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“You want to be unhappy?”
“No. I—” My jaw snaps closed.
Am I bitter? Am I punishing myself for the choices my mother made? Am I so fucked up psychologically from watching my mother pine after a man who never loved her?
Probably.
“I’m happy for you,” I say, instead of trying to wade through my own problems right now. She’s ecstatic, and there’s no sense in dragging her down into my pool of pity and self-loathing.
“I know it’s early, but have you thought of a date? Winter is too cold for anything outside. Are you getting married in a church?” I ask, knowing that she’s not very religious, but realizing I don’t know a thing about the man she’s marrying.
Guilt begins to swim for flirting with him even though my intention was always to get her to open her eyes to the possibility of dating him. That’s going to make for some seriously awkward interactions.
“We’re thinking of a summer wedding.”
“Nice. That gives you a year to plan.”
“This summer.”
I blink, wondering if I heard her correctly. “Huh?”
“This summer. Three weeks.”
“Hayden, that’s really soon. I figured a long engagement since you’ve only known him for a couple of months.” And half that time you spent dancing around each other, goes unsaid.
“When you know, you know.”
The woman is ecstatic, and I’m a little jealous of that, too.
If a man asked me to marry him after two months, I’d run for the damn hills and call the hotline to have him committed. That’s just crazy, but if it works for her, then I guess I’m okay with it.
“But you’re not pregnant?”
“Nope.”
“I can hear the smile in your voice, Hayden. Are you lying to me?”
“We’re planning to have kids.”
“Is this like a trauma response? I’ve read you aren’t supposed to make life-altering decisions so soon after a near-death experience.”
“This is because we’re in love and can’t wait to begin our lives together.”
I wait for the bile to rush up my throat at the mention of someone thinking they’ll get a happily ever after, but it never comes.
Huh? Weird.
“That’s good,” I find myself saying.
“What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“Parker,” she groans with a long-suffering sigh. “I know you, remember? Something is wrong. You should be jumping through the phone, asking me if I’m deathly ill. Doing anything to stop me from getting married.”
“I’m happy for you.”
Silence.
“I am!”
“That’s not all. You would normally freak out, tell me that men are assholes, meant to be fucked not married. Is it that guy from Quinten’s building? Did you fall in love?”
“There’s no guy,” I snap because honestly there isn’t. Jude made sure I knew that before I walked out of there the last time. “I’m just distracted.”
“By a man.”
“It’s not what you think,” I begin, knowing I have to tell her something, or she’s never going to leave it be. It says a lot about how much I don’t want to talk about Jude when I open my mouth to tell her about what happened in the lobby of my apartment building. “There was a guy harassing me at work. He keyed my car, and then he showed up at my apartment.”
“What?” she snaps. “Why are you just now telling me this?”
I could remind her that she hasn’t been exactly forthcoming about what’s been going on with her, but I’m trying to turn over a newer, non-petty leaf.
“I’m not a hundred percent certain, but I think he’s my half-brother. He called me by my mom’s name, and he kept spouting shit off about being a whore and earning my money on my back. He’s even been to my job a couple of times.”
“Do you mind… is it okay if I put you on speaker phone?”
“So your man can hear all about my fucked-up life?” I groan. “That’s fine.”
Quinten works for Blackbridge and I went there a week ago needing help. I’m still in Texas and have been holed up in a hotel room for a damn week. I have to go home eventually, and I’d like to feel safe when that happens.
“What else has happened?” Quinten asks, his voice deep and commanding.
I raise my eyebrows, smiling when I realize exactly why Hayden fell for this man. If he gets that protective tone for me, I can’t imagine what he does for her. Good God, the sex must be amazing.
I go into the story; grateful we’re no longer talking about the man I deny exists at his apartment building. I tell him about the bar visits, the damage to my car, the confrontation at my building, and how I got out of town.
“And what does Jude think about all of this?” he asks, and it makes my blood run cold.
He’s no fool. He’s a trained professional. I don’t know what he does specifically for Blackbridge, but it doesn’t take a CIA agent to put two and two together.
