LOVE AND HATE (A Billionaire Romance) (22 page)

“I’ll see what I can do. Meet me at the airfield at three. I’ll have everything ready by then.”

“You’re a lifesaver. Couldn’t do it without you.”

“Oh, I’m very well aware.”

I knew nothing about Calico. The pickings must be pretty slim to get an, “I’ll see what I can do” from Kevin. He’s usually much more of a
yes sir
kinda guy.

I had two hours to get myself ready. I drove myself home and changed out of my three-piece Armani suit into a three-hundred-dollar pair of jeans, a fifty-dollar plain black t-shirt, and an Under Armor zip-up sweatshirt. I grabbed a pair of canvas sneakers to complete the ensemble. I’d change into whatever Kevin had for me on the plane.

Now I had… an hour and fifty minutes to kill. I texted Susie.
She’s going to have dinner with me
.

She texted back immediately. The woman must never let go of her phone. I certainly appreciated it.
I know. She told me.
Then my phone rang. “I want you to be ready for her to tell you to fuck off.”

My heart plummeted. She wouldn’t… would she? She could tell me to fuck off pretty easily over the phone. “Is that what she said?” I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice. I’d always thought I was good at it. Considered myself a pretty decent actor. When it came to Kenz, though, I was nothing.

“No. She didn’t say anything, just that she talked to you and that you have dinner plans. She’s been really mad at you, and neither of you will tell me why, and I don’t know if you really did do something inexcusable.”

“I hope not.” I’d explain I hadn’t watched the file. Tell her the whole story. I couldn’t do better than the truth, and if she didn’t believe it… Well, then my heart would break. Nothing more to it than that.

“Just… Make sure you go in with realistic expectations.”

My laugh wasn’t a happy one. “I can’t.” Turns out absence does make the heart grow fonder, and this week apart from Mackenzie cemented all of my feelings for her. I knew we could make our relationship work if she gave me another shot. Now all of the secrets were gone. I’d do anything. Anything she asked.

“Well, I’m here for you if you need me.” She sounded like she’d rather do anything but listen to me lament the loss of her best friend, but I’d gotten to know her well enough to understand the offer would stand. I couldn’t take her up on it, though. If Mackenzie shot me down, I’d go to Ryan. Probably back to Vegas. A weekend of sin to forget what I’d almost had. It would be debauchery like the strip had never seen. Yet the idea didn’t appeal to me like it might have once. I’d cross that bridge when I came to it.

“Thanks, Susie. Thanks for everything.” This would be our final call. Either Mackenzie and I would repair things, give our marriage the shot it truly deserved, or we would take a trip to the divorce lawyer.

I never did sign a pre-nup, so it was up to her how hard she’d screw me if that happened. A sobering thought indeed. I pushed the idea out of my head and checked the time. An hour and forty minutes before the car came for me.

I changed into workout clothes and went to my gym.

Mackenzie

“You’re having him take you to the Railway Diner?” Cheryl quirked an eyebrow at me as she curled my hair.

“Where else would we go?”

“Somewhere in New York. Have him take you home. Go someplace expensive if he’s paying.”

“I want him to meet you guys.”

My sister’s eyes widened. “I still can’t believe you’re married to a billionaire. And you didn’t tell us!”

“Yeah, well, it’s complicated.”

I studied my reflection in the mirror as Cheryl put the finishing touches on my hair. Long rolling waves curled below my shoulders. She’d done a great job. My dress was from the Target in Waterloo; it was black with a bold floral print, and had wide straps. It showed more cleavage than my dad would prefer, but Cheryl picked it out for me. Cheap heels pinched my feet. That’s one thing I’ll say about the expensive, fancy shoes, the kind I never thought I’d own. They fit so much
better than the cheap ones. Makes spending a day in heels not nearly as daunting.

I painted my lips red to match the roses on my dress. My eyes were nude except for bold cat eye liner and thick black mascara.

“Well, you certainly look fantastic.”

“Have you thought about beauty school?”

Cheryl blushed like she always did when anyone tried to get her to focus on a plan. “No.”

“You’re really good at it. My hair and makeup have never looked this good. You always look so put-together.” She’d been into styling hair and doing makeup since elementary school, stealing mine and Becky’s makeup and showing up at school looking like a cheap hooker. She’d refined her tastes since then, though she still favored the dramatic, hence the cat eyes. She wore her hair platinum blonde in a short, spiky cut, out of place in Calico. She was never without dark lipstick and something shimmery around her eyes.

“There are tons of schools in New York,” I suggested.

“Which all cost a million dollars. Rent is like a million dollars.”

“There are schools in Des Moines, too. Or Minneapolis.”

“I never really thought about it. I mean, I do it for all my friends. For Becky’s friends, now that she’s home. None of them are quite as pretty as you.”

“Oh, stop it.”

“I mean it. Your hair is gorgeous. I want to do highlights. If it were up to me, I’d do some white-blonde ones and some bright red ones. It’d look fabulous.”

I looked at my virgin hair in the mirror. Maybe. She’d never led me wrong in the past.

“I’d also trim some of your length and do side bangs.” She reached over and tried to approximate what the side bangs would look like.

“Let’s do it tomorrow.”

“Seriously?”

“Why not?”

Cheryl grinned. “Awesome!”

“Am I done?”

She checked me over, tweaked a curl to her satisfaction, and nodded at me. “You look really hot. Dad’s going to hate it.”

We headed downstairs where my parents and Becky hovered in the front hall.

“I don’t understand why he’s not picking you up here,” Dad grumbled. “I want to meet this guy.”

“I need to talk to him first. I have to be sure.”

“In that outfit, you look pretty sure. I don’t like that lipstick. You need a sweater or something to cover up.

“She’s fine, Frank,” Mom told him. She frowned at me, suggesting she didn’t actually mean it. “I’m sure one of your sisters has a sweater if you think you might get cold.”

“I’m fine, Mom. Thanks.” Jeez, if she’d seen me in that bikini on the yacht? Yikes.

“Would you kill us if we followed you there and spied on you?” Cheryl asked, looping an arm around Becky’s shoulders.

“Um, yeah, I would.” I folded my arms and shifted my weight on my feet. The heels pinched again. “Look, I told you, I need to figure some stuff out with him. See where we go from here after the fight we had.”

“Go have dinner, go talk,” Becky said.

“Thank you, voice of reason.”

“We won’t wait up,” Cheryl teased.

“Should we not?” Mom’s frown deepened.

“Probably not.” If the talk went well, I didn’t want to be anywhere but in his arms tonight. I wasn’t going to bring him back here, not when we hadn’t seen each other for a week.

Dad gave a little
harrumph
.

“She is married to him,” Becky said.

Dad gave a bigger
harrumph
.

“You should go. You’re going to be late.” Becky winked at me.

Dad handed over the keys to his truck, an older Ford pickup with four wheels in the back. He used to haul farm equipment with it. Now it just gathered dust. I had to focus on remembering how to drive a stick, but after only two stalls I backed down the driveway. He stood in the doorway, shaking his head at me. I remembered his driving lessons in this truck’s predecessor, doing slow laps in the electric company parking lot. He had yelled, I had cried, but I had learned, dammit.

I clutched the wheel so hard my knuckles ached. I took some deep breaths and flexed my fingers. Whatever happened tonight would be okay. Mom sat me down and told me they’d make things work with or without Scott’s money.

“This has to be about you, honey. About what you want. Don’t worry about us.”

Of course I would worry about them. She was right, though. We’d gotten along all our lives without Scott. I didn’t need him. I sure found myself wanting him, though.

At seven in the evening on a Tuesday, the Railway Diner was winding down. They stayed open until nine on weeknights, ten-thirty on weekends. A few cars littered the parking lot, including a shiny maroon Mustang, this year’s model, which had to be him. The car sparkled in the streetlight in a way none of the others did. I parked the diesel truck next to it, careful not to ding the gorgeous car, which was the cheapest one I’d ever seen him drive.

I climbed down from the truck, hating these shoes as my feet protested. I squared my shoulders, peeked at my makeup in the side mirror, and locked the door with the key (the Mercedes—my Mercedes, I guess—had keyless entry, and man had I gotten used to that fast).

I picked my way across the dirt parking lot, each step agony. It was too early in the night for my feet to hurt this bad. Thank God we weren’t going dancing. We were here to talk. The knot in my stomach robbed me of any appetite.

He waited for me in the vestibule. He didn’t look like himself in cheap jeans, a Target Captain America t-shirt, and a matching plaid, button-down shirt over it. The expensive haircut gave him away, but for the most part he looked like anyone else here. He didn’t say anything when I walked in. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he struggled with his emotions.

“Cap, not Iron Man?”

My joke made him smile. “Iron Man seemed a little obvious, don’t you think?” We shared a quick laugh. “You look amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I hug you?”

Tears welled up in my eyes. It wasn’t right, having my powerful, dominant husband ask to hug me. I didn’t want that. I wanted him to feel he could swoop in, scoop me up, and squeeze me as tight as he needed to. As tight as I needed him to. I nodded. He wrapped strong arms around me. His clothes smelled new. His cologne, his deodorant, the skin smell that was him—all those scents accosted me. With my head on his shoulder, I hugged him back. We gripped one another, happy to be home.

I reminded myself of the video and that I was still mad. The argument wasn’t resolved. Just because he was here, just because he’d saved my parents, didn’t mean things were fixed. I pulled away.

“Did I mention you look beautiful?”

“You did.”

“It’s a totally different look for you.”

“My sister is really good at this stuff.”

“I’ll say. Should we go in?”

“I’m not very hungry. How about you?”

“Kenz, I couldn’t eat right now if I tried.”

“Come with me.”

We left the Mustang in the parking lot and climbed into Dad’s pickup. I drove us down a dirt road running parallel to the river. We drove a mile or so, and the road ended in a little parking area and a crude boat launch. State Highway 14 crossed high overhead, and every so often, cars thundered by above us. A truck with a boat trailer sat in the dark parking lot.

I left the shoes in the car and led Scott to the rocks under the bridge. I sat down on a flat granite surface, and Scott sat next to me, not touching me. Our legs dangled off the edge. My red toenails (to match the lipstick and the flowers) danced in the meager light from the moon and the stars.

Down here, the river and everything echoed hauntingly. Generations of kids had left their marks on the underside of the bridge in spray paint. Way up by the top was a “DM + MT 4 Ever” with a red heart encircling the words which had been written in dual layers of black and gold. The letters were faded, ten years old now. I never much thought of Dennis McKee anymore. We’d broken up not long after graduation. After him, I’d dated Chris in college, which reminded me of the tape and why I was so mad at Scott.

“What are you thinking about?” Scott asked.

I fixed my attention on the river. “Where did you find the tape?”

“Ryan dug it up somewhere. He must have done some fancy facial recognition search online.”

“It’s out there? Online?”

He nodded. “I had the website where he found it take it down. I don’t know if there are other sites with it.” I shuddered. “Look at me.” I didn’t want to. Looking at him would melt my heart. It didn’t matter what he said when I lost myself in his brown eyes. “I never watched it.”

“Bullshit. It was open on your desktop.”

“The file wasn’t, the folder was. He sent it to me and told me to blackmail you. I’m not that guy.” He smiled at me. “So I bribed you instead.”

I sighed. “But you kept it.”

“I did. I shouldn’t have. Why would I lie to you, especially about something I’m pretty sure you won’t believe? I don’t think I would believe me. I wanted to watch it, but I promise you, I never did.”