My Rules (Kingston Lane Book 2)
My Rules: Chapter 23

I drag my hand down my face and look around the deserted mountain.

I couldn’t have messed that up harder if I tried.

What was he thinking?

We are nowhere near ready to get married . . . are we?

This is a discussion that you have. You don’t just assume that someone wants to get married, for fuck’s sake.

I wait for a while, hoping that he’ll come back, and then eventually I go inside and catch sight of the ring box on the floor. I pick it up and open it. It’s a beautiful yellow cushion-shaped diamond. Exactly like the one that we saw on that woman in Cancún.

He remembered.

The vision of the ring blurs as the caustic tears fill my eyes.

Guilt fills me, and I grab my bag and take out my phone. I dial his number and wait for him to answer. He doesn’t.

“Blake, turn around and come back, please. We need to talk about this. We need to be together right now.”

I wait on the line, as if willing him to pick up the phone.

“Please come back.”

I hang up and begin to pace. This is a literal nightmare. I can’t even go after him. I don’t have a car, and I have no fucking idea where I am.

Oh my god.

He’ll come back; he wouldn’t leave me here.

He’ll come back when he cools down.

The scent of the roses is strong through the cabin. I open the fridge to see chocolate-coated strawberries and a bottle of champagne and two crystal flutes. I look around the cabin to see it covered in Blake’s love, and my heart hurts.

I don’t deserve him.

The lump in my throat is so big it’s nearly cutting off my air, and I wish it would because I deserve to suffocate in this guilt.

He hasn’t been lying. He was trying to surprise me, and all I’ve done is be a selfish cow.

I dial his number again with renewed purpose. “Blake. Please pick up. I need you to come back,” I whisper through panic. “I’m sorry. I need you to come back. Please forgive me. I did not handle that well, and I need you to come back.”

I hang up and begin to pace.

Please come back, baby. Please come back . . .

Thirty-five phone calls and two hours later, I hear a car pull into the gravel driveway.

He’s here.

I run to the front door and open it, and my face drops when I see Juliet and Henley.

“Where’s Blake?”

I look around for his car. Is he coming too?

Juliet gets out of the car, and her face falls when she sees my tearstained cheeks.

“Blake called us to come and get you,” she says softly.

My heart drops. “He’s not coming back?”

“No, Bec,” she says sadly.

I screw up my face in tears, and she pulls me into her arms. I cry into her hug.

“I didn’t know,” I cry. “He didn’t tell me.”

Henley walks past us into the house. He doesn’t say anything to me, and he doesn’t have to. It’s obvious he’s pissed.

I can feel his thermonuclear anger radiating out of him.

Juliet pulls me into the house and gasps as she looks around at the roses and the Marry Me sign. Her face screws up in tears too. “Poor Blake,” she whispers.

“Let’s go,” Henley snaps as he looks around. “This place is fucking depressing.”

Juliet picks up the ring box from the table and opens it up. Her mouth drops open. “Oh my god,” she whispers.

I go to take the ring off her, and Henley snatches it out of my hands. “I’ll keep this safe.”

My eyes search his.

“I believe you said no,” he snaps as he puts the ring in his pocket.

My heart dies a little. He told Henley I said no . . .

I did say no . . .

“Do you want to take anything?” Juliet looks around at the roses. “What do we do here? Shall we take them all, or . . . ?”

“No point,” Henley snaps as he walks past us out the door and gets into the car.

“Don’t mind him,” Juliet whispers as she puts her arm around me. “He’ll calm down.”

I put my head into my hands. “I was just taken by shock, you know, and . . . I just handled things so bad, and . . .”

“I know.” She tries to comfort me.

“And I thought he was cheating, and I just was so mad and horrible, and I just didn’t know, you know? And I just . . .” Snot is running down my face, and I’m near hysterical.

“I know, baby.”

“And Blake won’t answer his phone, and I tried to get him to come back. Where is he? Is he okay?”

“I don’t know. He called Henley to come and collect you.”

“Can we go replace him?”

“Let’s just get you and Daisy home, shall we?” She puts her arm around me.

“But what about all the roses?” I stammer as I look around.

“We can come back tomorrow; I don’t know, let’s just go home. Maybe Blake is at home.”

“Where’s the baby?”

“Chloe and Antony are minding her.”

Oh god, everybody knows.

I follow her out to the car. Daisy and I get in the back seat, and Henley pulls out onto the road.

The drive home is made in silence as I mentally go through our fight and stare at the scenery through tears.

If marriage is just a piece of paper to you, then you really should go back to your husband, because that’s exactly all it was to him.

I close my eyes in horror.

I deserve better than this secondhand love that you’re dishing out.

I imagine Blake going to all the trouble to replace my engagement ring and working extra hours to pay for it, and all the while I was at home imagining terrible things about him.

What the hell is wrong with me?

I stare at the scenery through tears.

You let his love taint mine . . . and I’ll never forgive you.

I’ll never forgive myself.

I sit at the dining table and stare into space as Chloe paces back and forward in the kitchen. “I don’t understand where he’d go.”

“Try him again,” Juliet says.

With shaky fingers, I dial Blake’s number. It’s 10:00 p.m., and no one’s heard from him. Henley and Antony are out looking for him, and this is turning into an absolute fucking nightmare.

That’s if it wasn’t already.

You’ve reached Blake Grayson.

Leave a message.

I close my eyes. Answering machine again. I’ve lost count of how many messages I’ve left tonight.

“Blake, it’s me. Can you call me back, please? We are all worried sick. I love you.” Dejected, I hang up the phone.

Chloe keeps pacing, and Juliet walks into the kitchen and puts the kettle on.

The house is silent and sad, and I get the feeling that everybody hates me. Damn it, I hate myself for what I did to him.

My behavior has been inexcusable, but in my defense, I had no idea his head was even in this space.

“He’ll be fine,” Juliet says. “He’s just cooling off somewhere. As soon as he calms down, he’ll come home.”

I twist my fingers together on my lap and nod.

I wish I was so sure.

I have this sick, sinking feeling in my stomach telling me that this isn’t going to be all right.

Juliet’s phone rings, and we all jump. “Hello,” she answers. She listens for a minute. “Oh, thank god.” She puts a hand over the phone. “He’s fine. The boys found him.”

“Where is he?” I stammer.

“Where is he?” she asks. She listens for a beat. “He’s at a hotel. He’s fine, don’t worry.”

“Thank god.” I put my head into my hands as relief overcomes me.

“Okay, great.” Juliet listens. “Yeah, good idea; you stay there with him. Okay, love you. See you in the morning.” She hangs up the phone. “Henley and Antony are going to stay with him tonight. They’ll be home in the morning.”

I smile sadly. Not the outcome I wanted . . . but thank heavens he isn’t alone.

Juliet sits down on the couch beside me. “I told you he’d be fine.”

I nod.

“It’s been a big day, and you’ve been crying for hours. Why don’t you just go and have a shower and head to bed?”

“Yeah, I might. You guys go home. Hannah needs to go to bed.”

“You don’t want us to stay?”

“No. Honestly, as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m going to be asleep. I’m emotionally exhausted.”

Juliet rubs my shoulders as she gives me a sad smile.

“Thanks for today, guys. You are the best friends.” I walk them both to the front door. “Can you call me, Jules, if you hear anything from Henley?”

“Of course I will.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Chloe asks.

“No, I’m fine. Thanks anyway.”

I watch them walk down the street, and I close the door behind them and lock it.

The house is suddenly eerily quiet, and I’m left alone with my conscience.

It’s lonely here.

I drag myself up the stairs and have a hot shower. For a long time I stand under the hot water and stare at the tiles on the wall. I have this weird sinking feeling. For weeks I felt that our relationship was going to end, and I’ve been dreading it.

But never in a million years did I think it would be at my hands.

The worst part is that I didn’t even tell him about the contract I signed with John yet. I’m still legally married to another man, and now that all this has transpired . . .

I put my head into my hands in shame.

Fuck . . . what a mess.

Eventually, I’m so exhausted that I can’t even stand up in the shower, and I drag myself out and get into my pajamas.

The house is quiet and empty and sad.

Tomorrow I’m going to make this better if it kills me.

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

My phone ringing on the side table wakes me from my sleep, and I scramble to answer it. I tossed and turned all night and finally fell into an exhausted coma around 6:00 this morning. “Hello,” I answer.

“Hi, Bec, it’s Jules.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just wanted you to know that the boys have decided to stay away for the weekend.”

I frown as I listen. “Is Blake all right?”

“I don’t know. I just tried to talk him into coming home, but . . .” Her voice trails off.

“What?”

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

My heart constricts.

“We need to talk,” I stammer. “I need to see him.”

“I know, but I think you just need to let him cool down for a while.”

I close my eyes in horror. The longer he cools down, the less chance we have of getting over this. “We need to see each other to talk this through.”

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

My eyes well with tears.

“Look, just take the weekend. Get yourself together. They’ll be home Sunday night, that’s only tomorrow, and then you can talk to him when he’s fresh and you both had time to cool down.”

“I have cooled down.”

“Yeah, well, he hasn’t, and it’s not all about you.”

Ouch . . .

“I know that.” I sigh softly.

“Do you want to go and grab a coffee or something?” she asks hopefully.

“No. I’m just going to go back to bed. I’ve not slept all night,” I lie. As if I could sleep right now. I’m just about to jump out of my skin with worry.

“Okay, go back to bed, baby. It’s going to be fine.”

“Juliet,” I whisper.

“Yes.”

“Do you think I was in the wrong?”

She stays silent on the other end of the phone, and I close my eyes once again.

That’s a yes.

“It’s not for me to decide who’s in the wrong. I love you both,” she eventually replies. “Go to sleep. I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, thanks for everything.” I hang up the phone and flop back onto the bed.

Ugh . . . the day is not starting well.

I sit curled up on the window seat in my front room, rolling my fingers as I wait.

It’s Sunday afternoon, and I haven’t heard a word from Blake.

The rain has come down in buckets, and with every splash of water on the earth comes an overriding sense of doom.

He’ll be home soon, and hopefully we can talk. The ball of nervous energy in my stomach has me sick.

I go over my speech again in my head and hold the letter in my hand.

I couldn’t work out the words to say, so I’ve written him a long letter, hoping to try and explain everything that’s been in my head for the last few weeks.

Seeing it all written down in black and white hasn’t eased my stress; if anything, it’s escalated.

Because now I know how fucked up I really am.

My car comes around the corner, and I jump to my feet and run out the front door. It pulls into my driveway, and as it gets closer, my smile fades.

Antony’s driving it.

I walk out into the rain as he gets out of the driver’s seat. “Where’s Blake?”

He hesitates as his eyes dart around. “He wanted to stay at the hotel for a few more days.”

“He’s not coming home?” My voice cracks, betraying my hurt.

“No. He wanted a few more days.”

“Where is he?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“We need to speak, Antony. It’s urgent. I’ve been worried out of my head.”

“Trust me, I think it’s best you just stay away from him.”

“Is he all right?”

“He’s fine.”

The rain begins to really come down.

“What does that mean?” I call over the rain.

“It means he’s fine,” he snaps in frustration. “I’m sorry, but if you expect me to have sympathy for you, Rebecca, I just don’t. You’ve broken his fucking heart.”

I step back from him and nod my head. The rain is heavy and loud.

Henley pulls onto the street and drives into his driveway. The garage door slowly goes up, and he drives in. No wave, no hello.

Just a whole lot of disappointment.

“I’ve got to get going,” Antony calls. “Go in out of the rain and try and get some rest.”

“Can you tell me where he is? Please?”

“He’s safe. That’s all you need to know.”

“Does he hate me?” My eyes search his.

He exhales sadly. “Bec . . . I don’t know what’s going on, but . . . just give him some time, okay?”

My eyes well with tears. “Okay, thanks for bringing my car back.”

Without another word, he sprints across the lawn and into his house, and I sit down on the front steps and watch the rain come down.

Sopping wet and with nowhere to go, I pray for a miracle.

I stand behind the pole in the parking lot. I never saw myself as much of a stalker, but he’s giving me no choice.

It’s Thursday, and Blake hasn’t come home.

He won’t answer my calls, he doesn’t reply to my texts, and quite frankly, I’m going out of my mind.

I’m waiting at the hospital for him to arrive at work in the parking lot by his car space. It’s 7:00 a.m., and if this is the only way that I can speak to him, then so be it.

Late Sunday night, I saw Blake’s Porsche leave his house with Antony and Henley inside. They obviously took him work clothes and his car, and it seems that I’m the street pariah.

They are both openly angry with me, and I guess I would be, too, if someone did this to my friend.

But to not even want to talk about it? I’m getting kind of pissed. He’s acting like a two-year-old.

I see his car come through the boom gates, and I clutch my handbag. I wait for it to pull into his parking spot, and then I scooch down and run around to the passenger side. I open the door and dive in and close the door behind me. His face falls when he sees me.

“Hi, Blake.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to see you.”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“Can we talk?”

“There’s nothing to say.” He stares out through the front window.

“Blake.”

He keeps his vision straight ahead.

“Can you look at me?”

He drags his eyes to meet mine. “What do you want?”

“I want to explain a few things.”

“It’s fine, Rebecca. I know how you feel. You don’t need to explain anything.”

“But you don’t know how I feel. I was just so shocked, and there’s some things that you don’t understand about my situation that just complicate everything, and I’m scared to tell you.”

“Like what?”

I pick up my bag by the strap and accidentally tip it over. Everything goes flying onto the floor. I scurry down to pick up the contents, and Blake bends and picks up a lipstick and hairbrush and passes them over.

I give him the folded-up piece of paper, and he takes it off me. “What’s this?”

“Open it.”

He unfolds the piece of paper and his eyes scan over it. He frowns. “I don’t understand.”

My heart is beating hard and fast. “In order to keep my house, John made me sign a contract to enforce that I couldn’t divorce him for five years.”

His eyes rise to meet mine before returning to the piece of paper. “You signed this?”

Panic sets in.

“It was the only way I could secure my house, Blake. You have to understand, this has nothing to do with me and you. This is about him blackmailing me.”

He drags his hand through his hair and lets out a low, long sigh. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“Because I didn’t want to fight about it.”

“Because you didn’t want to fight about it, or because you knew it was the wrong thing to do?”

“I didn’t think you’d want to get married, Blake. Especially this soon.”

“Why the fuck would you think that?” he barks.

The venom in his voice makes me tear up. “Can you please not be angry?”

“Not be angry?” he cries. “Why do you think you signed this contract, Rebecca?”

“To keep my house,” I splutter.

“Not even by a long shot.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know you. I know you better than anyone, maybe even more than you know yourself. You signed this contract because you still want to be married to him.”

“What? No!” I scoff. “That’s ridiculous, and you know it.”

“Is it?”

“Yes. It is.”

“A house is not worth selling yourself for, Rebecca . . . unless you have an ulterior motive to stay married to somebody.”

“You don’t understand what it’s like to have nowhere to live,” I cry. “You cannot judge me for wanting to keep my house. You have no idea what it’s like!”

“It’s a fucking house,” he growls as he punches the steering wheel. I jump in fright. “Do not insult my intelligence by telling me you won’t divorce him to keep a pile of bricks and mortar.”

“You honestly don’t get this?”

“What . . . the lie?”

“I’m not lying, Blake.”

“You don’t even know that you’re lying. That’s the joke of it all.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m telling the truth.”

“You want the truth, Rebecca? I’ll give you the truth. You are stuck back in time with your ex-husband. You still have the wounds that he gave you; you wear them like a badge of fucking honor. You are still comparing everybody to him, and as long as you are living in the past . . . we will never have a future.” He bends and picks up a bunch of papers that fell out of my bag off the floor and passes them over to me. “Just go.” He sighs as he bends to pick up another piece of paper. He holds it in his hands for a minute. I glance over to what he’s reading . . .

Oh my fucking god.

I try to snatch it from him, and he holds it out of my reach and begins to read it out loud.

Fifteen years ago today, we went on our first date.

Every happy memory I ever had is with you.

Of you.

“Stop reading,” I cry. “This is stupid . . . this . . . I don’t . . . this is old, it’s . . . I don’t know why it’s in my bag, it’s just . . .”

It’s the card that came with the roses John sent me all those months ago. I didn’t even realize it was still in my bag.

Fuck. Fuck.

He keeps reading.

You were my first love.

My only love, my last love.

Forever your husband,

John

His gaze rises out the window, and he gives a smug smile and passes the card back to me. “Go home to your husband, Rebecca.”

“It’s not what you think. This is months old. I didn’t even keep the flowers,” I stammer in a panic.

“But you didn’t tell me about them either.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.”

“There’s only one deceitful person in this car, and we both know that it’s not me.”

“Blake, please, we have to work through this because I cannot live without you.”

“I cannot live with you,” he whispers.

My eyes well with tears. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying goodbye.”

No . . .

My face screws up. “Don’t say that. I just panicked, and you scared me, and I don’t know why I acted the way I did.”

“You don’t. But I do,” he says calmly.

My eyes search his.

“You’re never going to leave him, Rebecca, and you don’t even realize it.”

“That’s not true. I love you.”

“On some level . . . but not enough.”

“Blake.”

“Get out of my car.”

“Blake, please.” I grab for him. “I take it back. Everything I said, I take it back; I don’t know why it came out like it did. Forgive me.”

“I can’t.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“I’ve taken a job in New York.”

“What?” My face falls. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. I’ve taken a job in New York.”

“Why?”

“I don’t want to see you every day. I don’t want to look at you and know what I almost had. I don’t want to look at you and have my fucking heart broken again and again knowing that you still love him.”

His silhouette blurs.

“We never had a chance, Rebecca. You’re still married to him,” he spits through tears. “You’ll always be his battle-scarred wife.”

Oh . . .

That cut deep.

If he hit me with an axe, it would be less painful.

I sob out loud, and he gets out of the car and slams the door before walking across the parking lot.

Panic sets in. He’s leaving me.

“No. Blake. Don’t go,” I whisper.

My heart hammers in my chest, and unable to control the hurt as it screams through my veins, I sob. “Please don’t go.”