Chapter 18
Chapter 18 of "The Wrong Husband" unveils a new twist: âProbably? Thatâs not exactly optimistic.ââWell, optimism has never really been my thing.âHe didnât react at... See what happens!
âProbably? Thatâs not exactly optimistic.â
âWell, optimism has never really been my thing.â
He didnât react at all.Jeez, tough crowd.
âBefore you left, we talked about your future,â he said slowly. âAll I need to know is whether this is just an adventure or if youâre trying to outrun this familyâs traditions. You know whatâs expected of all of us. Are you getting married or not?â
âI know thatâs what you want. Donât worry. I didnât forget.â
âYes, I do,â he said, not controlling, unreasonable, or cruel about it. It was just a fact. âSooner rather than later.â
âI know.â
Perhaps if he was being an asshole, I couldâve painted myself as a rugged rebel escaping the oppressive expectations of wealth. It wouldâve been terribly dramatic, but unfortunately, this wasnât that.
I wasnât trying to outrun our traditions. No one could outrun something that lived in their bones. I just wanted time to sit with the idea before I started getting introduced to women like we were part of a livestock exchange program. I wanted to try to figure out what I actually wanted before everyone else decided for me.
Okay, and maybe Iâd also like to keep waking up in a dusty old motel instead of a penthouse for a little while longer. Perhaps even hit the jackpot and figure out exactly who I am in a place where no one cares about my family name.
Just time. That was all I was asking for.
âIâm not running,â I said finally. âI swear.â
Alex didnât say anything for a long beat. âWhat are you doing, then?â
A screen door slammed somewhere nearby. Some singer on Friedaâs radio carried on about riding out heartbreak in his truck. Heat shimmered on the surface of the highway and a hot, dry breeze swept across the yard.
I almost smiled at the normalcy of it, the slow life of Quartz Pass.Dear Lord, am I becoming a guy who actually finds this charming?
âThis is the first decision Iâve made for myself in a long time, Alex,â I finally admitted. âGive me three months, then Iâll come home.â
âThree months?â He blew out a harsh breath. âYou need to think faster.â
I barked out a laugh. âAs terrifying of a corporate overlord brother as you are, you gave me six.â
âUntil you weremarried,â he stressed. âThis adventure of yours isnât getting you closer to that goal.â
Raquelâs striking gray eyes flashed in my mind, but I dismissed the thought immediately. A blue-collar mechanic wasnât what Alex had in mind for me and I knew it. Plus, sheâd never go for it anyhow, so it was a non-starter.
âThree more months,â he repeated after a beat. âAlright. Keep us updated on the bike. I want to know when itâs done. And that youâre alive.â
âYou got it,â I promised. âGive Cameron a hug from me.â
âCome home and hug him yourself,â he said gruffly, then hung up.
I sighed, sliding the phone back into my pocket. While that couldâve gone better, it also couldâve gone a lot worse. At least he was willing to give me more time. One of the many Westwood jets wasnât in the air right now, on its way to bring me home or else.
All things considered, that was a win.
âWhat was that all about?â Frieda drawled from somewhere behind me. âIt sounded personal but it was hard to hear. You mumble a lot.â
I turned to see her standing about four feet away, holding a glass of iced tea in one hand with a cigarette dangling between the fingers of the other. She gingerly held the glass out toward me, likely only to give herself an excuse for the eavesdropping, but I took it gratefully anyway.
âHow long did you listen for?â I asked.
âAs long as I could get away with.â She flicked ash from her cigarette. âSo a while. Who were you talking to?â
I snorted softly and grabbed the rake to start on what was basically sand at this point. âMy brother.â