me into a hug.
I whisper, eyes stinging, “I just…I don’t understand how she can do this.”
“I don’t know, Novs.”
I drop my forehead to her shoulder. “I don’t know if I want to stick around to find out.”
She stiffens.
“I’m not leaving,” I say softly, pulling back enough to meet her eyes. “I like it here. I like that I’m going to see you more now that we both have an excuse to be here. I like…” I bite my lip then lean even closer, drop my voice even lower. “No. I love Lake.”
Her face softens. “I know.”
“A lot.”
Now her lips curve. “I know.”
“So, I’m not going to run,” I tell her. “I just…I just don’t want to be part of this conversation anymore.”
She’s still for a beat then her face softens, her lips turn up. “I couldn’t agree more,” she says, looping her arm through mine. “And I think that”—a sniff toward George and Ashley—“calls for more alcohol.”
“Definitely. Because—” I lean in as though I’m imparting state secrets, love for my friend, for Lake filling me, helping me see what’s truly important.
It’s not the people who want to hurt me, to use me, but the ones who truly show me how much they love me.
“—I have a second bottle of simple syrup in my purse.”
Her eyes widen, and she opens her mouth—
“Don’t.”
I freeze then jerk around at Lake’s sharp command, seeing that George has taken a huge step toward me, chest somehow puffing up further.
But Lake is still between us, and I find he asks the question I should have, “How did you know she was here?”
George straightens his shoulders…at the same time he tightens his grip on his phone—
His phone that is logged into my iCloud account.
Jer swiping the message up, still signed into his personal account at work.
George not wanting to shell out for an app that I already purchased.
Me logging him into mine so he could download it.
But…I don’t think I ever logged him out.
Which means…he can see everything on my cloud—calendar events, emails, and—
Text messages.
Meet me at Ronnie’s.
And that’s how they’re here to rub my nose in their marriage, to con me into giving them money, to—
“Let me see your phone,” I order quietly.
George scowls, fingers tightening further on his cell as he retreats a step. “What are you talking about?”
Yeah, that’s confirmation enough.
Whatever. There has to be a way to log out remotely.
I turn to Lake, see fierce hazel eyes staring down at me.
“I know how he’s here,” I tell him. “And I can solve it without him.” I step closer, pressing my front into his side.
“And really, I’m done with this.” I glance at my sister, holding her eyes.
“You took something I thought I wanted. Congratulations. I hope you have a happy marriage. But I’m not giving you anything else. I’m done.”
Then I’m moving forward and—perhaps for the first time in my life—I’m doing it for a healthy reason.
“Fuck, butterfly,” Lake murmurs, drawing me close as we turn away from my past. “I’m proud of you.”
I inhale so sharply my vision goes unfocused.
How?
How does he know exactly what to say?
How does he know exactly what I need to hear?
That I’m looking forward, but it’s fragile. That I’m strong, but I feel like one push might send me skittering backward, might send me back onto that open road.
His encouragement, his gentle pride…it’s like stepping into the sun for the first time since…my grandmother.
I can still see the open road and adventures and new experiences…
But for the first time in my life, I’m not alone as I unfurl my wings.