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“I forwarded the email to Momma and she’s going to look into it, but the event planner isn’t the one Barrick has been using to put together the bachelor party. I would know, because I am the one who set him up with the small business that runs it. I think we both need to take deep breaths and not think the worst until Momma tells me more.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. Don’t worry about this, Nev. I’ll figure it out—or rather, Momma will. No way Barrick would plan some crazy shit like this, and if Braxton knew about something like this, he would make his cousin cancel it immediately.”
Her reassuring answer made me realize how ridiculously I’d reacted over something as simple as an email. Grunting at my own idiocy—because Braxton wouldn’t do something like that to me, damn it—I began to relax. But then the guilt for even thinking such things about the man I loved began to eat at me.
“I need to go,” I muttered, fighting tears. “I’m going to talk to Braxton about this.”
“Nev…it’s going to be okay,” she said soothingly. “I would have responded the exact same way.”
“I-I know,” I whispered so she wouldn’t hear the emotions thickening my voice. “I just… Ugh. I’ll talk to you later. Love you. Bye.”
Hanging up, I slapped my laptop closed and shoved it onto the couch beside me. After what had happened right before Christmas the previous year, I’d promised myself I’d always give Braxton the benefit of the doubt. Yet I’d jumped to conclusions as soon as I’d seen an email. One that I should have realized was shady as soon as I saw the words “cake” and “topless dancer” together in the same sentence.
That man didn’t even think about other women. I was the center of his world—and I fucking knew it. Which was why I was pissed as hell at myself.
Pushing to my feet, I turned toward the back office. The house my parents had bought us—the one just two doors down from their own—was spacious. Mom had even brought in a decorator and selected all the furniture for every room. They’d taken the stress of moving and wedding planning completely off my shoulders so I could concentrate on school as much as possible.
Not two steps from the couch, my phone pinged with a new text, and I scooped it up.
Mia: Momma already spoke to the event planner. The person who requested the topless cake dancer is Belinda Collins! She gave them the work email as a second form of contact so that the guys would see it. If Barrick had seen it before you, he would have been scrambling to stop everything.
I clenched my fingers around the device. In the months since we’d moved to California, Belinda had called Braxton daily, trying to guilt him into leaving me, until he’d blocked her number. Then he’d had to block her on all social media as well as her email. Now it looked like she’d switched gears. Instead of trying to get into Braxton’s head about leaving me, she was trying to cause chaos between the two of us. With the wedding only a few short weeks away, she was no doubt scrambling to find a way to drive a wedge between us in a hurry.
That bitch wanted to play?
“Game on.”
Chapter 4
Braxton
As soon as I saw Nevaeh’s face, I ended the call with barely a clipped “Call ya back,” before I was on my feet and around the desk.
“Kitten?” I cupped her face in both hands, already wiping away her tears. “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Drake—”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry, Brax.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, baby,” I assured her. “Whatever is wrong, we can fix it. I’ll take care of everything. Just tell me.”
Gulping back a sob, she shook her head, causing her dark hair to float around her shoulders. “I was doing homework, and your work email was open. Th-the one you and…Barrick share.”
“Okay.”
“There was an email from what I-I thought was the event planner Barrick is using to plan the bachelor party.” She sniffled, making her adorable nose twitch. “I thought…he was planning…planning…” She started crying harder, and I couldn’t make out anything she said.
Hating how upset she was, I scooped her up and carried her over to my chair behind the desk. Sitting, I cuddled her close. She buried her face in my neck, crying so hard it broke my heart. A lump filled my throat, but I swallowed it down, rubbing her back in an attempt to soothe her.
“I-I-I’m so s-s-s-s-orry,” she finished, clinging to my neck.
Leaning back, I tipped up her chin so I could look down into her flushed, swollen, tear-drenched face. Her glasses were fogged so I couldn’t see her blue-gray eyes, but the regret and guilt I saw on her beautiful face was difficult to witness. “Whatever you did, I forgive you, Kitten.”
“Y-you promise?” she whispered.
“Swear on my life.” Wiping away a few more tears, I kissed the tip of her damp nose.
“I didn’t mean to doubt you,” she said in a rush. “I was doing equations when I read the email, and everything got jumbled in my brain and I think it short-circuited for a minute because I was so angry, I texted Mia and told her to set up a bachelorette party with a stripper and—”
