No Magic Moment (Secrets of Stone Book 4) (20 page)

“So?”

“So…what’s the deal? Do you still have feelings for him?”

“No!”

“Though you answered that a little too quickly, I still believe you.” Her voice gentled. “I know how much you love Michael, and how much he loves you. So this has to be about something else.”

“It is. I had to leave the restaurant…leave them both there. They started going at each other like pissy school boys. I didn’t know how much more of it I could take—or
can
take.”

She let a long beat go by. Another. “Well, what would
you
be doing in Michael’s position?”

I dropped my head to the top of a knee. Traced a contemplative finger along the edge of the bench. “I didn’t think of it that way.”

“Of course you didn’t.” The statement was more a sympathetic fact than an accusation. “
You
know you aren’t into Doug, so you expected Michael to simply believe you and deal with it. But guess what, babes? They’re men. Their brains fit inside the heads of their dicks. Doug was the cause of a lot of pain and drama in your life. Imagine if there was a female equivalent in Michael’s past and she just showed up one day—then he asked you to work peacefully with her. Could you do it?”

“I…don’t know.” I worked my chin up over my knee, rolling it around the cap as I inwardly debated. “If it meant getting his name cleared, like this could?” I lifted my head, newly resolute. “Doug is one of the top private investigators in the state, Bear. You know the Christopher Landen case, the one all over the news? That was Doug’s team.”

“Those are impressive credentials,” she conceded. “And I know you only want the best for Michael…but you need to look at it from his perspective, too. Emotions are new to you. I realize that.”

“Watch it, you saucy little witch.”

“Or what, you icy little bitch?”

My laugh echoed hers. “Fuck, you drive me nuts.”

“I love you, too.” She sighed. “Just remember to take
his
side into consideration.”

“Fine, fine,” I grumbled. “I know you’re right.”

“Of course I am.”

“Hey.”

“Hmmm?”

“Why the doctor? Everything okay? Am I going to be an auntie?” I sing-songed the last part.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” She chanted it back at me.

“Ahhhh! Evil!”

“Speaking of evil, my jailer is already here. I’d better get off the phone before Kil disconnects this privilege too.”

She finished it in a giggle. It was clear, even over the phone, that she adored my brother and all his overprotective ways. It helped that everyone knew that Killian Aidan Jamison Klarke Stone would capture the moon, wrestle it to Earth, and lay it before her feet if she even mentioned the desire to dance in moon dust.

They made me want to puke.

“All right, Bear. Kiss the man for me, too. I appreciate the talk.”

“Margaux?”

“Hmmm?”

“You know I really do love you.”

“
Bleccchh
.”

Things were suddenly so much better.

Eventually—hopefully—it would become second nature for me to turn to my family. My
real
family, the people I truly cared about, the ones I actually loved. My mother—well, Andrea—had my mind and instincts so warped, I still shied away from them…from needing anyone.

I didn’t like it anymore.

Maybe, when life settled back down again, I’d do something I swore against ever trying again in my life.

Maybe it was time to go back to therapy.

*

“Declan Pearson isn’t
taking a piss without us knowing about it.”

I grinned gamely at Doug across my dining room table. “Well, you have my attention now.”

“I have one man on him pretty much around the clock in Julian. My office girl-slash-media guru, Tiffany, is tracking every mouse click he makes online, including gambling sites, credit card charges, and social media. Another one of my guys is standing by here in town, in case he decides another San Diego field trip is in order.” He broke into the update with a tight scowl, directing his attention to an equally somber Michael. “The connection to the ‘goons,’ or whatever you called them from the night at the Del, is proving to be our sticky challenge.”

Michael’s mien didn’t change. This was the third of our weekly check-in meetings with Doug, though the first that took place at the condo. Michael wasn’t any more pleased about it than Doug was comfortable.

Leaving tonight’s giant helping of awkward allllll for me. Goody.

I was damn glad Michael had already gotten home when Doug arrived—though I also didn’t miss that sometime during the day, the school desk had been pulled away from the wall, farther than normal. The everyday clutter had been cleared from it, too. The remodel definitely wasn’t Sorrelle’s doing, since he was assisting me at the office more and more lately, proving invaluable to the ramp-up team of Stone Global’s beauty products division.

I wasn’t sure if Michael’s territory marker was adorable or annoying. I didn’t want to flaunt our sexual shenanigans in Doug’s face, and I sure as hell didn’t want to be distracted with thoughts of that night, when we needed to focus fully on Doug’s latest news. Right now, nothing was more important than clearing Michael of the ridiculous assault and battery charges. Our entire life was in a holding pattern, waiting to get over this hurdle.

Still, since he’d taken the time to clear the desk off, I wondered what saucy little act of defiance might earn me a “punishment” later.
Hmmm
.

“I don’t know what you’re insinuating…
Dougie
.”

Shit.

Punishment tabled—unless it turned into Michael’s instead of mine. This wasn’t the most ideal situation for anyone but tonight it was the most convenient. Michael seemed hell-bent on forgetting that part, jumping right into poking Doug with the alpha caveman stick.

To his credit, Doug actually grinned. “Excuse me, man?”

Michael chuffed then growled. “Oh, come on,
man.
The way you just said that—like you don’t believe me—that wasn’t just a slip.”

“Stop.” I grabbed his forearm and curled my nails in. “
Stop.
”

“Stop what?” he flung. “Calling him on his truth, when he won’t believe mine?”

Doug stood. “I believe you, okay? It’s just that—”

“The fuck you do.” Michael twisted his arm free and shoved to his own feet. “The fuck
anyone
does.” With hands clasped behind his neck, he stomped toward the patio. “What are we even doing this for?”

“
Michael
.” This was getting painful—in the worst translations of the word.

He spun around, spearing a stare into Doug. “Ohhh, wait. I forgot what a convenient opportunity this is for you,
man.
Yeah…great idea. Bilk your old girlfriend out of her money
and
have the chance to spend some nice, cozy free time with her.”

Doug shook his head. “You’re letting the stress talk, buddy.”

“The stress—or the truth? Come on, it
is
a great idea, man. Getting rich while getting back in her panties. Real smooth.”

Doug rammed his chair back under the table. “I don’t have to take this.”

Michael spun. “Neither do I. That’s English, Dougie-poo, for ‘get the fuck out of our house.’”

“Michael! Stop!” Now this was beyond painful. He was making an ass out of himself.

“Oh? So it’s ‘
Michael
, stop.’ Not ‘
Doug
stop.’ Just
Michael
.” He bared his teeth in a vicious smile. “Fucking. Perfect.”

“Oh my God.” Against my control, my volume rose to match his. “Are we really doing this again?”

One end of his mouth tugged up, lifting those full lips in a sneer. “I don’t recall ever doing this a first time.” He threw his glare back to Doug. “Do you, buddy? Have we done this before?”

Doug held up both hands. “I’ll just leave.” Remarkably, he’d recalibrated his tone. The statement went along with his pose, an attempt at keeping the peace without placing blame. “I thought this would be easier for you guys but we can reschedule something for my office.”

I exhaled gratefully.

Michael let out a predatory snarl. “I get it. Now you’re the hero too, right? I’m the hotheaded idiot boyfriend and you’re the sweeping knight, making everything all better.”

Doug started shutting down his laptop. “Pearson, I’m not talking to you like this.”

“Of course you’re not. Why should you, Mr. I’m-Above-This?” He pushed behind Doug, puffing out his chest as Doug scooped up files. Yes,
puffing out his chest.
“I have it just about right, don’t I, Simcox?”

I couldn’t believe what I was watching. What the hell had the universe done with the understanding, levelheaded, I’m-a-patient-man-Margaux person that I loved?

“
Michael
!” I grabbed at his arm. My fingers smacked each other as he wrenched away. “This has to stop!”

Doug slung his leather satchel over his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m going to go.” Dipped his head a little toward me. “Will you be all right?”

“Great idea, Dougie.” Michael squared off, shoulders tense and fists curled. “She’ll be just fine here—with
me
.”

I stepped around Michael, shaking my head. “I’ll see you out, Doug.” As I passed, I flashed a backward glower that conveyed a two-pronged message. Michael had some explaining to do—and a mega-sized apology to issue.

While leaving with Doug, I grabbed my key off the hook in the foyer in order to get back into the condo. As I walked Doug to the elevator, color rushed my cheeks. Words seemed a hopeless concept.

Luckily, they did come. “I don’t even know what to say. I’m mortified.”

“It’s okay,” Doug murmured. “He’s under a lot of stress.”

“It’s
not
okay,” I seethed. “We’re all under a lot of stress!”

“Stop,” Doug protested. “Get back to him. Have a drink together. Maybe ten.”

I battled for a smile. Wasn’t happening. “I’m not sure what’s going on in his head, but I promise this is the last time he’ll treat you that way. I’ll make sure of it.”

The elevator arrived. Doug gave me a quick, friendly hug. I really wasn’t comfortable with that either, but given the bomb Michael had just dropped in the condo, I didn’t know if I was coming or going. I didn’t even remember my steps back inside.

When I got there, Michael was pacing the living room like a caged animal. If I had carpet, I’d be concerned for the pile. I watched him make three laps before I finally spoke.

“What the fuck was that all about?”

“What?”

“
What
? Are you serious?”

“If you’re referring to my frustration about being gawked at like I’m making up pretend bad guys, then—”

“Frustration? Is that what you’re calling it? That
wasn’t
‘frustration.’ That was being an immature ass. For God’s sake, Michael. You’re a professional attorney. Instead, you’re acting like a child!” I stormed across the room, making my way to the mantel. I had to grip something other than his neck. “I’d expected more.
Much
more.”

“Well.” I heard his suit rustle. In the reflection created by the window, he’d slammed his hands to his hips. “Sorry I let you down, sweetheart—again. Guess there’s a lot of that going on around here lately, huh?”

I whirled, the action causing my hand to catch a piece of blown-glass art that looked like a constipated seagull. It crashed to the floor and I didn’t care. “Is that what this is about? Is this some weird martyr bullshit, Michael? Some ‘poor you for picking a loser like me’ bit? That bullshit goes nowhere with me faster than anything I can think of.” I crunched through the glass, sweeping out my arms. “Are you forgetting who you’re dealing with? Compassion is an emotion I barely comprehend let alone am in touch with, buddy.”

His arms spread, too. “Damn. You’re right. How could I possibly forget who I’m dealing with? In case you haven’t noticed, it’s everywhere I fucking look!”

Rise in San Diego
, a local tabloid, was laying on the coffee table. The two of us were splashed across the cover beneath the disgusting headline:
Trouble in Paradise?
I’d meant to throw the rag out after Sorrelle brought it into the house after a trip to the grocery store. Now, I scooped up the piece of shit then winged it at him. It bounced off his chest and landed face up on the floor. Fucker didn’t even try to defend himself.

“You. Prideful. Prick. Who’s the one carrying us into the public mud bath? Look at the picture, dammit. It’s you!
You
, making a fool of yourself in public,
again
. Don’t stand there making insinuations that I’m the media whore who’s enjoying this!”

I was suffocated by a furious fog as I stormed over to the stairs. Doug was right. I needed a drink—but first a long, hot, rage-melting bath in the master bathtub. Alone.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

I stopped in my tracks. First, his tone. Second, the question itself.

I cocked my head to the side, still facing the stairs. “
What
did you just say?”

His steps were hard and measured. I kept one foot frozen on the second step.

“Where. Are. You. Going?” He growled it at my ramrod-straight back. “We’re not done talking, dammit.”