Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Reese
W ith a jerk, I pull the car over to the side of the road and dial the one person who won’t think I’ve lost my damn mind. My sister, Piper. The woman never thought much of Vander, so no doubt I’ll hear her cackle of glee the moment she learns the news.
“Hey Reese, what’s shaking?”
Normally, I’d ease into the conversation, asking her about her life, the weather, and other benign topics.
No time for that today.
“I just smashed a thousand dollars’ worth of dinnerware.”
There’s a pause, then a snort. “No, seriously.”
“Would have been three thousand if Vander had given me another thirty seconds.”
Piper howls, the sound practically deafening through my speaker. “Oh my God. To be a fly on the wall—what the hell brought that on?”
“I left Vander.”
True to form, a high-pitched shriek follows. “You did not .”
“I did. At the china counter. Turns out Vander was banging the salesgirl in housewares. So, I smashed a couple thousand dollars’ worth of dinnerware, ruined her day, and walked out.”
Piper shrieks, half horrified, half delighted. “Vander must be furious.”
“Livid,” I admit, lowering my head into my hand. “What am I doing, Piper?”
“Taking back your life. Finally. You know I can’t stand that man—never could. Don’t you dare consider reconciling again. Reese, seriously, don’t . Don’t overthink it. Don’t talk to him. Don’t second-guess this. You don’t want to marry him, especially not after what he’s done.”
Piper knew about his affairs before I did—probably because she could see through the bullshit facade he wore for everyone else. I was still enamored of the idea that this rich and powerful man would want someone like me.
Growing up, the boys always preferred Piper. She was the wild one, the free spirit. I was the sardonic one hiding in the corner.
At first, I thought Piper was jealous. Turns out, she was just concerned.
So, why did I reconcile with Vander after he admitted to several—as in way more than one—affairs?
Because he feigned regret, and honestly, I was too tired to start over again.
I’d given the man four years of my life at that point, and the idea of reentering the dating pool was painful, to say the least.
Especially when you’re past thirty-five. Trust me, dating doesn’t get easier with experience or age.
But why did I accept Vander’s proposal of marriage six months later? Because I was thirty-seven, and that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? Get married, settle down, white picket fence, two-and-a-half kids. That’s the definition of success, at least in my family.
And I always toed the line where my family was concerned.
And for once, they were giddy. My parents, who never fussed over me the way they did my sister, beamed like I’d won them the lottery.
They loved the concept of Hamptons parties and country club dinners, the promise of box seats at concerts, the invitations with Vander’s last name embossed in gold.
I thought maybe, finally , I was giving them something to be proud of.
The perfect daughter. The perfect engagement.
Maybe I was still trying to overcompensate. To prove adopting me hadn’t been a mistake. That I belonged.
So, I accepted his offer with less than stellar enthusiasm and proceeded to plan my wedding.
Except instead of excitement, I was petrified. Overwhelmed. Depressed. Miserable.
Which culminated today in a sea of broken dishes at the overpriced, upscale department store. In that moment, I realized I’d rather beat Vander over the head with every place setting on display than spend another minute as his little woman.
So, I left.
And here we are.
My phone buzzes with another call, and I cringe when I glance at the screen. “Vander’s calling. I guess he’s figured out I’m not coming back. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
Of all people, why am I asking my sister? She’s never lived by the rules. Piper tossed convention out with her first bra and never looked back. To her, life’s about following your gut, no matter how messy the fallout.
She chuckles, the sound bordering on maniacal. “I’m tempted to call the man myself and break the happy news about your engagement.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Fine. Then here’s my answer—go to your apartment, pack enough for a few months, and drive here.”
She makes it sound so simple.
“Where is here?”
“To me. It’s kismet, Reese, because an opening for a nurse just became available at my place of employment. All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll tell Capri that we have a replacement.”
My mind reels at the bevy of information flowing past my sister’s lips. “I can’t just up and leave my life, Piper.”
“You just did.”
Those three words hit with the ferocity of a fist. She’s right. For all intents and purposes, I walked away from the most important part of my future with nary a care for the outcome.
“Look. It’s a temporary position right now since the other nurse had a family situation. But it gives you time to think and reflect on what you want from your life. Besides, there’s quite a view here.”
“I’m supposed to start a new job next week.” I mutter the words as a headache takes up residence in my skull.
It’s a position Vander’s mother bestowed on me like some grand gift—glitzy, glamorous, and everything I don’t want. Not that my wishes mattered in the slightest.
The idea that I’m a nurse has never sat well with the Hale family. Nursing is a fine and noble field—just not for their inner circle. This new job looked elegant enough to avoid embarrassing their country club friends, and in their world, appearances are the only currency that matters.
Another snort echoes over the line. “Don’t you sound excited?”
“Nothing in my life is exciting. I leave that for you, remember?” Sometimes I envy Piper’s blasé attitude toward rules, her refusal to live by anyone else’s expectations. She’s always been braver than me.
“Come on, what do you have to lose? A worthless fiancé who, by your account, was a terrible lay?”
“I believe I used the term unremarkable, ” I retort, biting back a grin as I tighten my grip on the steering wheel.
“Unremarkable.” Piper snickers. “I stand corrected. That’s practically his epitaph.”
I bite my lip as I stare at my reflection in the rearview mirror. My dark eyes are flat and joyless. No spark. No glow. Nothing but resignation looking back at me.
Anger flashes through my veins.
What the hell is wrong with me? Am I really resigning myself to a life of mediocrity just to live in a desirable zip code? What sort of ridiculous nonsense is that?
“Give me five minutes to speak with Vander.”
“Don’t let him talk you out of living, Reese.
I’m not kidding.” Piper pauses, her voice softening a fraction.
“Look, right now it’s only a temporary gig for three months.
Come out here, clear your head, figure out what you actually want.
Who knows? Maybe Vander will realize what he’s lost and come begging you back. ”
“Doubtful.”
He has scads of women at his beck and call, and after this afternoon’s public display, I’ve become a liability in his picture-perfect world.
“Or maybe you’ll realize there’s a whole lot more to life than lousy lays and orgasm-free zones.” My sister’s wicked grin is practically audible through the phone.
Right. Because orgasms will be the determining factor in my decision.
Although, they sure as hell would be nice.
I pick at my nail, my go-to nervous habit. “Can I bring Chowder?”
There’s a pause. “Who the hell is Chowder?”
“My orange tabby. I adopted him from the euthanasia list. He’s the orneriest furball on the planet.”
Piper laughs. “Obviously, bring his furry butt along. I thought Vander hated animals.”
“He does. Believes they’re only acceptable if they’re stuffed or draped across your shoulders as fur.”
The words taste bitter, but they spark a realization I’ve never admitted out loud. Maybe that’s why I got Chowder in the first place.
That cat gave me an excuse to stay at my apartment. To go home and feed him instead of sleeping at Vander’s family estate. Six months of pretending. Of overnight visits here and there, but never fully moving in. Vander never once set foot in my modest one-bedroom. It wasn’t worth his time.
Here I thought I was saving Chowder. Turns out he might be the loophole that saves me.
With a start, I realize Piper still hasn’t told me where in the world she is, or where I’m apparently about to end up. “What state are you in? Are you even in the US anymore?”
Piper giggles, and I picture her rubbing her hands together with devilish glee. Her staid, careful sister considering something spontaneous is the ultimate victory. “I’m in Oregon.”
I know nothing about Oregon except that it’s in the Pacific Northwest, and it rains. A lot. “Doesn’t it rain every day there?”
“Not where I am. I’ll text you the address. Let me talk to my boss so she can get ready for you. When can we expect you? Four days? Five?”
“Hold on, I need to talk this over with Vander.”
“No, you need to tell Vander you’ve made a decision. If he doesn’t like it, tough. Either way, you’re on the road first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Piper, I can’t leave that quickly,” I argue, the familiar churn of anxiety twisting in my stomach.
I’m a planner. My entire life has been checkboxes and color-coded lists, every step mapped out so there are no surprises. Surprises terrify me.
Not my sister. Piper flies by the seat of her pants, ricocheting from one wild adventure to the next, and somehow it always works out for her. The thought of living like that? It makes my chest tighten.
Does it make me boring? Maybe. But I’ve never been a go-with-the-flow type of woman.
Until now.
“Give me five minutes.” Disconnecting the call, I dial my soon-to-be ex-fiancé, feeling my resolve strengthen.
I need this time. Otherwise, I’ll lose what little sanity I still possess.
“Where the hell are you, Reese?” Judging by Vander’s tone, he’s less than pleased with my sudden disappearance. No questioning if I’m okay, just condescension lining his voice.
“I got overwhelmed. I need space. Time.”
“You embarrassed me. This is not how a future Hale behaves. This is not how one handles their affairs.”
Thanks for the sympathy, you dickless wonder.
Okay, that’s a bit of an exaggeration. He’s at least three inches, possibly four. On a good day. A very good day.
“Oh, really?” My voice sharpens. “Which affairs are you talking about? The salesgirl in housewares? Your secretary? Or maybe one of your golf buddies’ wives?”
Vander huffs into the phone, long and sharp. “I’ve had just about enough of your attitude. I made dinner plans at the club tonight. Seven o’clock. Don’t be late—and you had better show up in an acceptable mood.”
“No.”
“Excuse me?” Vander Hale isn’t used to being told no, especially not by me.
“I’m not going to the club tonight. Or any night. I hate the club. I hate your friends. And who can blame me? You’ve slept with at least two of their wives—or so their husbands told me when they propositioned me to return the favor.”
The silence stretches. Lethal. Waiting to snap.
Finally, he exhales. “You’ve always had a talent for the dramatic. Stay home tonight. Tomorrow you’ll wake up, put on a proper dress, and remember why women like you should be grateful to marry into families like mine.”
There it is. The noose disguised as benevolence.
“Grateful?” I choke out a laugh. “For what? A fiancé who can’t keep his dick in his pants? In-laws who made it clear I’ll never measure up? A job your mother pulled strings to hand me because she couldn’t stand that I’m a nurse?”
“That position,” he cuts in, tone clipped, “is befitting of a woman who will carry the Hale name. You should thank us.”
“But it’s not befitting of me,” I fire back. “Just say it. I’m not good enough.”
“I don’t have to.” The smile in his voice is cold, triumphant. “You just did, and if you continue to behave in this manner, I can make life very difficult for you. Try getting a job anywhere in New York.”
With those words, he gives me the final push off the ledge of indecision. “Good thing I have one waiting for me in Oregon, then.”
“Oregon?” he sputters out the word. “What the hell are you going to do in Oregon?”
“I’m going to live, Vander. According to my rules. No more games. Besides, it’s not like you love me.”
“Not the point.”
“Shouldn’t it be, though?” That I have to ask is proof enough this relationship is dead in the water.
“I care for you.” His admission lacks emotion, spoken as if he recites it daily in the mirror to convince himself of the fact.
“But that is not good enough for me.”
“Are you having a nervous breakdown? Do I need to have you committed?”
“I’d only need a mental evaluation if I stayed. I’ll drop off the ring and any other gifts at your home.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” But there’s a hint of something lining his voice now. A crack in the armor, because even though his words clang with finality, his tone wavers with uncertainty.
Another glance in my rearview mirror throws back a hollow-eyed woman. What would she look like if life became fun again?
It’s a path I’m choosing to pursue because this one has made me miserable.
“Goodbye, Vander. No doubt you’ll be on the phone with your assistant soon, asking if she’s willing to take on more overtime.
Give her all the overtime. Every. Single.
Drop. You didn’t think I knew about her either, did you?
I know much more than you think I do, and I’m tired of playing the little woman. Get someone else to fill that role.”
“You’ll regret this,” he says softly, dangerously. “Nobody walks away from me.”
“Watch me.”
With a click, I end the call.
And my relationship.
And life as I know it.
I release a shriek much resembling the one Piper fired off an hour earlier.
Then, with steady hands, I text my sister.
Reese: What’s the address? I’m leaving at dawn.