I grab her knee, squeezing it firmly. “Luna. You don’t have to do this.”
She shakes her head, effectively shaking off my plea to shut the fuck up.
Elena is looking at Luna with almost parental concern. “Are you okay, dear?”
“No, I’m not. Carter wanted . . . it was supposed to be art tutoring. That’s it. And then he proposed. It was a show, all pretend. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. I just wanted to help him. And then Thomas’s collection. I couldn’t . . . I wanted to see it. Selfishly needed to. So we came to dinner. I never meant . . . I didn’t want . . . but then it got to . . . here.” She waves her hands around, gesturing to the room at large but really meaning this moment.
Her rambling is rapid-fire and all over the place, but Elena understands. We all understand because she’s leaving no room for doubt now.
Luna just confirmed Claire’s assumption that we couldn’t possibly be together for real and more importantly, torpedoing any shot I had at the Cartwright portfolio.
Dad’s already furious at me, and when he finds out how much worse I let this get, he’s never going to trust me again. At this rate, I’ll be lucky to play second fiddle to Cameron. Maybe they’ll let me set the tables at his fancy chef’s new restaurant?
I can see my entire career bursting into flames before my very eyes. Every hour of overtime I’ve worked, every sacrifice I’ve made, even everything Luna and I have done . . . it’s all been for nothing. She just annihilated it all.
“Luna! How could you?” I demand angrily, pushing away from her on the couch. I can’t believe she’s destroying everything like this. We had a deal, a plan, and she’s betraying me worse than I would’ve ever thought possible.
“I hate lying. Especially when Elena is . . .” She looks to Elena, who seems confused as hell. “So sweet. I’m so sorry. Truly, I am. It got so out of control, so fast.”
Luna runs from the room, slamming a door shut somewhere in the front hallway.
I’m fuming, a dark and angry pit in my stomach rising quickly to consume me.
“I’m sorry . . .” I start, but Claire is ready to pounce and interrupts.
“Is that true?” she asks.
True? I don’t know what’s true anymore, but I don’t want to answer Claire’s question. Anything I say can and will be used against me. Not in a court of law, but in the practice of business.
I stand, straightening my tie until it’s damn near choking me. Or maybe it’s the words that are stuck in my throat? “We might not be the usual couple or have gotten together in a typical way, but Luna and I are married. None of this means I can’t do the job, and I would love to serve as the financial manager for the Cartwright portfolio. I think we could do really good work together, despite any mistakes that I’ve made.”
I’m trying to save face, putting on a stoic mask even though I know it’s all over. Even as I turn to go, I can feel my plans turning to rubble and my heart turning to stone.
I follow the sound of Luna’s sobs and in the hall, knock on the bathroom door. “Luna? I think we should go.”
She sniffles and with a rough voice says, “I called Zack to come get me. He’s on his way to take me home.”
Home? I’m already going there. Why does she need Zack to give her a ride? And then I realize . . . she means her home . . . her apartment. Not mine.
I grit my teeth at the fresh gut punch. “Fine.”
Elena, Claire, and Mads have followed me into the hallway and are listening to our exchange, but I needlessly repeat, “Her brother’s coming to get her. Is that okay?”
Elena dips her chin, her eyes seeming extra shrewd as she stares back at me. I can’t take any more and stride toward the door.
“Carter?” Elena says, and I stop, looking over my shoulder. “Sometimes, we end up someplace we never intended and it’s up to us to decide whether we like where we’re at.” She nods as though that’s something deep and meaningful and not a barely coherent fortune cookie saying.
I definitely didn’t start out planning to deceive Elena like this. It all got so carried away, and I kept thinking I could fix it. I would’ve fixed it . . . eventually. When I was ready, when the deal was done, when it was planned out and made sense. Not like this.
“Thank you. And again, I’m sorry.”
Outside, Bernard tries to talk to me about Nutbuster, but I throw up a hand to stop him and climb into my car.
Peeling out down the road, I can’t help but feel like I’m leaving behind something important.
Luna.
I tell my brain, or heart, or dick—whatever’s speaking right now—to shut up. I didn’t leave her. She left me when she told Elena the truth.
Damn the consequences.
In some ways . . . it’s admirable. I wish I’d had the guts to do it, but then I wouldn’t have had Luna . . . even for this short period of time.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
LUNA
I hear the front door slam and jump even though I knew it was coming. Carter left me. I knew he would eventually. I just couldn’t take it anymore—all the lying, being called an ugly cheater, defending myself while Carter sat there silently watching me go ballistic on Claire.
So many lies. To Elena, to Carter, to myself.
I thought there was something good happening between us. Maybe a weird start, but something real. I felt it over the last few weeks, especially since the wedding, but it’s all still just a ploy for him. Nothing more than a charade to close a deal.
I sit on the floor with my knees curled to my chest and sob as I watch my brother’s little dot move toward me on the app we have to track each other. He can’t get here quick enough, and at the same time, he’s going to want some answers, but I don’t want to talk about this with him or anyone else.
Breathe, Luna. In, 2, 3, 4. Out, 2, 3, 4.
I don’t know how long I sit there talking myself off the razor edge of anxiety when there’s a gentle knock at the door. “Luna, dear?”
“I’m sorry,” I say again. I don’t think I can say it enough at this point.
“Everyone else is gone. It’s just me and you. Why don’t you come out here and let me make you a glass of tea?”
Elena is being too kind, triggering fresh anxiety to shoot through me. I shake my head, though she can’t see me.
“You gonna make me bust this door down? I’ll do it if I have to. I can also pick a lock if need be. It’s a good skill to have,” she says conversationally.
What?
“How . . . how do you know how to do that?” I ask. It doesn’t matter, but I think that’s probably why she threw that information out there to begin with.
“Open the door and I’ll tell you while I teach you.”
A lockpicking lesson? Now? The absurdity of it makes a small smile creep up my lips.
Almost as if she knows, Elena adds, “These old locks are pretty easy, but I’m not too good with the new-fangled ones. Never had a reason to pick one of those, I guess.”
“Why did you pick the old ones?” The question escapes without my even planning to speak.
“Because I’m a nosey old cuss, mostly,” she laughs. “Hated being out of the know about a thing, so I used to break into my daddy’s office and my momma’s bathroom. Oh, and the barn, but that was one of those spinny combination locks. Combination was my parents’ anniversary. Easy as pie.”