Magnificent Bastard (27 page)

“Penny doesn’t want Phillip,” I continue, willing Anastasia to see reason. “He’s a slimy son of a bitch and she knows it. Now get out of the water and let’s go find your dress before it blows into the ocean and strangles a baby dolphin or something.”

Anastasia shakes her head back and forth, backing away until the waves rise to the center of her chest. “I can’t. I can’t ever face anyone ever again.”

“Of course you can. Phillip is the one who fucked up.” I motion back toward the house. “He’s the one who just proved to everyone up there that he isn’t worthy of you, Ana. Not your love or your trust, and he sure as hell isn’t worth freezing to death for.”

Her lips tremble, but her gaze softens. “You don’t really believe that. You think I’m a t-terrible p-person.”

“No, I don’t,” I say, deciding it’s worth pushing the truth a little in order to get her out of the waves. “I think you fell in love with a terrible person and it made you less than you really are. But now Phillip is on the way out. You can kick him to the curb and get back to what matters. Your family, your daughters, and the friends who love and appreciate you.”

She sways back and forth in the water.

I circle my arm, using my warmest voice to seal the deal and get her moving toward shore. “Come on back here, girl. You’re a survivor. You’ve got this. No way is a human come stain like Phillip going to bring down Anastasia Pickett.”

Her lips quirk and I answer with a smile. “Now get out of that water and let’s go take care of business.”

“You’ll help me?” she asks, shuffling a step forward. “Really? Even though I hurt Penny? All for nothing, for a man who doesn’t really love me?”

“Any enemy of Phillip’s is a friend of mine,” I assure her, breathing easier as she continues to struggle through the water. “I’ll even take care of kicking him out the door. It will be my pleasure to shove a shoe up his ass.”

Her eyes shine and a tentative smile curves her lips. “Can I watch? I would like to see him get a shoe up the ass. I’m not normally a violent person, but I think he deserves that at least.”

“At the very least,” I agree, working open the buttons on my dress shirt as it becomes obvious that, thanks to a good soaking, her white bra and panties are now transparent.

She clearly has no issues with parading around naked in front of her daughter’s boyfriends or whoever else happens to be around, but I would like for her to be covered up when we head back to the house. As she takes the last few steps onto the shore, shivering in the cool breeze rushing in off the water, I shrug off my shirt and hold it out for her. She threads her arms through the sleeves and I lift it up onto her shoulders.

But when she turns, I see that she’s made no effort to hold the shirt closed in front.

In fact, in the time it took my hands to fall to my sides she has somehow managed to dispose of her bra. It drops down onto the sand with a soft plop as she allows my shirt to gape open farther, displaying a scandalous amount of inner-side-boob.

The moment I make eye contact with the inner-side-boob, I immediately glance away, clearing my throat uncomfortably. “All right then. You might want to—”

Before I can finish, Anastasia flings her arms around my neck and presses her nearly bare chest against mine.

“Thank you, Bash.” She arches into closer contact, rubbing against me in a way that makes my balls shrivel and my dick try to crawl back between my legs because—

1. She’s not Penny.
   
2. She’s Penny’s mother.
   
3. She’s freezing cold and wet.
   
4. Did I mention that she’s the
   mother
   of the woman I’ve been fucking—the only woman I want to fuck in the foreseeable future—and that it feels utterly and completely wrong to have her body this close to mine? It would feel wrong to have anyone else this close, but especially the woman responsible for giving birth to Penny.
   

I’m gaining a new level of appreciation for just how nasty Phillip is for going straight from daughter to mother and am trying to gracefully detangle myself from Anastasia without hurting her feelings and sending her running back into the ocean when suddenly her lips are on mine.

I don’t see it coming; I have no idea I’m about to be lip-locked until she seals the deal.

I flinch in shock and open my mouth to tell her this isn’t going to happen, but before I can speak her tongue is in my mouth and she’s going at my shocked, stiff appendage like she’s trying to poke it back to life. The kiss lasts maybe ten, fifteen seconds before I put my hands firmly on her shoulders and push her away, but I know it’s fifteen seconds that are going to haunt me for the rest of my life.

“Shit, Anastasia.” I swipe my hand across my mouth, tempted to spit the taste of her out onto the sand. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“I’m sorry.” Her bottom lip trembles as she pulls my shirt closed in the front. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I didn’t mean to do that. I was just so grateful to you for offering to help and then you took your shirt off and I thought—”

“I took my shirt off because you were naked and I wanted to help cover you up.” I jab an emphatic thumb back toward the house. “I’m your daughter’s date, for God’s sake.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears fill her eyes. “I really am, Bash. I’m so sorry and embarrassed. I have some unhealthy behavior patterns when it comes to men, especially when I’m feeling vulnerable.” She huddles deeper into my shirt. “I probably need to go back into therapy.”

“You think?” I run a clawed hand through my hair. “Or maybe you could just devote a little less effort to avoiding gluten and a little more to avoiding kissing your daughter’s boyfriends. I think that would be a good place to start.”

She nods swiftly. “I will. I promise. Please don’t tell Penny. I don’t want to upset her and I swear it will never happen again.”

“I can’t make that promise.” I bend to retrieve my shoes and socks before the incoming tide can soak them. “I don’t believe in lying to the people I care about.”

“Even if the lie makes things easier for everyone?” she presses, tailing me as I start back toward the house. “Please, I’ve already messed up so much with Penny. I just want to make things right with my daughter. And now that Phillip and I are over, maybe we can have that chance.”

She grabs my elbow and I stop, facing her over the bracelets still littering the sand. “Please,” she begs, fear in her eyes. “Let something good come out of all this. Don’t doom my relationship with my daughter because of one stupid kiss while I was half frozen and feeling sad and pathetic. If you give me a chance, I swear I won’t screw up again.”

I sigh. “I haven’t known you long, Ana, but even I know better than to believe that.”

Her brow furrows. “Okay. You’re right. I will screw up again. But I won’t screw up in the same way. Not like this. I give you my word, Sebastian, and that does mean something. Ask Penny. I mess up a lot but when I make a promise, I keep it.”

I study her earnest expression, having no idea if she’s telling the truth or just showing off her acting skills, but in the end, it doesn’t matter. This family needs a break from the constant drama and if that means keeping what happened on the beach a secret—at least until all the rest of the angst blows over—I can do that.

For Penny.

But not for free…

“All right, I’ll keep the kiss between us,” I say, hurrying on when she tries to thank me. “But in exchange, you agree not to use Penny’s sisters to manipulate her. No more threatening to withhold visits or coming between them in any way.”

“Done,” she says with a firm nod. “I felt terrible about that anyway. I’ve felt terrible about a lot of things the past few years, but all that is going to change. Right now. I’m ready to lose one-hundred and eighty pounds of pure trouble and get my life back on track.”

I nod and hold out an arm. “After you.”

I follow Anastasia through the dunes and up the path toward the house. We’ve just rounded the corner and are moving between the two small guest bungalows when Ana stops dead in the middle of the trail with a soft gasp.

I don’t have to ask what’s the matter. I’ve already seen them and no matter how much I want to, I can’t seem to look away.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of Penny—
my
Penny—making out with Phillip under the awning of the guesthouse, wearing the white chiffon dress she was wearing when we first kissed. Her arms are around his neck, his hands are on her ass, and her lips are parted while she kisses him the way she should only kiss one man.
Me
. But that’s not me and clearly Penny hasn’t told Phillip to go to hell and rot there and take his marriage proposal with him.

No, it looks like Penny and Phillip are back together.

She’s gone back to the man who set off a dirty bomb in the middle of her life, the fuck stick who treated her like shit on his shoe right up until the moment it became clear someone else was in love with the girl he’d thrown away.

Like Rachael. It’s exactly like Rachael, except it hurts so much fucking more.

I thought Penny was different.

I thought she was one in a million.
My
one.

For a moment, I have the strange urge to sit down and put my shoes on, so I can run away from her faster, but Penny isn’t even looking at me. She has no idea I’ve seen what I’ve seen or that she’s broken the fuck out of my heart.

So I don’t run. I turn and walk away, back down to the beach, up around the side of the mansion—where Penny and Phillip may end up living happily ever after if Anastasia decides to take that suicide swim after all—and down the drive to my car. And then I pull away and I don’t look back.

I’ve broken almost all of my rules with Penny. But I won’t break this one.

One and done. A Magnificent Bastard intervention is a once in a lifetime opportunity. No exceptions.

Not even for her, the girl I already know I’ll never be able to forget.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

And now something from

Francis and Edna “Eddie” Pickett-Baxter

Dear Sebastian,

Mom told us not to write you a letter.

She said that some things are better left alone and that you probably wish you’d never come to the wedding or heard the name Pickett. But since we’re half Baxter—that’s our dad’s last name—we figured we would write anyway.

(And Francis loves to do things she’s told not to do.

Our psychiatrist says she has oppositional defiant disorder, but I think she just doesn’t like getting bossed around. I don’t care as much about getting bossed around because I don’t have a lot of strong opinions the way she does. This is Edna writing this part, by the way.

Eddie, to you, because we’re friends. At least, I hope we still are.)

Back to the point! This is Francis writing the main letter because I have better handwriting, but the words are from both of us.

And we both want to say that we’re very, very sorry.

We should never have set up our nanny cam in the sunroom. We only did it because Penny said that Mom threw up in a flowerpot right before she walked down the aisle at two of her wedding rehearsals and we thought that would be a really funny thing to get on video. We could have sent it in to America’s Wackiest Home Movies or just uploaded it to the cloud and used it as blackmail to convince Mom to let us have sugar whenever we want.

Or at least on weekends.

We know too much sugar isn’t good for us and no matter what Mom says we aren’t animals who would run wild without rules.

(At least, I’m not. Sometimes Francis is like a wolverine when she’s angry. She has a big temper. She let me write this because she’s proud of it. She’s also proud of how bad her farts smell.

This is still Eddie, by the way. You can tell because my pen is blue.)

ANYWAY!

The point is, we’re sorry. We would take it back if we could. We never meant to cause trouble or make everyone angry and sad. Mom says it isn’t our fault and that nothing was ruined that shouldn’t have been ruined, but we’re not sure that’s true.

We just know that we wish things had happened differently.

And we hope we can still be friends.

Mom says that’s never going to happen, either, but Mom has been wrong about things before.

Here’s hoping this is one of them.

Here’s hoping it a LOT because we like you and think you make a great uncle.

Your friends?

Francis and Edna “Eddie” Pickett-Baxter

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Two Months Later…

Text from Aidan:
Heading out to grab brunch in about an hour, you want to join?

From Bash:
No thanks.

Aidan:
Come on, it’s this new place. Supposed to have the best Bloody Marys in Brooklyn
.

Bash:
Definitely no. I hate Brooklyn.

Aidan:
Since when?

Bash:
Since forever. That borough is dead to me. I’m never going there again, not even for ice cream.