His Plus One by Kate Aster

Chapter 19

~ HAILEY ~

“This feels so good,” Natasha moans from her heated, tiled lounger in the spa. She takes a long sip of guava and papaya juice before adding, “Freya should have joined us. This is just what I needed after hours of dancing.”

My eyebrows rise. “Uh, I think Freya is just fine being alone with Mason right now.”

Natasha snorts—a sound that seems somehow incongruent to how perfect she looks. “You’re right. I kind of forgot they’re married now. The whole morning wedding thing throws me off, you know?”

“I like it. I think if I had to do the big wedding thing, I’d totally want a morning wedding just so I could get it over with. Then I could relax and enjoy the rest of my day,” Max says.

“Get it over with? That’s a terrible attitude for your wedding,” Natasha scolds. “So are you going to do a small wedding?”

Max pauses, stretches her hand out in front of her and takes a long look at the engagement ring that sparkles on her hand. “The smaller the better,” she finally tells us, even though I’d swear she was priming herself to say something completely different.

And once again, I’m struck by the feeling that she’s hiding something.

“I love the symbolism of it,” I offer, earning nods of agreement from my new friends. “Starting the day with a wedding almost seems like a metaphor for starting a new life together.” I also like, but don’t share, the idea that a morning wedding means that I’ll get to enjoy tonight’s sunset alone with Graydon rather than in a loud, crowded reception.

I’m already counting down the minutes to it.

Oh my God. I’m so lost to this man. I’ve always been so practical when it comes to love. So practical that every fiber inside of me is screaming that this is all happening too quickly.

Yet then I hear the echo of Graydon’s toast last night in my head.

Laying a firm foundation, he had said.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe after knowing each other for so long—laying a foundation of respect, partnership, and friendship—falling in love only takes the slightest nudge.

I hear Natasha’s phone chirp. She reaches for it.

“You’re seriously breaking up our Zen moment to check your texts?” Max snaps at her in reprimand.

“I don’t want to miss the belly flop competition on the pool deck. I dared Stein to do it,” she answers quickly, touching her display, before her face contorts with concern. “Oh. Or this. Definitely wouldn’t want to miss this…” Her voice trails.

“What is it?” Max furrows her brow, leaning over to take a peek at the phone. Then her eyes widen. “Oh. Oh no. Hailey…”

My stomach lurches, not expecting to hear my name come up. “What?”

“Carson says your ex sent a bunch of roses to your room.”

My face elongates, then morphs into red-hot anger. “Wait—what? Stephen?” I shake my head in disbelief. Stephen dumped me on my ass six entire months ago. Why the hell would he have suddenly sent me flowers? “Must be a mistake.”

“No mistake. Graydon accidentally read the card.”

Max’s expression contorts. “Accidentally? How do you accidentally read a card?” Leave it to Max to say what’s on everyone’s mind.

Natasha shrugs and turns to me. “You might want to get back to the cabin before Graydon does something stupid. Adler men are notoriously territorial.”

“Yeah. And remember what I told you on that first day about Graydon being an action kind of guy?” Max asks.

“Say no more.” I grab my phone and pull myself off the blissfully heated lounger, pissed beyond belief that Stephen could even interrupt such a relaxing moment of my cruise. “Oh, crap,” I suddenly mutter, tapping on my phone.

“What?”

“I just remembered that I snoozed Stephen on my phone.”

Max laughs. “Snoozed him? I love technology.”

“Yeah, but—” With one more tap I see a string of missed calls and texts. “Oh, crap,” I say again.

Curiosity widening her eyes, Natasha stands to look at the phone in my hand. “Apparently going off on a cruise with another man has made him want you back.”

“That prick.” I say my farewells as I regrettably disappear into the locker room. I pull off the oh-so-soft towel I’ve wrapped my body in and replace it with shorts, my t-shirt, and flip-flops. Then I storm through the door, tapping on Stephen’s cell number.

I’m grateful to see the signal is still strong since the ship hasn’t yet left the dock.

“You sent roses?” I bark into the phone when I hear Stephen pick up. “Who the hell do you think you are, anyway?”

“I’ve already heard from your pit bull boyfriend. So save it, Hailey.”

He’s heard from my boyfriend?

“And I’ll have Peanut packed up and ready for you when you get back,” he snaps. “If you wanted her full-time, all you had to do is tell me. I thought you kept this arrangement so we could stay in touch.”

“You thought what?” My head is spinning. “I’ve asked you so many times for our dog. You never give her enough time when you have her, and all you do is complain that she cramps your lifestyle.”

“Well, maybe I wanted to stay in touch.”

“Maybe you just wanted to show off your latest boat and car and girlfriend,” I snap back into the phone earning me some odd looks from people I pass in the hallways. “You only wanted to stay in touch so that you could remind yourself how far you think you’ve come.” I’m seething inside. “So yeah, you’re damn right I want my dog. And if you don’t treat her with freaking kid gloves until I see you in the Target parking lot on Saturday, you’ll unleash a lot more fury than even my pit bull boyfriend is capable of. Got it?” I end the call before he can even answer.

I’m pissed. At Stephen. At myself for even trying to be amicable to such an asshole these past six months.

And at Graydon.

I’m really pissed at Graydon.

He called my ex? Without even asking me first? What did he think? That I’d be stupid enough to go back to that bastard because of some flowers?

Or did he think that I was incapable of taking care of this myself?

I hate both options.

I think back to that night of our first date. You deserve better, he had said— condescending, coddling, patronizing bullshit. Now I see why he said it.

Because he seems to think I’m a lot more stupid and gullible than I am.

I open the door to our suite, and I spot the biggest damn bouquet I’ve seen since my grandma’s funeral four years ago.

Hideously big. Like Stephen’s stupid boat.

My gaze swings from them to Graydon. He’s standing on the balcony looking pissed.

Not nearly as pissed as I am, though.

“You called Stephen?” I demand as he walks toward me.

“Yeah, I—”

“You called Stephen without even checking with me first?”

“I now realize—”

“And who the hell are you to even open up that card in the first place?”

“I thought it was from Freya and Mason.”

I screw up my face. “You thought Freya and Mason sent you red roses?”

“Freya said she had something delivered to our room—remember? I saw the flowers and assumed that the florist just sent the wrong thing.”

I shake my head in disbelief, even though it does sound plausible.

But I hate that it’s plausible. Because right now I just want to seize any chance to be really mad. “How did you even get his number?”

“The internet.”

“Oh my God. You cyber-stalked my ex?”

“No—look, I was worried. The card he sent sounded like a veiled threat or something.”

“Veiled threat? Are you serious? From Stephen?” I storm over to the flowers and snatch up the card that was left on the counter.

I was your first. Let me be your last.

Ugh. How pathetically sappy.

“How the hell does this sound like a veiled threat?” I hold up the card. “He’s a computer nerd. Not Hannibal Lecter.”

“Let me be your last? Hell, even Carson thought it sounded creepy.”

My jaw drops just as I lose my grip and let the card flutter to the ground.

“Carson read this card?” My stomach rolls over inside my gut.

“He—yeah. He was helping me carry the wedding gifts and, uh—”

My hand slaps against my thigh. At least I think it does. Because I’m feeling pretty numb right now.

I was your first, the card read. I pick it up again just to confirm.

I think I’m going to be ill.

“Great. So now your brother knows the vastness of my sexual experiences.” My tone drips with sarcasm.

“Oh, shit. He—he didn’t even put that together probably.”

“Graydon, he’s the genius of the family.”

“Well, yeah. But—I mean—who cares?”

“It’s bad enough he now thinks I’m dumb enough to fall for a loser who sends roses to me six months after dumping me. But now he even knows everyone I’ve slept with.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It isn’t? How comfortable are you with submitting a list of all your sex partners to Freya or Max or Natasha?”

“I actually wouldn’t give a damn.”

“Well, maybe you would if you had waited until you were twenty only to have sex with a titwad, as you like to call him… and then replace him with a brand new titwad who seems to think that I’m not capable of telling my ex to shove these roses up his ass. Did you think I was stupid enough to go back to him over this? Is that it?” I can’t help asking, appalled that anyone would think I was that much of an idiot.

I hate that he pauses.

Oh my God.He really thinks I would.

And why wouldn’t he think that, I suppose?

I supported Stephen for years. I wore an engagement ring for four of the six years we were together without ever managing to walk down the aisle.

I paid the bills, worked my butt off, and stayed completely loyal even when I was being swarmed by hot, sex-deprived SEALs in the field who looked at me like I was a freaking supermodel.

I did all the things that someone would expect from a girl who was brought up to believe that complete commitment goes hand-in-hand with love.

Of courseGraydon would think I was naïve enough to go back to that idiot.

Hell, everyone’s probably thinking it.

Suddenly, I feel mortified down to my core.

I storm into the bedroom before he can even answer my question, fueled by emotion rather than logic.

And I hate that the emotion I feel most is shame.

I should have broken up with Stephen a long time ago. I should have seen he was using me. I hate the thoughts in my head because I suddenly realize that everyone around me is thinking the same thing. I’ve always thought people thought I was smart. But they really must just think I’m a fool.

“Where are you going?” he asks when he sees me pull out my suitcase.

“To someplace other than here.” As I say it, I calculate how long I’ll be waiting in an airport for a flight bound for DC, or whether I might be able to get a separate cabin on this cruise. There’s bound to be something open. And if not, those chaise lounges on Deck 10 were pretty comfortable.

“No, don’t do that.”

“There’s no way I’m spending another night with a guy who thinks I’m incapable of dealing with some flowers from an ex.” I spit out the words.

“You have every right to be pissed off at me. You stay in the suite. I’ll find someplace else to sleep tonight.”

With that, he walks out of the suite, looking more dejected than I’ve ever seen him.

Damn you, Graydon.

Damn you, Stephen.

And damn myself.