Page 32 of Mic Drop (Passionate Beats #3)

Bennett

S unlight streams onto my face, urging me to greet the day. One eye cracks open, then the other, and I realize it’s later than I thought. Crap. I swing my arm across the bed only to realize my wife’s side is empty.

I can’t let her slip away from me like Mom and Lissa have done. Jenna’s my fucking wife . Throwing the blankets off my body, I trudge into the bathroom and get ready for the day.

Clad in workout shorts and nothing else, I enter the kitchen and make a pot of tea. My beverage of choice always calms her down, so maybe this will break the ice between us? Feels like the frozen tundra .

While the water boils, I wander through the house looking for her.

She’s not in the basement or family room or dining room.

When the kettle whistles, I return to the kitchen and steep bags in two mugs, moving to the sink to rinse out the kettle.

That’s when I see her sitting in the outdoor living room.

My shoulders lower. At least I know where she is.

Preparing a tray with our mugs and some biscuits I find in the kitchen, I bring them outside. All I want to do is wrap my body around hers, yet the chasm between us looms too large. Depositing the tray on the table, I open with, “Made you some herbal tea. Thought you might like it.”

Her hand reaches for the mug. “Thanks, Bennett. It’s perfect.”

Perfect . She said it’s perfect. Maybe today’s the day I get my wife back?

Picking up my mug, I sit on the sofa next to her. Not touching, but close enough that I can feel her body heat. Well, what little there is of it. “Here, let me.” I pick up a throw blanket and tuck it around her lower limbs.

She blows on her tea, jolting a bit. “I didn’t realize I was chilly until now.” Her head turns toward me. “You must be frozen. You don’t even have a shirt on.”

Thank God she noticed. “I’m good. You know I run hot.”

“That you do.” She sips her tea while her gaze scans the ocean in front of us.

“Listen, Jenna, I’m here for you. If you want to talk, feel free. Scream? Have at it. Cry, I’ll wipe your tears. Whatever you need.” I literally have no idea what else to say to her.

Jenna leans over and puts her mug onto the table. “This has been rougher than I even imagined possible,” she begins. “I’m so mad at everyone. I’m afraid I’m not good company.”

I place my tea next to hers. “Then we’ll be bad company together.”

Her body swivels to face me. “Your media is relentless. The only thing in their favor is they spelled Ma’s name right.”

“Faith Westfield isn’t too difficult to spell.”

“There is that.” She sighs. “Michelle seems to have gone on the offensive again. I thought Dr. Marlow and I had a deal, but I guess not.”

It’s not so much what she’s saying as how . Like there’s no fight left in her to combat Michelle’s lies. She isn’t even aware that Michelle and Lissa have teamed up .

I’d pull up my big boy pants—if I were wearing pants.

“The UC PR team is on it. However, I had a run-in with Michelle last night on the beach. She spouted a lot of nonsense, but one thing is clear. Somehow, she and Lissa have combined forces. I don’t know what they’re up to, but they’re definitely working together.”

She rubs her thumb and pinky together. “Wonderful. Now the two crazies have become one. Between the two of them, how are we going to get the upper hand? Who are they going to go after first, you or me?”

“We didn’t get that far.”

“Court and I had Michelle on the ropes. I thought my lunch with Dr. Marlow ended all of Michelle’s aspirations against me. I may be wrong about that, but if I’m right it means they’re going to hunt you down.”

Like an animal. Great. “I guess your theory makes sense. I wonder what lies they’ll cook up between the two of them?”

“Well, Lissa already is saying she was pregnant by you. Maybe now Michelle will claim you wanted her to get implants?”

I rear back. “How about a threesome between her, me and Lissa?” Sounds more like me. And, before Jenna, not that far off the mark.

“Yeah. That would work, too.”

She picks up her tea again like my suggestion doesn’t affect her. I guess it doesn’t. Still. “A lie, of course.”

“Clearly.” She continues to stare into the ocean.

I lean forward. “Look!” I point. “Dolphins!”

Out on the horizon, a pod of dolphins emerges from the water, enjoying their afternoon in the sun. I usually don’t get to see them in the wild and excitement buzzes through my body. For her part, though, Jenna barely bats an eyelash.

When she doesn’t say anything after a full minute, I ask, “Did you see them? ”

“I did.”

No inflection. No enthusiasm. Monotone.

I sidle against my wife. “Jenna,” I begin.

In response, she stands. “I’m going inside. I’m a bit chilled.” Turning her back on the ocean and the dolphins, she walks into the house. Alone.

How am I going to get through to her? If Faith were still here, I’d hit her up for guidance. Kara’s in the City, but it’s not the same.

As if a gift from above, my phone rings.

Maybe this call will be my salvation? When the first strains of “Cleanin’ Out My Closet” begin, I realize the gift was from a much darker place.

Considering I threw her to voicemail yesterday, I guess it’s time to pay up.

Might as well get all the bad shit out in one afternoon.

Bracing myself, I pick up. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, Mom,” she mimics. “Seriously? I have to read online that my only son married some sort of murderess, who’s killed both her ex-boyfriend and now her own mother?”

“I’ve been busy.” I sigh. I should have listened to Jenna when she begged me to call my mother and tell her about our wedding. I was so busy with the band and gigs and putting plans into place about Lissa that I ignored her pleas. This is the result.

“Whatever tabloid you’re reading, they’ve got it all wrong. Jenna had nothing to do with either one of those deaths. Darren, as you know, overdosed. Her mother just died of pancreatic cancer—the funeral was yesterday. My wife is going through a tough time.”

“When your father died, I wasn’t responsible either.”

Wow. A sane thought. I tread lightly. “That’s very true.” I clamp my lips shut, hoping she doesn’t go off the deep end again.

“Tell me, how is it you got married and I didn’t know about it?” Her discombobulated voice reeks of pain.

I swallow over a lump. “It was fast because Jenna’s mother was dying. We wanted her with us.” Oh no. Wrong thing to say. The words hang above my head as if in a bubble with no way for me to retrieve them .

“You wanted her with you? Her? Not me, your own mother. The woman who gave you life, despite your having killed your sister?” Righteous anger has overtaken whatever pain was there before.

“That’s not what I meant. Her mother was sick. Hell, she died two weeks after the ceremony.”

“Yet I’m still here and you never bothered to tell me you got married. That I finally have a daughter.”

Oh, fuck. She can’t have glommed onto Jenna as a replacement for the twin who didn’t survive long enough to be born. My fingers squeeze my thigh. With dread, I reply, “Well, I suppose you do now.”

With a lethal strike, she pounces, “Who’s as much of a killer as you are. Sounds like you two deserve each other.”

My gaze searches the sky. “Listen, a lot is going down now with wrapping up after the funeral, as you can imagine. I have to help Jenna.”

“Clearly you don’t have time for me. You never have time for me.”

Out of desperation, I ask, “Is Ramona there?”

“Yes. Where else would she be?”

“May I speak with her?” I wait a beat. “Please?”

She huffs, “Fine.”

After a minute, I speak with her nurse, explaining the situation. I heave a sigh of relief when she agrees to calm Mom down and give her my excuses. The woman who birthed me is a raving lunatic. I’m not only talking legally.

I drop the phone onto my thigh. How did it come to this?

I’m the lead singer of a world-famous band with thousands of adoring fans.

Yet, the one woman on earth who promised—mere weeks ago—to love me, is giving me the cold shoulder.

Mom’s still living in her own fantasy world.

Lissa and Michelle are scheming against me. Where’s the off-ramp?

Jenna. She’s always provided me excellent advice and guidance. Despite not being qualified, I need to do the same for her. Inside the house, I find her sitting on the sofa staring at the blank television.

I take a seat next to her and put my hand on her thigh. “Jenna, you have to let me in. Talk to me. Tell me what I can do to help you.”

She faces me, her big gray eyes luminous. She’s never looked so beautiful. So entranced in her, I’m not prepared for what she says next.

“I want a divorce.”