Good Intentions (Welcome to Paradise) (Volume 2) (3 page)

Kelly is keeping her distance from me. Wise move. She’s also been working the crowd like she’s already an Ashford. Her charm and etiquette is more polished than my average upbringing in Colorado afforded. She’s all about the social graces and seems to be winning everyone over.

“They’ll be here any minute now, Mal,” Sunny reassures me, rubbing my back. “Don’t worry. We know the truth. Don’t believe that conniving witch.”

Noah rounds the corner, making his way through the crowd after spotting me on the other side of the pool. He leans in toward my ear, still smiling, and says, “Hi, I waited out front. You ready, cuz this is not the most friendly of parties, if you know what I mean. Enemy territory and all.”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say, glancing behind him one last time for Evan. I’ve had a lot to drink and I’m not feeling reasonable, much less in control of my emotions if provoked. Looking over at Kelly, I can tell she’s waiting to incite. I don’t want Evan’s parents to hate me more than they already do.

Sunny reaches for my hand, a desperate plea in her eyes. “Mallory, please wait. He’ll be her—”

“What the fuck are you doing here, Kalei? This is a private party.” Evan and his perfect timing have arrived. He takes possession of my hand, and pulls me to his side.

My eyes land on
her
as she saunters up next to him, all fake smile and evil glints reflecting in her eyes as she glares in my direction.

“Here you are, Evan. I was wondering where you ran off to,” she says, her hand taking to his bicep like it belongs there, rubbing up and down.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, looking at her like he’s seen a ghost… a ghost from his past.

I step away from him, releasing his hand as I feel the invisible sucker punch to my gut at her familiarity with him, how her devious grin looks as if she remembers every touch they’ve shared, knowledge she’s silently taunting me with as she sends painful blows to my already bruised ego. She knows his mother despises me and her confident smile messes with my inebriated mind. His words of surprise at seeing her are lost to the focus I have on her hand, to the way she’s touching him. Even when he pulls away, their tie that once bound them is still evident. I need to flee the scene before I breakdown, before I show Kelly and his witch of a mother that they’ve won, that they’ve beaten me.

“Mallory?” he says, but in my alcohol-induced brain, his voice sounds distant.

Noah understands my reaction as he surveys the scene. I can tell by the sympathy in his expression. “Mallory, I can take you home.” His words are just as careful as his actions.

The attention we’d garnered from other guests fades, their interest falling back into their own cliquish conversations. Tears gather under my lids while listening to Kelly laugh at my expense. “Evan, your mother wants to speak with you.” Kelly’s charm school training mixed with her expert back-stabbing skills leave me stunned. It’s only a matter of time before her magic begins to work on Evan.

I turn to go, recognizing when I’ve become a third wheel.

“Mallory, what’s going on? Why are you leaving?” Evan’s tone wavers between confusion and aggravation as he speaks to my back.

A quick peek over my shoulder is my undoing. He’s walked away from her, but the drinks add to the emotional weight of the situation, blurring any clarity I thought I could hold onto. I turn completely around and look him in the eyes before I lose my pride and the last shred of my sanity in the middle of this party. “I need to go. I’m sorry, Evan. I just do.”

“No.” He’s firm in his conviction like he has every right to say so. He comes closer. His eyes searching mine, his expression revealing that he knows something is wrong, something that might be bigger than the both of us. “We can talk. C’mon, baby, talk to me.”

“Not here, not now.” I look around at the attention from the nearby party-goers watching this scene as it starts swelling into a spectacle. His hand goes to my cheek, pressing to soothe the underlying trauma I’m feeling inside. His skin is warm against mine, his touch healing, and yet as the image of a text to an ex crosses my mind, it begins to burn. “Don’t touch me.” My demand is harsher than intended, and his hand drops away, but he grabs my wrist and pulls me with him without a word.

Noah grabs my other, yanking me to a stop, and stretching me in two directions.

There’s no confusion left. Evan’s anger is obvious. “Get your hands off of her!” He keeps his voice low, but solid. His restraint is clear because I can see how much he’s ready to fight if he has to.

Noah releases me, and asks, “Are you okay, Mallory?”

I don’t want to talk to Evan in the state I’m in because I’ll end up saying things I don’t mean. But this is not something that can wait. His past with Noah, Kelly, and how his mother makes me feel all needs to be resolved or settled one way or the other.

“I’m fine. I need to talk to him. I won’t be long.” I give the faintest of smiles to reassure Noah before turning back to Evan. “We should talk.”

We walk to the front of the house and weave between the cars. His Maserati is trapped in on all sides, so we stop in front of it just as his frustration boils over. “Shit! I wanted to go somewhere private.”

“Evan?” I keep my voice steady, keeping the emotional tsunami whirling inside at bay.

He locks eyes with me while his hands flex at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them. “Why is he here, Mallory?”

“Why is she here?” I point back toward the house.

“Who?”

“Kelly.”

“What does Kelly have to do with anything?”

“You told me you wouldn’t hurt me.”My tone is flatter than I mean to sound, my eyes losing focus on the man I love so much, and only seeing the guy from the airport.

Looking deep into my eyes, he approaches. “How did I hurt you, baby?” His voice is much calmer, his eyes soft around the edges. He’s always been a good actor, his skills artfully rewarded with an easy lay. Kelly is a prime example of his talents.

“That girl, Evan… I, I don’t understand why you wanted to be with me so much, and yet you still needed a backup plan—a girl waiting in the wings for when we’re over,” I explain, tears streaking down my face.

“Baby, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t—” His hands reach for my cheek as he looks at me miffed by the overflow of emotion.

“I don’t want your apology!” My own hurt turns to anger and my hands start to shake again.

“I don’t understand. Why are you acting this way?”

The tears dry on the spot at the insinuation that I’m in the wrong. Alcohol might not be the best remedy for the blues, but it always fuels an irrational fire, which is burning inside of me. “Why am I acting this way? Why am
I
acting this way? You have some nerve turning this around on me when you’re the one chatting up your fling this whole time while spewing a guilt trip on me over Noah.” I’ve been such a fool. I thought I could handle being carefree Mallory, but that’s not who I am. Whether I’m in Colorado or Hawaii, I’m still the same person.

“What are you talking about?” His voice is raised as he narrows his eyes pointedly at me.

I have a feeling Evan Ashford is not called out on his actions much. “I’m talking about your girlfriend from the airport. Why’d you do this to me? Why not just fuck me and send me on my merry way like you send every other one night stand?” I hit him on the chest once and then again as I shout, “Why?”

“You’re talking crazy. I don’t know why she’s here, but it’s not because I asked her to come. You really think I’m that much of an asshole?”

“I think you knew what you were doing all along,” I say, pointing at him. “You only pursued me because I rejected you at the airport. You pursued me because you’re spoiled and can’t accept no when you’re told.”

“I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m telling you the truth, Mallory. You’re drunk and blowing things out of proportion.”

There are phrases that men say to women that are sure fire to set a woman off in a rage. ‘You’re drunk and blowing things out of proportion’ is one of those. I close my eyes, attempting to gather my thoughts which are running rampant. When I open my eyes again, I can tell everything we have built teeters on the weight of this conversation. “You should have just fucked me the first day. I expected it then. I wanted it. But you, you had to make love to me and make me feel more than I wanted. This was supposed to be a fun summer. I finally got to be whoever I wanted to be, escaping my life back home. I wanted easy and frivolous. I wanted to have a one night stand and leave it at that, but no. You had other plans, like torturing me until you got what you wanted. Are you happy, Evan? You’ve broken me into a million little worthless pieces, the whole of me lost to the abuse of your charms and good looks.”

I’m tipsy, maybe drunk, but now that we’re laying it all out there, we might as well get the rest out into the open. Every little insecurity and twisted situation aired and in the end maybe we will survive or maybe we won’t, but if we do, it will because we live in the truth.

“If I would’ve fucked you without expectations, we’d still be here today,” he says, his voice much more cautious. “There’s something between us that neither can deny. Something stronger than our will and desires—”

The plan has formed. The solution to our problem lies in the wake of our beginning. We have to backtrack and make this all right, make it the way it was always meant to be. “You may be right, but we can fix this. Since you’re obviously not ready to give up other girls then you can give me up. I’ve got the perfect plan. Fuck me, Evan.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“It’s so simple. Don’t make love to me. Don’t be gentle. Fuck me without emotion, so we can move on with our lives, knowing that’s all we were. Nothing more. Nothing less. Nothing gained. Nothing lost.” I look down, believing this option is viable. “Just do this. If you ever cared about me, do it.” I look up as the tears pool in my eyes again. “We gave it our best shot, but it’s time to end this like it was always supposed to end.” I hate the plea in my voice as it cracks, my heart warring between strength and devastation.

He holds my arms, squeezing them as we stare into each other’s eyes, and says, “That’s not going to solve anything, baby. Everything would be lost because we’re way beyond fucking each other out of our systems. I’ve tried it and it didn’t—”

“You tried? You mean…” My heart explodes inside my chest, knowing he’s been preparing for my leave all along, plotting out his plan to rid me from his life. This reaffirms my own plan. Yes, I need for him to do this because then I’ll see him differently. He won’t be loving or nice. He’ll be a user, an abuser, and a taker. I’ll be able to walk away with those last images and forget the past and everything I thought we could be.

His grip tightens, and I see his expression change as reality sets in. I’m slipping away, even if I’m physically right in front of him. “That’s not what I meant, Mal—”

“I don’t care what you meant! Let’s just do this and then you can send me off with a kiss and fake goodbye and it will be like the last six weeks never happened.”

“No, it won’t, and I can’t treat you like that. I care about you. Why are you doing this?” Tears fill his eyes as his hand touches my cheek.

I turn away, not able to watch him fall apart. I’m barely holding on myself. I can’t be strong for both of us. “I saw the text. It was from you,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

“What text? It’s not real. We’re real, baby. Kelly’s nothing to me. She never meant anything to me and you know that. We—”

“It can be quick, fast, and meaningless,” I say and look down the path toward the guest house. “We can just go in there and do it how we should have done it the first time.”

I’m right. I know I am. I saw the text. His silence slices deep as he stares at me. He’s probably having a mental field day trying to psychoanalyze this moment and I’ll let him. Maybe that will make this easier if he feels in control once again.

This is it. I will finally find out why all of the girls leave crying after being with him. I know it’s not from him ‘making love’ to them. Deep down, I already know why. Like all the ones who came before me, they give, he takes, and nothing more. So this shouldn’t be a difficult decision for him. I’m offering what he wanted all along—no strings attached. I try not to think of the one that clings, connecting my heart to his, as I look at his wary face.

His hands hold my arms, his fingers flexing around them. Leaning down until he’s eye-level with me, he says, “I didn’t betray you. I wouldn’t! So if you need to leave with Noah to feel better about a misunderstanding, then do it. We’re done here.” His body leaves mine and the balmy wind scrapes across my skin.

“So you’re done?” This comes out more like I’ve been waiting for it to be over a while now, but I never was. I hoped for more. Our actions and pain have taken over who we were together.

Two tears slide down his cheeks as he looks back, his pain evident as he releases a deep breath. “If you’re choosing to believe her over me, then yes, Mallory,
we’re
done.”

By texting her, his heart and mind betrayed me. His body would’ve followed soon after.
We’re done.
It doesn’t matter that he said it.
We are done.
This is better for me in the long run.
She
only made the inevitable happen sooner. She didn’t have to show me the text. His past speaks for itself. I could see it, the connection they shared, in the way she touched him. She’s in love with him and I can’t ignore the fact that he’s arguing a lost cause. That girl has proof of his betrayal. “I saw it was from your number, Evan. How can you stand here and lie to my face?”