Faking It with my Billionaire Grump

5. Tilly

5

Tilly

Once I heave the paint into the back of the truck—the paint I intend to use to spruce up the dreary barn I’m currently living in—a lightbulb goes off in my head. It’s a terrible idea, and given the way he’s treated me so far, he likely isn’t going to go for it, but I have to try.

Jake doesn’t come out of the store straight away, and I feel uncomfortable lurking beside the truck, like I’m up to no good. Maybe he’s hiding in there so he doesn’t have to speak to me again because clearly, it’s a great effort for him.

You can’t blame him.

No. I suppose I can’t.

A few minutes later, he comes into view. I shuffle from one foot to the other as I stand near Dad’s truck, trying to pluck up the courage to speak. My stomach is in knots, my heart is thumping in my chest, and I swear, this is the worst idea I’ve ever had. But even with that thought, I open my mouth.

“Do you want to go for a coffee?”

Jake doesn’t stop, which is more than a little disappointing, and so clearly against the suggestion is he that he doesn’t even look at me when he turns me down.

The man probably thinks I’m nuts. Maybe I am. But I’m also desperate.

The humiliation at his rejection washes over me like a tsunami, and terrified of seeing the look on his face if he does turn around, I jump into the truck. Fumbling with the keys, I fail badly as I try to get them into the ignition. A minute later, I fly out of the parking lot with the speed of a getaway driver.

I truly am crazy. I must be. But as I think about Bryan’s visit last night, I can’t see another way to get rid of him. Remembering the conversation as I drive back to Mom and Dad’s only makes me even angrier than I was last night.

Mom had called me on my way to my bath, and I could hardly believe it when I saw Bryan standing at the door. When I got to the front, I ushered Mom back into the house, despite her protests; taking a step outside, I folded my arms across my chest and looked Bryan dead in the eye.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

His face crumpled with contrition. It’s what he does when he’s trying to play me. “I needed to see you.”

“You didn’t think giving me a call first might have been more appropriate?” I snapped. “Seriously, Bryan. You can’t just turn up at my parents’ house unannounced.”

“I know. I know,” he bleated. “I’m sorry.”

Which he was clearly not, or he wouldn’t have been standing there in the first place.

“What do you want?”

“I want you, baby,” he pleaded. “I miss you so much. I came all this way to tell you that I want you to come home.”

I didn’t miss the fact that there were a lot of I’s in that sentence. My stomach twisted, and I gritted my teeth. “I am home. This is my home now.”

He looked at me like I was a child. “Tilly—”

“No, Bryan. I’m done. We are done. It’s over.” My hands gesticulated wildly to get my point across. “We’ve given this relationship chance after chance, and nothing has changed. You can’t honestly tell me you’ve been happy in the last six months. We’ve done nothing but fight.”

Bryan continued to look remorseful. “Maybe. But I can be better. I’ll change. I know I can be a little overbearing—”

“A little?” I cried. “You had me text you every hour when I was out with my friends. You opened my mail. You read my emails. I felt like a prisoner on probation. You can’t change, Bryan. It’s just who you are. The bottom line is, I just can’t live like that any longer. It’s over. You need to accept that.”

His expression changed then, and his brow furrowed. He shook his head fervently and said, “I won’t accept it. I don’t want to accept it. In fact, I’m not leaving this town without you.”

“What?” I balked.

“I mean it, Tilly. I’m staying in a hotel in Culling; it’s only five miles away.”

“I know where it is,” I spat.

“Good. Then you know how determined I am. Whether you like it or not, I’m going to win you back.”

“Have you heard yourself?” I cried. “This is exactly what I mean.”

“You don’t understand what you mean to me.”

At that point, I was nearly shaking with anger and so frustrated that I couldn’t take any more. I turned and headed back into the house. Gripping the door tightly so I wouldn’t punch him in his smarmy face, I growled, “Go back to New York. You don’t belong here, and I don’t want you here.”

“I’m not leaving,” he yelled back.

And that was when I slammed the door shut and walked back into the house.

Mom and Dad were up in arms, of course, Mom worrying, Dad asking if I wanted him to go out there and have words. It took a good half an hour to settle them both down, but as I headed upstairs for my bath—the relaxing, soothing bath I was supposed to take—I had a horrible feeling in my stomach. I know what Bryan is like. Like I told Mel, he can’t take no for an answer.

Which means I have a problem.

When I get back to the house, I don’t go inside. Dad is in his huge workshop at the far end of their property, but Mom’s in the house, and I know she’ll want to quiz me again about last night. I just don’t have the energy for that right now.

Instead, I take my tins of paint into the barn, kicking the door closed behind me. I need a distraction, and while painting the walls an eggshell blue is hardly the most exciting thing in the world, it might help take my mind off things.

Four hours later, Mom is at the door. I wave her in and move across the room to turn the music down.

“Oh, that color is lovely, darlin’,” she says, admiring my handiwork.

“It is, isn’t it?” I nod, gazing at the freshly painted wall.

I’ve only got one wall done, but even that has made a huge difference to the living area.

“I came in to tell you that dinner’s ready,” she says, smiling over at me.

“I’m going to eat in here tonight if you don’t mind,” I reply, waiting for the inevitable disappointment.

Mom’s face falls, like I knew it would, and then she tries to pin on a smile. “Sure, sweetie. Whatever you want.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

I know she doesn’t get it. She’s never really understood me. Probably because we’re about as opposite as apples and oranges. Mom delights in talking about everyone’s business. Not in any callous way. I think it just gives her something to talk about. Me? I prefer quiet. Time alone. Space to myself. Which is ironic, seeing as I gave all that up to move in with Bryan.

Idiot!

I’ve always wanted to be my own person. I don’t like feeling trapped, controlled, owned. I don’t think that Mom is any of those things, but she relies so much on Dad. She defers to him for every decision, from what dress she should wear when they go out to where they should go on vacation. Maybe I’m the opposite because growing up, I saw how powerless her personality made her.

I join them for breakfast the next morning, partly because I don’t want Mom getting upset, and partly because I need to ask Dad a favor.

“Can I borrow the truck again today?” I ask while he bites into his bagel.

He lifts his gaze and looks at me openly. “Sure. Where’re you headed?”

I was waiting for this question, and given that the town is so small and I hate lying, I already knew I was just going to come straight out with it. They’ll find out one way or another, anyway.

“I’m going to see Jake,” I say.

Mom nearly chokes on her tea, and Dad can only gaze at me, his bagel frozen halfway to his mouth. Then Mom and Dad share a glance.

“We need to clear the air,” I say. Which isn’t a complete lie, but it’s not the only reason I need to see him.

“Alright,” Dad says, clearly shocked.

Ten minutes after leaving Mom and Dad’s house, I turn onto the long track that leads down to Jake’s ranch. It’s bizarre, really. Ten years ago, I would have traveled this track every day, sometimes twice a day. It was my second home. Now, I feel like I’m an intruder.

The group of birch trees finally thin, and I can’t help but gasp as the property comes into full view. The house hasn’t changed, but there are at least three more large buildings that weren’t there before, not to mention the sprawling land that goes back as far as the eye can see.

I take it slow as I reach the house. My stomach is in knots again, knowing what I have to do next, but I don’t have a choice.

And yes, I do feel guilty using one ex to get rid of another. In fact, I have concluded that I’m an awful person. But then, I concluded that a long time ago. What I did to Jake was bad, and clearly, he has never forgiven me.

Tentatively, I open the truck door and step out onto the dirt. I’m just about to slam it closed when I catch something from the corner of my eye. It’s moving fast, and suddenly, this huge German shepherd comes lunging toward me, barking like crazy, its teeth bared and clearly not impressed with my arrival.

“Oh, my Lord,” I squeal, grabbing hold of the door and launching myself in a most unladylike fashion back into the truck.

The dog is bouncing back and forth outside the door, barking like its life depends on it. Under the circumstances, I think it’s fair to say that I’m in far more danger.

I hear a sharp whistle then, and spinning to look, I see Jake standing there with his hands on his hips. He looks surprised to see me—no shock there. But the crazy dog stops immediately and scurries off to his side, sitting beside him obediently.

Jake and I stare at each other for a whole minute, and then he says. “Are you coming out or what?”

“With that thing on the loose?” I yell back. “Not a chance.”

He shakes his head. “She won’t hurt you.”

“Right,” I reply, completely unconvinced.

He shrugs. “Up to you.” Then he turns and walks away, the dog following obediently at his heel.

He disappears around the corner, leaving me with a decision to make. I can sit in the truck all day, or I can get out and do what I came here to do.

Nervously, I open the truck door again, my eyes scanning back and forth, waiting for that beast to come flying around the corner. I’m not scared of dogs, but then, that thing looks like it could eat me whole. After a minute, it’s obvious the dog isn’t coming back, so I head in the direction I saw Jake go.

At the back of the house, he’s brushing down a beautiful brown horse, and at my approach, the dog turns and growls.

“Sit,” Jake orders.

The dog sits immediately, and then Jake turns to me. “So, what are you doing here?”