“It’s an idiom,” I calmly explain although Vander gets exactly what I’m saying. “Can I get you some cake, Gayle?”
“Oh, God, no.” She stares at Hazel in horror. Hazel is too busy shoveling cake in her mouth to notice her derision. Gayle pats her flat stomach. “I’m careful about what I eat, and that thing—” she points at my son’s plate “—is a dieter’s worst nightmare.” She shudders as if my cake has personally affronted her. I’m tempted to grab West’s half-eaten slice and smash it into her whiny face.
But that would be catty and immature, and I’m a grown-ass woman who would never resort to such childish behavior.
“Sugar is the enemy, you know,” she continues, in an annoying high-pitched superior tone. Leaning back, she snuggles into Vander while running her hand up and down his arm. “It’s just another thing we have in common, babe,” she tells him, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. Vander stares at me with a blank expression, and I work hard to shield my emotions. “Besides,” she says, turning her face back around to me. “I’m too sweet as it is.” She giggles at her own joke, and I’m done.
“That you are, Gayle.” I smooth a hand down the front of my dress and deliver my most serene smile. “Well, if no one else wants cake, my work here is done.”
“I’ll have cake,” Vander says, removing Gayle’s hand from his arm. “You know I can’t resist your desserts.” He says it deadpan, with no show of emotion on his face, but I hear the double entendre, and I’m fuming. With him for playing such stupid games and me for not being strong enough to stay away from him before it got to this point.
“Count me in too.”
I turn toward the owner of the deep voice. Bowie rakes his gaze over me slowly, and I’m instantly uncomfortable with his attention.
“I’ll always accept whatever you’re offering, Mrs. H, if you know what I mean.”
Oh, dear God. Cake is totally a euphemism, and rather than feeling flattered, I am seriously embarrassed and a little grossed out. Bowie waggles his brows, and I spot the glazed look in his eyes. He is totally trashed, and I am going to murder whoever smuggled booze into the party. My money is on Stella, but who am I kidding? I know most kids drink before they are legal—we did—but I was very firm with the kids about tonight. Their friends’ parents are trusting us to safeguard their children, and sending them home drunk does not sit well with me.
“You’re a fucking asshole!” West jumps up and races around the table with murderous intent in his eyes. “You take that back!” he yells as I swing around, blocking Bowie with my body and keeping my son at bay. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Vander glaring at Bowie while gripping the edge of his seat. “You can’t hit on my mom, you fucking perv!” West shouts.
“What’s going on here?” Curtis asks, materializing at my side and getting the timing right for once.
“I think Bowie has had too much to drink,” I say under my breath. “Can you arrange a ride home for him and calm West down. I’m going to put Ridge to bed.”
Curtis nods. “I’ve got this. Go.”
I walk off without looking back, pleased when my sleepy nine-year-old doesn’t mount any protest and willingly takes my hand. I am ready for this night to be over.
25
KENDALL
After changing Ridge into his pajamas and tucking him into bed, I head to my bedroom to take a breather. Standing in front of the mirror in my en suite bathroom, I stare at my reflection, wondering how my life got to this point. I attend to business, wash my hands, and brush my teeth before touching up my makeup. I plan to go back outside to say my goodbyes, and then I’m calling it a night.
When I walk into my bedroom, I almost scream in fright as Vander steps out in front of me. “You can’t be in here. You need to leave,” I say when my blood pressure has regulated.
“We need to talk.”
“There is nothing to say. Go back to your date.” I’m pleased I sound calm and not like the jealous shrew who is hiding inside me, waiting to show her claws.
I don’t know what I was thinking, believing he could be into me.
It’s so stupid to imagine I would hold his attention when he’s surrounded by the Gayles of this world. I have nurtured three babies in my womb, and I have the stretch marks to prove it. My body isn’t some blank canvas for him to paint with his mouth and his hands. My body reflects my life experiences, and I don’t compare favorably to girls his own age with their flawless faces, supple skin, and desirable bodies. What happened tonight is inevitable, and it’s best I realize it now before I’m even more invested.
“She’s not my date. She’s just…” Air whooshes out of his mouth as he runs a hand through his gorgeous messy dark hair. He looks good tonight, but I have tried not to notice. Dark jeans hug his muscular thighs and legs, and his black fitted shirt clings to his broad shoulders, taut chest, and sculpted biceps. He has the shirt rolled up to the elbows, highlighting the impressive ink on his arms.
I won’t be distracted by his looks, and I’m in a pissy mood after his behavior tonight. “Someone to make me jealous?” I surmise.
His eyes burn into mine. “Did it work?”
“Oh, it worked like a charm, Vander.” I fold my arms across my chest and fix him with a sharp look. “It proved you are more like my husband than you would care to admit. You have shown me you are manipulative and a lot less mature than I gave you credit for.” Harsh? Maybe, but I’m mad, and I’m confused, and I hate feeling like this. Like I’m a teenager again vying with nasty bitches at school over a man. I left all of that behind me, and I won’t do this. I thought Vander was different, but it seems like I was wrong. “There are plenty of obstacles in our way without adding immature games into the mix, so thank you for making this easier for me.” I point between us. “This ends now.”
“The hell it does!” he snaps.
“Lower your voice!” I hiss. “Ridge is sleeping in the next room.”
He rubs at a spot between his brows. “What’s the problem, Kendall? You can’t hack it when someone gives you a taste of your own medicine?”
