“Adam’s a vindictive prick,” I hiss. “Not saying the douche didn’t have it coming, but when is Adam going to accept that Whitney is a grown-up and responsible for her own actions?” And how is the douche supposed to pay child support with no job and no income?
Kyler scrubs a hand over his jaw as the sound of conversation filters out into the hall. “I think he harbors huge guilt over his marriage breakup, and he blames that for Whitney’s behavior, so he’s overcompensating now.”
I shrug. “Nothing to do with me anymore, and if anything good has come out of this, it’s that I won’t have to face either of them again.”
“Faye’s really broken up over all of this,” Ky admits, sighing as he leans back against the wall.
“I’m sorry,” I say because I know it’s hard for her. Faye and I might not have always seen eye to eye, usually over Whitney, but I don’t wish this on her.
“She’s really worried about Whitney,” he adds.
“I am.” Faye appears in the hallway, her heels clicking on the polished hardwood floors. “But Kent doesn’t need to hear that.” In a surprising move, she wraps her arms around me, hugging me tight. “I’m sorry she did that to you, Kent. I’m disgusted she tried to sabotage your relationship and pin the blame on you.” She eases back, dropping her arms to her sides. “I just told Presley the same thing because I would hate her to think I condoned it, and I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in my presence.” She eyeballs me, and I see nothing but the truth in her gaze. “I’m glad you guys have patched things up. I really like her.”
“Me too.”
She smiles as Kyler circles his arms around her waist from behind. “I’d like it if you and I could start over,” she adds. “Whitney has always come between us, and it wasn’t right.”
I shrug, because I understand anything she said was said out of protection for her sister. I might not have understood it at the time, and I gave her hell for it, but I get it now. “It’s water under the bridge now.”
“Come on, sweetheart.” Kyler takes his wife’s hand. “Rick has already texted me to say they are en route to the restaurant.”
“Enjoy your dinner, and don’t worry about anything. We’ve got this,” I say with more confidence than I feel. This is my first time babysitting the twins, but I’ve got my secret weapon with me—my girlfriend. Presley is a natural with kids, so we will manage.
“We won’t be late,” Faye says. “Ciara was a bit fussy earlier, and I suspect she might be coming down with something, so I don’t want to stay away too long.”
Faye brings new meaning to overprotective, but I’d never fault her for that.
I wave them off and walk into the living room to join my girlfriend.
***
“Well, that was uneventful,” Presley admits three hours later as we are pulling out of Kyler and Faye’s driveway. The kids were already asleep, and they didn’t stir the whole time. We watched TV and made out like teenagers, and it was fun.
“I’m not sure I can say the same for our next destination,” I admit, taking the turn that leads to my parents’ house.
“You think your Mom has ulterior motives in asking us to stay?”
“One hundred percent.”
Mom called during the week when she heard we were babysitting Cathal and Ciara, asking us to stay over so we could join her and Dad for lunch on Saturday. I instantly smelled a rat because it’s only three weeks until Keaton’s wedding and no one has said one word to me so far, which is not like my family. “I’m sensing it’s an ambush.”
Presley clears her throat, glancing at me from the passenger seat. “You think she wants to talk to you about the wedding?”
I nod, turning into the entranceway to my family home. I punch in the code on the keypad, and the gates slowly open.
“And you’re still not talking to Keaton?” she softly inquires. We haven’t discussed it in the weeks since we got back together, although she knows we aren’t talking, and after bigmouth Whitney let the cat out of the bag at Easter dinner, now she thinks she knows why. But that’s only part of the truth.
“Do you want to tell me why?” Her big brown eyes are earnest as she asks the question.
I swing the car into the parking garage, drive into an empty space, and kill the engine. Forcing myself to look at her, I admit the only part of the truth I’m capable of admitting right now. “I slept with his ex-girlfriend.”
She nods because she knew that bit. “Why?”
My leg jerks up and down as I fudge my reply. “I did it deliberately to hurt him. But also to show him that she had an agenda. I’d suspected it for years, and he refused to see it. She would have continued to hang on to him, and I helped him to get rid of her for good.”
It’s true I helped expose her true nature, but it’s not the main reason I had sex with Melissa the night of our twenty-first birthday. I was hurting, and I wanted Keats to hurt too. I’m not proud of my behavior or the things I said to him, but it’s all tied up with that dark, twisted space inside me, and I couldn’t help how I reacted.
Her brow puckers. “Why would you deliberately hurt Keaton?”
