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“I was going to see if you wanted to get a drink and go for a walk,” he says, his breathing heavy as if he ran to catch up with us.
“I’ll find you when I’m cleaned up. I promised Kyra we’d hang out for a little bit too.”
“You go,” she urges. I forgot she was standing next to me for a second. Jace’s presence was all I could focus on. The smear of something red across his cheek, more than likely ketchup or barbecue sauce. The stains that cover his white, button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, giving me a glimpse of his bronzed skin.
“I will. Later. I’ll find you,” I say, turning and wrapping my arm around Kyra’s shoulder. “After girl time,” I whisper in her ear.
Jace’s heated stare follows me back to Kyra’s villa. When I close the door behind us and chance a glance out the window, he’s still watching, still waiting to see if I change my mind.
Kyra changes and brings me a towel to clean up a little. She barely got any food on her, but then again, I don’t think she threw any food to begin with. It’s all a bit of a blur to be honest. I grabbed whatever I could get my hands on and chucked it in no particular direction. I just wanted to hit someone, anyone. I know I got Courtney at least once because I heard her yell my name.
“So, tell me, why are you here? What made you decide to do something like this?” I ask as she takes a seat next to me on the sofa. Her villa is an exact replica of mine. I’m sure they all look the same. The only difference is the color scheme. Where I have soft greens and grays, she has a bolder pallet of reds and white. Not very fitting for her personality.
She wrings her hands in her lap. “My sister forced me to sign up.”
“Forced you? Shouldn’t this be something you want to do and not something someone is making you do?”
And now I’ve become a walking contradiction. Though, in my defense, I did agree to coming here. Under the influence of copious amounts of alcohol. If I had been sober, I doubt I would have made this decision for myself.
“You would think, but she’s always told me what to do and I’ve always listened. She married the boy I’ve loved since I was five. Broke up with my last boyfriend because she thought he wasn’t good for me. She controls my love life, and so, in a way, I did this because at least she wouldn’t be able to control how it turned out.”
That’s the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. Who does that to a person?
“Well, I think your sister is an idiot. And honestly, not very nice. You should be able to date whoever you want. Make your own decisions. You’re an adult, and it’s your life. So take back control. No matter how this turns out, promise me that you will, because in the end, it’s your life, not hers.” She doesn’t reply, so I ask her the one question I already know the answer to but need to hear it from her. “Do you still love him? The guy she married?”
“With all my heart.”
“Does he know?”
She nods and then averts eye contact.
“Does he love you?” Another nod followed by a tear.
“He doesn’t like it that I’m here,” she finally says. “He’s afraid I’m going to get hurt.”
“And marrying your sister didn’t hurt you?” The audacity of this guy astounds me. He has no right to have a say at all.
“She was pregnant. He felt like he had to.”
And the kicks just keep on coming. What as asshole.
“He knocked her up? Why was he even sleeping with her?”
“He wasn’t. We were together.” What the hell have I walked into? How much worse can this story get? “It was so my father didn’t freak out. They weren’t supposed to go through with it, but she forced him, begged. And now he’s stuck.”
I want to throttle her sister, but more than anything, I want to break out of here and help her piece her life back together. To help her get back the love she lost because she’s not going to find that here.
Instead, I help her hatch a plan. One that will give her back what she lost and hopefully put a little dig in her sister at the same time when the show airs without costing her the man she’s meant to be with.
Stay as long as she can. The longer she’s here, the more money she goes home with. Hell, surviving two weeks will be enough to pay for the divorce, and then they’ll be able to move on. Together. The way they should have two years ago.
My good deed for the day is done, I think to myself as I leave Kyra’s villa and return to my own to shower. Lennon is waiting outside my door when I approach, and I can’t help but be a little confused by his presence.
