Scared of Forever (Scared #2) Read online

  “Tyler,” I sigh. “If it’s as simple as you claim it to be, then why have you been avoiding me for the last few days?”

  “I haven’t,” he replies a little too quickly. “Okay, I have, but only because I felt so bad about putting you in that position.”

  “You should!” I scold. “I am marrying your brother! Plus, I was really enjoying hanging out with you. And then you go and do that? Why would you even do that?”

  “I don’t know. It was the moment. The beach, the sunset. Everything was just so perfect. I had so much fun with you and you—” he trails off, rubbing his hand through his damp hair. “I just forgot myself, okay? You looked so different from the way you do when you’re stuck in this life. You looked so free and happy. But I was wrong. And I’m sorry.” He looks positively stricken.

  “I accept your apology. And I’m sorry if I led you on in any way.” I did, I know I did. “But please don’t put me in such a fucked up position again,” I say with a determined glare.

  “I swear,” he says sincerely, before turning towards his apartment door.

  “Tyler?”

  “Yup,” he says, turning towards me, key in hand.

  “Did you tell me the truth about why you and Blake don’t talk anymore?” I ask.

  “The whole and complete truth, I promise,” he says. “Why, did something come up? Did Blake say something different?”

  “I didn’t ask him,” I lie. I walk into the waiting elevator, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Why would Blake lie to me? Then again, Tyler could be the one who’s lying. But something inside of me tells me that he isn’t. I saw it in his eyes. I saw his sincerity at the beach house, and I saw it again today during his apology. I also saw Blake avert his eyes when we spoke about it. My head hurts from the messed up mystery that’s got me questioning everything I know about my fiancée. I resolve to ask him about all my suspicions and his supposed skeletons, come hell or high water. But how do I do that without exposing my own? Without being forced to tell him about the time I’ve spent with Tyler?

  I arrive at the beauty salon right at nine am. Standing there, waiting for me out in front, is a very severe (as usual) Eliza Carson. “Good morning,” I smile charmingly at her as I approach.

  “Hello dear,” she says with a wholly manufactured smile. “I dropped by to give you the gown I bought for you to wear to the charity event on Saturday.” She shoots a look at her driver, and he reaches into the town car to grab a very expensive looking box.

  “You shouldn’t have,” I say sweetly. “I’m sure I could have just worn one of the gowns that I already have.”

  “And run the risk of being recognized as the girl who wore the same gown twice? No, that’s not an option, dear,” Eliza replies, the mild disgust at the mere thought quite evident in her voice.

  There really is no point in arguing with this vile woman. I stretch out my arms and accept the surprisingly heavy cardboard box. I produce my most convincing plastic smile.

  “Incidentally,” Eliza begins, just before I turn. I knew there was another reason. “I hear you met my youngest son.”

  My curiosity piques. The tone in her voice suggests that this news does not please her. “I have met Tyler, yes.” I say curtly.

  “I’m sure he’s apprised you of the situation between myself and him, and between him and his brother,” she drones. The woman’s voice is totally monotone. If watching paint dry could be expressed vocally, it would be Eliza Carson’s voice.

  “He has mentioned it,” I say shortly. I want to draw out more from her.

  “Is that all he’s mentioned?” she asks with a suspicious glare.

  “Is there more?” I rebut. My fabricated smile makes the question come out sardonically.

  Eliza releases a heavy sigh. “Tyler is troubled. You would be remiss to think that he has your best intentions at heart. He only desires to destroy Blake’s future.”

  I don’t get that impression. Not at all. In fact, the only people I’m beginning to suspect are liars here are her and Blake.

  “And I don’t know how pleased Blake would be if he found out that while he was hard at work last Saturday, you spent the day with his brother.” Eliza continues, giving me a sideways glance.

  “How did you—?” I stammer, suddenly flustered.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says, quickly cutting me off. “Tyler will do anything to destroy his brother’s happiness. Ever since Blake stole his last girlfriend.”

  There it was. Unknowingly, Eliza Carson has just provided the confirmation I needed of Tyler’s account of his and Blake’s real fight. She had provided credibility to the very person she was trying so hard to discredit. And called her golden boy out as a liar, to boot.

  I smile back, careful to avoid displaying any kind of reaction. “I’ll keep your words in mind,” I say. “As for spending time with Tyler, he is my future brother in law, after all. And Blake trusts me.”

  “Oh honey,” she laughs. “I’m sure he does. But mentioning that you have spent any amount of time with his brother would be a mistake on your part,” she finishes ominously.

  I can’t entertain this artificial excuse for pleasantry any longer. I have two choices at this point. I can walk away, or I can defend my position. Usually I would say my goodbyes and walk away. But not this time.

  “You know, Eliza, I don’t question Blake’s constantly working late, sometimes walking in the door at two a.m. I think I have more of a reason to distrust him than he does me.”

  “My dear, that’s the life you take on when you marry a doctor. I haven’t stayed married to his father for this long by being suspicious and curious. You’ll just have to realize that, like his father, there may be times where he sleeps at the hospital in the on-call rooms for a week because of his schedule. And you’ll have to accept that,” Eliza reprimands. “And not question it.”

  Like fucking hell. I may have been able to understand that before all these moments of reasonable doubt started presenting themselves to me. Before I started to see the holes in all Blake’s stories. Before the last lie became exposed to me by none other than his own doting, sociopathic mother. I decide, at that very moment, like the defiant child that I am, that my mission in life, is to spend as much time with Tyler as possible. I think he may be the only one in this family not shrouded in deception.

  I say a polite goodbye to Eliza and turn on my heel, walking into the beauty salon. It unnerves me that she knows where I was on Saturday. That I was with Tyler. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had me followed.

  Mac turns his head as I walk in. “That better not be donuts, honey, or you’re gonna fuck my diet right up!”

  “It’s a ball gown,” I say. “From my future mother in law.” I roll my eyes, still irritated at the conversation we just had. I frown defiantly. “I’m not wearing it.”

  “Oooh,” Mac exclaims. He considers himself a fabulous fashionista. “Wipe that ugly scowl off your face and try it on!” he yells.

  “Where’s Janie?” I ask.

  “Not in today, and we’re light on clients, so we have all the time in the world for you to model that dress!” Mac explains.

  Grabbing the box, I walk into one of the treatment rooms. Arguing with Mac is pointless. He nags better than most of the women I’ve ever known. I open the box and gasp. The dress is made of a perfectly colored lemon silk. I finger the delicate fabric before carefully lifting it from the box. The fabric swishes as it gently falls before me.

  I stare in awe at the luminous material. The dress is strapless, the open back draping down elegantly. I think it may reach the very bottom of my back. Across the exposed back are a series of braided silver chains. The gown looks like it’ll hug my frame tightly, until it splays out elegantly at my knees.

  Though I hate to admit it, I am excited to try it on. I slip the dress on and close my eyes as the soft fabric caresses my bare skin. There isn’t a mirror in this room, so I have to walk out into the shop to see how it look
s. Mac is standing near the front door, talking to someone. I can’t quite see who from this vantage point. The door shuts behind me, and Mac turns. Revealing Tyler.

  Mac squeals, though I don’t react. But my eyes are fixed on Tyler. He stands completely still, his eyes capturing mine, not wavering. I’m suddenly frozen. Frozen by the way his gaze warms me, so tenderly. Mac looks between the two of us, his head shooting back and forth like a psychotic carnival clown game. Realizing how this must look, I quickly avert my eyes.

  “You promised to stop stalking me,” I say with a small smile.

  “I did, but you dropped this,” Tyler replies, raising his hand, exposing my single house key on its worn silver ring.

  “Oh.” I say, embarrassed that I was so sure of myself.

  “You look beautiful,” he says.

  “I like the dress. I’d like it more if it hadn’t come from your mother, though,” I spit.

  “I try never to compliment my mother, but she chose well.” Tyler says, giving me an approving smile. “Although, it is a little formal for work.” The drooling Tyler has now disappeared, and the familiar smart ass is back.

  “It’s for some charity thing on Saturday.” The tone in my voice makes my abhorrence of the pretentious parties very obvious.

  “I sympathize,” Tyler says seriously. “I’d better go.” He turns towards the door to walk out.

  I open my mouth to say goodbye, but Mac beats me to it.

  “You know, I don’t really need Emily here today. In case you can’t tell, it’s like a zombie apocalypse in here. Dead as hell. Why don’t you two kids take the day off?” Mac shoots me an or else glare.

  “Janie won’t be impressed,” I rebut.

  “I’ll tell her it was my idea,” Mac replies.

  “What if it gets busy?” I counter.

  “Then I’ll entertain the waiting clients with my witty charm, and they’ll forget that I took two hours to wax their eyebrows,” Mac replies firmly.

  “What if—” I start.

  “What if what?” Mac asks.

  Tyler leans against the countertop, a small, satisfied smile playing on his lips.

  “I’m sure Tyler’s busy,” I say.

  “Are you busy?” Mac asks Tyler directly.

  “Not a damn thing on the agenda,” Tyler replies, shooting me a now-smug smile.

  “You’re loving this, aren’t you?” I reprimand, glaring at him.

  “I have no ulterior motives! I’m just lonely,” Tyler laughs with a hand over his heart. “I can lie and tell you I’m busy, if you prefer.”

  “No!” I scold. “I’ve had enough of your family’s lies.” I then stomp, silk in hand, to the room to change. “Mac, can I see you for a minute?” I call as I walk through the door.

  Mac follows behind me, an angelic look on his face.

  “What are you doing?” I whisper-shout. “Don’t encourage him!”

  “Honey, I don’t need to encourage him. You are doing a good enough job of that already. Or are you choosing to ignore that moment back there when the two of you looked at each other and time fucking stood still? I almost felt embarrassed bearing witness to all of that eye-fucking,” Mac replies sarcastically.

  “I am engaged to his brother!” I spit.

  “Looks like you picked the wrong one, then. Consider this day a gift from your fairy godmother!” Mac says before turning on his heel and sashaying out of the room.

  I could lie and say I don’t want to leave with Tyler. Lie and say that I’m only going because I want to gather more intel on his family. But the truth is that I don’t feel connected to anyone else in this town in the same way. Even after the short period of time I’ve known him. I need the type of friendship that Tyler and I have. Then maybe, just maybe, I can see enough goodness in the Carson family to actually want to be a part of it.

  Chapter 11:

  Tyler

  I almost lost every ounce of composure I had when Emily walked out of the room in that dress. She was perfect. Angelic. Her hair piled up on her head in a messy bun, a face fresh with hardly any makeup, no shoes. The delicate silk wraps itself around her body, clinging to her like a second skin. There was never a more perfect picture.

  Truthfully, she had me the moment she laid her gorgeous and startled brown eyes on me for the first time at the apartment. I was so fucked. The way her hair fell softly down her back. The way she smiled, so innocently; too innocently to be a part of my messed up family. And I did say a prayer of thanks to whoever designed her body. It was the stuff dreams are made of, namely mine these last few nights. I had come undone the day I met her. And yes, I had placed myself strategically throughout her daily life so we could run into each other a few times. I couldn’t get enough of her smile, her laugh, or the way her eyes and mouth rounded out when I said something that shocked her. And the way, after that kiss on the beach the other day, she had brought her fingers gently to her lips every so often. I hoped that I was responsible for the memory.

  I almost kiss Emily’s coworker when he forces her to spend the day with me. I felt a little awkward when he looked as though he was undressing me with his eyes, but hey, whatever works. I inhale sharply when she turns and exposes the open back, the silver chains across it revealing her soft, bare skin.

  I should have been gone by now. I passed up my last job, and for an aspiring freelance photographer, that was probably a huge mistake. But I had to stay in the city a little longer. I stand against the counter, waiting for Emily to change. Mac walks over and sits behind the computer.

  “I don’t like your brother,” he says abruptly.

  “Well, that makes two of us,” I say, looking up.

  “My question is, how did you manage to fall in love with his fiancée?” he replies directly.

  How do I answer that? “I am not in love with my brother’s fiancée,” I defend, slightly more passionately than I had intended. “I’ve only known Emily for a little over a week!” Like that actually matters.

  “Oh, so you look at all of your family members with such wanton lust?” Mac teases.

  “I obviously know what my family’s like. I’m just trying to be her friend.” I say, knowing it’s a lie.

  “Try harder. Look, your brother’s an asshat. I don’t know you. You may be one, too. Who knows?” Mac shrugs his shoulders dramatically. “But before you start a cock war over this girl, remember that winning the fight is not worth more than the prize.”

  “Effectively, you’ll break my balls off if I hurt her,” I surmise. “You’re threatening the wrong brother here.”

  Before he can reply, Emily walks out of the treatment room, box in hand.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Mac says, taking the box from her hands.

  “No wearing my dress!” she teases, punching him in the arm.

  Truthfully, I actually had a million things to do today. I had just wanted to drop her key off. That was the real reason for my visit, but I had since instantaneously cleared my schedule. I’d take spending a day with this girl over just about anything in life.

  We walk for a few blocks before she asks, “Where are we going?”

  I laugh. “I thought you knew.”

  “I was following you,” she says, mouth agape.

  “Blind leading the blind,” I say. The euphemism is not lost on me. “Okay, close your eyes,” I command.

  “Why?”

  “Trust me,” I reply, spinning her around twice.

  “Now open them, and we’ll do the first thing you see,” I say as she steadies herself. We stand at a traffic light, surrounded by cinemas, theatres, cafes, restaurants, Laundromats, even an adult shop or two.

  She points and opens her eyes. I follow her line over to a small theatre. “Is that even open?” I laugh. Mottled and half-ripped off posters riddle the double doors, which are presently ajar.

  “You said the first thing I saw,” she teases.

  We walk over to the entrance. Emily looks excited, and I like that she’s jus
t herself around me. When Blake tried to knock me out on the day we first met, I saw her face when she saw him. She immediately righted her posture. Smoothed her clothes. Brushed back stray hairs with her hand. I felt in that moment, that the person I had just met had disappeared, and in her place stood a woman so incredibly uncomfortable in her own skin.

  I’m not the type to fall in love easily. In fact, I’ve never even had a serious girlfriend. Or ever really wanted one. I just coast, waiting for the feeling that tells me that someone is worth it. Not the feeling of my dick rising. The feeling I felt when I met Emily. From that day, I was consumed. I wanted to be with her. My conscience was an asshole, reminding me that this was not the right thing to do, irrespective of my opinion of my brother. I had promised to respect what she wanted when we had spoken this morning.

  But serendipity is determined to fling her into my path. Almost like a carrot dangling before me. My own beautiful temptation.

  We walk across the road to the dilapidated theatre. Pushing the door in, I’m almost certain the place is abandoned. But as we walk in further, I hear voices. The corridor opens up into a surprisingly elegant but small theatre, complete with red velvet curtains. There’s a rehearsal happening on the stage.

  “Who are you?” A voice booms from below. A very short, balding man stands staring at us, hands on hips.

  “Prospective sponsors,” I say in my most authoritative voice.

  “What are you doing?” Emily whispers.

  “Thinking on my feet,” I say softly.

  I look down at my jeans and polo shirt, and Emily’s black pants and tank, and hope that he buys it.

  “Come in, sit,” he says, gesturing grandly at the empty theatre’s rows, a broad smile now plastered across his pudgy face.

  I nod, and we make our way to the seats. The play is a modern take on Romeo and Juliet. Emily watches, fascinated, as Romeo and Tybalt stand face to face, cocked prop guns replacing the swords they should be holding. I watch her as Juliet lays dying on the ambulance stretcher. Tears fill her eyes. It’s so endearing. I trace the line from her jaw down her neck. Take in the stray hairs that tickle the back of her neck. Memorize every detail, every perfect imperfection. I realize that I need to leave soon. This can’t go on.