“YOU’RE NOT TELLING Mom and Anastasia, Declan?” Clara scolded after she’d opened her mouth one or two times to try to form words. “And what about Piper? I know it’s been a couple months, but you two have been an on-and-off thing for years.” She glanced at Everly. “No offense.”
Everly stood there, back ramrod straight and a mask painted on her face. She almost stared through me as she said, “None taken. I’m seeing other people too. There’s Wes and—”
Jesus, I didn’t want to hear her even say his name. And now others? No. I cut her off. “We’re figuring it out as we go. We haven’t told anyone—besides my siblings—yet and don’t intend to until it comes out in the press or otherwise becomes necessary.”
“Or until our fireball of a sister throws in some dynamite for kicks,” Dom grumbled.
“Like I said, we’re figuring it out as we go.”
Dom paced back and forth and said, “Carl really fucked all of us in the will, didn’t he?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Clara whipped her head toward his pacing.
He stopped and stared at her. “You can’t be serious right now? Your bakery in my resort?”
“Your resort?” She crossed her arms and stood there in her heels looking about as formidable as Mary Poppins could in her floral suit.
“I’ll call you both.” I waved Everly into the car. “Until then, keep your mouths shut.”
“Declan, it’s not a good idea.” Clara tried to stop me. “Anastasia is going to find out. She’s trying to dig for information as it is, and my mother said she wants to come over tomorrow. You’d better—”
“We’re leaving, Clara.” I cut her off, knowing the start to our marriage was over.
Everly didn’t say a thing on the car ride home.
“It’s going to be fine,” I tried.
She nodded and rolled her lips between her teeth as she looked out the window.
When we reached the gate to my property, I suggested, “Come to my house for dinner.”
Her gaze cut to mine, and in it I saw pain. She combed a hand through her hair and tried to grab for the rubber band she didn’t have on her wrist. I pulled the elastic from mine and held it out. “Here.”
I saw how her brows dipped, how she bit her lip, how she could maybe realize I was going to take care of her, but still she shook her head. “Thank you for this.” She held up the band before she tied her waves in.
“I meant what I said when I told you I’m taking care of you.”
She sighed. “That’s not your job. And thank you for the invite to dinner but I’d rather not.”
Part of me wanted to command her to do it, tell her I was the one controlling this situation, but the other part of me knew I couldn’t.
She was building up a wall, and I couldn’t stop her from doing so. The press was about to try to break us. I knew that better than anyone.
I opened my door but her hand on my arm stopped me.
“I need you to know …” She cleared her throat. “I was in a messy relationship when I moved here. It’s not something I like to have define me, but I’m sure the media will find out. So, you should know too.”
Less than respectful? Thinking of her with any man frustrated me. “If he was taking advantage of you—”
“Some people would say that.” She shrugged and closed her eyes briefly, shutting me out from her thoughts. “Most people from my hometown say I’m a liar. So, I’m sorry if that reflects badly on you.”
Her words were as soft as raindrops on a window, but they held all the weight of a thunderstorm behind them.
“Is it a story that my PR can help with?” I asked, my body already starting to vibrate with fury at the idea that she’d have to relive whatever hell she went through back home because she was married to me.
My name would be attached to hers when the marriage license came out, my name would put her in the limelight and shine a spotlight on whatever she was trying to keep in the darkness.
She shrugged and opened her door. “Honestly, I’m fine with the press writing whatever they want. I’ve seen it all, really. I don’t want your name dragged down, though. So, I recommend you and Piper do what you have to.”
“Me and Piper? Everly, this isn’t about me and—”
“Good night, Declan.” She cut me off and slammed the car door on the way to the front door.
I let my car idle in front of the guesthouse for too long, wondering if I had any right to go in there. Although it was mine and I knew I could go in any time I liked, it felt intrusive.
Her living room light glowed like it did every night, and I sighed and pulled my car into my garage. As I got ready for bed, a smaller light flickered on. It stayed on most of the night.
I worked over numbers, signed deals and contracts, but mostly, I watched those fucking lights that night.
I even went to my pool for a swim in an attempt to clear my head, but instead, my mind wandered to those damn lights.
I called my brothers to discuss more business. Yet, I paced and watched the stupid lights.
WE DIDN’T TALK to one another the next morning either, not until the compact tractors with backhoe attachments came through the gates. I watched as the started to dig up the gardenia bushes, one by one, and I smiled when she came out to stare at them, her mouth agape.
She didn’t come up to my house though.
She pulled her cell out of her leggings pocket and sent a text instead.
Everly: You’re ruining the whole perimeter of your guesthouse.
Me: Ruining? I’m making it better.
Everly: People love gardenias.
Me: Yes, but according to my wife’s safe word, she hates them.
Everly: It’s going to take forever to get new plants in there, Declan. Those gardenias look like they’d been there for years.
Me: I’m not concerned. Feel free to open your windows tomorrow and smell the fresh air.
I didn’t wait to get another text from her. Instead, I went to stand by her side as she looked on and wrapped my arm around her shoulders. We watched in silence. Maybe we knew our time was limited, that the press was about to rip us apart the way I was ripping apart the boundary of our guesthouse, but the moment between us was sacred.
As she watched, one tear drop rolled down her cheek. She patted my chest and then backed away. “I’ll appreciate the fresh air, Declan. I’ve missed it for quite a while.”
She walked back into her house and I watched her go, not sure what she meant but sure it had something to do with her past. It took every ounce of restraint not to look her up, not to dig through the internet to find exactly what happened to her back home. But it felt like an invasion of her privacy, an invasion she hadn’t done to me. I know she hadn’t looked up what happened to my wrist, knew she’d wanted the story straight from my lips.
