Not Quite Enough (Not Quite series) (32 page)

The lawyers faced each other.

“We’re done,” the opposing lawyer managed.

The court reporter was the first one to move as she gathered her things. Trent reeled in his anger and understood how drained Monica must have been after hours of this. Trent had only been there for one.

Each one of them stood and started to leave the room. Before the other team made it to the door, Mr. Goldstein stopped them.

“Mr. Richardson?”

So that was the old guy’s name.

“Yes, counselor?”

Mr. Goldstein handed a stack of papers to the other attorney. “You’ll get these through the proper channels of course, but I couldn’t help but hand-deliver them myself.”

Mr. Richardson opened the file. A flicker of doubt flashed so quickly Trent would have missed it had he blinked. Then the others walked away.

Once alone, Trent asked, “What was that?”

“Monica’s suing.”

That made him smile. “Good.”

Mr. Goldstein gathered his papers, stacked them in his briefcase. The two other lawyers on his team shook Trent’s hand and left the office.

“I’m hoping that after today they drop the case and settle the suit quietly.”

“There’s no possible way they’d win.”

“They won’t win. But the longer it draws out, the harder it will be for Monica. She’s a lot more vulnerable than she looks.”

Trent remembered her in the cave, the fear in her voice when he tried to scale the unscalable wall. “She’s tough.”

“Maybe the woman you knew on the island was. The one I know is fragile. If this draws out, she’s going to need every penny we can squeeze out of these people. Talk about no good deed going unpunished.”

“You’re not kidding.” If Monica ever decided to help others again, she’d do it with gloves and body armor.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“You see, Trent, I’ve gotten mighty attached to my balls over the years, and if I plan on keeping them, I can’t go telling you where my wife’s sister is. She’s downright protective of her baby sister.”

Trent gripped his cell phone while sitting in the parking lot of the law offices of Old, Fat, and Uptight. He hadn’t even twisted the key in the ignition before he called Jack Morrison to learn Monica’s address.

“I dropped everything and rushed down here—”

“Which I’m sure you understand now was important,” Jack interrupted.

“I need to talk to her, Jack.”

“Hold on.”

Trent heard Jack over the line talking to Jessie.

“Jessie, darlin’, Trent’s on the phone asking for Monica’s address.”

Trent envisioned Jack holding the phone up making it clear that Jessie knew Trent was waiting on the phone.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’d hang up that phone and help me pack.”

“Did you hear that?” Jack asked when he got back on the phone. “You know what they say, happy wife, happy life.”

“I’m not leaving LA until I have a chance to talk to her.”

“Suit yourself. You staying at our hotel?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll make sure the girls know where to find you.”

“The girls?”

“Yeah, Jessie’s on her way there, and Katie, my sister, lives there.”

“Great!” Trent hissed between his teeth.

Jack chuckled. “Good luck.”

And he hung up, leaving Trent to stare at his phone.

“Wine is the answer to heartbreak. That and ice cream,” said Katie as she shoved a spoonful of mint chip between her lips and followed it with a swig of Chardonnay.

“I’m not heartbroken!”

Katie topped off Monica’s glass. “Bless your heart, why don’t you have another glass and tell me how unheartbroken you are.”

Monica sipped from her second glass and felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate. “He thought I was engaged. Me? Engaged! Stupid man.”

“Trent?”

Monica took another drink. “How could he think I was messing around with him and have someone back home? Who does that?”

Katie lifted a knowing brow. “Well, actually… a lot of—”

“But this is
me
we’re talking about! I don’t fly that way.” Monica thought about the lawyers, their accusations. “They treated me like I was a slut.”

Katie nearly spit out her wine. “Trent?”

“No, not Trent. The lawyers. Kept calling him my lover. Said I’d purposely agreed to go to Jamaica for a free plane ride to the island. Acted as if I needed a fucking booty call.”

Katie laughed.

Monica glared at her. “It’s not funny.”

“It will be when they find out who Trent Fairchild is.”

Monica dipped her spoon in the double Dutch chocolate and asked, “What do you mean
who
he is?”

“A Fairchild.”

Maybe it was the wine, but she wasn’t following Katie’s line of thought. “I don’t get it.”

“Fairchild Charters… Fairchild Vacations.” Katie dropped her spoon. “You don’t know who he is?”

“Well, of course I know who he is. He owns the helicopter tours on the island. But he’s not going to be booking tours there anytime soon.” She sipped more wine.

“Oh, bless your heart, you have no idea who he really is.”

“I do, and stop with that
bless your heart
crap. I may not be from the South but even I know that’s your way of calling me an idiot.”

“If the shoe fits.”

Monica tossed a pillow at her friend. “I liked it better when you were trying hard not to have an accent and southern roots.”

“I can’t help it. Dean’s family is so down home. When we all get to drinking and shooting the shit, the South in me just comes out. I’ll blame the wine.” Katie’s cheeks were rosy with wine and the twang in her voice became more apparent.

“Well, my southern belle, why don’t you tell me why I’m an idiot.”

Katie set her glass on the table, but only to add more liquid to the glass. “I think we need popcorn.”

“Katie!”

She stood and followed Katie into the kitchen as she pulled out the microwave variety of uncooked kernels, removed the plastic wrap, and tossed it in to cook. Where’s your tablet?”

“Charging on my desk.”

“Well go get it and look up Fairchild Charters.”

Monica grabbed her Kindle Fire and accessed the Internet. She typed in Fairchild Charters and the website popped up. At first glance, she thought she typed in the wrong IP address. Then she looked closer. The page was sleek and featured a rotating banner of jets available to charter. Monica dropped in the chair at the kitchen counter and clicked through a few pages. When she found the About Us page there was one group shot, and then three individual pictures of the co-owners. Jason Fairchild, Owner & CEO Fairchild Charters & Fairchild Vacation Tours, Glen Fairchild, Owner & CFO Fairchild Charters, and Trent Fairchild, Owner & CFO of Fairchild Vacation Tours.

She blinked. The picture of Trent and his brothers had been taken on a sunny tarmac in front of the largest private jet Monica had ever seen. The Fairchild men were all the same height, with bright smiles and sunglasses hiding what Monica knew were laughing eyes. What a hunk of trouble they must have been in school. She thought of the story Trent told her about hijacking his father’s chopper.

The individual pictures had the guys wearing those hats that pilots were fond of. Jason, the oldest brother according to the bio, lived close to their headquarters and ran the company. Glen, the middle son from what Monica could tell, looked like a player of the highest order. His smirk in the photo reminded her of Trent. He ran the financials and coordinated the jet charter end of the company. Monica found her mouth hanging open when she noticed the number of locations their planes flew out of. Then there was Trent. He had his jacket tossed over his shoulder as he posed for the picture in front of a huge helicopter. His smile played on her hot buttons and reminded her of his smooth voice and unforgettable kiss.

“He’s rich,” she all but whispered to her tablet as she clicked around to learn more about him.

“Ah, yeah! Daddy’s worked with the Fairchilds for years.”

Monica glanced at Katie. “You know them?”

“Never met ’em.” Katie retrieved Monica’s glass and set it in front of her. “My dad knew their dad.”

“Before he died?”

“Yeah.”

Another link took her to island tours. There she found a more recent picture of Trent wearing the clothes she associated with him. Shorts, a company pullover short-sleeved shirt, and flip-flops. “How come he didn’t tell me he was all this?”

Katie leaned against the counter and set the bowl of popcorn between them. “Guys brag about stuff like that to get laid.”

Monica stared at the picture of Trent. “He didn’t need to brag to get laid.”

The room grew quiet and when she glanced at Katie, her friend studied her with sad eyes. “Was it great?”

“Trent?”

“Yeah, Trent.” The
bless your heart
was implied.

She allowed the silly grin to spread. “I didn’t know sex could be like that. Where you feel it from head to toe and so many ricochets in the middle you know it can’t be real. Then you open your eyes and he’s still there, smiling… feeling it too.”

“Sounds perfect.”

If it was so perfect then why did he run off?
“Then the walls collapse, you almost die, and he runs off at the first hurdle. Must not have been so
perfect
for him.” She tipped her glass again.

“Asshole!” Katie yelled.

“Fucktard!”

Katie giggled. “Fucktard is such a funny word.”

Monica drove the melancholy away with alternating sugary and salty bites. Katie cursed Trent with one breath, then poked a little more and sighed into the warm parts of their story, until Monica was certain Katie could write a book on the romance that wasn’t.

They polished off nearly three bottles of wine by the time Monica made it to bed. She had no problem falling asleep with her fuzzy brain.

Seeing Trent again led to dreams so real Monica could smell them in her sleep. When she revisited the moment the rocks fell on her, she looked over and saw Trent lying lifeless under the rubble. She woke screaming his name. Her heart raced from too much wine and too many memories. She flipped over, desperate to chase away the dark.

Katie ran into her room and Monica lost it.

The tears she’d been pushing back all night fell.

Jessie no sooner met Monica’s doorstep than Katie whisked her away after leaving a note on Monica’s fridge saying she went for a walk.

“She’s asleep?”

“Finally fell off a couple of hours ago. Oh, Jessie, it’s worse than I thought.”

They’d only gone a few blocks and Jessie wanted to turn around. “Then we need to be with her.”

“You need to hear this first.”

Katie almost never left home without polish, and here Jessie looked into the eyes of her millionaire sister-in-law with hair that had barely been tied back in a ponytail and not a stitch of makeup and knew it had to be bad. “Don’t stop now.”

“She loves him. I mean really loves him.”

“C’mon, she knew him for two weeks. Monica falls in bed with guys, but not love.”

Katie stuck out her hand. “Five bucks?”

Jessie shook her head and shook Katie’s hand. “Sucker’s bet. Tell me what you know.”

“Yesterday was awful. Those punk lawyers should be horsewhipped for what they put her through.” Katie recapped the deposition for Jessie, leaving her angry.