Broken Vows (Domestic Discipline Romance) (17 page)

Jenny and Violet went off together to the ladies' room to freshen their makeup before the late evening trolling of nightlife began.

"You look good, bro," Tyrell said. "Relaxed, not nearly as stressed as the last time I saw you. How do you like living out in the boonies?"

"We like it. Everything is going great. The renovations are ahead of schedule. It's weird; some parts of the house are incredible, and other parts need to be gutted."

"You haven't let Jenny in on the news yet," Tyrell asked.

"No," Josh admitted. "We are changing, both of us, I think for the better. We are closer as a couple and closer to our children. Emmie is talking again, not as much as before, but she is coming out of her shell. We turned back the clock and things are good. We are both back working on our art—Jenny with her textiles, me with real designing. I have even done a bit of painting. I know it sounds strange to you since you thrive on a high-stress career, but I don't think I'm cut out for it, anymore. I never want to go back to a cutthroat atmosphere. Mandelson and Blake was a decent company, but Pugh and Barkley was toxic."

"What about your new company?" Tyrell asked.

"It's coming along. I Skype with them almost daily. We still have to file a lot of paperwork. Bill Gabriel and Matt Johnson handle the business and marketing end while Brice Haroldson and I are the architects. Meanwhile, we are working together on plans for a side job of his, a huge house. He brought me in on it so we can get a feel as to how our styles mesh. I am able to create the designs at home and share them digitally."

"There will still be business trips and presentations, and you will have to spend a certain amount of your time at the company headquarters," Tyrell reminded him.

"True, I will work out the details along the way. I have added another million plus to my already deep coffers. I sold the properties in San Diego and Fort Walton Beach. They turned out to be rental properties, neither of which was making a profit. Jenny and I went to San Diego once on a business trip. It was picturesque but too crowded for us."

"You lived in Manhattan and loved it," Tyrell objected.

"I know, but it was a different time in our lives," Josh said, shaking his head. "We were fresh out of college with no responsibilities. Having kids changes everything. Parenting slices through your tunnel vision of wanting everything for yourself. Your focus has to be on family.

"We love where we live, now. It's only a two-hour drive to Montrose, a spectacularly beautiful drive. I could buy a house or condo in Montrose, if necessary. I want the new business to succeed, but I don't want to get back into those workaholic patterns and neither do my partners. If we can't handle the workload among the four of us, we will hire more people. We have all agreed to the fundamental principle."

"Yeah well, we all know those hundred-hour workweeks will kill ya," Tyrell grinned. "You can afford to have that attitude now. What about the chalet?"

"We are keeping it," Josh exclaimed. "Yeah, Jenny doesn't know about it yet, but
we
are keeping it. The place nets approximately a half a million a year in rentals alone. However, it is not under contract until March this year, so if you want to return this winter, just call and I'll make the arrangements.

"By next season, Jenny will know everything. We will decide then how much time we want to spend here during the winter months and coordinate with the rest of the family. It will still give us plenty of time for our personal use, and rent it out the rest of the time for some astronomical rent. I hope the rest of the family will visit with the bribe of skiing. By then, you can visit us in Durango too since the house will be finished. We already took Emmie with us to ski at the Durango Mountain Resort, although the locals still call it Purgatory. It is one of the most family-friendly resorts in the state. Oh, by the way, you will not be paying for all the meals while you are here."

"Yes, I am," said Tyrell firmly. "We are staying at no cost and you provided transportation, the least we can do is pay for meals."

"No," Josh argued.

"Yes," repeated Tyrell, grinning evilly. "Otherwise, little brother, I'll rat you out!"

"You can be a real bastard sometimes," Josh growled.

"So what, you're the idiot!"

"Boys," Violet said, coming to the table with Jenny. "Behave!"

Both men clamped their jaws shut, although they continued to grin at each other.

"So what are the plans for tomorrow?" Violet asked.

"Jen and I want to hit the slopes early. We are sticking to the intermediate slopes for this trip. We want to spend some time looking around town in the afternoon."

"We already went skiing at the Durango Mountain Resort several times," Jenny said. "We discovered we are out of practice and out of shape, so Intermediate will have to do for this trip. I could barely walk after our first day of skiing at Purgatory."

"Imagine living where a ski resort is only thirty miles away," Violet exclaimed with a wistful sigh. "Tyrell and I will hit the expert runs, so I guess we won't see you on the slopes. Why don't we meet at the Lodge for lunch around one o'clock?"

Once they decided on their plans for the next day, the two couples enjoyed strolling along the streets. Tyrell and Violet enjoyed a few drinks while Jenny and Josh enjoyed the dance floor in two retro lounges.

* * *

Kevin presented his layouts for Mila's kitchen in the housekeeper's quarters. He and Mila argued over them for several hours. He finally dragged out his laptop and made adjustments. The only thing he held the line on was the appliances. Josh had already ordered and paid for them, they were to be delivered at the end of the week. He told her to bite it when she wanted to change the style of the sink and dishwasher. He gave in on the taller cabinetry with alternating heights, even though it would be more work on his part to put in the finishing molding.

He mourned the loss of the existing cherry cabinets his father had built two decades before. They were clearly his father's artisanship. However, someone, likely the housekeeper, had painted them a hideous pink color inside and out, and put decals on the doors.

By the end of the evening, they had a design pleasing to both of them. His cousins were arriving the next morning to help with the demolition work.

Mila enjoyed her evening with Kevin. They argued over the plans, her ideas versus his ideas, but she actually had fun. She liked giving him a hard time, and he liked giving her ultimatums. He made her swear and sign a handwritten note she would never paint the new cabinets. Later, he told her he planned to strip and refinish the old cabinets and sell them in his showroom to offset some of the costs of the kitchen rehab. She invited him to dinner in the guesthouse. She noted how much he liked children as he sat with Adam in his lap a good portion of the evening. Meanwhile, Emmie used Buddy as a living pillow lying on the floor watching television.

* * *

Mila went to bed thinking about Kevin. When she rolled over and had trouble getting out of bed, she realized exactly how crazy that was. She was eight months pregnant with her deceased husband's child. She had no business even thinking about another man.

As she struggled out of bed and into the bathroom, she went to the mirror and traced her rounded belly with her hands. She no longer recognized the contours of her body. Her breasts were full and the child within her rotund. She protectively cupped a hand on each side of her protruding stomach.

Mila loved the child inside her. It still surprised her how much she wanted this child. When she first suspected her pregnancy, she had been angry. Actually, she had been beyond angry. She had been hurt, broken, and devastated. She had felt betrayed by her body. She had not wanted a baby, no way, it was not happening. She knew she had choices, but she couldn't face them. She went into denial, although it is hard to deny something steadily growing inside you.

Then she received word of John's death and she was surrounded by friends, military support groups, and counselors. They were doing their best to help her. She was torn between the truth and a lie. She opted for the lie.

Everyone thought she was mourning the loss of her husband. In a way, it was true. She did grieve the man he had been. The man she had loved and married, and the man who died in a war zone long before they returned him to her in a casket. John had died twice for her. The vicious man, who returned to her from Iraq after fourteen months of duty, was someone she did not know or even like. She tried to reach him, pleaded with him to get counseling. He refused all her efforts. Then he systematically proceeded to kill their marriage with liquor, infidelity, and cruelty.

They had only lived together two months after his return when Mila discovered his infidelities and quit sleeping with him. By then, she could barely tolerate being around the man he had become. She leased a small efficiency apartment off base on a monthly basis.

The night before he left for his second tour, he eradicated what little regard and empathy she had left for him. He had come over and they had argued, as usual. When she wouldn't give him what he wanted, he took her captive and held her for hours. He forced himself on her repeatedly, claiming it was his '
right
' as her husband. In the morning, he grabbed his duffle bag and walked out.

Non-consensual sex was rape even if you were married to the man. Mila went to John's Commanding Officer to file a complaint, but John was already out of his jurisdiction and in a war zone. The CO said he would look into the matter, but she walked out of his office knowing he would do nothing. She was John's wife, and he was overseas. The military protected its own. The complaint would be 'lost' or buried.

She had spent seven years in the military living with its male dominance and double standards. She could be tough when necessary, but it was a constant battle for acceptance as an equal, no matter what the law said. She lived with it, fought against it when needed, and had refused to allow it to hold her back. She had taken on two male-dominated fields, the military, and engineering.

In the end, she felt betrayed and hurt.

Everyone around her thought grief caused her anguish, but it was not. It was pure, unadulterated anger. She decided to leave the service. She decided to have the baby. She wanted to go somewhere where no one knew her, have the baby, and give it up for adoption. That had been the plan.

Everything changed in a millisecond when she felt the little flutter as the baby quickened. It was not John's baby. It was
her
baby living and growing inside her. This was her baby. Mila was a strong woman and had always been proud of her strength. Her child would be loved, and never know Mila's secrets.

Mila smiled at her reflection and tried to refocus her mind. She did this sometimes, floundering in a single block of time in the past. She would soon relegate the entire experience to the back of her mind forever. She had survived. Soon she would have a baby to love.

She had jumped at the chance to reunite with her sister and the consequent move to Colorado had been a good decision. Jenny, Josh, and their two adorable children were showing her what a happy family was like. They were the example she wanted to follow.

Kevin now challenged her as a woman. It was always there in his eyes, a little flirting, and a knowing glance. The attention confused her. She did not get it. She was a waddling watermelon. He simply could not be interested in her. He could not. She was having a baby. He was just one of those men who became overprotective around a pregnant woman. She slammed out of the bathroom and ignored the bed. Instead, she sat in a chair and tried to sleep.

* * *

Kevin slid into Mila's bed, but he could not get to sleep. The bedroom smelled of her with a bit of jasmine in the air. He did not know the name of the perfume, but one of his sisters wore it. It did not smell nearly as good on his sister as it did on Mila.

The bedroom was the only room in the little house that was a reflection of her. An ancient, beat-up bookcase overflowed with engineering texts, murder mysteries, and thick science-fiction tomes. The black-and-white prints on the walls featured photographs of bridges and buildings taken at angles challenging the mind to look and study the perspectives. He knew these were her things, brought with her from wherever she had lived before. The rest of the room was horrible from the overly flowered bedspread and curtains to the ugly lamps and shag rugs. She deserved better.

It did not take him long to figure out sleep would be elusive in her room. He grabbed the comforter from the bed, but at once put it back. It smelled of her, which was the very reason he could not sleep. He padded down the hall, grabbed his sleeping bag, and unrolled it on the couch. He did finally sleep, dreaming of a blonde woman, thinner than now. There was also a little boy with dark hair and brown eyes, and a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes very much like his own.

When Kevin dragged himself out of his sleeping bag the next morning, he was puzzled and perturbed. He hated it when he could only remember fragments of his dreams. He could not shake the image of two children, though. He mulled over his hazy memories until his first cup of high-test coffee brought him out of his sleep stupor, and even those fragments faded and disappeared.