Redemption in Love (Hearts on the Line) (16 page)

“That’s even worse!”

“I don’t know then. You’re the smart one, Pete. Do what you want.”

His breathing started to sound like a bull being taunted by a toreador. “Why do you have to divorce Gavin? He’s rich, young, and faithful to you. What more do you need to be satisfied?”

“What Mom had with Dad.”

A beat of silence, then Pete laughed, an ugly sound. “You gotta be kidding me. She had nothing. He didn’t deserve her.”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, come on. He couldn’t hold down a job. Couldn’t pay the rent half the time. We had to rely on the Fairchilds for charity. Uncle Sebastian and Aunt Olivia said shit about us because he was a loser. We were pitiful.”

“Pete!”

“And you want to throw away everything you’ve got for
that?
Why? What’s gotten into you?”

“Dad loved Mom. He loved us all.”

“Love? If he’d really loved us, he would’ve done whatever he could to make sure we were provided for. You know, food on the table, a roof over our heads? Like that.”

“Don’t be so materialistic,” she said mildly, but Pete had a point. The family had suffered a lean life, deprived of the most basic necessities at times, because of their father’s poor judgment. Norman had been a dreamer—always thinking of ways to hit it big, some jackpot that would set him for life—but he’d never known how to turn any of his dreams into reality. That didn’t mean he’d been a terrible husband or father, though. Amandine had seen how much his wife and children had meant to him.

“Love is a luxury for people who can afford it, and you can’t. Look, just” —he searched for the word— “reconcile with Gavin. He’s a good guy. He’ll take you back.”

“We aren’t divorcing because he’s a bad guy.”
He’s not there for me
,
and he doesn’t love me
,
and I don’t know how to change that
. “Anyway I have to go.” She walked knee-deep into the water, enjoying the coolness on her calves.

“Is that waves I hear? Where are you?”

“Thailand. At the Lloyds’ vacation home.”

Before Pete could comment, she hung up and put the phone back in her pocket. Was she so pathetic that her own brother didn’t think she could do better than mere material comfort? He’d made it sound like she’d never amount to anything if she divorced Gavin.

Love is a luxury for the rich
.

Horseshit
. Everyone deserved a chance at love. She deserved it. Her child deserved it.

She put her hands over her belly. People could always make more money. They could also lose it. But love—that lasted.

And she wanted something lasting, both for her and her baby.

* * *

Pete dug the heels of his hands against his gritty eyes. The air conditioner hummed quietly in his home office. His laptop whirred, crunching some data-models he’d been working on for Gavin.

How could Amandine do this to him?

Pete didn’t believe for a second it was Gavin who wanted to leave Amandine. Not after the jet, a gift that had every woman at the office dissolving into rapturous sighs. Amandine was the envy of all, having done incredibly well for herself. She had a husband who obviously adored her, and she was able to pursue her art without worrying about putting food on the table—hunger pangs tended to push the romanticism of being a starving artist aside pretty quickly.

How could Amandine throw it all away? And for what?

Love? Seriously?

Not that love wasn’t important. Pete wanted that for his sister too, but she was romanticizing their childhood, refusing to acknowledge the ugliness of being poor and laughed at by their peers. Love wasn’t just talking a good game. It was a selfless giving that went on forever. Norman had excelled at the former, but failed at the latter.

Gavin must’ve known things were coming unglued, Pete realized, recalling their earlier conversation over the Chinese take-out. Christ, what a mess. If the divorce got ugly, would Pete be able to stay at the firm? Or would he be forced out? Gavin wouldn’t have to actually fire him. It was simple to make an unwanted staff member leave.

Pete had lied to everyone about why he’d chosen to work under Gavin. It wasn’t because of better mentoring opportunities or more money or a bigger signing bonus, although those were certainly nice.

It was Brooke.

Brooke lived in Los Angeles. And ever since that afternoon in high school, he’d always gazed upon her from afar, never having the opportunity or the guts to make another move. Eight years of waiting, but he knew he’d only get one shot. She was used to better things than what he could have afforded back then, and he had to be patient until it was certain that he’d win her.

Now, after having worked for Gavin for over three years, Pete finally had the money and the means to treat a woman right. He wouldn’t be like his loser dad. Norman might not have been a malicious wife-beater, but even though that seemed to make all the other stuff okay for Amandine, it was setting the bar pretty low.

When he made his move, he’d give Brooke the world, make her happy—

But what if Amandine’s really unhappy with Gavin? You still gonna insist that she stay with him?

“Ah, damn,” Pete moaned. He knew the right answer—the only answer—but it wasn’t the one he wanted to give.

* * *

Gavin spent a couple of minutes glancing through his email, sent three very terse messages with specific instructions, then shut the computer down. The whole point of coming to Thailand was to spend time with Amandine, not deal with the never-ending series of crises that made up his work.

He vaulted the house railing and went down to the water where she was standing. He knew something was wrong the instant he saw her face. Thoughts—unpleasant ones from the way her eyebrows were scrunched—flitted through her eyes, and her mouth formed a grim, flat line under her pert nose. She turned and started walking further into the surf, water swirling around her knees. She looked perfect against the morning sun, almost unapproachably beautiful. But then a particularly large wave slammed into her and she tilted, her arms shooting out for balance.

Gavin leaped over and grabbed her before she could fall.

“You okay?”

She used him to lever herself back upright. “Yes. Thank you.”

“There’s an undertow here sometimes. You should stay more toward the beach than the ocean.”

“I was. Wasn’t I?”

“Not really.” He turned her gently toward the shore. “You’ve been going deeper into the sea with each step.”

“Can’t even walk straight.” She shook her head. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have to work?”

“Nope. I sent some instructions to L.A. and followed you out. They can handle it without me for a few days.”

She gave him a mock-frown. “What happened to my husband?”

“Believe it or not, he’s taking a vacation.”

“But you never let your firm run without you.”

He sighed, forcing himself to relax. “It’s not easy, leaving others in charge.”

“You worried?” she asked, surprised. Gavin’s firm only hired the best.

“No. I trust them, but it still bugs me.”

“Control freak,” she teased.

“Yup.” He put an arm around her waist. “Who were you talking to?”

“Pete. He said photos of us in front of Samantha’s office got posted on Facebook.”

Gavin swore. “Who the hell…?”

“Some busybody.” She wrinkled her nose. “How did they function before social media?”

“Email and phone calls.”

“I hate it that just anyone can snap a photo with their phone now.”

“Except my mother.” Stella was terrible with technology. On the other hand, it seemed like gossips were always the first to master any technology that enabled them to spread the latest news far and wide.

“You think the photos are going to be plastered all over the Internet?” Anxiety tightened her voice.

Gavin shook his head. “Not if it’s who I think it is.” There were four strong suspects, all of whom were unfortunately untouchable, due to their family connections and wealth. The hell of it was that they could be discreet when the occasion called for it. Apparently, his marital issues were not in the “discretion required” category. “Most of the gossips I know are snobs. They only share their juicy bits with people they deem worthy of their friendship, and fortunately that doesn’t include reporters and bloggers.”

“That’s a relief,” Amandine said with a sigh.

Still… Damn it. This was not how his family should find out about the problem between him and Amandine.

Gavin thought quickly. Jacob was probably too busy running around with his stripper to check his Facebook profile. Ethan rarely used Facebook and probably didn’t even remember his password anymore. Meredith… Well, that would depend on whether her son was friends with any of those nosy old ladies.

There was a gentle touch on his arm. His wife looked up at him, her eyes bright and serious at the same time. “Gavin, don’t worry about it. Someone was bound to find out.”

“It’s a private matter.”

“We haven’t filed anything.”

His mood lightened. “We’ll prove them wrong.”

She nodded. “For four months at least.”

And just like that his good mood vanished. “It’d be nice if you could at least act like you want our marriage to work.”

“I want it to work, but it’s not up to me.”

His lips thinned. She’d asked for a divorce to show her displeasure over his missing the anniversary dinner and losing his wedding band. Women never said or did anything directly, and it was always up to men to decipher the hidden meaning behind everything. He should’ve expected her to deflect the matter this way.

You sure? This isn’t like Amandine
.
She’s generally accommodating and not interested in getting in the way of your work
.
The old Amandine
,
the one before the anniversary
,
would’ve agreed about proving them wrong
…

He shoved the irritating thought out of his mind. People changed. Yes, it was unfortunate Amandine had too, but—

“Who are they?” Amandine said, pointing.

A couple with two large dogs, one white and one black, was walking toward them. The woman was holding a gigantic parasol.

“I thought the beach was private,” Amandine added.

“It is, but Damien and his wife are probably staying at the Freeman place.”

“Damien?”

“The cellist we listened to earlier,” Gavin said, waving.

They waved back and came over. Tongues hanging out, their dogs trotted beside them.

“My gosh, it’s really you.” The two men shook hands as Damien thumped Gavin’s back. The cellist seemed younger and completely rejuvenated. “I wasn’t sure.”

“Well, it’s been a few years.”

“Since our wedding,” Damien agreed. “And you’re always so busy. So what brings you out this way? Decided to retire?”

“We just had our anniversary, so we figured why not?” Gavin said, with a sideways glance at his wife.

“You must be Amandine!” Victoria said with a big smile. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”

Gavin put an arm around his wife’s waist. “Amandine, Damien and Victoria Kirk.”

* * *

Amandine shook hands with the Kirks. Dressed in a loose pale blue T-shirt and black bathing trunks, Damien was tall, with tousled blond hair and a face gorgeous enough to grace a magazine cover. His eyes were bright, the small lines around them relaxed, and he had an interesting European accent. Victoria was pretty with a friendly demeanor. She had a cute brown ponytail that bounced with each step and a pink ribbon in her hair. Still there was a sophisticated air about her, and her white bikini top and shorts showed off a beautiful, toned body. Despite the parasol, she was attractively tanned.

“I’m so glad we ran into each other,” Victoria said to Amandine.

Amandine smiled. “It’s a coincidence, really. We were just listening to one of Damien’s recordings before we came out.”

Victoria was about to reply when the white dog whined and tugged at its very short leash. Amandine frowned. “Is that a…Doberman?”

“Yes. He’s an albino.” Victoria scratched his head. “Say hello to Amadeus.” She gave some TLC to the dark dog too. “This is Ludwig.”

“I’ve never seen a white Doberman before. Actually, I didn’t even know they existed.”

“There aren’t many,” Damien said.

Amandine squatted and shook hands with both dogs, which were surprisingly polite and well-behaved. Their glossy coats and clear eyes hinted at the excellent care they received.

“Anyway, it’s good we ran into each other,” Damien said. “Victoria was quite upset about missing the wedding. We were planning to visit after the ceremony, but with one thing and another, we just never had a chance to go to L.A.”

“It’s partly my fault. Deadlines,” Victoria said.

“What do you do?” Amandine asked.

“I’m a writer.” Victoria smiled. “I hear you’re an artist.”

Amandine’s face heated. “I’m not… I don’t really…” It seemed kind of fraudulent to claim to be an artist when she hadn’t finished anything in months.

“Don’t be so modest. I’m looking forward to seeing your work. Do you have any lunch plans?”

Amandine and Gavin glanced at each other. Gavin said, “No.”

“Great. Why don’t we do lunch together today? Our cook got the most gorgeous haul of seafood from local fishermen, and he’s going to serve it all today at lunch since we’re leaving tonight.”

“So soon?” Gavin asked.

“We’ve been here for a week,” Damien said. “And Victoria has a meeting with her publisher in New York.”

“Come over to our place around eleven,” Victoria said. “Let’s catch up” —she turned to Amandine with a smile— “and get to know each other.”

THE HOUSE THE KIRKS WERE STAYING AT was much more modern in aesthetics than the Lloyds’ property. The construction material consisted of glass, marble, chrome and sea-green tiles. Whoever designed it didn’t do it for families with children, and why would a rocker like Steve Freeman think of children? A quick google search she’d done to make sure she didn’t embarrass herself before her husband’s friends revealed he hadn’t even claimed his son Damien until the latter was well into his thirties.