Sebastian clears his throat. “You might not want to judge so hastily. Just in case.” He’s referring to the time he almost lost his wife because he thought she’d screwed him over. He vowed to make her pay and she did. And then filed for divorce over it.
“She crawled into my bed!” It galls me that it was the best sex I’d had in a long time, if not my entire life. I actually liked her at the bar. Thought she was interesting enough that I wanted to pursue something more with her, not an urge I’ve felt with women before.
But it was just an illusion. I can’t decide which pisses me off more—that she put on an act or that I bought it. How she must’ve laughed to herself! “Did Lucie crawl into yours?”
“No. But her sister crawled into my brother’s.”
“She’s going to wish she’d never met me.”
“How about the kid?” Nicholas says.
“I don’t know. It probably isn’t mine anyway.”
“You sure?” Emmett asks.
“Gonna have to check, but I am extremely careful with contraception.”
“Still could’ve failed.” Griffin makes a circle around the table, at the result of our father’s failed vasectomy.
“I didn’t get a vasectomy from a second-rate doctor,” I shoot back at him.
Griffin doesn’t give me a nasty comeback, which is something, since he’s grumpier than a hungry bear, and he doesn’t back down from fights, physical or verbal. He just shrugs and says, “Neither did I, but…” He got his wife pregnant during a one-night stand at a masquerade party. And he’s one of the mostmeticulous people I know. He wouldn’t have forgotten to wear protection, and he would’ve made sure it wasn’t expired.
Sighing, I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment. Gotta control my temper. It isn’t my brothers’ fault that I’m in the predicament I’m in. “Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s cool. I know you’re upset.” Griff slaps my shoulder.
I shake my head, as though that will help my crappy mood. “We should have some fun here.” My voice comes out grim. But damn it, I’m going to make sure we have a good time. This is the last time Noah’s going to be at a brothers-only dinner as a bachelor. I’m not letting my problem bring everyone down.
Grant pours me my favorite scotch. We toast, and I knock it back. We order food and more alcohol.
But even as we toast and laugh and give shit to Noah about his tumultuous relationship with Bobbi and their upcoming nuptials, a corner of my mind stays on revenge. Nobody fucks with my life and gets away with it.
Chapter Seventeen
Huxley
Pink cherry petals float in the air over the riverbank, the cloudless sky a brilliant blue. The man drops to his knee, and the camera focuses on a small black velvet box. It zooms in as he opens the lid, showing an impeccably cut clear diamond surrounded by round blue diamonds. Cut to show the woman’s face. The subtle lighting changes brighten her face as surprise, joy and love glow in her blue eyes.
The third attempt is romantic, with the right color scheme—lots of white, gold, silver and blue. The model was selected specifically for a particular type of ethereal beauty, so popular in Asia. But now I wish we had chosen someone with green or brown eyes. The cornflower blue reminds me of Grace. Her eyes are more beautiful than the model’s. Larger, more expressive and even bluer. Every time she blinks, her long, thick lashes flutter like butterfly wings.
Stop thinking about her.I tried to keep her out of my mind all weekend, at home, at Noah’s wedding, and afterward. But she keeps invading my head, and it doesn’t help that Sebastian‘s wife Lucie is also currently pregnant. It’s too early for her to show, but she’s often nauseated and can’t eat.
Is Grace okay? Is she constantly nauseated? Throwing up, perhaps?
Sierra seemed fine when she was with Griffin’s triplets, but the woman is so sunny and optimistic she makes Pollyanna look depressed by comparison.
The fact that I’m worrying about Grace at all is irritating. She lied to me, trapped me in a marriage and turned me into a laughingstock in my family and with the Webbers. Who cares if she isn’t feeling well? She should be racked with guilt, texting and calling to explain herself.
But she hasn’t made a single attempt.
The only thing she has done is get her OB-GYN to send a paternity test kit to my office. It’s a cotton swab to get some DNA from my inner cheek. I can’t quite pinpoint what I felt when the kit fell out of the discreet padded envelope and into my palm. She must be damn sure the baby’s mine. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be so eager to have the test done.
A small part of me wonders if I was too harsh. But I shake off that niggling guilt.
I amnotfeeling bad for her.My concern is for the baby. The child, at least, is innocent. It deserves better.
Grace, on the other hand, deserves whatever treatment I hand out. If she hadn’t lied, I would’ve shown her honesty and kindness. It galls me not to have seen through her deception. She seemed so sweet, funny and intelligent, with an admirable backbone. She’s the only woman I’ve ever met who sparked an interest beyond simple lust.
