Second Chance With Her Billionaire. Therese Beharrie
in her stomach that was always there when she was around her father unravelled. She took a deep breath.
‘That was weird,’ Wyatt commented before she could say anything.
‘What?’
‘You were being weird just now.’
‘I’m sorry, this is the first time I’ve had to interact with an ex-husband,’ she said flatly.
His expression tightened, but he continued. ‘I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you and your father.’
Her heart immediately thudded in her chest, but she tried for an easy smile. ‘Not sure what you mean, Montgomery.’
He blinked. She didn’t need that to tell her she’d taken him by surprise though. She’d only ever called him by his surname when things had been good between them. When things had been easy. It hadn’t been her intention, but she hoped it would be enough to distract him.
‘I’ll get us a basket,’ she said, and headed to where the wait staff were standing.
She smiled at the waiter who handed her the wicker basket, then did a mental shoulder roll before heading back to Wyatt. She couldn’t let him suspect anything was wrong. She’d hidden the turmoil between her and her father for the entire year she and Wyatt had been together. She hadn’t let him see how his desire to be like her father had affected her either.
She wouldn’t reveal it now. Which would be an effort, considering the anniversary—the vow renewal—was challenging for her.
But she would play the part. She wouldn’t let Wyatt suspect she was keeping secrets. She wouldn’t let her mother and Autumn suspect it either. She’d just let them all think she was being her usual surly self. And everyone could go on pretending everything was fine.
She swallowed down the wave of nausea.
When Wyatt reached out for the basket, she handed it to him, then took the blanket instead. In silence, they made their way to the grass. There was only one spot free, a little to the side of the cliff, where they wouldn’t have a perfect view of the sunset. But the spot offered them a different view. Of the large green trees on the hills a short distance away; the houses amongst the trees; the ocean crashing against the rocky bases of the hills. Not seeing the sunset didn’t seem so bad, considering.
She spread out the blanket in front of them, looked down. Realised she wasn’t entirely sure how to sit. All her options seem to involve inelegance or flashing some poor unexpected guest.
‘Need help?’
Her body tensed at the prospect of his touch, but she managed to arrange her expression into a careful smile.
‘Yes, please.’
Wyatt held her hand as she settled onto the blanket, legs to the side, one angled over the other. Before he sat down, a waiter approached him with two glasses of what she thought was lemonade. She couldn’t be sure since the ice filled the glass just as much as the liquid did. He handed her one of the glasses, then lowered his body onto the blanket.
‘What is this?’
‘Lemonade,’ he confirmed. ‘I ordered it when you went to fetch the basket.’
‘Quick work,’ she commented. ‘Thanks.’
It was all either of them said for the longest time.
‘How badly do you wish someone else had got the last blanket?’
‘On a scale from one to ten?’ she asked thinly. ‘An eleven.’
‘Ten being how badly you wanted it to be me then?’
She glanced over at him. His mouth curved. She let out a breath.
‘You’re being a lot less prickly than earlier.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
She didn’t even blink. ‘Sure you don’t.’
Something flickered in his eyes. ‘I thought it might be easier if I were nicer to you.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she replied. ‘You don’t believe in being nice for the sake of easy.’
The edges of his mouth turned down. ‘True,’ he said softly. The tone of it brushed over her skin. ‘Fine, then. Your father asked me to be.’
HE HADN’T MEANT to tell her that, and, somehow, he’d made it sound worse than it had been.
Which he knew based on the way the air around them was now standing to attention.
‘Is that what you two were talking about just now?’ she asked stiffly.
‘Yes.’
‘He asked you to be nice to me.’
It wasn’t a question, and it sounded as if she was speaking to herself more than she was to him.
‘Well,’ Wyatt said, ‘he said that he knew this was tough on the both of us. And he…suggested that it might make things easier if I cut you some slack.’
She made an impatient sound deep in her throat. ‘Is that why you were being so polite earlier?’
‘Yes.’
‘Just because my father asked?’ Her voice sounded strangled.
He shrugged. ‘It made sense.’
‘Because I’m the big bad wolf,’ she muttered.
The anger he thought he’d set aside—much as he had the attraction—stirred. ‘I think the person who asks for a divorce is generally the big bad wolf in the tale.’
‘Not the person who signs the divorce papers without a fight?’ she retorted, but quickly shook her head before he could reply. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.’
He didn’t believe her.
‘I wasn’t talking about you anyway,’ she continued. Closed her eyes. Opened them. ‘And you’re right. It does make sense.’ There was a pause. ‘How about this view?’
He didn’t reply. Was afraid if he did, they’d find themselves doing a post-mortem of their marriage. He’d decided—one desperate, torturous night two years ago—that the best thing he could do for himself was to forget that Summer Bishop existed. It had been hard to do considering the building he worked in bore her name, but he’d been determined.
For the most part, he’d succeeded. He’d buried himself in his work. Deeper, he qualified, since he hadn’t stopped digging since Trevor had given him his first job opportunity. Trevor had shown him work was the kind of investment Wyatt could make without regret.
It had been the first of many lessons Trevor had taught him. Wyatt had paid attention to all of them. Who could blame him? Trevor had a life Wyatt hadn’t dared to dream of when he’d been a child. Stability, security. Love, happiness. When Wyatt had realised it was possible, he’d been determined to do whatever it took to try and get it. The professional and financial success he’d managed; the personal success, not so much.
He wasn’t sure why he’d thought things would be different with Summer. He’d had a string of short-lived relationships before her. A long-term relationship was bound not to work. Especially not with her.
It hadn’t mattered that he’d thought she was a perfect match for him. Or that their life together had had the potential to inspire others—just as Trevor and Lynette’s had inspired him. He and Summer weren’t…suited. She’d made that clear when she’d asked for the divorce. When she’d said she wanted to focus on her business; that she didn’t have time for their marriage.
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