Reckless (16 page)

D
ante

“
W
here’s Maren
?” my mother asks Saturday morning when I return to the beach house. Aidy and her sister are standing next to the stove, frying bacon in a pan. They look my way, stares wide and curious.

“She went home,” I say. Straight ahead, through a set of sliding glass doors, I spot some surfers making use of the early morning tides.

My mother walks around the marble island, her hands outstretched until they reach my face. Her eyes hold concern, but I can’t bear to look at them for longer than a second.

“My baby,” she says with a pout. “What happened?”

“It’s a long story,” I say, shoulders sagging. “Can we not discuss it? I’d like to enjoy what’s left of this weekend.”

My mom purses her lips. She’s dying to ask a hundred thousand questions. The weight of her stare is palpable. “Yes, my love. You can talk to me about it when you’re ready. I really liked her, and I hope, whatever it is, that the two of you can work it out.”

“Me too.”

Excusing myself, I make a beeline for the deck where Alessio sits in peace and quiet, sipping his coffee and browsing the news on his phone.

“Mind if I have a seat?” I ask, pulling up a chair. It’s not like he has a choice in the matter. I need this fresh air just as much as he does.

“What’s up?” he asks. He stares, hard. He knows something’s different. “Where’s Maren? She inside with the girls?”

“She left,” I say.

“Well, shit.” He sits his phone down, leaning back in his chair. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nope.”

“Dante,” he says, head tilted and voice deep. “Talk. Get it out.”

“It’s nothing. You know how women are. They get all bent out of shape over stupid shit and then they get over it.”

He stares down the bridge of his nose, exhaling hard. “What’d you do?”

I avoid his stare for a minutes, contemplating whether or not to involve him in any of this. It’s not his business. And I’m sure everything’ll work out anyway. But then again, part of me wants to feel validated . . . and it would sure be nice to have someone on my side who agrees that she’s overreacting.

Exhaling, I meet his eye contact and tell him everything.

When I’m finished, he’s quiet.

Alessio is a quiet guy, but I need him to say something. I need him to tell me it’s not that bad. That I didn’t screw this up for good. That she’ll get over it as soon as it blows over.

“That’s fucked up,” he says, after soaking it in over several lengthy seconds.

“What?”

“That’s really fucked up.” He pushes a breath past his lips and sits back in his chair, lifting his hands behind his head and staring toward the ocean. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

My heart sinks into my stomach. “I fucked up.”

I have to make this right. I have to fix this. And for the first time in my life, I haven’t a clue how.

M
aren

“
I
feel so used
,” I lament to Saige over the phone. “And here I thought I’d stumbled into something wonderful. Thought I found a bona fide Mr. Perfect. Turns out he’s just as much of a schmuck as all the rest.”

“Wow,” Saige sighs. “I have to say, I didn’t see that coming. Has he tried to reach out to you since you left Malibu?”

“Only every day,” I say. For the last seven days, he’s called or texted, and I’ve ignored each and every attempt.

I’m not ready yet.

The sting of betrayal is still raw and red.

Two shiny headlights pull into my driveway, flashing through my living room curtains and causing my heart to sputter to a stop until I remember it’s only Nathan dropping off the boys.

“Dash and Beck are home,” I tell Saige. “Call you tomorrow?”

“You better.”

I place my phone to the side and walk to the front door. I haven’t seen the kids since I came back, and I’ve missed them like crazy. I’m actually looking forward to a weekend just the three of us. I’ll take them anywhere they want to go. I’ll feed them pizza and candy and let them stay up late and watch movies.

I just don’t want to think about Dante.

I don’t want to think about what an idiot I’ve been, prancing around in lingerie and giving him blow jobs and acting like some college coed on the verge of discovering her sexuality.

I feel so stupid.

The thought of Dante thrusting himself inside me all the while relishing in his warped idea of revenge makes my stomach churn.

I thought he was different.

“Hey,” I answer the door, feet planted as I wait for my boys to dive into me with monstrous hugs. Beck nearly plows me over and Dash gives me a quick, cool-kid type of hug. “Missed you boys.”

I’m seconds from shutting the door when I see Nathan standing back. He doesn’t always come to the door when he drops them off. Sometimes he stays in the car, phone glued to his ear, like he’s taking dinner orders from Lauren.

But tonight there’s something different about him.

“Maren,” he says. “Mind if I step in for a moment?”

“O . . . okay,” I say, standing back.

He doesn’t take his eyes off me for a moment, and his forehead is covered in stress lines. I close the door behind him and stand in the foyer, keeping a careful distance between us because I have no idea what this is about.

“The boys said you and Dante broke up,” he says.

I nod. I spoke to Beck on the phone earlier this week, and it came up in conversation when he asked if we could hang out with Dante this weekend.

“Right,” I say. “Things didn’t work out.”

Nathan’s throat rolls and he lifts his gaze on mine. “Lauren’s pregnant.”

I’m not sure if I’m supposed to feel shock right now.

But I feel nothing.

“Okay,” I say, brows lifted because I’m not sure why he’s telling me this.

“It wasn’t planned,” he says. “She’s not too excited, and if I’m being honest, neither am I.” He takes a step closer. “I messed up, Maren.”

Snorting through my nose, I smirk. Nathan’s never been one to admit to his mistakes, and seeing him standing here, worry on his face and regret in his voice, is a momentous occasion. One for the history books.

“I messed up when I left you,” he says. “You were the love of my life, and I threw it away. I’m a goddamned idiot. You were so good to me, Mar. And I never appreciated you. I took you for granted.”

I’m glued to his every word, letting it soak in, relishing how good it feels to hear him admit to his scumsucking, assholish ways.

“It’s not too late,” he says. “I still love you. I want to be with you again, Maren. I need you. You’re the mother of my kids. You’re the love of my life. The only one for me.”

“Nathan, it
is
too late,” I say. “We’re divorced.”

“Yeah, but divorced people get back together all the time. It’s not unheard of.”

“It’s not going to-”

Before I can finish my sentence, his hand is in my hair and his mouth is on my mouth.

D
ante

S
even days
.

She’s been home for seven days.

She’s been ignoring me for seven days.

It’s time she pulls her head out of her ass. I refuse to let her throw away this good thing we have, and I’m convinced that if we could just sit down and talk, we could work through this. We could make it better. She could see that I’m falling for her and that I never meant to hurt her.

It’s pouring rain when I pull my car onto her street, and I slow down when I approach her driveway.

There’s a car parked out front.

Upon closer inspection, it appears to be Nathan’s BMW.

Pulling to the curb out front, I decide to park and wait for him to leave, since he’s probably just dropping off the boys. Flicking my wipers on, I clear the glass until I can get a better view of her house.

Killing the engine, I unfasten my seatbelt and watch. The porch light is lit and my gaze is trained on the front door, waiting for that balding moron to get the fuck out.

Any minute now.

My stare moves toward the living room window for just a moment, and I can see the two of them standing in the foyer. It looks like they’re talking, and I hope to God Maren hasn’t told him that we’ve ended things because I can only imagine how happy that would make him, and someone like Nathan doesn’t deserve that kind of reprisal.

Sucking in a deep breath, I think about all the things I’m going to say to her the second I get the chance.

I glance away for only a moment, watching two headlights grow near and then pass, their red taillights burning further into the distance, and when I look back at the house, I see Nathan and Maren.

Kissing.

My body sinks. My mouth dries. I blink, convinced I’m seeing things. But they’re still liplocked, his hands in her hair.

I look away.

I can’t watch a second longer.

Firing up my engine, I shift into overdrive and slam my foot on the gas pedal.

M
aren

“
G
et
off
of me
!” I shove Nathan so hard he nearly trips over the sofa table behind him.

Stumbling, he appears dumbfounded for a moment.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” I yell, though it’s more of a whispered yell. The boys are in the next room, rummaging through the pantry in the kitchen, and I don’t want them to hear. “You’re about to become a father for the third time. Your girlfriend is sitting at home. And you’re standing here trying to get back with your ex-wife?! You should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I only wanted to prove to you that I meant what I said.”

“Nothing you can ever say or do is going to change the fact that you’re a self-centered, lying, cheating asshole, Nathan,” I say with an angry leer. My lip is curled into a snarl. “You made your bed, now go lie in it like the dog you are.”

“Now let’s take a second here,” Nathan says, his hands splayed in front of him. “Let’s really think about this before we make any decisions.”

“Nathan, what are you talking about? There’s nothing to think about. I. Don’t. Want. To. Be. With. You. Do I need to spell it out?”

He looks hurt, genuinely hurt, and I neglect to remind him of the crushing sadness rained upon me the day I found out he was cheating on me.

He’s not worth my energy.

“Maren,” he begins, but his thought is interrupted by an intense pounding at the front door.

It startles us both, and I move toward the peephole, gasping when I see it’s Dante. Pulling the door open, I find myself face-to-face with a seething, red-faced, rain-drenched man whose eyes are trained on Nathan’s.

Oh, god.

He saw the kiss.

“Dante,” I say, but before I can say more, he pushes himself through the doorway and marches toward Nathan, clocking him across the jaw.

Someone’s screaming, and it takes a few seconds until I realize the screams are coming from my lips.

Dante’s clutching his fist and Nathan’s on the ground.

Everything happened so fast.

“I saw the kiss,” Dante growls. “I saw the kiss and I left. And then I turned around and came back because fuck that guy.” He points to Nathan, who’s writhing on the ground, his hand cupping his nose and the side of his face. He’s mumbling into his hand. “Maren, you don’t have to be with me if you don’t want to, but please, for the love of God, do not go back to this asshole. I won’t allow it.”

I’m unable to speak, my brain still trying to process everything that just happened. My mouth opens, but I’m still stuck on silent mode.

“Here,” Dante says, handing me a folded piece of paper.

And then he leaves.

Just as quickly as he arrived.

“I’m going to fucking sue him,” Nathan shrieks as Dante slams the front door. “Maren, call the police. I want a report filed immediately. And help me up, goddamn it.”

I’m standing there, dazed still, and I only snap out of it when I spot Dash’s head peeking out from around the kitchen corner.

“What’s going on? We heard something,” he says.

“Nothing,” I say. “Why don’t you and your brother grab a snack and head to the family room for a bit? I’ll be there soon. Your father was just leaving.”

“Don’t just fucking stand there, Maren,” Nathan says, face twisted into a menacing scowl. “Get off your ass and pick up the phone!”

“Get out of my house, Nathan. You kiss me like that ever again, I’ll make damn sure Lauren knows all about it.”

* * *

B
y ten o’clock
, I’ve spent every waking minute sandwiched between my boys on the family room sofa. I’ve kissed their heads a thousand times. I’ve put them both to bed. And I’ve lingered in their doorways, watching them fall asleep.

It’s only when I’m lying in my own bed, staring at the ceiling, that I recall the slip of paper Dante handed me when he left earlier tonight. Climbing out of bed, I head downstairs, finding it on the console table in the foyer, right where I left it after kicking Nathan out.

Clicking on a small lamp, I unfold the note and hold it to the light.

The heading reads:
Reasons I’m Falling in Love with Maren Greene (and why I don’t think I can live without her).

He made a list.

My heart skips in my chest and my stomach balls into a knot as my eyes soak in the inky scribbles before me.

Her lips taste like cherries.

Her skin tastes like almonds and honey.

Her smile is infectious, her laugh addictive.

She’s ridiculously smart and logical to a fault.

She’s a phenomenal mother. She gives motherhood 200% and makes Carol Brady look like a slacker.

She’s creative and intelligent and passionate about paper.

She’s not afraid to be a giant dork around me.

She’s a sexpot.

Her mouth is kind of magical . . .

And her pussy is a gateway to other realms.

She laughs at my jokes, even when they’re terrible.

She still talked to me after I sent her my “Dick pic.”

I have fun with her even when we’re doing nothing.

She’s the first thing I think about when I wake up.

She’s the last thing I think about before I go to sleep.

She gives good cuddles. ;-)

She’s not afraid to try new things.

She’s gorgeous on the outside and beautiful on the inside.

My family loves her (and hates me for screwing this up)

I kind of want to put a baby in her, and I’ve never felt that way about anyone before. ;-)

She’s honest and forthright, and I know I don’t deserve her.

But . . .

Reckless love knows no reason.

And I love her.

T
here’s
a little arrow pointing to the back of the paper. I turn it over to see a small note scribbled.

I
know I screwed up
. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you, Maren. I love what we had, and I want it back, and I promise, if you give me another chance, I’ll never screw it up again. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Yours and only yours,

Dante