Asking for Trouble

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 unnecessary. 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.”

“Liquor.” She sucked in a breath. “I need liquor.”

“That’s a given.”

…

Brent stood just inside Quincy’s, waiting for his to-go lunch. Matt stood propped against the wall to his left, both of them silent for once as they nursed Coca-Colas. Hoping to get some decent advice, he’d asked Matt to meet him there, but now he had nothing to say. It hurt to talk. Every joke sounded cheap and hollow to his ears. Every word reminded him of the spectacular shit-show the weekend had turned into. How badly he’d handled the confrontation with Hayden, severing the fragile tether between them with his big, stupid mouth. Pushing her until she’d been forced to hit him with that knockout punch. A kept man. Shit. A day later it still stung.

Then she’d gone and disappeared, driving him out of his mind with worry and hitting home just how hard he’d actually fallen for her in the process. If he’d had time to cool off after Lucy’s phone call, even just ten damn minutes, he might have been rational enough to communicate like a mature human being why her actions bothered him. Maybe right now he wouldn’t be sitting in a shit-stew of physical and mental f**kery. He could be sneaking a call to her on this lunch break, making plans to see her later, instead of waiting on notoriously overcooked French fries in silence with Matt. Not that he didn’t appreciate the company. He did. He’d just rather be talking to Hayden.

Now that he’d had a sleepless night and an equally shitty morning to replay yesterday’s scene in his mind, over and over, he kept stumbling on little roadblocks. Hayden’s confused reaction. The fact that paying Lucy’s tuition didn’t even feel like something she would do in the first place. The hurt on her face when he’d verbally cut down the bridge they’d managed to build over their differences. He loved their differences. Surprisingly, when it came right down to it, he didn’t care that she had a lot of money. She could be as rich as two Oprahs and his feelings would remain the same, because she would still be the same. He’d never be a big enough man to accept charity, but if accepting the differences in their bank accounts meant being with Hayden, the decision was a no-brainer. He wanted her.