My Rules (Kingston Lane Book 2)
My Rules: Chapter 26

I read the email Blake has forwarded to me, and I walk to the front desk at the airport.

“Hi, I’d like to check in, please. The name is Rebecca Dalton.” I pass over my identification.

She types into her computer. “Do you have any luggage to check in?”

“Just my carry-on.”

She prints out the ticket and passes it over, void of emotion. “You may go to the members’ lounge to wait for your check-in. Have a nice flight.”

“Thanks.” I glance at my ticket as I walk away from the desk.

Business class.

Of course he bought me business class. Typical Blake.

Ugh . . . the man is infuriating.

I stomp through the airport.

I’m not where you left me. I’ve moved on.

My stomach twists as the memory of his words cuts like a knife.

I’m exactly who you always thought I was. The player who cheats. Be careful what you wish for, Rebecca.

I feel sick to my stomach.

His boss, no less.

She’s a doctor, so obviously a brainiac, probably gorgeous, and she gets to see him every day, so . . .

I drag my hand down my face in disgust.

Honestly, I just want to crawl under a rock and hide.

He wanted closure, but all it has done for me is open up a wound in my heart. A deep gash that I now know will never fucking heal.

Only now I can add the title Seedy Side Chick to my résumé.

I go through check-in and replace my way to the members’ lounge and take a seat at the bar.

“What will it be?” the bartender asks me.

I look over the choices. Screw it, it’s five o’clock somewhere. “A glass of champagne, please.”

“Ten in the morning.” He smiles as he wipes the counter. “Are we celebrating or commiserating?”

“Commiserating.”

He gives me a knowing smile. “Rough weekend?”

In more ways than one.

“You have no idea.”

Blake

I sit in the hospital cafeteria and stare into space.

It’s been a rough three days.

Pushing Rebecca away has been the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.

I keep going over our night together in my head.

The perfect storm.

I know it shouldn’t have happened, and yet I couldn’t stop myself from touching her one last time.

She came to me.

But I lied to her . . .

She gave me no choice.

I mean, it wasn’t completely untrue. I have been talking to Sam, although I haven’t asked her out yet.

I get a vision of Rebecca and me rolling around under the sheets, and my heart somersaults in my chest.

No.

I can’t go back there. I need to move on.

Rebecca had her chance with me, and she blew it. I’m nobody’s punching bag.

Least of all somebody who is supposed to love me.

“Hey there, you,” a familiar voice says from behind me. I look up to see Sam.

“Hey, you joining me for lunch?”

“Okay.” She smiles.

Sam is beautiful and intelligent and funny. We get along like a house on fire and have been hanging out for weeks.

It’s time to move on.

My eyes hold hers as I come to an internal decision. “Would you like to go out on the weekend?” I ask her.

“We go out every weekend,” she replies as she looks over the menu.

“I mean on a date.”

Her eyes rise to meet mine. “A date?”

“That’s what I said.”

She smiles softly as electricity bounces between us. “I thought you’d never ask.”

That makes two of us.

“So, Saturday night?”

“I can’t wait.” She smiles sexily.

“Me too.”

Rebecca

Laughter echoes through the cul-de-sac as the boys sink a ball into the hole.

I rock on the swinging chair on the front porch.

“I’m going to miss this street,” I say sadly.

Chloe’s lying on the ground with the cushion under her head. She’s on her phone. And Juliet is sitting beside me.

“Wait a minute,” Chloe says. “I think I found something.” She frowns as she concentrates. “Is her name Sam Holland?”

“I don’t know. He just said she was his boss.” I shrug.

“You know what I don’t understand?” Juliet frowns. “If he’s really in a relationship with this woman, then why did he sleep with you?”

“He said he wanted closure.”

“But did he get it . . . is the question,” Juliet huffs. “And I want to know, does this Sam Holland bitch know what her stupid boyfriend is doing?”

“She’s a doctor; she’s not stupid. And it wasn’t his fault. I went to him, and looking back, I basically threw myself into his arms. So what kind of woman does that make me?”

“Someone who’s in love with him.” Chloe rolls her eyes. “Don’t you let yourself feel like crap over this. He should have told you before he got his dick out that he had a girlfriend.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose in disgust. “I’m just grossed out by the whole thing.”

“You know what? Screw him. You’re better than this bullshit,” Juliet huffs. “I’m off him. Who does he think he is, you know? You reacted bad to a wedding proposal, so what?”

I look over at her deadpan, and she smirks. “Well, okay, I get it, but honestly, don’t get your cock out if you’re seeing someone else, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Maybe they have an open relationship?” Chloe says. “Give me some more details. I’m going deep on this bitch.”

Juliet googles her name. “Okay, it says here that Sam Holland is a specialist pediatrician who is the head of the American Pediatric Board.”

“What does she look like?” I ask.

She holds her phone over, and I see a beautiful blonde with shoulder-length hair. She’s around our age and has that successful air about her.

“Ugh.” I roll my eyes. “Yeah, that would be her. She’s his taste for sure.”

“Found her,” Chloe snaps. She begins to scroll through her pictures on Instagram. “I don’t see any pictures of Blake on here . . . they can’t be too serious.”

“Good.”

“Oh no . . . here’s one.”

“Show me.” I snatch the phone off her.

There’s a picture that she’s taken at a dinner table in a restaurant somewhere. The photo is supposed to be of the meal, but Blake is strategically sitting behind it, holding his knife and fork with a sexy smile. “When was this posted?” I think out loud.

“Three weeks ago.”

“Is that the first pic posted of them together?”

Chloe takes the phone back off me and keeps scrolling. “Think so. Oh wait . . . Is this his arm in this picture?” She holds the phone out again, and this time, she’s taking a selfie, and there’s a hand in the picture. I’d know those sexy veins in the back of that hand anywhere. “Yep, that’s Blake’s hand.” I pass the phone back in disgust.

“Okay, so this photo was posted six weeks ago.”

“He can’t be too in love with her.”

My face falls. “You think he’s in love with her?”

“Don’t know.” She shrugs.

“He did say he’s not where I left him. He’s moved on.”

“Maybe you should do the same,” Chloe huffs. “Screw him.”

“I’m trying. Trust me, I’m fucking trying.”

“How is going to New York and sleeping with him moving on?” Juliet mutters dryly.

“Look, I just needed him to know that I’m selling the house, and I’m moving out of the street, and he can come back anytime he wants to.”

“That’s fair, I guess.”

“And maybe we will never get back together . . . we’ll actually probably never get back together. But at least he knows what I wanted to say. I kind of feel like both he and I needed that night. I don’t regret it.”

“Even though you’re a home-wrecker?” Chloe smirks up at me.

“If I was a home-wrecker, I would message that stupid doctor woman on Instagram and tell her.”

“That is a very good point.”

We sit in silence for a while, and there’s a chill in the air as the season changes. I can smell someone barbecuing on the grill, and the sound of laughter is prevalent.

Change is coming.

My life here will soon be a memory, and although I’m excited to start this new chapter of my life, I’m devastated to be leaving it behind.

I’ve always felt protected on this street. Kingston Lane has been my home. Whether that had anything to do with Blake and his undying friendship, or Carol and her gossip, or Winston and his bad jokes, even Barry . . . I’ll never understand.

My new house is not far from here, about six blocks. I couldn’t afford to stay in this area, but I’m close enough that I can still walk here if I want to, and I guess for now, that will have to do. My long-term goal is to get back to this side of the suburbs one day.

Who knows: if this move doesn’t go well, and I don’t stay in touch with my friends here, I may even end up moving home to be closer to family.

I considered it for this move, but . . . the thought of breaking all ties was just too much to bear.

“Oh . . . get off it,” Chloe spits. “Look at her in a fucking bikini. Come off it, poser.”

She holds the phone up, and I take it off her and study the picture. Sam Holland the genius supermodel is wearing a white bikini and water-skiing behind a boat. “She can water ski?” I scoff. “Is there anything this bitch can’t do?” She’s tanned, with abs and quads and biceps, totally toned. “How can you be this gorgeous and be a fucking doctor?” I scoff in disgust.

Juliet takes the phone off me and studies the picture too.

“Jeez, she’s buff,” she whispers.

I imagine Blake and her rolling around in the sheets, and I just want to throw up.

I pass the phone back in disgust. “Don’t show me anything else. I don’t want to see it. Screw Blake Grayson; I’m done with him.”

She keeps scrolling while I sip my wine. “Oh crap, she used to go out with that hot politician.”

I snatch the phone back off her. “Who?”

I put the last of the dinner plates into the box and tape it up.

I’ve been packing up my house and keeping myself busy, trying to forget all about a certain person who we shall not name.

Three weeks until the move.

You know, it’s the strangest thing—when I was trying to fix myself, I always had it in my head that once I got better and found who I was again, Blake and I would have a chance.

But now to know that I was too late . . . by a few weeks.

If I’d gone two months earlier, would he have been single? Would he have considered my offer?

So many what-ifs, and not one damn answer.

Some days, I win. I have my ducks in a row, and I’m looking forward to the move, and Daisy and I walk for miles.

Some days, I can’t get out of bed for my hatred of the entire male species.

To make matters worse, the dating pool at my age is not a pool at all. It’s more like a muddy puddle. There’s no plenty of fish in the sea, just mangy, three-eyed tadpoles.

I slump down onto the kitchen stool and take out my phone and scroll through to Blake’s Instagram. No new posts.

He hasn’t posted for two years. I really wish that he would, because damn it, I’m dying not knowing what’s going on in New York.

So, of course, my next move is to do something completely toxic and unproductive: I scroll to his girlfriend’s page to see if she’s putting up any more posts of my beloved.

She hasn’t. No posts in the five weeks since I left there.

I wonder, did he tell her about our night together?

I doubt he would have.

When I was in my fix-myself era, I went on a few dates with people and did the deed a few times, more because I felt like I needed to than because I wanted to.

And honestly, sex without Blake really isn’t that great.

At all.

Just like he promised, that damn piercing of his has ruined me for all other men.

Maybe having a life partner isn’t in my future. Maybe I’ll be an animal mom instead of a human mom.

That’s okay. Nobody could love me more than my little Daisy does.

My mind flicks back to the night that Blake gave her to me in the basket, on the most magical Christmas Eve of my life.

I smile sadly at the memory.

You know what? I was blessed, because at least I got to know what it felt like to be loved by a man like him, even if only for a short period of time.

I’ll be okay, whatever happens, and screw him—I’m not looking them up anymore.

They can move to the moon to start up a new hospital for aliens, for all I care.

I tape up another box and get back to work. Why the hell do I have so much kitchen crap?

Knock, knock.

Henley appears. “Hey, Bec.”

“Hi, is Jules home?”

“No, she’ll be back soon; she’s gone to get some milk. Do you want to wait for her? She’ll only be a minute.”

“Yeah, okay. I’ll just sit here.” I sit down on the front step, and he sits down beside me.

It’s funny between us now. Ever since that weekend where Blake and I . . . well, the log cabin incident, Henley has kept me at arm’s length, and I know why.

I get it.

If I’m being honest, I respect it. He’s Blake’s friend.

“Nearly packed?” he says.

“Yeah, just winding up the last of it now. It’s such a big job to pack up a house.”

“I dread moving. Not that I ever will, I hope.”

I smile as I look out over the street.

We sit in silence for a while, and I just can’t hold it in. I have to ask. “How’s Blake?”

“He’s good.”

“I’m happy for him.” I smile sadly. “I want him to be happy.”

“Yeah, well . . .” He frowns. “I have a sneaking suspicion that he’ll be back for you.”

I frown. “What makes you say that?”

He smiles wistfully as he looks out over the street. “Blake has been in love with you from the moment he laid eyes on you, Rebecca.”

I get a lump in my throat.

“Not because he didn’t know what other women were like. He had plenty of women chasing him.”

I smile as I look at the ground. Isn’t that the truth?

“The thing is with Blake, he was so in love with you that . . . he was too blinded by his own feelings to gauge where you were at.”

What?

My eyes search his.

“You know, when you’re besotted with someone for so long and you haven’t been in a serious relationship before, I imagine that it’s easy to do. He backed you into a corner where you felt the only way out was rejection. He rushed you into something you weren’t ready for.”

Oh . . .

“Our demise wasn’t his fault; it was mine,” I whisper.

“He needed to get some perspective.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, you two were always going to break up. You were just out of a relationship, and this was his first real one. Not to mention he was head over heels in love with you in an almost—”

I cut him off. “Well, I’ve lost him now. So I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“He’ll be back for you. Mark my words.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I know Blake, and you weren’t a flash in the pan for him. You were his grand love, and I know in my heart that one day he will come back.”

“Well, he might be too late by then.” I act tough. My eyes click over to him. “Wait, why? Did he say anything?”

Henley gives me a broad smile. “No.”

I nod and stay silent. “Does he ever ask about me?”

“Not really.”

I twist my fingers together on my lap, not sure if I even want an answer to this question. “Does he love his new girlfriend?”

“He doesn’t talk about her to me.”

“But you know of her?”

“Yeah, I know of her.”

“Did he tell you that I went to New York to see him?”

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“He just asked me to watch over you when you got back to make sure you’re okay.”

An unexpected lump forms in my throat. That’s my Blake, always thoughtful.

“I might just wait for Juliet at home.” I stand.

“You okay?”

“Depends what day you ask me.” I smile.

“Do you need help with the move?”

“No, I’m all packed, and the truck comes on Saturday.”

“Are you sad to be leaving?”

“Yes and no.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well . . . for so long, all I wanted to do was hold on to my house. Now all it reminds me of is that it cost me Blake, so . . .” Stop talking. I shrug, embarrassed. “Anyway, I’m going to get going. I’m just rambling.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye.”

Moving day is never fun, but this one is especially hard.

How do you say goodbye to friends that you thought you would know for life? The moving truck is full of my furniture, and one by one, my friends and neighbors turn up on my front lawn to say goodbye.

I’ll see them again, of course, when I come to visit Juliet, but the reality is that things will change.

I will become the outsider who is just visiting.

I’ve cried all the tears that I can cry, and honestly, I just want to be rid of this house and the bad memories it holds.

Funny thing is that it’s not even bad memories of my marriage anymore. This is the house that cost me Blake. The love of my life.

And no matter how many times I can try and tell myself that it’s fine, it isn’t fine. It will never be fine.

I click Daisy’s lead on, and we walk out front. “You all ready to go?” Henley asks.

“Yep.” I smile and pull him into a hug. “Thank you for everything.”

I hug Antony and Ethel and Winston. I get to Carol, and she starts crying.

“I’ll see you all the time, Carol.” I hug her tight. “It’s fine.”

“I know, I know.” She sniffs. “I just never wanted you to move. You’re such a beautiful girl, and I’m going to miss you, too, Daisy.”

I walk to my car and take one last look around Kingston Lane. Such a wonderful little street with such beautiful people in it.

Not the happily ever after I was hoping for, but maybe the fresh new start that I need.

I open the door, and Daisy climbs in the back. I get into my car.

And as my friends wave goodbye, I drive out of Kingston Lane with tears in my eyes.

“It’s just me and you now, Daisy. It’s just me and you . . .”

It’s winter. The air is crisp, and frost glints in the corners of the window.

I have the most beautiful bay window in the front living room with a big window seat with cushions. My house is freshly painted, and I’m suddenly into nesting.

It’s weird—I’ve been in this house now for eight weeks, and it’s the happiest I’ve been in a long time.

I feel free.

No longer held hostage to the bricks and mortar that I feared losing so much.

No more stupid foot photos.

The future is bright, and the world is my oyster.

Things have changed a lot. Liam, Juliet’s brother, has moved into her old house, and a new family with teenage kids has moved into mine.

The cul-de-sac will be different now with all the new people, and it wouldn’t have been the same even if I’d stayed.

My timer on my oven dings, and I walk into the kitchen. Then Daisy starts to bark at the window.

“What is it, Daisy Doo?” I call to her.

I hear the front step creak, and I walk to the front door and stop on the spot when I see who it is.

“Blake.”

“Hi, Bec.” His eyes search mine.

“Hi.” My heart somersaults in my chest. “Are you . . .” I put my hand on my chest to try and calm myself. “Visiting?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I moved back . . . last week.”

“Last week?”

“Oh.” I nod as I search for something to say. “But your job . . .”

“I’ve returned to my practice here.”

“Right.” I nod in an overexaggerated way.

The air swirls between us, but with what, I’m just not sure.

“And your girlfriend?”

“We broke up.”

“Why?”

“Because she wasn’t you.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That’s a good reason.”

“She didn’t seem to think so.”

Ha!

I bite my bottom lip to hide my smile.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“I . . .” He pauses as his eyes search mine. “I needed to see you.”

“Yeah, well . . . I don’t associate with men who cheat, so . . .” I shrug.

“I wasn’t with her when you came to New York.”

My eyes hold his as I listen.

“I only told you that because I knew it would make you leave.”

Asshole.

“Right . . .” I pause as I try to articulate my thoughts. “I was a mess before we broke up, and I’ve owned that, but the way you handled our breakup was just as bad. To not even talk to me until I hijacked you in your car at work was pathetic.”

“Agreed.”

“And immature, not to mention selfish.”

He twists his lips. “The evidence does suggest that.”

An awkward silence falls between us.

“Maybe . . .” He shrugs. “Maybe . . . I needed to do some work on myself too.”

“Maybe?” I raise my eyebrow in disgust.

“Probably.” He gives a subtle shake of his head. “Definitely.”

“I’ll ask you again, Blake. What are you doing here?”

“I want a second chance.”

“Why?”

“Because a life without you isn’t one that I want.” His eyes search mine.

I get a lump in my throat as I feel my defenses drop.

“Will you make me lasagna?” he whispers.

Oh . . .

“For how long?”

He smiles softly. “Forever sounds pretty good.”

“Well, forever is a bit presumptuous.” I shrug. “We didn’t even go on a first date yet.”

“Rebecca.” Amusement flashes across his face. “Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Where to?” I hold my hand up and pretend to look at my fingernails.

His amusement breaks into a smirk. “To a restaurant.”

“I’ll have to think about it. I’m pretty busy.”

“Get into the house before I smack your ass.” He points into the house, and I laugh out loud and turn and run.

He chases me down and crash tackles me to the floor and holds my hands up above my head. His lips take mine in a soft kiss. “Hi.” He smiles down at me.

“Hi.” I smile back.

Who am I kidding?

Forever does sound pretty good.