King's Pleasure (14 page)

Jeremy blinked as if the sight of his cousin jarred him. Then another layer of guilt attacked him.

“Well?” Q said, folding his arms. “I’m waiting.”

Jeremy nodded at the olive branch. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” Quentin asked, hiking up brow. “I’m
very
sorry. I shouldn’t have attacked you. You were just trying to help.”

Q’s head swayed as he weighed whether to accept the apology. “All right. Apology accepted.” He twisted up his nose. “Why do you smell like fish?”

Jeremy laughed and managed to let slip his first genuine smile in the past hour. “It’s a long story.” Still, he just had to get in the last word. “But I still think you should call Sterling.”

“W
hat did he mean by that?” Dr. Turner interrupted, braiding her fingers together.

Quentin tried to play dumb. “What did who mean by what?”

“Come on, Q. Let’s not play games. A few minutes ago you said Jeremy alluded to something that happened between you and your brother Sterling. Care to elaborate?”

Quentin shifted around on the chaise.

Alyssa pulled her gaze away from the window and finally turned her attention to them. “Tell her,” she urged.

But Q’s tongue suddenly felt like lead in his mouth and the room’s temperature surged to sweltering heat.

“Q?” Julianne Turner leaned forward in her chair sensing that she had hit a nerve. “Why did your cousin say that you needed to talk to your older brother?”

Did she think he hadn’t understood the question the first time? “It’s…” Quentin shook his head.

“Take your time,” she encouraged softly.

“I was hurt,” he started. “And so damn angry.”

“Of course you were. Your brother married the woman you thought you were in love with.”

“I
was
in love with her,” Q corrected.

“You weren’t in love with me,” Alyssa accused, and then rolled her eyes in frustration.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Quentin snapped, jumping to his feet and yelling at someone who wasn’t there.

“Excuse me?” Dr. Turner asked, alarmed.

“I know plenty!” Alyssa charged. “After all, I am your subconscious. You weren’t in love with Alyssa!”

“I was!”

“No!”

“Yes,” he thundered, and then realized the absurdity of the situation. “Look at me. I’m arguing with myself.”

“You’re pissed because you lost! You can’t stand that Sterling supposedly took something that you thought belonged to you. And in your own sick way, you thought my adoration belonged solely to you. Why not? You had it for years. But the truth of the matter is if you had loved me you never would have married her,” his subconscious Alyssa said.

“Who?” he thundered. “She has nothing to do with this!”

“Who are you talking about?” Julianne Turner asked, fascinated by Quentin’s breakthrough—or meltdown—the jury was still out on which one it was.

“She has everything to do with this!” Alyssa shouted. “When you love something—or someone—you fight for that love. That’s what Sterling did—he fought for what he wanted. He didn’t let
you
or anyone else take away what he wanted. He wanted me. Let’s face facts. When you had your chance, you chose your precious inheritance—damn whoever got in your way.”

“That’s not true!”

“No? Have you even told her why you got married? Does she even have a clue? Or did you just forget all about her or what she might have been going through once you got your money and your annulment?”

Quentin’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he finally admitted the truth.

“Face it. You were a selfish bastard then and you’re a selfish bastard now. You can’t even allow yourself to be happy for your brother—or for me.”

“Quentin?” Dr. Turner spoke softly. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

“What’s going on?” she asked.

Quentin glanced around the room. Alyssa was gone—and something in his gut told him that he wouldn’t see her image ever again.

“Q?” Julianne Turner tried again to get through to him.

“Uh, yeah. I guess I just realized something.”

“And what’s that?” she asked cautiously.

“That I am a real asshole.”

Silence followed his announcement as his head flopped back on the chaise.

“Can I get you something?” Dr. Turner asked, standing. “Would you like some water or something?”

“Water would be nice,” he said, suddenly exhausted.

Julianne Turner walked over to a small refrigerator by her desk and retrieved the bottled water. As she twisted open the top and grabbed a small glass, she looked over her shoulder at him.

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not cracking up. At least I don’t think I am.”

She smiled as she walked back and handed him the glass. “Why don’t you leave the diagnosis to the professional?”

Quentin flashed his dimples. “All right, Doc. Am I cracking up?”

Dr. Turner’s lips stretched wide into a smile as she returned to her chair.

“I guess that means that the jury is still out,” he joked.

“Tell me about your breakthrough.”

“Only that love is more foreign to me now than it has ever been. But maybe now I think I understand Jeremy’s situation a little better.”

“G
irl, are you all right?” Ariel asked, rushing to her side when she finally emerged from the kitchen. Leigh was far from being all right, but she put on a brave face anyway. “Yeah. I’m okay.” She glanced around the room and was both relieved and disappointed that Jeremy King was gone.

“He left,” Ariel filled in.

“What?”

“Your baby’s daddy,” her girl said flippantly. “That is who you’re looking for, right? He blazed out of here a few minutes ago. So what’s up? Did you drop the news on him or what? And why are you shaking like a leaf?”

“Because Jeremy hauled me into that huge freezer in the kitchen.”

“What? He tried to kill you or something? We can probably sue him for that.”

“No. But I can’t swear that the thought didn’t cross his mind.”

“Girl, the drama at this damn party is off the hook. So what are you going to do?”

“Right now? Go home.” Leigh glanced around the room again. “Where’s DeShawn?”

“Uh.” Ariel grimaced.

“What now?”

“He rushed outside—with Jeremy.”

Leigh felt too exhausted to panic anymore. At this point she would quietly march in front of a firing squad if it meant that this nightmare would be over.

Ariel, however, remained rapt with anticipation. “So what do you think they were out there talking about?”

“I assure you I have no idea.”

“You don’t think that your baby—”

“Please, stop calling him that. I don’t know what they are talking about, nor do I care. I just want to go home.”

“But your party—”

“I don’t care about this party, either,” she hissed, while tears burned the backs of her eyelids like acid. “Take me home.”

“But—”

“Ariel, if you’re my friend, you’ll jump off my last nerve and get me home before I completely lose it.”

Ariel blinked.

“Please,” she added as those same tears now threatened to roll down her face.

“All right. All right. Sure. Let’s just get our jackets.”

Leigh bobbed her head and proceeded to follow her girl to the coat check of the restaurant. As they stood in line to hand over their tickets, Leigh’s gaze drifted toward the glass front door. There she saw Jeremy King and DeShawn standing by the parking valet talking. She couldn’t help or stop herself from comparing the two.

Both men had no trouble turning women’s heads, but Jeremy King’s effortless style and suave good looks were truly second to none. Looking at him, it was clear he was a manly man. And having had the experience of what it was like to rake her hands down his massive chest
and
to have him buried deep inside of her, she knew, for her, who was the better man.

Judging by the body language and the fact that DeShawn was doing all the talking, Leigh thought it was safe to conclude that no bombshells were being dropped. But if she wasn’t mistaken, Jeremy did look surprised about something. She wondered what it was that DeShawn was telling him.

“Here you go, girl,” Ariel said, handing over her jacket.

Leigh accepted it without pulling her gaze away from the two men—well, from Jeremy.
Why couldn’t I have met him first?
There was such a longing in her question that her chest hurt. And there were other parts of her body aching for his touch.

“Are you ready?” Ariel asked.

“Huh, what?” Leigh jerked her head around to face Ariel, but it was too late. Her friend had already turned around to see what had captured her attention.

Ariel folded her arms. “I thought we didn’t care what they were talking about.”

“I don’t care.”

“Right. Is that why you’re drooling like someone was waving a dog biscuit in front of your face?”

“Please, Ariel. Don’t start. Not now.”

Sympathy saved her butt, because Ariel looked as if she was far from being satisfied. “All right. Let’s get you home.”

“Honey?” Leigh’s mother’s voice drifted over to her.

Mustering the strength that she must’ve had stored somewhere deep in her bones, Leigh forced a smile and turned toward her mother. “Hey, Mom. Dad. I’m not feeling too good right now. I think it might’ve been something I ate.”

Her mother instantly pressed the back of her hand against Leigh’s forehead. “What are your symptoms?”

“I’m just a little nauseous.”

“A little?” Ariel chuckled before she could stop herself.

Leigh rolled her eyes.

Her mother’s brows jumped as a tiny smile quirked her lips. “Really, now? How long have you been feeling like this?”

Realizing what the hopeful light in her mother’s eyes meant, Leigh tried to course correct. “Just today, Mom. I probably ate something that didn’t agree with me.” She tried to smile through the lie.

Her mother nodded her head, but she’d clearly dismissed Leigh’s explanation. “And are you experiencing any mood swings or breast tenderness?”

Yes and yes.
“Mom, I don’t think we should be discussing my breasts right now.”

“I’m just saying that signs of pregnancy are—”

“Mom, we’re not talking about that.”

“Humph.” Ariel glanced up and suddenly became interested in the ceiling.

With a friend like her, who needed enemies?

“Would you like me to take you home, sweetheart?” her father said, towering above her mother. He glanced around. “Where’s DeShawn?”

“Oh, he’s outside talking to a friend at the valet and—”

“You’re both leaving?” Her mother cut in. “What about your party? Everyone came to wish you well on your engagement.”

“I know, Mom. DeShawn can stay here. Ariel can take me home.”

“Nonsense,” her mother interjected. “Your father and I can take you home. There’s no need to pull your friend away from the party.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” Ariel said, smiling. “Besides, it’s on my way home.”

“What’s on your way home?” DeShawn said, walking up behind them.

Leigh’s mother’s smile faltered. “Leigh says she’s not feeling well.”

“She’s not?” DeShawn turned his attention to his fiancée. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Feeling the heat of the spotlight, Leigh cleared her throat. “I’m just feeling a little nauseous—probably indigestion. That’s all. No big deal.”

“Leigh, if you want, your father can go out and get you something for your stomach ache.”

Leigh couldn’t believe how difficult this was. “Mom, I really would like to go home and lay down.”

“Darling, you don’t just run out of a party because you have a
little
indigestion. Now, if there’s something else…”

Leigh’s patience was wearing thin. “Please, stop trying to turn this into a federal case, Mom. I’d just like to go home and lay down. Is that too much to ask?”

Sheree blinked at her daughter’s sudden outburst and then that tiny smile returned. “Are you sure that you’re not—”

“Mommm,” Leigh warned.

Her mother tossed up her hands. “Fine, I have nothing else to say.”

Wouldn’t it be nice if that were true?
Leigh closed her eyes and searched her soul for patience. Turns out, she was fresh out. “You know, everyone can just stay here and I’ll hail myself a cab.”

DeShawn eased his arm around her shoulder. “Baby, don’t overreact. Your mother was just trying to help. I’ll take you home.”

Leigh shrugged his arm off her shoulder. “Please, don’t patronize me. I told you I didn’t even feel like coming here tonight.” A wave of nausea hit her and she just wished that everyone would stop staring and interrogating her half to death.

DeShawn’s expression twisted in confusion before he leaned in close and asked, “Did you get your period or something?”

“Aw, hell.” Ariel rolled her eyes and jabbed her hand on her hip.

Sheree Matthews shook her head disappointedly.

The one thing Leigh would’ve welcomed right now was her period.

“Son,” her father said, shaking his head. “Bad move.”

It was a bad move, because it took everything Leigh had for her head not to spin around and fly off. “As a matter of fact, I
didn’t.
But have you
lost
you ever-lovin’ mind?”

DeShawn shrugged his shoulders. “What? I was just asking. You’re acting really strange this evening. You’ve been snapping my head off since before we got here.”

“Before?” Her mother latched on to that tidbit as her eyes grew to the size of saucers.

Leigh went from anger to being on the brink of tears in the blink of an eye. “Can someone,
anyone,
just take me home? Tell the guests whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“I’ll take you,” DeShawn volunteered. But he looked scared, as if something might happen to him in the car.

Her mother leaped back into the fray. “But, DeShawn—”

“It’s okay. I’ll take her home and come right back. No big deal.”

Her mother gave a look that said it was a very big deal and something that one simply didn’t do at your engagement party.

“How does that sound, sweetheart?” he asked Leigh as if he expected to get a cookie. He took another chance and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

Despite wanting to snatch it off, Leigh left it there. Her mother had her under surveillance. “I’m sorry for snapping. I really don’t feel well.”

“Uh-huh,” her mother nodded, looking like she knew exactly what time it was. “I’ll come by your place in the morning and check on you.”

Great.

Her father drew closer. “You just make sure that you get plenty of rest. Don’t worry about the party. We’ll take care of everything.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Thanks, Dad.” Leigh turned toward Ariel. “And thanks, girl. I’ll call you later.”

“Not if I call you first.”

“Let’s go.” DeShawn escorted her out of the restaurant. After the valet retrieved DeShawn’s bright blue Gumpert Apollo, they slid into the comfortable leather seats. After pulling away from the curb, the couple rode for miles in silence. DeShawn hoped that she would say something to fill him in on what the hell was going on with her, and she was hoping that he would remain quiet the entire ride.

She did think that maybe she should go ahead and end things with him now. But knowing that he would be going back to the party, she decided that it would just make things too awkward for him.

Tomorrow. I promise I’ll tell him tomorrow.

“Are you feeling any better now,” he asked tentatively.

So much for silence.
“Yes,” she lied. Hell, she was doing a lot of that tonight. “Thanks for taking me home.”

“No problem. I just wish that I knew why you weren’t feeling like yourself. I don’t like it when my baby is sick.” He reached over and grabbed her hand.

Leigh pulled her hand back.

Silence filled the car again but DeShawn’s persistence returned. “You know, they say that planning a wedding is extremely stressful. What do you say we hire a wedding planner to help take some of the stress off you?”

Silence.

“Is there something else wrong? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me.”

Those damn tears threatened again. Was the entire nine months going to be like this? She’d go mad if it was.

“Leigh?”

“DeShawn, not tonight. Please. We’ll talk tomorrow. I promise.”

“I don’t know how this is going to work if you refuse to talk to me.”

Now he wants to talk. Not when he’s on the road and I’m blowing up his phone. Now, on the one night I need to process my thoughts, everyone is treating like a criminal.
She turned and stared out of the window.

“Ooookay.” He huffed out a deep breath.

Tell him. Tell him.

“Please. Tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

She could feel when his gaze shifted to the back of her head. And like before, she prayed that he would drop it. Tomorrow, she would put an end to this. Tomorrow, she hoped to have some kind of plan going forward. Jeremy King’s handsome face floated to the forefront of her mind, but just as quickly, she shook it right out. She could only handle one problem at a time. Leigh turned back in her seat and glanced over at the man behind the wheel. This was one time that they shouldn’t have gotten back together.

Another five minutes and DeShawn pulled up to her place. As hard as she tried, he wouldn’t listen when she told him that he didn’t have to walk her to the door. And once at the door, he needed to come in to use her bathroom. For the first time, she sensed that he didn’t trust her.

How ironic.
She let him in to use the bathroom. He chattered nonstop as he walked down the hallway to the bathroom. She tuned him out as she removed her jacket and high-heel shoes. Once he was in the bathroom, she headed to the kitchen for a bottled water, but then she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard a loud whoop from the bathroom.

“What on earth?”

“Now I get it!” The bathroom door jerked open and DeShawn rushed out, waving a stick. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me we were pregnant?”