Chapter 40

CHAPTER FORTY

ANTHONY

My teeth are on edge as I watch them approaching us, but not because of any personal pain Nina has caused me. It’s what she tried to do Rosie. She stole my phone and texted my future wife. Impersonated me and tried to break Rosie’s heart. The thought makes me beyond livid, and I won’t lie—I want to see her destroyed.

Not the way my father did. Never like that.

But I want to see this lie she’s constructed for herself fall apart. I want to know that she’s as unhappy as she tried to make Rosie.

She’s wearing a fur coat—real fur—and after casting a glance at the half-broken coat rack by the door, she leaves it on, even as Wilson relinquishes his puffer and then ceremoniously puts an unwanted lei around first my neck and then Rosie’s.

“The Wilson family leis,” he says as if they’re sacred.

“This is Rosie’s favorite bar?” Nina says, taking in the mismatched display and hand-drawn banner.

“It’s our favorite bar,” I correct. “We have a booth over here.”

“Fantastic, fantastic ,” Wilson says, rubbing his hands together and then reaching for mine. He gives it an exuberant shake. “I hope you both had great Christmases. Ours was so good. We had the pig roast, of course, and I got that special ice pack.” He winks at me. “Wearing it now, bud, but I’ll show you later. It’s something else.” He claps Nina on the back like they’re bros. “Oh, and Nina got me a diet book that looks very interesting.”

“We had a wonderful Christmas,” Rosie says, grinning at them as she wraps her arms around me, her ring pointedly display.

Nina gasps before she can control her reaction. She’d wanted that ring—badly—and my mother had denied her. Clearing her throat, she says, “I’ll just bet you did. Did you have any of your little tea parties?”

Wilson laughs throatily, then beams at Rosie. “I was telling Anthony that I couldn’t believe I’d met you before. At that circus tea, remember? Now, that was a fun time.”

“Yeah, it’s a small world,” Rosie says with a broad grin. “You never know who you’ll run into. You know, my friends and I love shopping on Facebook marketplace. So many deals. And I figured out that I actually knew someone who was selling a bunch of interesting shit. Kismet, am I right?”

Nina swallows.

“Why don’t we let you order your drinks?” I say. “We can meet you at our booth.”

I gesture toward it.

“Sure, sure,” Wilson says. “We’ll grab some pretzels too.”

“Don’t you dare,” Nina objects, her voice shrill. “There’s urine on those pretzels.”

“Why would there be urine on them?” Wilson asks her, his brow furrowed.

“Because men don’t wash their hands after they use the toilet, Wilson,” she responds in a seething undertone as I lead Rosie away. “You certainly don’t, and—”

Her voice blissfully fades into incoherence as we keep walking.

We settle into the booth, Rosie’s side pressed to mine, and someone knocks a rhythm on the other side. “Volleyball,” I say.

And get a snort.

They’re back a few minutes later, Wilson with a beer and Nina with a glass of wine that’s almost certainly vinegar. I know this from personal experience because I tried to order wine when I came here with Jake a couple of months ago. I couldn’t eat salad—or drink wine—for a week afterward.

Wilson makes a theatrical frowny face. “No pretzels. But this is nice. Isn’t this nice?”

“Absolutely!” Rosie beams at him, her hand sliding onto my thigh. Turning to Nina, she says, “And what did you think of those skincare products I sent you the listing for, Nina? I really think you should get started right away. Some people don’t see results for up to three months.”

“I have my own skincare regimen, thank you very much.”

“But you got the message?”

“Yes,” Nina says tersely. “And you got my message?”

“I did, thank you, but I don’t think I’ll be throwing a tea for you and Wilson. Joy and I have actually retired that side of our business and liquidated all of our supplies. Too bad.”

Wilson smiles at me indulgently and takes out his phone. Half a second later, I get a text from him:

Look at them, becoming best friends.

Rosie takes a drink of her beer, and Nina sips the wine, sputters, and shoves it away from herself so vehemently it sloshes over the rim and splatters my shirt. It was red wine, and my shirt is mostly white, so I probably look like a murderer.

“Not to your taste?” I ask tightly.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Anthony,” she says with a complete change of personality. Picking up her napkin, she starts dabbing at my shirt, the pads of her fingers caressing me. I recoil from her touch, pushing back into the old cushions of the booth.

“I’ll take care of that,” Rosie says, snatching the napkin from her and helping to dab up the mess before she balls it up. “You know what I find interesting?”

“I couldn’t begin to guess,” Nina replies.

“Oh, I love guessing games,” Wilson says. “Paintball. You definitely find that interesting. And you went horse-riding with Anthony here, so maybe you’re a horsewoman in the making. Are you going to get her a horse, Anthony?”

I shake my head slightly. “Don’t ruin all my surprises.”

Rosie’s eyes light up. “Really?”

“Sweetcheeks needs another friend.”

I’ve already started looking for a horse that would be horse enough for Rosie.

She beams at me before glancing across the table at our guests, her expression souring. Shaking her head, she says, “You know, I’m tired of all of this.”

Even though I’m still terrified she’ll wake up one morning and decide she doesn’t want me and the life we’ve talked about after all, I know what she means. She’s talking about pretending. About dancing around the truth like it’s a bonfire.

“I just want us to live our lives,” Rosie tells me. I hold her gaze and nod, and she shifts her attention across the table. “Nina, I sent you the skincare link on Anthony’s phone. Because you stole it from him like a real psychopath. You also tried to break up with me on his behalf, which is just rude. You made me really sad on Christmas, but it didn’t go past that, because this man hitchhiked on a snowplow to get to me.”

She holds Nina’s gaze, her hand gripping my thigh.

No one says anything for a moment. Nina’s colorless, and Wilson looks like a lost dog.

Nina’s the one who breaks the silence. “I don’t know—”

“That’s what you lost, Nina,” Rosie says. “That’s what you’re never going to get back. And you can threaten me all you want, but I have friends who have my back.”

“Literally,” Nicole calls out from behind us.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Nina says. Shifting her attention to me, she finishes, “Anthony, surely you don’t believe this nonsense. This girl’s a drug addict with some kind of Cinderella complex.”

“How dare you.” My voice is shaking, every muscle in my body tight. “You’re talking about the woman I love. And if you have any sense of self-preservation, you will never threaten her or so much as speak her name again.”

“Anthony?” Wilson asks, sounding lost, like he’s hoping someone will read the instruction booklet for him. “Is this some kind of game?” He forces a laugh. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of Clue or Guess Who?”

There’s a rustling behind us, and seconds later, Emma appears in front of the booth. She slaps a folder down onto the wooden table, demanding our attention.

“Emma?” Wilson says.

But her eyes are on Nina. “Rosie signed the prenup that you wouldn’t. Didn’t even read it, not that I’d encourage anyone to be that stupid.”

“You did what?” I ask, my voice shaking with fury. Rosie’s hand soothes on my leg, caressing up and down, but it does nothing to contain the feelings surging inside of me. This is the kind of anger that overwhelms—that can only be released by shouting or banging on a wall. I’ve always hated feeling like this, because it reminds me of him.

Still, this should have been my call, dammit, not Emma’s. She should, at the very least, have discussed it with me. Because there was a chance that Rosie would balk, that she’d leave , and then…

Then I wouldn’t have her.

“I did it for you.” My sister lifts her hand before I can tell her off, loudly. “Not for the reasons you’re thinking. If she didn’t sign it, then a part of you might have always wondered. I didn’t want that for you.”

The anger quails. It starts to feel the soothing touch of Rosie’s hand, reminding me that she didn’t leave, that she’s here with me. My sister, however misguided, was genuinely trying to watch out for me. I have a family who cares about me.

“I didn’t need you to do that,” I say firmly, turning my head to look into Rosie’s eyes. “I would have known anyway. Because I know her.”

“I think we should go,” Nina says abruptly, tugging at Wilson’s shirt as he gapes at everyone in disbelief.

“But—”

“You’re not going anywhere yet,” Emma says firmly, in her lawyerly voice. “I believe our family friends have something to show you two. You’ve always liked show and tell, haven’t you, Wilson?”

He gets red in the face. “It’s a common game. I didn’t know it would upset you. I—”

“What?” I ask, feeling like I’m on a roller coaster with no escape.

“Go on, tell them,” Emma says, putting a hand on her hip.

When he just sputters, she explains, “He flashed me his dick when we were kids. Guess you must have a special appreciation for the Peanut Bar, Nina.”

“What the fuck, Wilson?” I say, while Rosie bites her lip.

His blush deepens. “I thought—”

Then Emma snatches the prenup up with efficiency and steps aside, providing room for Damien and Nicole to approach the table with a folder of their own. “Our turn,” Nicole says with a grin.

“And who the hell are you?” Nina asks without any pretense at non-aggression.

“I’m OldLady69 is who,” Nicole says, pulling several printouts out of her folder. “Remember? We talked back and forth about that bomb-ass bowling ball. You insisted it wasn’t worth a penny less than five hundred, and I kept offering you one hundred until you said you thought I was a bot.”

“My bowling ball?” Wilson asks in horror, picking up the printout. “You sold Betsy? You said you thought the cleaner had stolen her. We fired her. I considered turning her in to the police.”

“This is a moment of crisis for you, I get that,” Nicole says. Nina’s trying to get out of the booth now, but she slid in first, and Wilson has become a solid brick of a person. “But I’m going to have to insist you send me the shipping information for those cashmere socks, asap. I bought those as HotChickCruising. They were supposed to be a Christmas gift for my husband here, but surprise, surprise, you screwed me over.”

“I’ll never send you those socks, you cunt,” Nina snarls, gripping her purse to her body as if it’s a shield.

Nicole tsks. “I’m going to have to submit a fraud report. Or maybe you’d prefer to turn her in for stealing, Wilson. We do actually have a contact with the Asheville City police who likes us now. Officer Richards said we were, and I quote, ‘very knowledgeable.’”

“It only took several years,” Damien says with a fond smirk, bumping her with his shoulder.

“What else is in here?” Wilson murmurs, grabbing the folder and flipping through it. There are dozens of pages. He turns to Nina in obvious shock. “The nightgown my mother bought you? You said it was ruined at the dry cleaner’s.”

“Well, can’t blame her for that one, can we?” Nicole asks with a low laugh.

“Let. Me. Out.” Nina beats at him with her purse. When he still doesn’t budge, she shrieks, “Don’t you get it? I wasn’t going to marry you. I couldn’t marry you. You’re already married to your mother.” She makes another effort to push him out of the booth. “She got you a gift for your balls, for God’s sake. You don’t have room in your life for me or anyone. Now, let. Me. Out.”

“Let her out, man,” I tell him.

“So this is it?” he asks her. “Unbelievable. I don’t understand how you could do such a thing. You betrayed me. And my mother.”

He says this like a man who wasn’t knowingly fucking her behind my back while I was engaged to her.

I give him a hard look. “It surprised me at first too. You’ll get used to it.” Rosie leans into me, and I kiss the top of her head. “But I never would have met the woman who was supposed to be my wife if it hadn’t happened.”

He responds with a chagrined expression and finally edges out of his side of the booth.

Nina gets out and turns toward our table, ignoring the man she’s been living with for the past two months. “Fuck all of you.” She points a shaking finger at me. “You’re going to regret marrying that little bitch. She doesn’t have as much class in her little finger as I have—”

I get to my feet, and Rosie stands up beside me, her hands on my back, layered over my shirt, my scars. My voice quavering with the rage that’s pulsing inside of me, I say, “Don’t you dare —”

“Let me handle this, Anthony.” My mother steps up to Nina and gives her a withering look. “You don’t know the meaning of the word, girl. You can wear as many expensive fur coats as you please, and you still won’t know the meaning. You wouldn’t know it if you spent years at a French finishing school. So don’t you dare tell my future daughter-in-law she’s the one who lacks class. I hope you got money from those necklaces you stole from me and poor Betsy, because you’re going to need it. There’s a network of concerned mothers who want to protect our wealthy sons from women like you.”

I’m sure she made that up, but her delivery was flawless, and from the look on Nina’s face, she believes her.

She flips us off and turns to leave, but Nicole grabs the back of her fur jacket, stopping her in her tracks. “Not so fast. You still have the hot rich guy’s phone.”

“You took my phone, too?” Wilson sputters, a wounded look on his face.

“No, I said the hot rich guy,” Nicole says, waving to Nina’s purse.

Pinching her lips together, Nina pulls out the phone and juts it out toward me. I take it, and resolve to change my password to something more unbreakable than my birthday. I dial in the password quickly and check the text messages, anger burning freshly in my veins when I see the exchange with Rosie.

It looks like she also exchanged some messages with Leigh, the accountant.

I click into the text window and quickly scan it. There are a few follow-up messages from Leigh, asking to meet up and reminding me what a good business opportunity it would be for us to get married on Sunday—followed by a message from “me”: Never going to happen. I don’t know how many ways I can say NOT INTERESTED.

Well, I’ll certainly have to apologize for that.

“I want to leave, now,” Nina says coldly.

“Yeah, it sounds like you might have some packing to do,” Nicole says. “But the Golden Retriever hasn’t told us whether you’ll be leaving here with our friend Officer Richards.”

Rosie snorts, and Wilson adjusts his weight between his feet.

“Maybe Richards can take both of them in,” Damien says, grinning at her. It’s obvious this is a familiar dance between them, and one they enjoy. They’re playing with Nina and Wilson like cats play with mice. “Because this guy likes illegal poker games.”

Wilson gulps, then glances at Rosie. I edge in front of her, glaring at him so intensely he looks away before muttering, “Your friends enjoy holding illegal parties too.”

“Which is why we’re not going to tattle on you to the cops,” Nicole says, giving him a convivial pat on the back. “Merry Christmas. But if you or Nina mess with my friends again, I won’t be feeling so generous.”

He nods half a dozen times like a bobble head.

“It should go without saying,” my mother announces loftily, “but your invitation to the wedding has been revoked. If either of you darken the door of Smith House again, I will be calling the authorities.”

“I wouldn’t want to,” Nina says.

“You’re lying,” my mother replies coolly.

“I hate you.”

She huffs. “The feeling is decidedly mutual. I hope you have the life you deserve.”

They try to leave, but again, Nicole pulls on Nina’s coat. She shoves her phone in Nina’s face. “Tell me the truth. This is your one chance. If you’re lying I’ll know. Did you put together this shitty website to threaten Mrs. Rosings, the woman you just said you hate.”

She narrows her eyes in confusion before studying the screen. “No.”

Then, they turn and leave our lives, hopefully forever.