Chapter Sixteen

Hayden walked slowly down Riverside Drive, grateful to finally be home, but unable to pick up the pace. Her limbs were sore, her brain fried. After sending a quick text to Story, she’d taken a cab from the Borgata to the Atlantic City Bus Terminal and ridden it back to Manhattan alone. Riding in the car with Brent had seemed too daunting in light of what happened. She knew her friend was probably a wicked combination of worried and curious, but she didn’t have the energy to think about the inevitable conversation they had coming.

The two-hour ride would have been a good opportunity to think, if there hadn’t been two teenage girls in front of her discussing cell phone upgrades. Or a man behind her reading every road sign they passed out loud, then translating it into French. She had, however, managed to come to one rock-solid conclusion. Her mother was smarter than she’d given her credit for. Obviously, she’d been paying closer attention than Hayden realized. She’d even handed the ammunition to her mother on a silver platter during their last phone call. Actually, he’s working two jobs because he helps support his brother’s family. Plus, his sister in college. Which is kind of…well, it’s pretty damn amazing.

What better way to ensure her and Brent’s relationship tanked than hitting a man like him right where it hurts? Belittling his hard work. Cutting down his pride. Her mother’s ploy worked like a charm. Brent hated her now. After everything, after she’d opened up to him, exposed herself in his arms, he still thought her presumptuous, thoughtless enough to pay his sister’s college tuition. That he could think her capable of such a move for even a second made her cringe.

She hadn’t denied it. If she could go back and have the confrontation again, she still wouldn’t. What did it matter? His perception of her would never change, and trying to convince him otherwise would be exhausting and pointless. And it hurt. His judgment hurt.

It seemed his loathing of her lifestyle had done nothing to deter his attraction to her, however. He’d nearly taken her one last time on the hotel room dresser. Without question, if he’d kissed her, if she’d let his lips reach hers, she would have let him. Would have had no choice but to cling to him and accept the pleasure. She’d had no other option but to deliver a parting shot that would give her enough time to escape, because her attraction to him hadn’t dimmed either. Not even slightly. The more distance the bus had put between them, she’d slowly recognized the attraction went far beyond their amazing sexual connection. She’d been so sure they’d found some common ground. So positive they were moving past their differences. Then he’d thrown it right back in her face.

Despite it all, despite everything, she missed him already. Still, maybe her mother had done her a favor by paying Lucy Mason’s tuition on the sly and pinning it on her. If one misunderstanding was all it took to bring them back to an enemy state, they’d already been doomed.

Hayden glanced across the street toward her parents’ brownstone and pulled up short when she saw her father standing outside, staring up at the structure. She waited for traffic to pass then crossed the street, her overnight bag growing heavy at her side.

“Dad? Are you locked out or something?”

He turned to her, still appearing lost in thought. His eyes, normally sharp and full of humor, were tired. A little dazed. “Oh hey, sweetheart. No, I’m not locked out.” He gestured limply toward the house. “I just never really take the time to appreciate…what we have. Things, you know. We take them for granted until…” He trailed off.

She studied his face closely, guilt soaring through her. Her father’s company, their family’s livelihood, was at stake and she could think of nothing but her sore heart. Perhaps Brent was right and she was nothing but an overindulged brat. “Dad…I…”

He interrupted her. “I know your mother told you about our financial issues. I also know what she asked you to do. We had quite an argument about it, I’m afraid.” Suddenly focused, his gaze found hers. “I don’t want you to marry someone you don’t love. I’d never ask that of you. Never.”

Hayden swallowed heavily, unable to tell him she’d already decided against marrying Stuart. Afraid of his reaction to her selfish choice. “I know that. I know you wouldn’t ask. Mother, however…” She got the desired laugh. “Not quite so accommodating.”

“This is true.” He shifted, digging his hands into his pockets. “Look, your mother doesn’t have much faith in me. God knows I’m not cut out for this business. But I’m doing everything I can to resolve this without taking such…extreme measures.”

She appealed to him with her eyes. “Dad, I’m asking you to please use the money you set aside in my name.”

He was already shaking his head. “Never. Look, sweetheart. I’m working on it. Okay?”

Hiding her uncertainty, she squeezed his arm. “I know you are. Everything is going to work out fine, one way or another.” He smiled warmly to acknowledge her support, but something just beyond her shoulder caught his attention. Tentatively, he raised his hand to wave at an approaching man in a suit. Hayden turned to him. “Who is that?”

Her father cleared his throat. “A Realtor. He’s just here to appraise the house. No big deal.” He looked away. “Just in case we can’t find someone else to cover the loan in time.”

“Is there zero chance Stuart will pay it?” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Even without me marrying him?”

“He already paid it,” her father murmured, distracted by the approaching man. He seemed to realize his slip then and scrambled to cover it. “That is to say, he paid it, then took it back. It was just one of those thin—”

“When?” She felt a rushing in her ears, as the complete puzzle began to form. “When did he take back the money?”

Her father’s weary gaze dropped to the sidewalk. “Wednesday morning.”

The morning after the dinner party. The morning after she’d flaunted another man in his face.

“Why?” Hayden whispered the question, even though the answer was devastatingly obvious. Stuart had bailed out her father, but she’d screwed them all over by bringing Brent to Stuart’s house in some misguided act of rebellion.

“Your mother…she might have implied to Stuart that you were amenable to the marriage, so he paid the loan as a show of faith.” He lifted a hand and let it drop limply to his side. “I’m sorry, Hayden. I didn’t know.” With a deep breath, he gripped her shoulder. “Listen, just try to trust me here. I’m working on fixing what I broke.”

Hayden stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching her father disappear into the house with the smiling man wearing a Bluetooth, his shoulders more hunched than usual. As if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He’d had that burden eased when Stuart paid off the loan, but her actions had thrust it back onto him. In that moment, she saw the harsh reality of her unorthodox family’s situation. Before, it had only been a far-off possibility in her mind, but as she’d just witnessed, the end was far more imminent than she’d thought. Her dear father, for all his good intentions, wouldn’t be able to stop the inevitable. The man who’d taken them in, given them everything they could ask for, would lose the home he’d known for decades. The house she’d grown up in. All of a sudden, her mother’s meddling didn’t seem so unnece

ssary. Selling the house would only be the tip of the iceberg. What about everything inside? Their lives would change drastically. And she could prevent it.

No, she would prevent it.

This was her chance. To finally repay her father for everything. To prove her worth. Brent had called her selfish. Perhaps he was right. Wouldn’t it be selfish to let her family suffer when she had the means to stop it? She’d never earned this life. It had been given to her. If she stood by and watched her father be stripped of possessions he’d graciously shared with her, she’d never forgive herself.

Five minutes later, she walked through the front door of her town house. Story stomped out into the foyer on her cell phone, irritation radiating from every inch of her.

“She’s here. Yes, she’s fine, but not for long.” Story hung up the phone. “Are you kidding me, dude? You text me with ‘I hear Greyhound buses are lovely this time of year’ and then vanish? Since when do you take the bus? Oh my God…you have amnesia, don’t you?” She crept forward. “Hayden, it’s me, Story.”

“Who was on the phone?”

“Brent.” When the device in question rang again, she hit ignore and shoved it into her jean shorts pocket. “And while we’re on the subject of Mr. Mason…anything you want to talk about?”

“Yeah. You want to be the witness at my wedding tomorrow?”

“Damn, Brent works fast.” Story laughed uncomfortably when Hayden didn’t react to her joke. “Why don’t you wait a few months and we can have a double wedding? We can get matching hairstyles.”

Hayden burst into tears.

“Okay, okay. We’ll wear light-up tiaras, too.” Story wrapped her arms around Hayden and led her into the living room. “Come on, honey. I have a feeling this talk is long overdue.”