Lucky Penny (31 page)

“Thanks. I think I’m dying.” She held an arm over her head.

“You’re not. Come on, I’ll tuck you in,” I half-mocked. It wasn’t the first time I’d played nursemaid to Brittany. She had a tendency to go overboard on Bellini’s or Long Island Iced Teas or whatever the hell she felt like drinking. I wouldn’t say she had a problem, but she enjoyed a drink. Part of me wondered if it was her way to cope with the pressures bestowed on her by her family. I shut down, and Brittany got wasted.

Brittany didn’t argue as I scooped her up and carried her upstairs to her room. I laid her on the bed and pulled off her shoes. She groaned and rolled onto her side drawing up her legs. “Hit the light on your way out. Don’t let me sleep past nine. I have to meet Daddy for breakfast.”

“Sure thing,” I said glancing back at her lifeless form on the bed.

“And Blake?” Her voice stopped me in my tracks as I reached the door. I turned back and said, “Yes?”

“I know you’ll never love me, but maybe I could make you happy. One day.” Certain I heard her choke down tears, I didn’t reply. Nothing I could say would make her feel any better right now. I knew first-hand what it was like to love someone only to have her not feel the same way.

I lived it every day.

T
he next two weeks passed in a haze of stolen text messages, late night visits, and hours spent loving each other—erasing the seven years of separation between us. Blake didn’t talk much about how things were between himself and his uncle—or Brittany—and I tried not to ask. I could see our secret was taking its toll on him. Each time he crawled into bed beside me, the circles underneath his eyes were darker and the tension in his shoulders tighter. But every time he slid inside me, things were okay. Just for a moment. But we couldn’t continue like this. It would eventually break him… and part of me worried I would lose him forever.

“We need to talk about what’s happening, Blake,” I said. It was a normal visit, like all the other nights Blake slipped away to be with me. He tensed and pushed up on his elbows. The comforter fell away from his skin, and I rolled to my side tucking the material around me. “Blake,” I said again gently.

He rolled onto his side and raked a hand over his face. The strain in his features was obvious and a deep aching stirred inside me. “Tomorrow.” He sighed. “I’m going to tell her tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“It’s not as easy as I thought it would be. We haven’t been together for weeks, months. Before the summer. She knows there’s someone else. I can see it in her eyes.”

I dropped my eyes and sighed ignoring the nausea swishing in my stomach at the thought of them ever being intimate. “She knows it’s me.”

“What?” Blake asked. “What do you mean she knows it’s you?”

“That night you came to me, Thanksgiving, Brittany was at the banquet I worked. She cornered me and warned me to stay away from you.”

“Fuck.”

Silence hung heavy between us. I hated that, in an instance, the distance between us seemed more than ever.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Blake questioned me with his eyes.

“I don’t know. I came back and you were here, and then we happened and everything was finally right between us. I’m sorry.” My voice caught in my throat.

Blake rolled to his side and shuffled until he was at my eye level. His hand brushed away the hair falling over my shoulders. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I brought you into this. It’s my fault. I need to tell her. Tomorrow, I’ll tell Brittany and then deal with Uncle Anthony. Okay?” He kissed me hard. Sealing his promise to my lips.

I nodded against his mouth.

The storm was coming for us; I just hoped we could survive.

I didn’t hear from Blake all day. He’d left my apartment before sunrise, pressing his lips against mine, whispering he would talk to Brittany today.

Today.

Mary called me to work at two; it was supposed to be my day off, but since it was only for a few hours—and I didn’t want to hang around the apartment worrying about Blake—I said yes. Tara was heading up the shift, which was a business dinner at a hotel in downtown Columbus. By the time we finished, I was desperate to check my cell phone for word from Blake, but when I dug it out of my purse and checked the screen, there was nothing. No missed calls. No text messages.

Nothing.

“Everything okay, Penny?” Tara asked as we left the Columbus Premier.

I nodded, clutching my phone in my hand.

Why hadn’t he called?

“I’m meeting some friends for a drink if you want to tag along? You look like you could use some company.”

“Really, I’m fine. I think I’ll just head back to my apartment, but thank you. Maybe another time?”

Tara smiled weakly and said, “Anytime. Catch you later.” She gave me a small wave before crossing the street and disappearing down the sidewalk. Another time, I would have pushed myself to accept her invitation and join Tara and her friends, but all I could think about was getting back to the apartment in the hopes that Blake would show up.

I tried to push away any irrational thoughts during the whole ride back. I watched people on the sidewalk, guessing their stories. Who they were, where’d they been, where they were going. I lost myself in the busy streets. When the bus slowed for a red light, I watched an elderly man and woman. His hand rested on her lower back, guiding her toward a coffee shop on North High Street. He held the door open for her and when she slipped past him, he leaned forward and kissed her, love emanating from them.

When I got off the bus, the elderly couple was still fresh in my mind. They must have been at least seventy, and their story gave me hope. I wanted that. Before the summer, I never opened myself up to the possibility of finding someone, of letting someone love me. But now that Blake was back in my life, everything had changed.

I rounded the corner and walked down the alleyway. I passed a black Town Car parked in the middle of the alley, which was strange. Cars rarely used the narrow passage for parking, but perhaps Bernie had visitors. Smiling to myself, I turned the last corner. Deep down, I knew that everything would be okay. Blake would be honest with Brittany and his uncle, and once it was out in the open, we could move forward.

Together.

All that plummeted as my eyes fell on the man standing at the bottom of the stairwell with his back to me.

I’d walked straight into the lion’s den.

Anthony Weston heard my footsteps and turned narrowing his eyes right on me. “Miss Wilson. I believe we need to talk.”

Funny how those small moments changed everything. A look. A kiss. Six little words. Because the disappointment gleaming in the eyes of Blake’s uncle told me everything I needed to know.

He wasn’t here to welcome me into his family.

“Mr. Weston,” I said warily. My arms snaked around my waist as I succumbed to old feelings of vulnerability. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

At my apartment.

The imposing man’s lips drew into a tight line. He regarded me for a second and then said, “Can I come in? I have something I wish to discuss with you.”

I wanted to say no, to pull a Marissa and tell him to fuck off or something to that effect, but Anthony Weston didn’t seem like the kind of man you refused. Instead, I nodded and motioned for him to follow me. We walked in silence. Each step harder than the last, the burden of Blake’s and my secret weighed down on me. And then the thought crossed my mind—
he knows.
I pushed the dread out and focused on the here and now. I had to face this man eventually. He was Blake’s uncle, after all.

I opened the door and led Mr. Weston inside. Thankfully, I had cleaned the place before I left and the scent of lavender overpowered the smell of grease from the kitchen below. After closing the door behind him, Mr. Weston took in the small room. I could see the disapproval in his eyes, the judgment. But instead of embarrassment, I felt something else entirely. Who was he to judge me and my life? He didn’t know the first thing about what I’d endured. Blake had told me that losing his sister—Blake’s mom—had destroyed him, but I didn’t see the expression of a man haunted by the ghosts of his past. I saw a man hardened and cold. His eyes shone with contempt.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Weston?”

I hadn’t noticed the briefcase in his hand, but he lifted the aluminum case and laid it on the kitchen counter. “I’m sure you’re aware, Miss Wilson, that I am a man of business. I am a partner in one of the most successful law firms in Columbus, if not Ohio, and I have my name attached to business ventures across the whole state.”

I stared at the man before me unsure where he was headed with this. “I know who you are, Mr. Weston.”

“Well, I am here today on business.”

Business?
Alarm bells started ringing at the back of my conscience. He moved his fingers over the locks and unclasped them. The lid opened fluidly and as he turned the case slowly toward me, he said, “I have a proposition for you.”

My eyes fell over the neat rows of one-hundred dollar bills and my hand moved to my throat. I’m sure there was something I was supposed to say, but all I managed to choke out was, “Proposition?”

“It has come to my attention that you are somehow involved with my nephew. As I’m sure you are aware, Blake is engaged to Brittany Arnold. The wedding date is set and preparations are underway, and
both
of the families involved couldn’t be happier.”

A whimper escaped my lips, and I clasped my hand over my mouth as the pieces slotted into place. Anthony Weston was here to make sure I wasn’t a problem.

“As you can see,” he nodded at the case, “I am willing to compensate you. This should be enough for you to relocate and start over.” He spoke as if this was just a regular business deal. There was no emotion or feeling to his voice, and it was hard to imagine that my warm, charismatic Blake was related to this man.

“Mr. Weston.” I managed to find my voice. “I’m not sure what you think you’re doing, but I don’t want your money.” A tear slipped from my eye, and I dropped my head. I was trying so hard to stay strong, but Blake’s uncle was here to end us. Before we ever truly began.

“Miss Wilson, let’s not get emotional. You should consider this offer carefully. What do you think can possibly come of this misguided affair you and my nephew are involved in? He thinks he loves you, but he doesn’t. He loves the idea of loving you. What happened to him, to his mother, it scarred him. Foster care scarred him. Blake should have grown up in this life, with his aunt and me and our friends. He has the world at his disposable, and with a woman like Brittany by his side, he will go far.”

“We love each other. Isn’t that enough?” I forced myself to meet his eyes. Couldn’t he see my love for Blake? Was keeping face really more important than his own nephew’s happiness?

A harsh laugh, full of cynicism and bitterness, rumbled from deep within Mr. Weston’s chest. “Miss Wilson, I know you’re smarter than that. Love is a fool’s game. I’m sorry for what you went through as a child, I truly am. But I will not stand by and watch you ruin my nephew’s life… for unrealistic dreams of what? Love? A life living in somewhere like this?” He glanced around my apartment again. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Miss Wilson. This is life, and it’s hard and ruthless and Blake does not need a distraction like you.”