Contingent Page 8

  “Coffee?” Loren asked but was already taking the mug out of the cupboard.

  “Yes, please.” I slid the chair back from the breakfast nook.

  Loren brought me my favorite breakfast: stuffed Captain Crunch French toast. It was what she cooked for me every Sunday morning. “Oh my God, I haven’t had this in years.” I tossed my hair in a messy bun and slid some bacon on my plate.

  Loren sat across from me and smiled. “It’s a thank you for helping me out today.”

  “I’ll help out anytime you want.” I shoved a piece of French toast in my mouth and winked at her.

  After breakfast, we drove over to the Cunningham estate. Loren and I had both dressed in black slacks and a white, button-down dress shirt. It was what I called ‘the help’ uniform. I had assisted Loren with these types of parties before but this was the first time I had been to an estate.

  Loren drove down the country road to a hidden drive away. It looked like abandoned fields of land. A mile away from the main road, a grand plantation-like home came into view. Thick white columns surrounded the house, a deck ran along the second floor, and large windows looked over the greenery.

  My mouth hung open. Who would need a place this big? Loren parked her old Honda towards the back of the guesthouse where the valet workers had instructed us to park. As if the house alone wasn’t big enough, they had a guest house that connected near the pool.

  Walking through the back of the house, we followed the florist inside. Vases of white hydrangeas and pink peonies filled the outside patio and living space that was being used for the party. The band had built a stage and were tuning their instruments. The caterers worked on setting up the chafing station on one side while a bar was being built on the other side of the room.

  “You must be Loren.”

  Loren and I both turned towards the southern voice. Mrs. Sienna Cunningham was a beauty queen, a southern belle, and most recently the widower to the billionaire mogul whose family had owned most of the oil mining in Texas. She resembled an older Dolly Parton with her teased blonde hair and bright pink lips. Not to mention her dress was two sizes too small.

  “Hi. Yes, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This is my sister, Braelynn. She will be helping us out today.”

  She shook Loren’s hand greeting her. “Oh, that is perfect. Jennifer stated that you are fantastic at bossing the staff around.” They both chuckled.

  “Thank you, and congratulations on your daughter’s engagement,” Loren responded.

  “Oh no, darling. My daughter isn’t the bride. She’s the maid of honor.” Mrs. Cunningham threw her hands in the air, offended by what Loren had said. “Lord knows if my Tiffany were getting married, this party would be at our home in Paris, not this tiny home.”

  “I apologize.” Loren looked back at me with a quizzical look on her face. Shrugging my shoulders, I admired her home again. I could only imagine what she considered an average-sized home.

  Loren should have been a party planner. Leaving Mrs. Cunningham in the kitchen, she walked around and introduced herself to the staff. Within fifteen minutes of being at the party, she had given everyone their orders on what would be happening in the next six hours. I stayed in the kitchen, helping the baker ice the two hundred cupcakes.

  The clap of Loren’s hand startled me. “Okay everyone, the happy couple will be here in five minutes. Let’s make sure everyone has a champagne flute in their hands,” she commanded. Taking the flute tray from the bar, I walked around the party filled with Manhattan’s young social elite. I was a little fish in the big pond of trust fund babies and page six starlets.

  This would be your crowd if you had said yes to Peyton.

  My stomach dropped at the thought that there was a good chance that he and his bitch face girlfriend could be here. It wouldn’t surprise me if she showed up to this event to see me work and then ridiculed me later. I lowered my head and walked towards the kitchen when Tiffany took the microphone from the band to introduce the happy couple that had just walked in.

  Her high-pitched voice sang through the speakers. “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the future Mr. and Mrs. Peyton McAlister.”

  My heart took a dive as my body turned in what seemed like slow motion towards them. Peyton Haas McAllister? Had I heard her correctly?

  “Oh shit,” Loren mumbled under her breath. My sister was never one to curse; she thought it would tarnish my upbringing. But her muttered curse was the reassurance that I wasn’t dreaming. Instead, I was living in a hellish nightmare as Peyton and Devon stood on the outside patio together. She wore a light pink lace dress, flawless as always with a wide smile adorning her face, her left hand over her heart. Peyton stood behind her in a light gray suit with no tie and a stone look on his face. I watched from afar as Peyton’s eyes scanned the party until he locked his eyes with his mother. She must have snuck in moments before they arrived because I hadn’t seen her before now.

  Bodies swirled around me as I began to shut down. People clapped and shouted best wishes to the happy couple, but my heart was already on its last leg before it would eventually stop working. I couldn’t hide the tears that pooled in my eyes. My hands began to tremble as I held the tray. My lungs no longer functioned. I gasped for air, but it didn’t help. There wasn’t enough oxygen to calm my heartbreak.

  I was paralyzed, stuck in time as Devon lifted her left hand to show off her engagement ring. My legs felt like cement blocks were attached to my feet, but I managed to move towards them. Like a car wreck, I couldn’t pull away.

  Weaving through the guests, a tray of champagne flutes in hand, I headed towards the happy, engaged couple. This had to be a dream. Peyton had knocked on my door less than a month ago. He couldn’t be engaged. Not when he had asked me to marry him just four months ago.

  Devon greeted her guests one at a time, flaunting her engagement ring like it was the prize and not her fiancé. My eyes veered from them and landed on her manicured hand and then my heart completely stopped. I knew that ring. I had held that ring in my hand. It was given to me first. My engagement ring was around her finger. My fucking ring! The one Haas had given to me at Kennedy’s wedding.

  Our eyes locked and my lips trembled, holding in my cries. He didn’t look happy as his blank stare focused on my face. The warm tears dripped down my cheeks. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. There is only so much a person can take before they snap. The tray I still held in my hand felt heavier than a ton of bricks.

  “Give me the tray, Braelynn,” Loren whispered in my ear.

  Devon looked back at her fiancé. Noticing his gaze was locked on someone else, she turned and looked at me. Her hand wrapped around his elbow as she moved her left hand over his heart and placed a kiss on his cheek. The people around me clapped and cheered. “Give her a real kiss, Haas!” someone shouted.

  I tasted the remainder of my breakfast climbing back up. My body shifted, handing the tray over to Loren.

  “Go to the guest house. Freshen up. Don’t let her see you like this. Rise above her.”

  I swallowed back more tears and nodded. Lowering my head so my chin met my chest, I swerved through the guests, finding an open door that led to the outside. My feet pressed against the soft grass as I sprinted across the lawn.

  This couldn’t be true.

  He couldn’t marry her.

  He was supposed to be mine forever.

  Peyton

  Driving had always helped to clear my head. Me behind the horsepower and not a single sound besides the tires on the road. It helped me think and it helped put my life in order. But for the past three months, my life had been hell and no amount of driving could help me.

  Engaged . . .

  Fuck.

  I was royally fucked.

  I carried Braelynn’s engagement ring in the box with me everywhere I went to keep a piece of her with me. But while I was at work I would place the Cartier box next to a file that reminded me every second before why I couldn’t be with her. Why brea
king her heart and leaving her was the only option I had.

  What I didn’t expect was for my girlfriend to stop by on a surprise visit, find the ring and place it on her finger, thinking it was for her.

  Blackmail was a son of a bitch. Devon had danced around my office, ecstatic that I had finally committed to her even though I never asked. She assumed and I didn’t stop her. Not when the file continued to haunt me . . .

  Devon wanted to inform the media about our engagement and throw a huge party at the plaza, but she had settled for a luncheon at my mother’s home and a wedding of her choice. When a call from my mother stated that we had to pick her up at Mrs. Cunningham’s, I knew Devon had tricks up her sleeve. Knowing that there was no backing out of it, I sucked it up and attended the preposterous party.

  My eyes scanned the room until it found my mother’s face. She apologized with a kind grin before telling me to smile. I ignored her request like she had done with mine. As I looked at the room filled with over two hundred people, she stepped out of the crowd and my heart sank. Hurting her once was enough. It was all I knew we could take. I knew she would forgive me for dating Devon. But hurting her twice was unacceptable. Never did I imagine she would be at this party, looking at me with the last shred of hope leaving her body in tears.

  I wanted to tell her about the engagement, I wanted to explain to her what was happening. But I was trapped, unable to move.

  I had been engaged when I knocked on Braelynn’s door.

  I had agreed to marry someone else when I sunk deep inside of her.

  Never did I imagine she would be at this party, looking at me with the last shred of hope leaving her body in tears.

  Braelynn spun away from me moving through the crowd until she was no longer visible. Finding Loren in the crowd, she stood shaking her head at me. I had annihilated Braelynn.

  Braelynn

  My cries were all that could be heard through the empty guesthouse. I wanted to scream, but first I needed the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind me as I kneeled on the ground and dry heaved over the toilet. Remnants of tears, sweat and bile remained on my face. Eight months of being sober, and I had never craved getting high as much as I did at that moment. A pill would take away this pain. Just one . . .

  I sobbed harder at the realization of the addiction still living inside of me. “God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change . . .” I slammed my head on the bathroom wall. “The courage to change the things I can . . .” My fingers tugged at my hair. “And the wisdom to know the difference.”

  Repeating the serenity prayer until the need to use again passed, I lay my body on the cool tile floor, my breathing heavy as the wave of reality hit me. He was engaged. He was marrying that wicked woman. And she had my engagement ring on her finger. Just the thought of it brought a new surge of nausea. Pulling my knees to my body, I buried my head to mask my cries. The comprehension that I had lost him forever began settling in.

  When my frame stopped trembling and I could stand on my own two feet, I let the cold water run and then splashed my face a few times. I straightened my back and stared at myself in the mirror as my fingers gripped the limestone sink. “This will not define you. You will not let her see you fall.”

  Tugging my shirt in place, I stepped out of the bathroom and headed towards the kitchen, but my feet stopped short when I noticed I wasn’t alone. My heart raced as I watched Peyton closing the sliding door. I swallowed in my breath and tip-toed backward, trying not to make a sound as I snuck toward the front entrance.

  In the past two months, my heart had taken all that it could. Talking to him now was impossible. My heart wouldn’t last. My pride would be dismantled.

  “Braelynn wait!” His authoritative voice flowed through the house, igniting goose bumps on my skin.

  Please God, help me be strong.

  “Stop right there.” I twirled to face him. My hands shot up to stop him.

  “Lynn—” he moved another step but I backed away.

  “Don’t. Fucking. Move.” My hands balled into tight fists.

  “Let me explain.” His voice turned soft, his eyes tender when he looked at me. They were the same eyes I had fallen in love with, the ones that had showed me his love. My vision became blurry with tears.

  I sucked in a breath of courage. “No!” I shouted, my voice hoarse and weak from crying. “I don’t need you to explain. I don’t want to talk to you. I have a job to finish. So please, go back to your fiancée and leave me the hell alone.”

  I turned and yanked the front door open. I didn’t look back as I walked to the house, my legs trembling with nerves. Haas did things to me that I couldn’t describe. Things I knew were unhealthy for my sanity. He controlled me. I could never deny him, I was a weakling in his presence. Walking out of the guesthouse and leaving him there was harder than I’d imagined.

  I slid into the kitchen through the side door and met Loren as she added the final touches to the catered food.

  “What do you need me to do?” My palms were damp as I rubbed them on my pants.

  “Are you okay?” Loren looked at me. Her forgiving eyes told me I still looked as though I had spent the last thirty minutes crying.

  “I’m fine, Lo.” I cleared my throat. “What do you need?”

  “Baby girl, maybe you should go back to my place.”

  “Loren, I’m fine.” My nails dug into my palms, my fists tightening. “I was hired to help just like you were. I’m not letting him get in the way.”

  “Okay.” She smiled gently. “The servers are setting up the food stations. You can take a walk through and make sure nothing is out of place before I let Mrs. Cunningham know that the food is ready.”

  With an empty tray in my hand, I kept my head low as I strolled through the party. My mind was focused on what I was hired to do—not on the happy couple.

  “Braelynn?”

  I swallowed the uneasy feeling in my throat. Turning slowly at the male voice, my breath caught in my chest. I had been so focused on tuning out all of the guests that it didn’t register who he was until I faced him.

  “Landon . . . Hi.” Just what I needed. “What are you doing here?” I placed the tray on the table so my shaky hands wouldn’t drop the empty glasses on the floor.

  “I was going to ask you the same question. I thought you were a lawyer?”

  “Uh . . .” A nervous hand scratched the back of my head. “Yeah. My sister needed help and I thought this was Tiffany’s engagement party not—”

  “Your ex-boyfriend’s?”

  “Just my luck, huh?” I tried to joke, but only I would be caught in this twilight zone.

  “How are you?”

  “Good—working. Trying to make a good first impression at my job,” I rambled. “I’ve been assigned to some interesting cases and the people I work with are all really nice.”

  Landon chuckled. “You’re beautiful when you ramble.”

  I sucked in my lower lip pressing it between my teeth. “Why are you here?”

  “Tiffany and I are friends. She nagged me until I agreed to come.”

  “Oh.” I guess I couldn’t be surprised that Landon had female friends who looked like runway models.

  “We’re only friends. Strictly platonic,” Landon explained as if he could read my thoughts.

  “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

  “No, I do.” Landon reached for my hand, pulling me towards him. “I like you, Braelynn, and I think you like me too, but you don’t know how to let go of your past.” His words dug deep into my wounded cuts.

  Haas appeared behind him, and my eyes locked with his for a brief second before looking back at Landon. “You didn’t . . . I don’t . . . I do.” A nervous laugh escaped. “I’m sorry, Landon. I do like you, I just don’t know how to stop loving him.”

  “Can I see you again?”

  “Yeah.” The skin on my face warmed as I looked up at him.

  He chuckled, his hands reaching up
to touch my cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow?”

  I nodded. “I should get back to work.” Taking the tray from the table, I walked away. Haas had watched the whole conversation, and I could feel his eyes on me. Without giving him the satisfaction, I ignored his glare and marched to the kitchen.

  I needed to make new friends. Friends who didn’t know Haas or Landon. There was no other person in the world who would be stuck working their ex-boyfriends engagement party and have their potential—whatever Landon was—attend the same party. Not to mention a party where I was a freaking servant.

  The party continued and I stayed away from the guests. Working in the kitchen, I avoided the toast, and I avoided Tiffany when she squealed and giggled as she gave the bride-to-be her gift.

  I avoided everything.

  “I came to say goodbye,” Landon said, placing a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I heard Loren grunt.

  “Um . . . Landon this is my sister, Loren. Loren this is—”

  “Landon Jenkins.” Loren finished.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Landon extended his hand out to her. Loren crossed her arms over her chest, pressing her lips together as she looked him up and down.

  “A protective older sister,” Landon said when Loren didn’t shake his hand.

  “I have to be,” Loren finally spoke. “You’re a professional athlete. You travel about nine months out of the year. You’re one of New York’s most eligible bachelors linked to many women. So please pardon me if I’m a bit concerned about my little sister.”

  Landon tossed his hands in the air. “Fair enough. But what the media says about me might be misconstrued. I’m a single man, but I’m not a womanizer. The last person I was linked with was your sister, and I’m sure she would say I was the perfect gentleman.”

  “Right. It was nice meeting you, Landon.” Loren stepped away but remained close enough to hear our conversation.

  “I’m sorry. She’s overprotective.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It’s nice to know you have someone watching over you.” I smiled. If he only knew how much Loren had protected me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”