Toxic (31 page)

And we were going to live happily ever after.

Sins of the Past

“James Dean? I don’t see it,” Jamie said.

“Really? I do,” Lindsay rebutted.

I was telling them about Mrs. Bardot’s habit of giving everyone she met a nickname.

Jeremy laughed. “A rebel without a cause. I wonder if she knew me before my juvie record was sealed?”

My gaze pinned him. “You have a record?”

“Juvie,” Jeremy clarified. “Too many truancies and the truancy officer wanted to prove a point. And he did. Scared the living shit out of me when I had to spend the night at Crossroads. I never skipped school again.”

“What does she call me?” Jamie asked, nonplussed by the conversation that was taking place.

“Nothing,” I answered hesitantly.

“Liar. Don’t you forget, I can tell when you’re lying. Come on, tell me.”

I walked faster. “Are we almost there?” I asked Jeremy. “It’s cold.”

He wrapped his arm around me. “It’s right around the corner. Do you want my jacket?”

“No. I’m okay.” I curled into him.

“What does she call me?” Jamie asked again.

I turned to face him. “Are you sure you want to know?”

“Yeah, James Dean over there has my name, so I must have a pretty cool one.”

“Are you jealous of a nickname?” I teased.

“Fuck no, just tell me mine.”

“Okay, she calls you Richard Gere.”

“Oh my God.” Lindsay shoved him a little.

“What? I don’t get it.”

“You’re the American Gigolo,” Lindsay giggled.

Jeremy and I started laughing hysterically.

Jamie straightened his shoulders. “Richard Gere, that works,” he said as Jeremy stopped in front of a garage. While he and Lindsay debated the merits of being a gigolo, I glanced up.

When I did, I remembered being here, at the garage where the Rose Bar’s fleet of white cars was stored, that first night with Jeremy. Just snippets, but I remembered.

Jeremy zeroed in on me. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I remember being here.”

“You do?”

“Just the sign above and what I remembered before.”

“I don’t want that to ever happen to you again.”

“Trust me, I won’t be drinking like that anytime soon.”

He kissed me. “No, you won’t.”

I grinned at him. I liked when he wanted to take care of me.

“You didn’t tell him,” Jamie exclaimed.

“Tell me what?”

“Jamie,” I chided.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed on me.

“Lily has this unfounded suspicion that someone slipped a Roofie in my drink that night.”

Jeremy’s entire body went hard. “And who does she think did it?”

I ran my palms up his chest. “I’m not sure it really happened.”

“Who,” he said so loud he made me jump.

“Fucking Lars,” Jamie admitted.

Jeremy pulled me to him and ran his hands through my hair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrugged and tried to change the topic. “Like I said. I’m not certain.”

Jeremy shot a glare at Jamie and they seemed to exchange a few silent words, then Jeremy wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly to him.

My chest squeezed under his protective arms and I allowed myself to seep further into him.

“Is the lovefest over yet?” Jamie crooned.

Jeremy lifted my chin. His eyes locked on mine, but he spoke to all of us. “Stay here,” he told us and then gave me a sweet kiss before he walked away. I watched him every step of the way. The way he competently strode up to the window and waved to the man behind the bulletproof glass. The way he moved his lips when he spoke.

God, I could watch him all day.

The three of us stayed on the sidewalk and soon, a metal gate unlocked. Jeremy breezed through it, and then a side door opened. Once it did, he spoke to the man for another few minutes and when he turned around, he was dangling a set of keys. “Come on, it’s here,” he said with a wicked grin.

My heart went thump-thump at the pure joy that was spread across his face.

The metal gate clicked open again and the three of us all entered the cover of the garage where Jeremy stood waiting for us.

He was so incredibly sexy.

My fiancé extended his hand and I took it. The heat of his skin burned against mine and I clutched his hand tighter. He peered down and a rueful grin slid across his face.

I shivered.

As we started to ascend the ramp, I pulled out my phone. “Hold on,” I said. “I want a picture before we go in.”

We all huddled together and Jeremy pulled me close as I snapped a selfie of the four of us. It was the first picture I had taken of Jeremy since the summer we met. As everyone separated, I tugged Jeremy back toward me. “One more of just us.”

“Sure.” He grinned and pulled me even closer than before. So close that shivers of desire went down my spine.

I snapped the photo and as soon as I did, he took my phone from me.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Sending myself a copy,” he said and gave me a quick kiss.

I sucked in a breath. He wanted a copy of a picture of us. My heart swelled even more.

When he pulled away, he said, “Follow us,” to Jamie and Lindsay as he threw his arm around me and walked into the garage.

I gazed up at him. I loved being out with him, knowing he was mine. I especially loved it when his arm was around me like it was. Like that—there was no mistaking I belonged to him. After all, he was going to be my husband.

Husband—that sounded strange, in a good way.

“There it is,” Lindsay screamed as she leapt from Jamie’s hold and ran toward the white Lamborghini.

“I won’t be long.” Jeremy nuzzled against my ear as we approached the car and he dropped his hold on me.

“I’ll be here,” I told him. I practically had to fan myself as I watched his narrow hips saunter away from me.

“Have fun.” I waved to Lindsay after she got in the car and the roar of the engine came to life.

Jamie leaned against me. “Looks like it’s just you and me.”

I leaned my head back against him. “Baby? I still can’t believe you call her baby.”

He shrugged. “It just comes out.”

“I’m happy for you.”

He hugged me. “Thanks, Phoebs.”

“What’s the matter?”

“My mother is being extremely difficult.”

“Give her some time, she’ll come around.”

He pulled away. “I’m not so sure about that. She won’t return any of my calls.”

“So go over there.”

He cringed. “I tried. She refused to come down and when I went up to her room, she told me once I annulled my marriage, she’d be happy to talk to me.”

Like his father, Jamie had a penchant for models and since her husband had yet to return from his latest romp with one, I was pretty sure that didn’t help the situation. Sure Jamie’s mother had a temper and a nasty streak but she always forgave his father and I was certain she’d accept Lindsay—eventually.

“Is that what Christmas is about?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Maybe. At least I know I can use the Hamptons house because she never goes there in the winter.”

I shook my head at him.

“Hey, I know we didn’t talk much about it, but I’m really happy for you.”

The way he spoke touched me. “Thank you.”

“I can see just how right Jeremy is for you.”

I leaned against one of the cars. “He is. He makes me really happy.”

Discussing emotions was never Jamie’s thing, and as I talked, he scanned the area. “So, just how many cars does this future husband of yours have anyway?”

“There are twelve but they’re assets that belong to the Rose Bar, not him.”

He eyed each of the six that remained parked in the garage. “Still, pretty freaking cool. A fleet of cars at your command. I could get used to that.”

I laughed at him. “I think you could get used to anything at your command.”

“Hey now,” he teased.

I shrugged. “The truth hurts.”

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed on something behind me in the far corner. I turned to look.

“What’s that one?”

Way over in the dark corner of the garage sat a car covered securely. “I don’t know.”

Jamie walked toward it. “Let’s check it out.”

I was hesitant. “Maybe we shouldn’t.”

“Come on, it might be brand-new.” He was already at the car looking at the papers that were taped to the black cover.

“What is it?” I asked. Cars weren’t really my thing, and honestly, I couldn’t have cared less, but Jamie loved cars, so I indulged him.

“Interesting, he isn’t buying it, he’s selling it.”

“How do you know?” I asked.

“These are pick-up orders.”

“I think the fleet manager takes care of all the cars; I guess he decided to trade one in.”

Jamie lifted the cover. “I don’t think it belongs to the club, it’s red.”

“Jamie, don’t do that. It’s probably someone’s personal car,” I warned.

But it was too late. He’d already lifted the cover off the hood. “Fuck me, it’s a vintage Ferrari.” He studied it for a few minutes. “Not just any old Ferrari. It’s a 250 GT Cabriolet Series II, 1961, I think, like the one your dad used to own.”

My stomach knotted with dread with each step I took closer to it. As I stared at it, the blood drained from my face. It was identical to the rare car my father loved so dearly. The one Sotheby’s had put up on the auction block a year ago and sold for one million dollars. I walked to the passenger side, and when I lifted the cover, there it was, the butterfly sticker I had stuck in the corner of the window so many years ago.

I felt overheated, sick to my stomach, and very confused. Why would Jeremy have bought my father’s car?

Jamie was staring at it. He too must have realized it was indeed my father’s car. “It might not be Jeremy’s,” he said with little conviction.

“It has to be. What are the chances it’s not?”

Jamie was a betting man by nature and his refusal to wager any bet told me exactly what he thought. “Just talk to him. Hear him out.”

The explanations I’d been given echoed in my head. The answers, the logic, were there, but the words—J Truman, Hanna Truman, and the condo, Stanford—still haunted me as I stared at my father’s beloved car. They were spinning around me, weaving themselves into a knot inside my head. I couldn’t think straight.

In horror, I looked at Jamie. “Do you think this really has all been about getting back at me? At my family? And marrying me is a ploy to get . . .”

I couldn’t even finish that thought.

Had I been right weeks ago?

“No,” he shot back. “There has to be a reasonable explanation,” Jamie insisted.

“What possible reason could there be for Jeremy having the car he once took for a joyride when he was younger, in the garage where a fleet of cars are stored that belong to his company?”

Jamie braced his hands on my shoulders. “I know it looks bad, but just let him explain before you jump to crazy conclusions.”

Just then the loud roar of an engine echoed from the street below and a few seconds later the sleek, white body of the Lamborghini came speeding up the ramp and my stomach roiled with emotion. The headlights illuminated the red paint of the one single car that didn’t belong.

“Stay calm,” Jamie warned.

My pulse thudded in my ears. My mind raced with the only reason he would have my father’s car and I tried so very hard to expel it.

Suddenly, the tires squealed as the car came to an abrupt stop and the driver’s side door opened.

“Do you want me to stay?” Jamie asked.

“No,” I said as my body started to tremble.

“I’m going to take Lindsay home. Call me if you need me.”

I nodded.

Jeremy was practically running as he rushed toward me. Concern was etched all over his face but I couldn’t shake the memories of the way he looked at me that first morning I woke up in his bed.

Had he been playing me?

The look on my face must have said it all.

“Phoebe, I can explain,” he said as his hands braced my upper arms.

I shrugged out of his grip. “I’m listening.”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again.

I felt my features harden. “Well?” I prompted.

For the first time, Jeremy was at a loss for words. Again his mouth opened but then shut, opened again but he said nothing. The words that he had spoken to me when we first reconnected came to mind:
We’ve both done things we’re not proud of.

My heart was pounding in my chest. Fear that he’d somehow duped me was all I felt. Each second that passed without a word forced me to believe that was the case. Finally, I couldn’t stand it. “Nothing to say?” I hissed.

His eyes were bright with panic. “Fuck,” he swore hoarsely. “I don’t know how to explain this without it sounding . . .”

Again he was at a loss for words.

“Let me help you.” Anger sparked within me and I couldn’t control my ire. “You bought this car.” I pointed to his bright shiny toy with a fury that was unleashing itself at an even greater speed with each passing second. “As one, big, giant fuck you to the almighty St. Claire.” I inhaled a deep breath before I could finish. “So as to really ruffle his feathers.”

Jeremy stood there shaking his head. “Phoebe. Calm down.”

“Calm down,” I screamed.

He stepped into me and tried to pull me to him.

I shoved him away. “Don’t touch me.”

At that moment I hated him. I loved him. No, I loved him and hated him in perfectly equal measure. The question was—how did he really feel about me?

Jeremy sucked in a breath. “What else? Get it out. Say it all.”

I looked at him incredulously. “No, you say it.”

His expression went stony. “I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to go round and round with you and be accused over and over of something you know isn’t the truth.”

I wanted to believe it wasn’t.

I really did.

I held back my tears. “Say it then.”

Jeremy huffed. “Say what? That you’re right? Or that I want you to trust me. To believe in me. To not think the worst every time something presents itself in a compromising way.”

I shook my head. “That’s not what this is. How dare you turn it around?”