Filthy English (29 page)

I gripped Hartford’s arm. Appalled at his words. “Let’s go. Please.”

He ignored me, shaking me off. “And thank you for getting Remi her bracelet.”

Dax tensed, his eyes flicking to my wrist.

“A bit odd to go to all that trouble for someone you just happened to run into in London. I mean, you must have been in contact with the police? And pawn shops?”

Dax’s face was a mask, his body held in tight control. “I saw how much she missed it. She was hurting in London.” He paused, a flush rising on his cheekbones. “Because of you, arsehole.”

Hartford’s face twisted. “I think you’ve got a hard-on for my girl. Stay away from her.”

“She isn’t mine. She’s with you,” Dax replied softly.

Hartford stepped into Dax’s personal space, his voice like sandpaper. “I knew her moving in with you was a terrible idea, and you can damn well bet she’ll be moving out of your house. Tonight.”

I felt dizzy. Hartford was losing it.

Dax’s control snapped, a dark look on his face as he glared down at Hartford. “You’re on dangerous ground, Omega. Tread softly or I will hurt you. You’re lucky I haven’t already.”

“Hartford,” I called, my voice thin and shaky. “I’m leaving. With or without you.” I pivoted and took long strides to the door. If he didn’t come, I’d walk or call a cab or go back in and find Lulu.

I heard him muttering something to Dax, and then he followed me outside to his car.

I put on my seat belt as he got in the driver’s seat.

“Reming—”

“No. Just take me home. Now.”

He stared out the front windshield. “I saw you follow him in the bathroom. Your dress was messed up when you came out. I’m not stupid.”

I blanched. “I—I’m sorry.”

His teeth clenched. “What happened in London?”

I sucked in a ragged breath. “I slept with Dax.”

“Goddammit!” He banged on the steering wheel with his fist several times, making me flinch. He stopped, his chest rising. “Fuck me, I knew something was off at his house. I can’t believe you—and
him
—” He rubbed his face. “I have to get out of here.”

He cranked the car, squealing out of the parking lot.

Neither of us spoke during the ride, the tension thick. My face was hot, my hands clenching the armrest as I stared out my window. As soon as he stopped the car at the curb, I unsnapped my seat belt and jumped out.

He got out just as quick, taking long strides to keep up with me as I practically ran to the front door.

“Don’t leave like this. We have to talk,” he said, his voice tight.

Shaking my head at him, I fumbled around for my keys. “No. I—I can’t. We’re both too upset. Just go home.”

“You were with
him!
” he yelled. “You’ve always acted like you barely tolerated him. You’ve been lying to me since London. You’ve been screwing him since you moved in!”

I flipped around to face him. “You dumped me, Hartford! You wanted a break, and I gave it to you! I wasn’t aware there were rules to go along with it.” I shook my head and took a step back, wanting to calm down. The neighbors could probably hear us. “And you posted a picture of you and that girl
on our wedding night
. How do you think that made me feel?”

“I wasn’t with her. All I could think about was you! I was just confused and scared.” He groaned. “I made a
mistake
.”

I believed him—but it didn’t matter.

“Are you . . . are you in love with him?”

I inhaled. “I can’t explain it, but we—have something.”

God, there was so much I wasn’t saying.

His face morphed to utter anguish. “Stop,” he said, pulling at his hair. “You’re fucking killing me with this shit.”

“I’m sorry.”

He spun away from me and paced through the yard. “We’re
supposed
to be together. We’re perfect. You’ve said so yourself a million times.” He stopped and looked at me. “Don’t you love me?”

“I do,” I whispered. But was it the right way?

Long moments passed. My breath hitched at the growing pain in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Hartford. I should have told you about Dax as soon as we talked in London.”

He came in closer, his face vulnerable. “This is all my fault. I never should have broken up with you. I pushed you away and I just didn’t think you’d . . .” He stopped and stared at me for a long time and then his warm hands cupped my face. “I still love you, Remington. We have something good.” He kissed me sweetly but with urgency, as if trying to get me to understand.

We parted, and his eyes were feverish. “I’m the one that put you in this situation. This is my fault.”

I frowned. “Hartford. I have feelings for him—”

“He’s not a good guy. You know it.”

I closed my eyes. Opened them. “There’s more I need to tell you. You don’t know everything.” The heartache I’d nursed. “We slept together before I met you. Freshman year. He—he got me pregnant. I lost the baby.”

He looked shocked but wrapped me in his arms. “Jesus,” he breathed. “I don’t know what to say. That must have been horrible.”

I nodded, burying my face in his chest. He held me tighter, stroking my hair, his anger seeming to dissipate as the moments ticked by.

Later, he said, “You’re upset. Come home with me. I’ll sleep on the couch, and we’ll talk once things have settled down.” He squeezed my shoulder as if to reassure me.

“I can’t go home with you,” I whispered, yet part of me didn’t want to be here if Dax brought Alexandria home.

He nodded. “Okay, then let’s go to Minnie’s Diner and get some coffee like we used to when we first met. We can talk—as friends—and you can let it all out.”

A long sigh came out of me. That sounded good. I owed him that much. The truth. “Okay,” I said.

I WATCHED THEM
leave from where I’d parked my car down the street. Earlier, when they’d driven past the bar and I’d seen her face through the windshield, I’d gotten worried he’d hurt her. I shouldn’t have lost my temper with him, but it was Remi . . .

I’d said hasty goodbyes and thanked everyone profusely and left, driving to my house like a maniac.

I didn’t care that it was my party. There’d be other parties.

Like a horror movie, I watched them hug, and my gut twisted.
Fuck.
Seeing them in a tender moment cut me in half.

I’d missed some of their interaction, but it was obvious from their body language they cared about each other. And now she was leaving with him—holding hands. My hands clenched the steering wheel as he opened the passenger car door and helped her in.

Once his taillights disappeared, I pulled up in the drive and hopped out of the car. I went inside, clicked on the den light and made my rounds around the house.

Feeling like hell.

I dropped down on the couch and turned on the telly, not really noticing as I flipped through the guide looking for something.

My mind kept jumping around.

Antsy, I jerked back up, went into the kitchen, grabbed some water, and guzzled it. Wiped my mouth. Debating.

Fuck it. Maybe I should go to his place.

Back off. That’s stalker territory,
I told myself.

God, but when it came to Remi, I didn’t care. She made me into someone I didn’t recognize. She made me crazy. She made me fucking ridiculous.

I toyed with my keys. It would be easy to find his address on Google.

But she isn’t yours. Stop interfering with her happiness.

I took another shower, a long one. I got out when my phone kept going off. I checked it—Alexandria. I tossed it back on the bed. No interest.

I went back to the den, turned off all the lights, and plopped down on the couch to watch the late show.

At midnight, Baz Luhrmann’s
Romeo and Juliet
came on.

Stupid movie. There had to be something better on; even the news was better than this.

But I watched. Remembering London.

Remi unlocked the front door and entered the foyer. She came to an abrupt halt when she saw me. Her hands rubbed her eyes, leaving black streaks of mascara on her cheeks. She gazed around the room, looking dazed. “All the lights were off. I assumed you were asleep.”

I nodded and paused the movie. “Where’s Hartford?” I flicked my eyes down at her ring.
Still fucking there.

“He went home.”

I straightened. “He didn’t hurt you did he?”

She shook her head, her expression sad. “Where’s Alexandria?”

“Not with me.”

A few ticks went by.

“Are you moving out?” I asked.

She started. “No.”

I nodded. I wanted to ask her more about what had happened with Hartford, but I was afraid of her answers.

She moved, coming around the couch and sitting down a few seats away.

“Wanna watch with me?” I asked, hearing hope in my voice. Not caring.

She sighed. “Yeah.”

“Come here.” I motioned with my hand and she slid next to me, tucking her legs under her body.

“I’ve seen this one a hundred times with Malcolm,” she said, resting her head against my shoulder as we watched Romeo kiss Juliet at the masquerade party. “The beginning is always my favorite part. When he sees her and wants to know who she is.”

I put my hand in her hair, playing with the strands. “They’re going to fall madly in love,” I said, keeping my eyes on the screen.

“And have a secret wedding at a church . . .” Her voice halted, a little catch in it.

“But they can’t see what’s about to crash into them.”

“What’s that?”

“She leaves . . . dies. Then he dies because he can’t live without her. Love sucks.”

“I know.” She closed her eyes and leaned back into my caress. I’d long given up watching the movie, my need to look at her too great.

She snuggled in more, her hand over my heart, tracing the lines of my tattoo under my shirt. Leaning down, I adjusted her until we lay side by side, our heads on a couch cushion together, her back to my front. My arm snaked around her waist. She laced her fingers with mine.

And the movie played on as the scenes played out, two star-crossed lovers—fated by the universe, but separated by the world.

The movie ended. Remi had fallen asleep somewhere in the middle, the soft rise of her chest apparent against my hand.

I rubbed her shoulder. “Love, you need to go to bed.”

God, I didn’t want her to go. I could hold her forever.

“M’kay,” she murmured but didn’t move.

I whispered, “You know you want to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the first day of class.”

I got nothing, but a soft snore.

Her face was serene, her lashes dark against her face, and I allowed myself to kiss her on the lips. Just a touch. Then I eased away from her, maneuvering up to my knees and away from the couch. I stood.

She stirred and turned back over, confusion flickering across her face. “Is it over?”

I nodded, bent down, and like at the club in London, I scooped her up in my arms and lifted her off the couch. She hid her head in my neck as I carried her up the stairs and into her room.

I eased her down to her bed, pulled the covers back over her, and left.

The next day, I got up at six, ran to the bakery for Remi, came back, and showered. My first class was at eight, and I was out of the house by seven forty-five.