An apology doesn’t erase what he did. For years I tried to be rubber, impervious and flexible and hard so nothing could stick to me. But I wasn’t rubber. And I wasn’t impervious. David had me questioning everything about myself. Hating everything I saw when I looked in the mirror. I was weak and ashamed and lonely and scared.
For years.
I was that beaten-down dog who kept coming back, needing love and affection, and never receiving it. I’ve been that dog my whole life, first with my family and then with him.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because now they’re threatening to tell the world I cheated on you and that’s why you left me unless I give them two million dollars.”
“Jesus… David.”
“I can’t do this anymore, Elle. I can’t. It’s been eating a hole in me for years. They’re messing with my career. My life. They already ruined my marriage, and now they want this too.”
“What do you expect me to do?”
“You don’t owe me anything. I know this. But if you could talk to them, try to reason with them, I’d be forever grateful. I’ll pull back. I’ll leave you alone. I’ll give you the space you deserve. I owe you that and more. But if it gets out that I cheated, especially with your twin sister, the press will come after both of us.”
He’s right. I’ve gotten random calls from random news affiliates asking for comments or interviews, and that’s with them all believing we separated amicably. I don’t want to be in the spotlight anymore. I just want to move on with my life.
I never replied to Cat when she texted me. What could she possibly want with me now? To tell me what she did? To try to extort me for money?
“I’ll talk to them,” I promise. And it will be for the last time. I’m done with my family. Forever. I am not that dog anymore.
I never had a prenup with David, and in the divorce, he gave me three million for keeping my mouth shut. I haven’t spent his money. I signed an NDA and a contract promising I would never speak poorly about David publicly. I hate my parents and sister for what they did to him. For what they did to me. It doesn’t excuse David’s behavior. Not by a longshot. But they’re just as guilty as he is, if not more.
“Thank you, Elle. Truly. You were a wonderful wife, and I did not deserve you. I’ll always love you.”
And with that, he hangs up.
The phone slips from my ear, and I lie here, staring up at the ceiling in my bedroom. Would David and I still be happy if none of that had happened? It’s a stupid question, and it makes me feel stupid for even wondering. The man cheated on me with my sister—though it does feel a bit strange to think of it that way, especially if he was drugged. But he treated me worse than stepped-in dog shit, and there’s no excuse for that.
The irony, if he had told me what had happened, I likely wouldn’t have left him. And I would have severed ties with my family a long time ago. The only reason I’m going to speak to my parents about this is because I want this all to be done.
“It’s my new life, dammit!”
That’s when the doorbell rings. The sound jars me up and off the bed with a whoosh of flying hair and uncoordinated limbs. Fuck. I forgot all about the damn dinner party, and now Bridget’s husband, Roger, is here to pick me up.
Only when I drag myself downstairs, plaster a smile on my face I don’t even close to feel, and swing the door open, I’m greeted by someone I did not expect. Well, someone I not only didn’t expect but have never met before.
“Elle?”
“Um. Yes?” It comes out like a question.
“I take it by your expression Bridget didn’t tell you I was picking you up.”
Fucking Bridget. “Nope. I was expecting Roger.”
He chuckles, running a hand through his blond hair, his brown eyes sparkling as they take me in. He’s cute. Really cute. I’ll give my friend that much for her subterfuge.
“That makes this slightly awkward. I’m Aaron Brady. I work with Roger.”
“You’re a lawyer?”
He smiles, showcasing a set of pearly whites. “Yes, but you can’t hold that against me. I’m one of the good guys.”
I scrunch my nose. “Isn’t that what all lawyers say?”
“It is, but in my case, it’s true.”
Cute and charming. I am so not in the mood for any of this.
“So I’m supposed to trust you that my friend actually sent you here to fetch me?”
“I did know your name and address. But if you’d like to call her for confirmation, I’m happy to stand here and continue to look at you. It’s not every night I get the pleasure of meeting such a beautiful woman.”
Cute, charming, and a flirt. His list grows. No getting out of this night now.
“What are the names of Bridget and Roger’s boy and girl?”
He grins. “Nice try with the trip-up. They have twin boys, Michael and Christopher.”
“They do indeed. Nicely done, Aaron. Let me just get my things.”
I wish I had time to take a shot of something to settle my nerves, but unfortunately, I don’t. After grabbing my purse and making sure my phone is in it, I lock everything up and step out into the cool autumn night. Aaron drops a possessive hand to my lower back as he guides me to his waiting Audi SUV, and I’m too numb to do much about it.
“Do you do this a lot?” I question. “Get suckered into picking up strange women?”
“Actually, this is a first, but I’m not complaining. In fact, I think I’m going to have to thank Bridget for setting this up.”
“I made her promise not to set me up.”
A warm laugh hits the air. He’s clearly not put off by my sour mood. “Then forget I said anything. I’m recently out of a relationship, and she said you are as well. Maybe she just figured we could use a friend in a similar situation.”
“Maybe. Bridget likes to play Emma whenever she can.”
“Huh?”
“Emma. Jane Austen. Emma’s character fancied herself a matchmaker in the story. Never mind…” I trail off at his bewildered expression just as my eyes catch on something off to my left, my head twisting to take it in and settling on Landon.
Our eyes lock.
I freeze for a moment, my steps faltering. He’s standing in his driveway near his car, keys poised in his hand, almost as if caught off guard by seeing me. His dark eyes assess me without giving a hint as to what’s going on in his head. Slowly they slide down my body, linger on the short hem of my skirt and boots on my thighs until he finds Aaron’s hand on my lower back. Then they narrow, harden, before slingshotting back up to mine, searching me for something as his lips twist into a scowl.
Enmity burns from him, a fire blazing in his green depths encased in black frames.
The man is a visual growl, rocking me to my core before all emotion flees his face—an unreadable mask once more—leaving my mind spinning in confusion and frustration. My stomach tightens, and my heart pounds.
As if this night couldn’t have gotten any worse.
Aaron gives me a small push, still talking about something I’m not listening to.
He’s oblivious to the stare-down I have going with my neighbor, who’s still tracking my movements with careful attention. I want to tell him this means nothing. That I don’t know this guy, and it’s not really a date, but then Landon turns away, stalking back toward his house, dismissing me with his cold indifference as he calls out for Stella and Layla, telling them they’re going to be late.