Hate The One You’re With (Happily Ever Mishaps #4)

Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Caleb

She-Devil: Why did you email me a copy of my grandmother’s letter addressed to: BENTLEY’S owner?

Satan: The letter is addressed to you, and I think you need to be the one in charge of the feline.

She-Devil: You wanted him. No, you demanded to own him. I gave him to you, and I’ve washed my hands of that high-maintenance cat.

Satan: You tricked me.

She-Devil: Nope. You were adamant about getting the Bentley. Well, it’s yours and no take-backsies.

Satan: Backsies? What are you, twelve?

She-Devil: It’s hilarious that you think only twelve-year-olds use that word. In any case, I’m not taking the cat back. If you’re smart, you’ll figure out how to work around his damn schedule.

Satan: Something tells me you’re not a fan.

She-Devil: He’s fine . . .

Satan: So you two don’t get along then.

She-Devil: It’s more like I’m over his nonsense. While Grandma was sick, I had to follow his schedule. It was mostly the Sunday walks around the park that drove me insane. Though . . . I cheated. I bought one of those strollers for running, had a guy modify it so I could get Bentley there safely, and just took him for a run.

Satan: Did she ever catch you cheating the system?

She-Devil: No, but when she felt well enough, she’d come with us, and I had to endure the painfully slow walk with the cat. Children stopping us, Moms taking pictures . . . It was like owning a walking petting zoo (lets out a big sigh).

Satan: Sounds painful, but I can see her not letting you stop the show. The woman was a force and liked the attention.

She-Devil: She was, and even with all her BS, I miss her a lot. Not a morning goes by that I don’t check my phone, hoping she’d call to ask if I’m wearing the right clothes or have planned the charity auction or . . .

Satan: Sorry about your loss.

She-Devil: It’s life. Life that seems to just like taking the little I have left.

Satan: You’re a billionaire, Em. You’ve always had everything.

She-Devil: I would give up my entire fortune to have a family, love—all of it.

Satan: You can always buy yourself one. I mean, you already started by buying yourself a husband.

She-Devil: You’re such a fucking asshole. I don’t even know why I’m talking to you as if you’re a human who’ll understand other people’s feelings. Never message me again.

Satan: You’re the one who started this conversation.

She-Devil: Because you . . . never mind.

Satan: Fine, before you stop talking to me, what would happen if I blew out all the doors in this place?

She-Devil: What?

Satan: I’m thinking that if there are no doors—or doorframes—we can use all the rooms.

She-Devil: I don’t know, but if you want to go to war with Percy, good luck. Just keep me out of this.

Satan: Oh I want a war, believe me. I’ll take that as your approval to do whatever the fuck I want with the place. See you later, wife.

“Are you done, Romeo? You’re taking precious time away from my baby and Zoe,” Max protests.

Ethan laughs. “Sure, let’s go with that. I told you to stay, and you said, ‘Take me the fuck away from here.’”

I arch an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. What happened? He’s so smitten with Zoe. I mean, he said she was the love of his life, and the baby . . . I guess things aren’t as perfect as he thought. Now that reality is setting in, does he want to run away?

“Is the honeymoon phase over?” I ask, my concern edging in. What’s going to happen with Zoe and the baby? I should’ve warned him that they aren’t disposable.

“What?” He narrows his gaze in confusion.

“You’re leaving Zoe and Emma because they?—”

“Fuck no. They’re my life,” he growls, looking genuinely insulted.

“Then I don’t understand,” I say, trying to piece it together.

“My mother and Zoe’s mom are at my place, smothering my poor fiancée and child,” he explains, clearly exasperated. “I wanted to kick them out, but apparently, they’re ‘helping.’”

“They are helping,” Ethan confirms with a nod. “You and Zoe need to sleep more. Em has been keeping you both up since she arrived home from the hospital. I told you to stay and take a nap. You’re too . . . What did Zo say again? Oh yeah, ‘grumpy.’”

“No, I’d rather be here. Everyone is invading my place. I’d rather blow out walls and shit,” Max says with a grin that tells me he’s losing his mind, but he’s enjoying the idea of wreaking havoc far more than dealing with his family.

For a moment, I wonder if that’s how things will be with me if I ever find someone worth keeping after Emmersyn and I finally walk away from each other. Will I lose my shit because I can barely sleep, yet still feel like the world is perfect because someone stole my heart?

Doubtful. The last time someone stole my heart . . . Well, I’m still paying for it dearly, aren’t I?

Maybe soon this feeling of being lost will finally disappear. All the emotions I’ve felt since Emmersyn walked into my life will vanish forever. It’s the only thing I can hope for—that everything will fade with time. But how much more time needs to pass? How many more nights do I have to endure this ache, this hollow sense of longing?

I keep telling myself that eventually, the memories will blur, that the sharp edges of her presence will dull, and the pain will ease. But each moment without her stretches into an eternity, making me wonder if I’m destined to carry this weight forever.

“So, when are you going to tell us about Emmersyn?” Ethan finally asks, cutting through my thoughts. Just as I’m about to tell him to mind his own damn business, he presses on. “I remember you being pretty in love with her, and then . . . nothing. It’s like she vanished from your life overnight. Never to?—”

“Marriage is for fucking idiots,” Max interrupts. “I think that’s what he said the night after he left her. We were so fucking drunk—him more than us.”

“She’s the one who left him in the end,” Ethan says, pushing the knife deeper into the wound.

“Nope. He pushed her,” Max insists.

Everyone has a different version of what happened with Emmersyn. I never had the courage to tell them what really went down between us—from the beginning. They think I married her because I was crazy in love with the woman. The truth is, I did it out of convenience and nothing else.

Once I realized the kind of person I’d attached myself to, I wanted to dissolve the marriage, but I would’ve lost too much. So, I pushed her away and lived my life—until she came back. Now I have to make sure that I remain two feet away from her at all times. Not because I care about the items I could lose, but because I don’t want to get lost in her again.

But damn, how my body wishes for it. Every time I see her, it’s like a magnet pulling me in, making it impossible to think about anything else.

The way her lips curve into that knowing smile, how her body moves with that effortless grace—it’s all I can do not to reach out and pull her against me. I want to taste her, feel her skin under my hands, push her up against the nearest wall and lose myself in the heat of her body.

My mind races with images of peeling off her clothes, of sinking into her tight, wet heat, of watching her come apart beneath me, her nails digging into my back as I push her to the edge over and over again.

The need is almost unbearable, a constant, gnawing ache that never goes away. Every time I see her, it’s a battle to keep my hands to myself, to resist the urge to close that distance and claim what I’ve been denying myself for far too long.

“I guess we both thought the divorce papers had been filed, but neither one of us took care of it,” I lie once again. It’s so easy until . . .

“Don’t bullshit us,” Ethan cuts in. “You’re lying. We know your tells.”

“We do.” Max glances around the house, his eyes narrowing. “The place is big, and you really need help. If you want this done today, you better start talking or we’re out of here. I could just book a room at The Plaza, take a nap for a few hours, and then head back to my woman, fresh and ready for another sleepless night with my sweet baby banshee.”

“I’ll leave too,” Ethan says, glaring at me.

At that moment, Jacob and Liam arrive.

“Fuck, I really can’t do this right now,” I mutter under my breath.

“What are we doing?” Liam asks, then points at Jacob. “Guess who was trying to pretend he wasn’t in his office to avoid helping?”

“I have work to do,” Jacob snaps, clearly exasperated. “I was okay following you around when I was five, but now I have responsibilities that don’t involve your nonsense.”

“He’s about to tell us what really happened with Emmersyn,” Max says, ignoring his younger brother. “Like all the way from the beginning. ”

Jacob laughs. “Oh, I know most of it. If you let me go?—”

“Why would we let you go?” Liam glares at him. “Talk, Jacob, or I’ll unleash Eth and Max on you.”

I laugh. “This is exactly why your wives—and fiancée—insist you’re like children. Shall we start working, gentlemen?”

Ethan and Max exchange a glance, and I can tell they’re not letting this go. They’re not just here to help with the house—they want answers. But the truth is, I’m not ready to give them any. Not now, and maybe not ever.