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She nods. It’s hesitant at first, then the gesture builds steam. “You’re right. I can’t have everything I want if I don’t do this.”
“Exactly.” He gives her a peck on the cheek. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll be more than happy to talk you off the ledge, like a good big brother should.”
“Thanks. That means a lot to me.”
They say their goodbyes and leave via the door on the far side of the room, never seeing me. I watch them go, dumbfounded.
Denial fights with common sense. I don’t know precisely what that exchange was about. It could be anything, and I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. But it’s fucking hard not to. My new wife is meeting with Lund Junior in the middle of our negotiations. And they just happen to be siblings. Who knew? They look pretty damn close, too. She’s thinking about her future and she’s prepared to act, even if I won’t like it. Logically, there are only so many things that could mean.
The most obvious is that they’re plotting to sell me out.
Clenching my fists at my sides, I storm toward the door, ducking under a waiter carrying a food-laden tray, and crash outside. Nia and her car are already gone.
Fuck.
Throwing myself into my sedan, I slam the door and burn rubber out of the parking lot. I’m going to find her and demand she tell me I’m wrong.
My righteous anger simmers just under a rolling boil. I try to tamp it down, tell myself to ask questions before I hurl accusations. But if she’s up to what I suspect she is? How fucking dare she stab me in the back. I opened up for her. I trusted her. I defended her. I gave my heart to her.
As I reach Nia’s cottage, I see her car parked in its usual spot. Good. We need to have this out. I’d rather do it in private.
In my pocket, my phone buzzes. I pull it free as I step from the car and glance at the screen. Nia sent me a text. What ironic timing…
Can you come home? There’s something we need to talk about.
Pocketing my phone again, I charge up toward her house. Yeah, hers. It’s not our temporary digs anymore. We don’t have any home together, not if she’s going to even consider betraying me.
I could forgive Becca for her treachery because I didn’t give her what she needed. I took her for granted. I gave her a name and a house—and nothing more. Sure, her plot was twisted, cold, and shitty. But on some level, I understand.
With Nia, I’m confused as fuck. What have I not given that woman? She has my name and my love. Hell, she has my fucking soul. Know what I don’t have? A prenuptial. Yep. She talked me out of it at the last minute, made it seem as if tearing it up was a grand romantic gesture on my part to prove how much I loved her so we could be truly happy on our wedding day.
And I was such an idiot. I totally fell for it.
Has she been laughing these last nine days, since I took her hand, promised to love, honor, and cherish her, then said “I do?”
God, none of this makes sense. Nia has never been a liar. If anything, she’s always been wincingly straightforward with me. Why would she start all this subterfuge and lying now? And how long has she known she was Lund Junior’s sister? Maybe the answer to my previous question matches the answer to my last. I don’t know anymore. I’m so confused. And I’m afraid I won’t like the truth. There’s a gaping hole in my chest. I’m twisted up by the terrible, wrenching hope that all my suspicions are wrong. But my head is telling me I can’t be.
When I reach the door, I shove it open to see Nia standing at the kitchen table. Her moving boxes are stacked neatly against one wall. She looks tired but excited. And decidedly nervous.
“That was fast. I just texted you thirty seconds ago. How did you—”
“It didn’t take me long to drive here from that cafe where you fucking met Lund Junior for lunch. And I guess some conspiratorial plotting?”
She freezes. “You saw us?”
“Oh, I heard you, too.”
At that, Nia cocks her head. “What do you think you heard?”
She’s going to give me attitude? Is she fucking serious?
“Are you going to deny that asshole is your half brother?”
She gasps. “How did you find out?”
“I have my ways, honey,” I snarl out. “And I heard all about your big plans for the future. It’s ‘best’ for everyone. Well, except me. I’ve got to hand it to you. You didn’t directly target my business, where I’m smart and guarded. Nope. You slithered toward me where you know I’m stupid. You preyed on my emotions.”
“Slithered? Preyed?” She anchors her hands on her hips and glares at me, suddenly pissed-off female. “What the hell do you think I’m plotting?”
