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“Because we’re on another vacation.” I sounded defensive, even to my own ears. “We just got back from the Caribbean.”
“Hmm. I find it curious that she’s suddenly interested in your business dealings. And that she’s using the word ‘guilty,’” my father said. He was making an accusation—I just wasn’t sure what he was accusing Jenny of.
“I don’t think you need to read too much into it,” I said mildly.
“Maybe, maybe not,” he responded. “Still, she’s telling you to close your deal. And then you called Ramos, and then you called me. Maybe she’s not the problem—not like I assumed. But it does seem that she has a fair bit of influence over you, doesn’t it?”
“Let’s leave Jenny out of it,” I said again. My father’s tone was shifting, and I didn’t like it. He was insinuating something. I didn’t want his words circling Jenny. I felt like they might surround her and twist her in their ugly grip like a snake squeezing its prey.
“I know you haven’t had a life in a long time,” I said. “But just because I have one doesn’t mean I’m ineffective in my business.”
“You don’t seem very effective at the moment,” he drawled.
I sighed. “Ramos won’t give us the approvals because of structural issues. He won’t do it unless we buy him off. This situation has nothing to do with me.”
“The fact that you can’t get him to move at all haseverythingto do with you.” He paused for a beat. “As does the fact that you failed to take action until your lady-friend urged you to do so.”
“Enough, Dad.” I fought to keep my tone neutral so that we wouldn’t start yelling at each other again. “Have your team deal with it—it’s not like you don’t have the resources. This isn’t my mess to clean up, but I’m still doing my best to help you. Maybe for once, you could be grateful.”
“Deliver, and then I’ll be grateful.”
We hung up, and I didn’t feel much better. In fact, I felt worse, and I couldn’t put my finger on why. My father was awful, but that was nothing new.
But his insinuation about Jenny was. Usually, this would be the sort of thinly veiled criticism I would let go in one ear and right out the other.
So why, all of a sudden, did I have a pit in my stomach?
JENNY
I didn’t feelgood after I asked Cole about his deal. Again, I felt sick because of the lies and the hiding things. This was not who I wanted to be. No one belonged in my relationship except for Cole and me—but his father was calling the shots.
But… If Cole’s father sent my auntie Theresa anywhere near Cole, and she told him about my past, I would probably die from shame. He would never look at me the same. And if Cole’s father disinherited his son because I wasn’t doing what he asked, I would never forgive myself.
Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.The operative word in all of this was “damned.”
Coming back to Cole had been a mistake. I’d known I was making a deal with the devil when I’d said yes to Cole’s father, but I’d gone ahead and done it anyway. Like a moth to a flame, I couldn’t stay away from my billionaire.
And now I was going to burn for it.
I pushed the tangle of unpleasant thoughts from my mind as I hustled back to the stables, where Audrey and the trainer were waiting. I felt like I was an actress. I smiled the whole time. I responded when I was spoken to. I laughed at the trainer’s jokes. I petted the pretty horses. I played the role of a wonder struckyoung woman staying at a fancy resort, learning to ride a horse while my billionaire boyfriend went fly-fishing.
It was the role of a lifetime. But when it was over, and the lights came up, I’d return to the seediness of my real life. I would have to face the past I thought I’d left behind and the loneliness and pain of genuine regret.
Still, I smiled and nodded. I pet the horses. But inside, I was dying. I regretted coming back. I regretted lying to Cole. I regretted making a deal with Lewis Bryson. Because in the end, I’d done it because I was selfish. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Cole. I wanted to live happily ever after with him in a house with a white picket fence, a couple of dogs, kids playing on swings in the sunshine, the life I’d never had, the life I never would have.
I tried to stay focused on what the trainer was saying. I did a pretty good job; Audrey said nothing about my mood. On the plus side, I had the sweetest horse in the world. Her name was Betsy, and she was caramel colored with the prettiest mane you’d ever seen. “Audrey,” I said to my friend, “I am so sorry that Betsy is so much better than your horse. Your horse is nice, but Betsy is the queen.”
Audrey laughed as we left the paddock near the stables. “My horse is basically Black Beauty, so you can say what you want,” she countered. “Betsy is adorable, but Ember here is the bomb.” The trainer went first, and we followed her, riding slowly up the trail. Audrey’s horse was tall and elegant, black, with a white star between her eyes.
I laughed, and it felt good. It helped me forget the pain in my stomach—the pain of lying. Still, I couldn’t help but enjoy riding Betsy; she was such a beautiful horse. The clean air filled my lungs. The gorgeous scenery made me feel small again, which helped.Small person, small problems.If only that were true.
We rode in silence for a while. I’d never been on a horse before and found it relaxing. The giant, majestic creature belowme was strong. She climbed the trail effortlessly, even with me on her back. Betsy was steady and patient. I innately trusted her to keep me safe. We seemed to have some unspoken agreement. I felt she somehow knew I trusted her and that it was safe for her to trust me.
The mountain air and Betsy worked their magic on me. I started feeling a tiny bit better, which seemed like a miracle. Any improvement was better than the doom and gloom I’d wallowed in all morning.
“This is nice, isn’t it?” I asked Audrey. “I’ve never ridden a horse, but it’s so relaxing. I love being outside. It’s so gorgeous here.”
Audrey nodded, looking around us with wonder. The trail the guide had taken us on was winding, traveling the expanse of the ranch’s property. We followed her slowly down into the valley. The scenery was even more incredible from the low vantage point. On Betsy, I could be a part of the tall, swaying grasses, and I truly felt the majesty of the mountains rising on either side of the valley. The breathtaking surroundings helped me to forget.