Page 70 of More With You

“What do you mean?”

“She’s had a couple of boyfriends since we broke up. Didn’t introduce any to Grace, but she’s currently seeing this guy who seems to be different from the others. He’s met Grace a few times, and I bet she’ll allow herself to let things get serious with him, if she finds out about us,” he explains. “It’s weird, but you’ll understand when you meet Lyndsey. She’s a worrier. Lot of guilt complexes. Like leaving Grace with me for longer than we agreed; she must’ve apologized about fifty times.”

My shoulders seem to lighten. Lyndsey sounds like my kind of woman. Maybe, I’ll get a new friend out of this marriage, as well as a gorgeous husband and the cutest stepdaughter in the world. Obviously, I’m biased, as she’s got her dad’s blood running through her veins, but it’s true.

“Let’s do it,” I whisper, feeling a rush of giddiness. “Let’s move to New Orleans.”

Ben’s grin matches how I feel inside. “Okay… let’s do it. As soon as your lease is up at the cottage, we go.”

“Perfection.” I nuzzle into him, appreciatively. “Do I have the most thoughtful, incredible husband in the world? I think I might.”

“Only because I have a wife worth doing all of those things for,” he replies, gazing deeply into my eyes.

I’m so focused on the affection in his face that I see the very second panic infiltrates his expression: his body tensing around me. His gaze isn’t quite on me anymore. It’s flitted up slightly, looking at something over the top of my head. I don’t even need to turn around to know what—or, rather, who—it is. We forgot we weren’t inside our usual bubble.

“What did you just say?” An icy voice knifes through my back, driving straight through my swollen heart, deflating it in one cut.

Ben draws in a deep breath. “That’s why we came to see you.”

The clatter of high heels and the duller scuff-scuff of loafers bombards my ears, as Mr. and Mrs. DuCate come into view. They don’t bother to take a seat. Instead, they stand there, both staring at us as though we’ve just told them we’re going to drain their bank accounts and make them work a minimum-wage job. Cybil thumbs the huge pearls around her neck in place of rosary beads, perhaps hoping the religion of her wealth will be enough to chase this demon out of her family tree.

“Mother, Father, we’re married,” Ben continues. I hear the nerves lingering in the background of his voice. “It’s all official. We had our wedding a few days ago, ordained by Pastor Cooke. Summer is my wife.”

My hands are clammy, hot flashes spitting at the back of my neck like oil spatter, and my lungs don’t feel big enough to take a full breath. I feel sick. I feel so sick. Ben and I had our courageous fantasy of how this was going to go, and this isn’t it. Reality will always bite you in the ass.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Cybil chokes on the words, eyes bulging out of her head. “If you think this is an amusing little joke, you’re sorely mistaken. There is nothing funny about… this.” She waves a hand at me, no doubt having flashbacks of the ripped thigh slit and cheap, black polyester.

Ben shakes his head. “It’s not a joke. We’re married. We got a license, we got a preacher, and it’s done. Summer is my wife.” His voice gathers in strength and authority, and though his mom tries to interrupt, she doesn’t make it past a croak of protest. Meanwhile, he bulldozes on, saying everything that needs to be said. “It was the logical thing to do. I love her, she loves me, and you put her in an indefensible position when you tried to ruin her life with your sly tactics. Did you think I’d just let her leave? Did you think I’d let you intimidate her into moving back to Wisconsin? I’ve got to admit, you pulled some serious strings, but you shouldn’t have bothered. I was going to ask her to marry me anyway, one day soon—you just expedited the inevitable.”

“Sly tactics? What are you talking about?” Mr. DuCate finally speaks up, looking only marginally less pissed off than his wife.

I wade into the fray, refusing to stay silent or let Ben fight my battles. “You manipulated Vas into kicking me out of my house, and you, as Ben said, pulled some strings with that casino in Wisconsin. I guess the promotion part was supposed to be a consolation prize?”

“Listen here, Miss, I am a diplomat. I would never stoop that low,” Mr. DuCate spat, turning an alarming shade of red.

“It’s Mrs. DuCate, now,” I correct, poking the bear. “And you would, or your wife did. One of you did. Maybe you didn’t do it with your own hands, but you sure as heck hired someone to do it for you. Just like you had Levi give me hell these past few weeks. I know you instigated it! Vas and my manager as good as told me. Are you calling them liars?”

If this were a cartoon, Mr. DuCate would have steam billowing out of his ears. “Vasily has wanted you gone from that cottage for a long time. He’s turning it into a guest house!”

“That’s your defense?” I counter. “Sounds like an admission of guilt to me, and Vas hasn’t wanted me out of that house for a long time. He couldn’t have been more apologetic when he came to do your dirty work.”

Cybil switches tactic, putting on the waterworks. “Say it isn’t true, Ben? All we’ve ever done is want the best for you. This woman isn’t the best you can do, Ben. Consider that before you ruin your own life.” She whips a handkerchief out of her skirt pocket, dabbing melodramatically at her eyes. “Think of Grace! A splintered family, Ben—is that what you want? If you’d married Lyndsey, like you were supposed to, none of this would have happened! You had a duty to her!”

“You hated her,” Ben points out drily.

“That is simply not true!” Cybil howls, apparently a few minutes away from having an all-out tantrum. “I adore Lyndsey.”

Ben clicks his tongue. “You didn’t before Grace came along. Lyndsey is happy without being shackled to me. She’s got a guy she loves, and I found a woman I love. We’re both happier than we ever could’ve been together.” He doubles down. “And if you speak about my wife like that again, you’re going to get a single, yearly visit from Grace. I don’t want to take her out of your life. She loves you and it’s important for a kid to see their grandparents, but if you treat Summer like shit, there’ll be consequences for you, too. Don’t push me to that.”

“You’ve really done this, haven’t you?” Spittle flies from Mr. DuCate’s mouth like artillery fire. His eyes blaze with rage, no doubt unaccustomed to being one-upped by someone.

Ben nods. “I keep telling you. We’re married. Grace was there, and she’s more than happy with the situation. I know Lyndsey is going to be, too, so don’t think you can somehow win her over to your side.” His eyes narrow. “You can either make this easy on yourselves and keep things civil, or you can make it difficult.”

It seems he’s picked up a thing or two from his father’s life in politics, and, I have to say, I’m impressed. Ben is thrumming with power and fearlessness. It’s kind of intoxicating, offering up a much-needed distraction from the grotesque sideshow of horrified facial expressions that Cybil is making. Besides, I know Ben wouldn’t really stop his mom and dad from seeing Grace. This is just a play to counter the dirty game that they started.

“Do you understand the shame that you’ll bring on this family, once it gets out that you married this… nobody? At least Lyndsey has a respectable job, but you married a card dealer with a past so checkered it’s a wonder she’s not plowed through ten stints in rehab already?” Mr. DuCate had, apparently, decided to get personal. Now, I can take jabs about my appearance or my status, but there’s one thing I won’t tolerate—people like this, who know absolutely nothing about how the real world works, casting judgment on a past and a childhood and a life that I fought tooth and nail to get through alive.

I’m on my feet in a heartbeat, jabbing a finger at him. “My past isn’t checkered. It was hard. It almost killed me a couple of times, but I’m standing here, married to someone who doesn’t care where I came from or what I’m worth in fucking Forbes magazine!” I’m breathing so fast I might faint, my whole body shaking with fury. “I dragged myself through the dirt, working every hour God gave me to build a half-decent life for myself and to keep my grandma safe. I could’ve gone another way, but I made a promise to myself, to never be like my mother. And you know what, I’ve kept that promise and I’m fucking proud of it! For years, I paid my grandma’s bills off my own back, even if it meant selling the clothes off it. She was the only one who cared what happened to me, and if she was standing here right now, by my side, the way she used to be, she’d smack you so hard in the face that you’d be seeing stars! Don’t you ever try to assume you know anything about me or what I’ve been through, when you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth!”

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