Falling for You (3 page)

“Fate—”

“Forget it. Just take me home please.”

Thankfully, the waiter arrived with the check, allowing Fate to escape to the car while Trevor took care of it.

“B
abe, let me in. Please.”

Trevor knocked at the door for the fourth time. Fate sat on the floor with her back against it.

“Answer the door, Fate. Whatever he’s done, he’s sorry. For goodness’ sakes.” Her mother frowned. “You’re engaged to him, sweetheart. Time to be a big girl.”

Fate sighed and let her head rest against the door to the small apartment she shared with her mother. Her mother’s answer was always to forgive. She’d been cheated on, lied to, berated, and humiliated by men in every way possible. She was all smiles and laughter when she was dating someone new. Then, when it didn’t work out, she locked herself in her room, wallowing in Willie Nelson and cheap whiskey.

Fate had been swearing to herself since she was eleven and her second stepdad walked out on them that she would never be like her mother. When she got married, it would be forever, but until then, no man would hold that kind of power over her.

The hardwood floor didn’t feel so great, but neither did the idea of forgiving Trevor right at the moment. The car ride home from the restaurant had been bad enough. They’d ridden the few blocks in silence, Trevor gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and clenching his jaw in frustration while Fate huffed out angry breaths and did her best not to let angry tears fall.

“I was an asshole. I know that. Please open the door, Fate. I really don’t want to have this conversation in your hallway.”

Her mother gave her a pointed look. Fate stood. She hadn’t meant to be so melodramatic, but when he hadn’t apologized on the way home, her hurt feelings had grown teeth.

Pulling open the door, she stared intently at the man in the doorway. His shoulders were slumped and his normally bright eyes were dim.

“We can’t keep having this argument, Trevor. Is this what marriage is going to be? The same fights over and over?” God, she hoped not.

Trevor’s lips lifted into a wry grin before he answered. “No, baby. Because when we’re married, I’ll be fucking you regularly. Thus, I’ll be in a much better mood.”

Fate’s cheeks flushed and she glanced back to see if her mother was still in the entryway to the living room. Thankfully, she wasn’t.

“Trevor,” she whispered. “For goodness’ sakes. My mom is home.”

He stepped closer and snaked an arm around her waist. “I’ve been
extremely
patient with you, but I don’t know if I can make it three more months. All I can promise is to try my best.”

“Thank you. I know it’s hard for you—”

“No, Fate. It’s hard for
you.
I’m always hard for you. And you know it. You know what you do to me.”

In case she had any doubts, Trevor took her left hand and ran it down the front of his slacks. She cringed at the hardness between his legs.

“I know. I’m sorry, Trevor. I promise, once we’re married, no more waiting. As soon as we say ‘I do,’ I’m yours. Forever.”

She wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, saying it out loud made her feel dizzy and disoriented. And slightly…nauseated. Maybe he was right—maybe she was afraid of sex.

Trevor placed a moist kiss on her mouth. “Just wait, babe. Once I show you how good it can be, you’ll be begging for it.”

She forced a smile. One thing was for sure. No one would ever accuse her fiancé of being modest.

Three Months Later

“F
ate, did you pack your Manolos? I see everything in this bag except your shoes. Please tell me you didn’t forget them.” Melissa’s voice echoed through the tiled hallway of the bridal suite.

“Um, hang on.” Fate checked the smaller of the two pieces of hand-me-down luggage Melissa had loaned her for the trip to the Hamptons.

She dug into the suitcase, but only one black stiletto seemed to be inside. The pair of shoes her friend had insisted she splurge on for her rehearsal dinner must have somehow been packed separately.

“Found one,” Melissa called out.

“Oh! So did I!” Fate took her right shoe into the bathroom, which was larger than her apartment had been at home.

The Atlantica was a luxurious resort on the beach where Trevor’s mother had insisted they have the rehearsal dinner and wedding reception. The actual ceremony would take place tomorrow at sunset beside the shoreline.

Melissa placed the shoe on the floor and Fate stepped into the finally united pair. She straightened her dress in the mirror before catching a glimpse of her friend’s concerned expression.

“What? Do they not go with this dress? Because even if they don’t, for what they cost, I’ll have to wear them every day even if I’m just walking to the mailbox.”

Melissa features loosened a bit and she took a deep breath. “No, they’re great. I was just wondering how you’re holding up.”

The muscles in Fate’s stomach tightened. How was she holding up? She’d been wondering herself.

The past three months had been a series of trials and triumphs. She’d graduated from the University of Texas with a double major right around the time her mother had brought home boyfriend number five. They’d been planning to attend Fate’s wedding and make a romantic getaway of the trip. Unfortunately, Hernandez hadn’t been as interested in her mother as he had been in cleaning out her bank account. Fate was pretty sure the handsome handyman her mother had met when he’d come over to fix their leaking showerhead was now sunning on a beach somewhere with someone a bit closer to his own age.

And thus had begun the worst downward spiral Fate had ever seen. There’d been wine because there was always wine, but this time, it had turned to whiskey long before the Willie records played on an endless loop from the antique player in the living room. Then, in a spectacularly shitastic stroke of bad luck, Brenda Buchanan had been rear-ended on the interstate on her way home from work. She’d had severe whiplash and neck strain, and an emergency room doctor who hadn’t known any better had carelessly written her a prescription for extremely habit-forming narcotics.

Fate had found her mother unconscious and barely breathing on the couch that evening. The bottle of painkillers had been as empty as the liquor cabinet.

Three days her mother had remained in the hospital while Fate sat by her side, ignoring Trevor and Melissa’s attempts at distracting her from her mother’s condition with wedding talk.

“We can’t live like this anymore. I know that,” had been her mother’s very first raspy words in the hospital. “I’ll get help.”

Despite all of Trevor’s shortcomings, and Fate knew there were a few—just as she herself had a few—he was the one who found The Second Chance Ranch. Fate had spoken with a social worker about a few state-funded rehabilitation programs, but the only place that still had one was in a shady section of town, and it was more of a methadone clinic than what her mother actually needed.

“It’s expensive,” Fate had told him when he’d shown her the website featuring a sprawling ranch on hundreds of secluded acres in Dallas. “Probably more than her insurance will pay and more than I can afford.”

“We’re about to be married, Fate,” he’d said as if several thousand dollars a month was of little to no consequence. “That makes us family. I’ll take care of it.”

Staring at her own reflection in the mirror with Melissa looking worriedly over her shoulder, Fate realized that Trevor was about to be a lot more than just her husband. He was about to be her everything. Her mother was in rehab—rehab that he was funding. Just as he’d paid the down payment on their penthouse apartment in Manhattan, and it would be his family’s holiday celebrations she’d be attending from now on. Everything felt like his, as if he owned the universe and was just allowing her to rent a small space inside it.

Without her mom there with her, Fate felt like she was crashing her own wedding.

“I’m holding up just fine,” she said to her best friend, not entirely sure it was the honest truth. “Just wish my mom could be here.”

“W
here are the rest of the candles? There are supposed to be candles on every table.” Olivia Harris was beyond pissed. “Not every other table.
Every table.
What’s so hard to understand?”

Fate flinched on behalf of the poor waitress being publicly reprimanded by her soon-to-be mother-in-law. She prayed she was never on the receiving end of such blatant scorn.

“Yes, ma’am. I used all of the candles that were set out for the event. I apologize for the misunderstanding. I’ll take care of that right away.” The girl didn’t look to be more than nineteen or so. Poor thing was clearly terrified and looked to be in serious danger of crying.

The Atlantica was nice, a gorgeous resort right on the beach, and likely the kind of place where a young lady might lose her job for making such a silly error at a high-profile wedding.

“I’ll help you look for more,” Fate whispered to her as she accompanied her into the back of the restaurant. “It’s really okay. It’s not even all the way dark yet. She’s just really particular.”

“Thanks,” the girl with the long, blond braid whispered back. “Are you a bridesmaid?”

“Um, I’m in the wedding party,” Fate said with a tentative smile. She wasn’t typically one to be dishonest, but she knew the girl might have a stroke if she realized it was the bride she was recruiting for assistance.

After they’d both checked several closets, Fate saw a door that was ajar above a set of stairs.