First Comes Marriage (Aster Bay #3)

Chapter Thirty

“Where do you want the cupcakes?” Gavin balanced three pastry boxes against the doorjamb of Ethan’s kitchen.

“Over there, thanks.” Ethan gestured to the counter, already filled with more food than they were ever going to eat in one afternoon. “Did they make the bananas foster one?”

Jamie scoffed and lifted the lid to show Ethan the baked goods. “My wife’s staff know how to follow directions.”

Baz climbed down from the stepladder he’d been using to hang the obnoxious stork banner above the kitchen doorway. “What’s next?”

Ethan glanced around the kitchen. “I think that’s everything for in here.”

“Living room’s all set too,” Jamie said, swiping a mini quiche from the tray on the counter.

Baz glanced at the clock on the wall. “What are we supposed to do for the next hour before everyone else arrives?”

Gavin glanced at a table in the corner of the living room decorated with a yellow baby farm animal tablecloth. “I’ll get the cards.”

“I’ll get the beer.” Ethan ducked back into the kitchen.

“Make mine a Scotch,” Baz called.

Jamie filled a bowl with tortilla chips and set it on the table as the others returned, each taking their usual seats around the table.

“Give me those. You suck at shuffling.” Baz took the cards from Gavin.

“Just because I got multiple draw-fours last time doesn’t mean—” Gavin protested.

“That you suck? Yeah, it does,” Jamie said.

“And here I was going to suggest you go first, daddy,” Gavin teased.

“Hey now. Only Tessa’s allowed to call me daddy.”

“Jesus Christ—Jamie, how many times do I have to tell you not to talk about my daughter like that when I’m around?” Ethan grumbled.

“Draw two, grandpa.” Jamie slapped down his card.

“Holy shit. One of us is about to be a grandfather,” Gavin said.

“You’re realizing this now?” Baz asked.

“No, but it’s weird, right? When did we get old enough for that?” Gavin asked.

“We’re not. You two had kids when you were ridiculously young,” Baz said, gesturing to Gavin and Ethan.

“And what about you? You and Sabrina going to have any kids?” Gavin asked.

Baz pressed his lips together and focused on his cards. The last day and a half, he and Sabrina had hardly been speaking, never mind planning their future. “We’ve only been married six weeks.”

Gavin played a reverse card, making it Baz’s turn again. “I didn’t mean right now. You’ve talked about it though, right?”

Baz played his card. A plain ol’ boring two. What he wouldn’t give for some kind of nuclear reverse to make Gavin draw ten or twenty cards. He didn’t want to think about all the conversations he and Sabrina weren’t having. The last week had been so good, so comfortable—she hadn’t nervous babbled even once and he was getting used to sleeping next to her. If he was being honest, he wasn’t just used to it—he fucking loved it.

But the other night he’d walked right up to the line of what they’d agreed to, come dangerously close to telling her he loved her, and she’d made it perfectly clear all she wanted was sex. A few weeks ago, he would have sworn that was what he wanted too—a gorgeous woman who was his perfect match in bed and wanted nothing more from him. A dream come true.

Except now it felt more like a nightmare.

“Have you and Kyla talked about it?” Baz asked, shifting the attention away from himself.

“Of course. Before I proposed.”

“And?” Jamie prompted.

“We didn’t definitively say no forever, but it’s absolutely no for now. She’s still young, though. I know she might want kids later.”

“And you’d be okay with that?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah, I think I would be.”

Baz felt all three sets of eyes turn towards him. He clenched his jaw tighter and blew out a frustrated breath through his nose. “We’re not sure if we want kids.”

“But things are going well?” Jamie asked.

Baz caught his eye, saw the hesitance there, and knew Jamie was recalling their conversation from last week. He didn’t want to get into all the things that had subtly shifted since then, the ground he’d gained and lost, the things he didn’t even know how to quantify that were slipping away with each minute that passed.

Baz nodded once as he played his turn. “Yeah.”

“You’re definitely going to be the next one to have kids,” Gavin said. “You’d have cute kids. Her hair and your eyes.”

“Gav,” Ethan said, a warning note in his voice as he kept his eyes on Baz.

“What? It’s true. Oh! And if you have them soon, your kids could be best friends with Jamie’s kids!” Gavin said.

Baz shot a glance at Jamie and Ethan and hoped his message was clear— shut it down —as he pushed to his feet and grumbled something about needing to use the bathroom.

“I guess we’re done playing?” Gavin called after him.

Baz pushed into the bathroom at the end of the hall and shut the door behind him a little harder than necessary, closing out the sounds of his friends. He braced his hands on the sink and hung his head between his shoulders.

It’ll be fine. Suck it the fuck up and talk to her. It’ll be fine.

The phone in his pocket vibrated and he sighed when he saw his lawyer’s name flash across the screen. “Not a great time,” he said by way of greeting.

“I’m looking over this agreement and I gotta tell you, Baz, I wouldn’t sign this if I were you.”

Baz pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“The post-nup.”

Baz’s eyes flew open as cold dread slithered down his spine. “The what?”

“The post-nuptial agreement your father-in-law’s firm had forwarded for your signature.” He was going to be sick. “Tell me you know what I’m talking about.”

“First I’m hearing of it.”

“Shit. Sorry, I assumed…”

Baz forced himself to breathe, to stay calm even though he could feel his hands already starting to shake. “What does she want?”

“You both leave with the assets you brought to the marriage—your business and hers, her inheritance when the times comes. Then it gets dicey. You’re responsible for all legal fees in the event of a divorce, both hers and yours. Your condo is to be considered marital property. And this line for spousal support—frankly, I’d be surprised if this thing is even enforceable.”

“Shred it.”

“I can send it over for you to review—”

“I don’t want to fucking review it. Shred it.” Baz scrubbed his hand over his face.

“We can counter,” his lawyer continued. “Obviously your father-in-law got overzealous in trying to protect his daughter.”

“We’re not countering. I’m not signing. Shred the fucking thing.”

Baz hung up as his lawyer continued to talk about negotiations . As if he was going to negotiate with Sabrina when she was already planning her exit. And not just any exit, but one that would fuck him over spectacularly. As if her family hadn’t humiliated him enough for one lifetime.

He’d trusted her. And the hell of it was, if she’d asked him, he would have signed any damn thing she wanted. He’d rip out his own heart and serve it to her on a silver platter if it meant he could keep her, if it meant she’d let him in.

Idiot. This is why you don’t get emotional. This is why you don’t let your guard down.

He stared at himself in the mirror, rolling the tension from his neck and straightening his cuffs. He should have known something like this was coming, that she was another person who wanted to use him up and throw him away.

This time he’d be the first to walk away.

Baz left the bathroom and made his way back into the living room where the party was in full swing. He must have been in there longer than he’d realized. As he made his way through the gathered crowd of familiar faces, he caught bits and pieces of conversation, all blending together into a wall of sound.

“So I said to my Ricky, I said, you have to make a map so the people who get stuck in the corn maze can find their way out again.” Cheryl patted her husband’s knee beside her, her loud storytelling rising above the din. “And he said, Cheryl, honey, if they get lost in the corn, they can eat their way out.” She roared with laughter.

On the other side of the room, Gavin’s and Baz’s moms ooo-ed and ahh-ed over a hand-knit baby blanket Ethan’s mother had sent from Florida. In another corner, Kyla and Gavin chatted happily with Natalia from the lingerie shop, Gavin shooting adoring looks at his fiancée as she grew more animated in her speech. At the center of it all, Jamie and Tessa held court, his hand resting protectively on her belly.

Baz needed to go. Jamie and Tessa would understand. He needed air.

He rounded the corner, determined to slip out the back door in the kitchen, and came face to face with his wife.

Sabrina leaned against the wall, clutching her glass of punch as if it were a lifeline. The sight of her was like a sucker punch to the gut. She wore a silky green blouse that brought out her eyes, the first few buttons undone, tucked into one of her pencil skirts. This one was a cream color, cut above the knee, and for a moment he wanted to drop to his knees at her feet and beg her to love him. To press his lips to the soft skin on the inside of her thigh and plead his case. He could love her enough for the both of them. He could—

He knew the instant she caught sight of him, the way her spine straightened, the smile that spread over her lips. They were painted red again, the color vibrant against her pale skin. Was she paler than usual? Her eyes lit up and she raised a hand in greeting, as though he might not have seen her yet. As though she wasn’t always the first person he saw in any room. As though she wasn’t the only one he saw.

Enough.

Her brow furrowed and her head cocked to the side in confusion as she registered his immovable stance. He couldn’t go any nearer to her without risking flinging himself at her feet and exacerbating his humiliation. And he couldn’t walk away.

How was he supposed to walk away from her?

Christ, how was he supposed to live without her now that he knew what it was like to love her, even if she didn’t love him back ?

She set her glass down on a nearby table and made her way across the room to him, but she stopped short a few inches further from him than normal. As though she was afraid to touch him.

He should be grateful. If she touched him, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Push her away? Pull her closer? Rip off that goddamn skirt and fuck her right there in the middle of the party, as though it would somehow prove that she was his? As though he could fuck her into loving him?

Hadn’t he tried that already?

And she was still going to leave. More than that, she was going to burn down the fucking house on her way out the door.

“You alright?” she asked, reaching up to touch his forehead, but then she seemed to think better of it and dropped her hand. “Did something happen?”

***

Something wasn’t right—not only the pain in her lower abdomen, but something with Sebastian. Sabrina had been relieved to see him when he appeared in the kitchen, but then something had shifted. His face had hardened, jaw clenched. And he seemed pale, drawn, like maybe he wasn’t feeling well either. Maybe they’d both gotten food poisoning.

She really hoped it was food poisoning.

“You alright? Did something happen?” she asked.

His eyes flitted about the room, clocking the groups of guests talking and laughing, as though he were mapping out his exit. When his gaze fell back on her, she felt the coldness in his stare like the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees.

“I’m not doing this here,” he said, pushing past her on his way to the back door of the kitchen .

“Sebastian?”

“No. I’m done being lied to,” he barked without bothering to look back at her.

Then he threw open the kitchen door and was gone.

Panic rose in her throat. She was too late. She’d waited too long to tell him how she felt and— No. This was not how their story ended. She would not let him march away from her with a head full of assumptions like last time. She would not wait another ten years to tell him how she really felt.

She pushed past the elderly women inspecting the mini quiches on the kitchen counter and followed Sebastian out the door onto a small porch at the back of the house. He stood at the bottom of the three wooden steps with his back to her, his hands in his hair, elbows out to the side, as though he’d just run a marathon. Sabrina knew the instant he registered her presence, the clacking of her heels on the wooden deck causing his shoulders to tense, his back to expand with the slowest, deepest breath.

“Sebastian, there’s something I need to tell you.”

He whirled around on her, his nostrils flaring, and for a wild, panic-addled moment she thought it must be what a dragon looked like before they breathed fire on their victim. “You had me fooled. I didn’t see this coming.”

“See what coming?” Another stab of pain and she dug the heel of her hand into the spot.

Nope. Definitely not food poisoning.

His eyes shot to the spot and softened for a moment, but he blinked it away, refocusing his anger on her. “Was this your plan all along? Is that why you really moved back here? To get some kind of revenge for—for what?”

“What are you talking about?”

“The post-nup. Your father sent it to my lawyer this morning.”

All the breath rushed from Sabrina’s lungs and her mouth went dry. “He did what? ”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t know.”

“He wasn’t supposed to send anything. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t tell your father you wanted my condo and spousal support?”

“What?” Her head spun, her stomach twisting in on itself. None of this made any sense. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So you didn’t ask your dad to draft a post-nuptial agreement that would screw me over?”

“That’s not what—” She winced as another stab tore through her abdomen, this one stronger than the last. Sebastian paced on the lawn, barely looking at her, and she could feel each brick in that wall he was erecting between them. A wall she knew she’d never break through again if she didn’t stop this. “I was scared. I told you I never wanted to get married again.”

“I didn’t force you down the aisle!”

“I know!” They were shouting now. Likely everyone in the house could hear every word of this argument, but she could hardly care about that. She was losing him, and he didn’t even know she loved him.

“At least when your sister fucked me over, she didn’t try to pretend she gave a shit.”

His words were a slap across the face, stinging and drawing tears to her eyes faster than she cared to admit. “I didn’t— I’m not— I didn’t ask him to do that. My parents wanted us to sign a post-nup. I told him I’d consider it, to show me a draft. I knew within minutes that I’d never sign it. I knew—” He released a grunt of disbelief and ceased his pacing, staring her down with eyes that seemed to look right through her. “I was scared,” she repeated.

“Of me. You didn’t trust me.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Then why?” he barked.

“Because I have so much more to lose this time! I lov— ”

“Don’t.” He shook his head, swallowing hard, his eyes flashing with fire like he’d been backed into a corner and was prepared to fight his way out. “Don’t fucking say that now.”

When had she started crying? She dashed away the moisture from her eyes, but it was useless. “I’m sorry I doubted you, even for a minute. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t know how to trust you.” He closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“Sebastian, please.”

“I’ll find somewhere else to stay tonight.” This time when he drew in an overlarge breath, he seemed to shrink under the weight of it, his shoulders slumping.

“Don’t do this. Can’t we talk about it?”

“No. Not right now we can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ll say things I can’t take back.”

She forced herself to breathe through the inescapable feeling that she was being torn apart from the inside out, that her organs had conspired to make manifest the agony of watching Sebastian slip away. “Don’t give up on us. Sebastian, please.”

“There is no us. None of this was real.”

“Don’t say that. It was real to me.”

He hung his head, then sniffed and looked right through her. “I wish I could believe you.”

Sebastian disappeared around the corner of the house as Sabrina stood in shock, unable to move, unable to speak. A moment later, his car kicked up gravel as it turned out of the driveway and down the street, leaving her alone.

She crumbled, dissolving into tears as she sat on the steps of the deck, the ache in her chest warring with the stabbing in her abdomen as she sobbed. She pressed against the familiar spot on her side as the pain seared through her again, hot and sharp and bright enough that the edges of her vision went white, and she gasped for breath .

This wasn’t like the last time or the time before that or the time before that when the sharp stab of pain slowly dimmed, when it dulled to the sting of a pulled muscle, flaring with movement but otherwise quiet, until it disappeared altogether—at least until the next time. This pain wasn’t diminishing. It was as though someone had her insides in a vise grip and was slowly twisting, twisting. Like she was being torn apart from the inside.

Was this what a broken heart felt like? God, how could she survive it?

“Sabrina.” Kyla’s voice called to her as though she were underwater, fuzzy and muted, too far away.

And then her hand was on Sabrina’s forehead, the other resting on her knee as Kyla crouched in front of her. Kyla was talking to her, but Sabrina couldn’t make out what she was saying.

Then everything went black.