Flawlessly Broken: (Broken Series Book 2) (9 page)

I watched him quietly eating his breakfast, casting occasional glances my way, still worried about my injuries. His dark eyes were unusually kind when he looked at me. I wanted so much to... No. I couldn’t.

He’d hurt me if I let him.

Just like all the others.

Wouldn’t he?

Spencer

I STOOD OUTSIDE
Talia’s bedroom door while she dressed. After breakfast, she’d still been a little unsteady on her feet, so I insisted on staying close. She’d balked initially, but eventually gave in when she realized I wasn’t backing down. She went into her room and was mostly silent until a series of thumps drew me closer to the door, calling out to her in the still air. She huffed and answered back, “I’m fine. Stupid hanger didn’t want to let go of my favorite jeans. I won the battle, though, so don’t come busting in. I’ve got it.”

I snickered at her affronted tone. “Maybe you should keep talking so I don’t rush in to save you and catch you half-naked or something.”

“Pfft. Like that would be any worse than what you’ve already seen today.” More rustling sounds. “So, the way I see it, I’ve spilled my guts to you at least twice and to my booze-addled recollection, you have yet to share anything equally personal. How about you do the talking and I’ll throw out the occasional ‘uh huh’ to let you know I’m still alive in here? Deal?”

Well, shit. I’d hoped to avoid any more heavy topics for the remainder of the day. No such luck. “Depends. What exactly do you want to know? I mean, if you’re looking to even things up, I can strip down and lay on the shower floor. How’s that? Just remember to lift with your legs, not your back.”

She giggled. “Sorry, chuckles. That’s not what I had in mind.”

“Hey, wait. You’re chuckles, remember?” I teased.

“Nope. I’m sweetheart, but nice try with the distraction. Now spill it, Spence. I know you have a story. Everyone does.”

I blew out a breath and tugged at my wrinkled shirt, flattening it across my chest with my palm. “I’m kind of boring, really. Just ask Clay.”

“Nope. I’m asking you. Let’s start with your status. Girlfriend? FWB? Neither? Both?” Her voice echoed oddly through the door as she moved around the room beyond.

“Neither. Divorced.”

“Yeah, but didn’t you say that was a while ago? You can’t have been completely on your own since then.” She sounded doubtful, as if there were no way that were true.

“‘Fraid so. I’ve been too busy with work to even notice, really.” A total lie. I’d noticed. I just tried my best to ignore it.

She was quiet for a while, hopefully busy dressing and not standing there gaping at the closed door with slack-jawed consternation. “I guess I can understand that,” she hedged. “I’m not exactly a social butterfly either. I’m usually at the restaurant every day.”

I nodded to myself. “I’m usually at the office or in meetings or scouting job sites. It’s exhausting but I thrive on it.”

“Was it like that even when you were married? I mean, did you still work so much even when you had someone to go home to?”

“You don’t pull any punches, do you sweetheart?” I had to give her points for bravery.

“Not with the guy who—after less than twenty-four hours—knows most of my life story
and
what I look like in a towel. Sorry, not sorry.” Her tone was teasing but she still expected an answer. And she really did look great in a towel, so I sort of owed her for that, not to mention how forthcoming she’d been with her own background.

“Point taken. To answer your question—no. I didn’t work as much back then. Most of the time we were just as busy as we are now, but I didn’t take the work home with me. Once I left the office it was just her and me.” I tried to disconnect the memory from the words and nearly succeeded.

My mind flashed to quiet nights on the couch, watching movies and laughing. It had been so easy, so comfortable. So false. Just the thought of it all set my teeth on edge. God, I’d been so stupid.

“So, what happened?” There was a moment of soft rattling, the sound of a makeup bag being rifled through. Not that she needed it.

I took a deep breath and contemplated returning to the kitchen to finish off her Irish coffee. “Different life goals.”

She made a tsking sound. “You’ll have to do better than that. And shouldn’t you have discussed your goals with each other before tying the knot?”

“We did. Her goals changed.” I thought about that a minute and shook my head, not that Talia could see. “Or maybe the problem was she lied about her goals from the beginning and I was too gullible to realize it.”

“I can’t picture you as gullible. I’m betting you were just blinded by love, but I don’t know what exactly happened, so it’s just speculation on my part.”

I really didn’t want to go into it, not on the heels of her revelation about Amelia, but I felt compelled to give her the truth. She’d done the same for me. “We started trying to get pregnant on our one-year anniversary. There was this huge feeling of anticipation once the decision was made. It was amazing. She was so excited to be a mom and I couldn’t wait for the time to come when I would walk in from work and see her there, belly swollen with my child—to know that I’d helped create a whole new person who I could guide and protect, a little boy or girl who looked like me. I’ve wanted to be a dad for as long as I can remember.”

I shuffled back and forth on my feet, nervous energy called forth by the topic of conversation. “We planned out everything from names, to nurseries, to preschools, but every month we were disappointed. Ivey—that’s her name—became discouraged after a while and we began talking about fertility treatments. We started the treatments and every month was the same as before. She got more withdrawn with each negative test, and nothing I did made it any better.”

Talia made a soft sympathetic sound but said nothing.

“After nearly a year of the drugs, Ivey started having seizures. It scared the living shit out of me. The doctors couldn’t explain it and she refused to stop taking the drugs, even though I begged her to. I told her she was more important and that it wasn’t worth her life but she wouldn’t be reasoned with.”

“So, was that the reason for the split?”

I leaned my back against the doorjamb and sighed, sliding down to sit on the floor. “No, not at all. The problem was that after two months of her randomly falling into fucking convulsions and me begging her not to die on me, I found out the reason for the seizures.” My jaw clenched and I spoke through gritted teeth. “She’d secretly been getting the birth control shot all along and it was reacting with the other medications. She didn’t want a baby, she just wanted me to think she did. She would rather die than have a baby. That’s what she told me when I confronted her.” I could still hear her voice in my ears, like a goddamn gavel slamming down. Case closed. “She only agreed to try for children to appease me while she slowly siphoned off money from our savings and made plans to leave.”

The door swung open and Talia peered out at me, saying nothing as her eyes took in my rigid stance and clenched fists. I jumped to my feet and folded my arms over my chest, trying to look unaffected.

Her eyes shone with emotion as she walked out and turned to stand in front of me, pulling my arms away from my chest. “She’d rather die than have a child and I’d gladly give my life if I could get mine back.” She stepped into me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly to her. “You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, Spencer.” She whispered into my neck.

I returned her embrace and buried my nose in her golden hair, breathing in her scent and feeling the tension in my body slowly ebb. “Neither did you, sweetheart. Neither did you.”

AFTER THE MORNING’S
admissions were behind us, we agreed to keep things light for the rest of the day. Though, spending time with Ali’s mom was sure to try our resolve.

That woman was a piece of work.

It was my understanding that she’d left Ali and her dad when Ali was barely a teenager to go in search of the almighty dollar. She’d certainly found it with husband number four—a ruthless vulture of the business world who had briefly circled our company before being sent packing. I had no respect for the husband and little respect for the woman herself, so my agreeing to this was strictly out of deference to my obligations as best man.

And maybe because I wanted to stay close to Talia. At least until I knew she was okay.

Or so I kept telling myself.

I escorted her to the lobby and left her to wait while I pulled the car around. When I stepped out to open her door, she was grinning.

“Classic American muscle.” She nodded in approval as she inspected the deep red metallic monster. “I’m more of a Camaro girl myself, but I must admit this is pretty hot.” She slipped past me and sank into the bucket seat with a sigh.

I chuckled all the way back around to the driver’s side.

She continually surprised me.

We arrived at the florist a few minutes later, miraculously finding parking right out front. D.C. parking was usually the stuff of nightmares.

Talia made no move to unbuckle her seat belt. Instead, she sat staring toward the tastefully-decorated store front and took a deep, steadying breath.

“Are you still fighting a headache or are you debating running away?” I knew damn well that Talia had no love for Ali’s socialite mother, so I wasn’t surprised when she indicated the latter.

“That woman tries my patience. Only for Ali would I willingly spend time with Eileen Shepard.” She shook her head ruefully and started to get out.

“Hang on,” I told her and rushed from the car, coming around to open her door and offer a hand. It was something I’d done all my life—instinct—but today it was also a precaution in case she was hit with another wave of dizziness.

She took my proffered hand with a sweet smile and waited for me to lock up before threading her arm through mine. “I’m going to chalk this up to you being a gentleman instead of assuming you are babying me because of my head.”

She was going to argue with every gesture.

Stubborn-ass woman.

It worried me how much I liked her feisty side. I wasn’t supposed to be noticing all the attractive things about her—and that list was continually growing—I was supposed to make sure she was okay and then carry my ass home before I got too entangled in her life. That wasn’t in my plans. Never going there again. Not even for the stunningly haunting beauty that was clutching my arm and consuming my thoughts.

I just couldn’t.

So why the hell was I still here?

The internal war that ensued on the heels of that question made my head spin.

No time to consider it now. Just do what you agreed to do and go home, dammit.

I made up my mind then that I would do just that.

TWO HOURS AT
the florist with Ali’s social climbing mother was about as much fun as I thought it would be.

For her part, Talia handled things well but I could tell her patience was wearing thin. She only snipped at Eileen once and the woman was a bit less boisterous after that. It had been a damn good shot, too. I’d nearly high-fived her.