My So Called Life (Love Not Included Series Book 3) (4 page)

Saying it like that—a quick trip where I deal with the loose ends of my dead sister’s life—makes me sound so shallow. But that’s who I have become, right? I shove my makeup bag into my suitcase.

“I’m not criticizing,” Lexi says on the other end of the phone. “I just mean if you need more time, take it. I’m sure Cornelius will understand. I’ll cover whatever you need at the gallery until you get back.”

“Thanks, but I’m just not sure what else I can do there. I left home when I was nineteen. My sister and I have barely spoken since then. I didn’t even know she had a daughter. Shit, I didn’t know she was
married
since she never bothered to tell me. To me, that’s a sign she didn’t care if I was in her life or her daughter’s. Her kid’s never met me. I don’t even know her name. Plus, I’m sure her grandparents would love to take her.”

With a long sigh, Lexi lets it go. “All right, I get it. Is BTD going with you?”

If you haven’t figured it out, Brent isn’t one for warm sentiments and handholding, therefore it’s best to take this journey solo. “No. He has work, and there’s nothing he can do.” I also don’t need the added headache.

“What a dick!” Lexi barks into the phone. “He can’t take off a few days to go and support his fiancée?”

“Lexi, seriously it’s fine. He’d just be in the way anyway.” I’m relieved he’s not coming. I don’t need him seeing what kind of life I used to live.

“Well, okay then,” Lexi says, but I hear the word ‘dick’ muttered under her breath. “If you need anything, I’m here for you.”

“I know you are. And thank you.”

“No need to thank me,
sista—
” She breaks off. “Oh, shit, sorry. Um, that was probably . . . oh, shit. I’m not good with death . . .”

“It’s okay. I got it. I love you, too. I’ll call you when I get there. I’m sure I’ll need an outlet to vent.”

“You got it, girl. Drive safe.”

“I will.”

“And tell your dick of a fiancé he’s a dick for not going with you.”

I chuckle at that. “I sure will. Love you.”

“Smooches, girl.”

I hang up and finish packing. As I zip up my suitcase, I hear Brent coming in from the kitchen.

“So you’re really going?” He’s barely looking my way as he begins stripping off his workout clothes.

“Yeah, I’m pretty much packed.”

“Are you sure you have to go all the way to Oregon just to hand over the girl and sign some papers? Can’t someone else step in? We could send one of our lawyers.”

“Brent, it’s my sister,” I remind him.

“Yeah, babe, and you’re my fiancée. I need you here. Anyway, you said you and your sister were estranged. What’s the difference if you go? She won’t know. She’s dead.”

I swallow the word I’m thinking. Lexi does say it best.
Dick.
I pull myself together and shift, picking up my bag. “I have to go. I have her little girl to deal with.”

“God, kids.” Brent makes a face at me. “Good luck with that. Just don’t get sucked into any drama. I want you to promise to hurry back. I need you here with me so we can finish what we started last night.” He smacks me hard on the ass and pulls me in for a kiss, his erection hard against my stomach.

“Shouldn’t you be jumping in the shower?” I say before he can suggest a quickie. “You have a late lunch meeting, right?”

“Yeah, thanks for the reminder, babe. Gotta meet with this new client in an hour. A big investor friend of my dad’s.” He walks into the bathroom. “Important stuff.”

I hear the shower turn on, his off-tune whistling bouncing off the marble tiles.

I glance at the shiny diamond on my finger.

How can he have no emotional reaction to my situation? To so easily brush off the fact my sister is dead, estranged or not, and that her daughter is now all alone, and then to tell me that sending a messenger to do my dirty work sounds more logical, just blows my mind.

I twirl the loose ring around my finger. I can’t even fathom spending the rest of my life with someone so shallow. Am I that shallow? Is that what I seem like to others? The realization scares me.

I reroute my focus toward my anger instead. Right now Brent is acting exactly like Lexi says he is—a dick.

I head into the master bathroom and straight for the toilet, which I proceed to flush three times in a row, hoping this trick works even in a luxury high-rise. I huff, hearing no screeching out of Brent.

“You okay out there, babe?”

No, no I’m not. “I can’t do this,” I say, shaking my head.

“Good, it’s about time you came to your senses, now get in here so you can work me out before this meeting.”

Ugh, no thanks. “No, I mean this,” I swing my arms indicating us. “Us, this engagement. I can’t do this.”

Brent opens the glass shower door, sticking his head out. “What? What are you talking about? We’re fine,” he says, not getting the seriousness of my statement.

“No, Brent, we’re not. I . . . I don’t think I want this. Marriage. It’s not something I want.” I leave out the part that’s says with you.

“Babe, what are you talking about? Is this because of your sister? Seriously, you’re just upset. Like I said, you shouldn’t go.”

And
that
is exactly why I know this is the right thing to do. “Brent, it’s not about my sister. It’s about us. This isn’t working. I can’t go on pretending that this is what I want.”

He shuts off the shower and steps out. Grabbing the towel, he wraps it around his lean waist. “Babe, come on. This isn’t about last night with Clarissa is it? Because I swear she came on to—”

“What? No, what are you talking about?” I’m no idiot. I’ve been catching Brent’s wandering eye. On more than one occasion Lexi has tried to tell me she thinks Brent cheats. That comment just confirms it. I shake my head. “Listen this isn’t about—
that.
” I wave off his guilty confession. “This is about us. I don’t think us getting married is the right step.”

I prep my hands to unlatch the ring from my finger. “Wait. Don’t.” Brent stops me. “I swear nothing happened. Listen, why don’t you just stay and we can continue where we left off last night? We have a good thing here, babe.”

Again, I feel like I am talking to a child. Does anyone understand what I am trying to get at here? I don’t want this. I don’t even think Brent does. I won’t marry into a relationship that already has infidelity issues. I won’t marry someone I truly do not love. And can’t.

The sound of the doorbell indicates that the rental car company is here. I look at Brent who is not getting the severity of my words.

“Listen, I gotta go; the car is downstairs.” I drop my hands.

“Babe, its fine, take your break to think. I’m not worried. You’ll realize I’m something you don’t give up, and come back.”

“But, Brent, I don’t need a break, I need to move on,” I stress. Yeah, I might be upset about my sister, but this is coming from a place deep inside that I have been trying to bury for some time.

Brent moves closer to me, and just when I think he’s going to console me, he stops next to me to view himself in the mirror, testing out hairstyles. “Listen, fine, whatever, I’m cool with the break.” Smiling at his perfected wet hairstyle.

Shaking my head, I am not sure what else there is to say so I nod. “I’ll call you when I get there.”

He presses a quick kiss to my lips before dropping the towel and heading back toward the shower. “Sure, babe, but I might be really busy with meetings so—” The rest of his sentence is muffled by the sounds of the shower.

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath for strength. No more words spoken, I head out into the bedroom, swing my bag over my shoulder and snatch up my suitcase. I tell myself I have a whole five hours to conjure up a better break up speech, and I’ll do just that when I get settled in. Right now I need to focus on the fact that by tonight, I’ll be meeting my niece.

I
THOUGHT SPENDING SOME
time in the car alone driving would allow me some peaceful one on one time with my thoughts. But five hours of unbearable driving and I’ve come to realize that I might possibly be as shallow as Brent, because driving is horrible period. I should’ve listened to Brent and taken a plane or a driver and not a flippin’ rental car.

I’ve never been good behind the wheel, hence why I don’t own a car. When I got to California I could barely afford a bus fare let alone a car payment so I learned to get around in other ways. Nowadays, I cab it or get driven around by Brent’s henchmen. Who the hell knows why I even insisted on attempting this drive on my own, because boy was that a mistake. These highways are a death trap for horrible drivers, what with animal invasions and speed limits that should not exist. I told myself I should have pulled over and turned around when the first issue arrived, involving a minivan with a colony of kids in it. You know, the family who feels it’s necessary to put those decals on the back of their window, yelling to the world how many kids they’re hoarding? Yeah, that one. I mean, I find myself a calm person in most circumstances, but putting me behind the wheel has caused me to lose touch with reality. So when I’d had about enough of the little colony of shits mooning me, I took it upon myself to play back by giving them a full frontal by flashing them my perky goods. Not only did that shut them up, it also got the lingering eye of the state trooper driving next to me. Plus, a $175 ticket for indecency that I wasn’t able to sweet talk myself out of, and now forty-five minutes behind schedule, my drive from hell proceeds. I manage to flip off more drivers than a tattooed biker at a death-metal concert, get attacked by a bird (well, dead bird now) and, last but not least, I almost run over a whole family of skunks. With the lingering stench in the car, I’m convinced one, to defend his family’s honor, jumped into my exhaust and has been spraying into my pipes ever since our head-on road battle. If I wasn’t truly fighting my shallowness issues, I would Google the nearest spa and stop there for a few hours before dealing with reality. It’s seven o’clock in the evening before I find myself standing on the steps of the Ashford Police Station. I was instructed to come here first. A few people come and go, staring at me strangely. It’s probably because I’m in five-inch heels and a peacock-feathered trench coat that cost more than their yearly clothing budget.

“Oh my, what is that smell?” An older woman covers her nose and looks to her husband as they pass me going down the steps.

Shit.

“It’s a dead skunk somewhere, dear.” He holds his wife closer while they descend.

Oh, double shit.

I nonchalantly bend my chin to take a whiff of my jacket. And
totally
gag back.

Shit trifecta!

“Oh, that’s it,” I mutter to myself. I turn to strut back to my car. Screw shallow. I think I passed a resort of some kind on my way in. I make it two steps down before the gentle voice of a stranger stops me, asking if I need assistance.

With a deep sigh, I turn around and smile politely. I oblige, letting him know I was, I mean I
am
here to see Officer Belmont. He looks at me as if he knows me, his smile kind as he guides me inside and through the general office to a quiet room, letting me know Officer Belmont will be with me shortly.

I sit rigidly on the metal seat, wondering how people sit in these things, when the door opens and an older gentleman, a little heavy on the stomach, enters the room, holding a file in his thick hands.

“Ms. Daniels, thank you for making your way up here. I know this must be a shock for you. It’s a shock to us all.” He sits down, adjusting his tie and fixing the file of papers he has in front of him.

“Officer Belmont, I assume?”

“Oh, yes, my apologies. I remember you left right before I was transferred over to Ashford.” He sticks out his hand to shake mine. His grip is hard but friendly.

I release his hold and fold my hands back in my lap. “So, you said over the phone that I would need to identify my sister’s body?” I shudder at the thought.

“Her husband’s cousin actually took care of that. He arranged for the bodies to be released to the funeral home. We assumed that would make things easier for you.”

That’s a relief at least. “And my sister’s daughter . . . my niece? Is she here?”

“At the station? No, she’s at home. Sweet little peach, she is. My heart breaks for her. I’m not sure she quite understands what’s happening.”

Gee, way to give it to me gently.

“Officer Belmont, may I ask how old she is?”

“Oh, please, do call me Henry.”

“Sure, Henry,” I repeat, waiting.

“She just turned four. Little spunk, that one. Insisted she have a princess party and invite the whole town for her birthday. Your sister, of course, threw one for her. My Patti—my wife—helped with the decorations and cupcakes. It was a memorable day.”

I smile at the story. It must run in the family. I mean everyone is a princess at heart. “Are her grandparents with her now?”

“Great-grandparents, actually. John’s parents are deceased. His grandparents live over at Riverside. They’ve been there for the past couple of years now.”

“How lovely. So I assume they’ve made arrangements to take in their great-granddaughter and watch after her?” I ask.