“I have to go. Tell Milly the wine’s all hers.”
“Bexley, don’t do anything stupid. Stay the night. You’re a long way from home.”
I didn’t answer, just hightailed it out of there, much like Aston had left my house.
A half hour later, I ended up in some motel outside of Tahoe near the highway, and I didn’t even have my box of wine to keep me company.
When I arrived home the next morning and saw Aston sitting on my front step, I was so conflicted.
I wanted to run to him.
At the same time, I wanted to run far, far away.
As soon as I got out of my car, he was at my side.
“You okay?”
Ignoring his question, I held up a hand. “Don’t get too close. I stink.”
He surveyed me, his gaze taking me in from head to toe. “Where have you been?”
“I went to see Mike.”
“Last night?”
“Yeah. He had some interesting things to say.”
“Shit.”
My eyes felt as dry as the desert air. I didn’t have any more tears left in me. Or feelings—maybe. “Shit, exactly. And now I have to go shower, change, and get my kids.”
Stepping around him, I made my way up the walkway.
“I want to talk.” He walked next to me in flat-front khaki shorts, running shoes, and a ragged white Polo shirt.
It infuriated me that I couldn’t help but notice that he both looked and smelled great. I needed to get inside, far away from him, put some physical walls between us.
“Make an appointment, Aston. Stop showing up at my house. My kids’ll be back, and I can’t explain you to them right now. Plus, you’ve been on TV every other second. I really don’t need them seeing you here. They’ll be all over school blabbing about it.”
“Your kids? Don’t you mean yours and Seth’s?” Aston’s eyes narrowed as he glared at me, lit with anger more blinding than the Nevada sun. He wanted me to come clean, and knowing Aston, he’d push until I did.
Glaring back at him, I said, “You tell me. You’re the one with all the inside scoop.”
I opened the door, slipped inside, and slammed it in his face.
Aston
The son of a bitch broke his own damn rule. Mike was the one who’d said he wasn’t going to discuss me with Bexley. Then he went and told her about the PI I’d hired.
That was messed up. Fuck bro code . . . this went beyond that.
It wasn’t until Mike clammed up that I’d hired Bill to watch Bexley. It was right after Mike finally married Milly after a long-ass party-filled engagement and one of those big fancy weddings, close to two years after their original engagement party. Bexley was pregnant again, hanging on to that asshole Seth, her belly huge.
Seth was drunk, and I was loaded. Poor Mike spent a good part of the evening making sure we didn’t get near each other. Bexley apparently didn’t feel well, and after Seth took off without her, she ended up spending the night hanging over the toilet in Mike and Milly’s honeymoon suite.
I’d wanted to kill Seth for leaving her there alone. My need to comfort her was at an all-time high.
That’s when Mike had said, “No more, man. Milly’s got Bexley, and she’s not going to discuss you with her. And vice versa.”
As soon as I’d gotten to work the following Monday, I’d set up a date with Cass and hired Bill to watch Bexley. He’d been watching her for over a decade.
Now the jig was totally up.
After Bexley slammed the door in my face yesterday, I went to my office to collect myself to call Bill and let him off the hook for good. I’d put him on hold after the police detained me, wanting to protect Bexley, but I needed to set him free.
Then I could explain him to Bexley. And find out if she meant what I thought she meant by inside scoop.
Back in my office again with my feet propped on my desk, I texted the number I knew to be Bexley’s. It was Sunday afternoon, and I was hoping her kids might still be with her ex, even though she’d planned to pick them up yesterday.
aston: It’s AP. Can we talk? Grab a coffee? Please?
I watched the bubbles float over the screen while she typed. Damn, I didn’t think I’d ever done that. I was too old for that shit.
bexley: Kids are back. It’s going to have to wait.
aston: How about tomorrow? Monday?
bexley: Don’t you have work? And more pressing things to worry about?
aston: Not more pressing than this. How about nine at the Beanery near you?
It was wiser to meet near her side of town, since the only thing near my office was trouble. Reporters, lawyers, and bullshit.
I stared at the screen, willing the floating bubbles to appear, but nothing.
Frustrated, I slipped my phone in my pocket and headed out. Passing the factory floor, I looked around, wondering how someone had infiltrated my business. So I called Bill back and told him to look into this current mess rather than watch Bexley.
Of course, he was already bitter about just being fired.
“Isn’t that Doug’s job?” he said snidely.
Yeah, except he’s watching me for Dad . . . instead of trying to get this all cleared up.
Someone was fucking with my business. It should have been my priority, but Bexley had been waiting longer.
Just as I slipped into my car, my phone buzzed with a text.
bexley: At the Beanery. 30 minutes.
I started my car, feeling like a winner.
Bexley
“Mom, you okay? You look tired,” Piper said as she finished her toast. The kids were home, and as much a salve to my bleeding heart as they were a knife.
And now I looked like shit to meet Aston. I’d wanted to have the upper hand, or at least feel like I did. A quick glance down at my jeans revealed a
