The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2)(59)

Daff read each slip of paper, bittersweet tears sliding down her cheeks as she thought of the boy he had been, of the man he was. She was a fool for letting him go. She knew it.

She regretted it.

But she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to fix it.

“I don’t know why I can’t have a TV in my room, all the other kids at school do,” Charlie whined, and Spencer hid a grin at the unfamiliar high pitch in her voice. She was starting to behave like a typical young girl, concerned about the way she looked, her hair, what the other kids at her school had. She had started attending the local high school just three weeks ago and seemed to be settling in nicely. She even had a couple of friends.

She would be moving in with Spencer next week, and her room was nearly complete. She’d surprised him by going pink and girly. Somehow he’d expected something darker, more Goth. But now that she didn’t have to hide her femininity, she was embracing it. It was odd to see her in skirts and dresses. With her short hair and skinny frame, they didn’t quite suit her, but she was starting to gain weight and looking healthier by the day. Spencer loved that she felt safe enough to behave and look like a girl again. And—while frustrating—he enjoyed her displays of temper and adolescent sulks, which meant that she felt secure enough in her position here not to tiptoe around on her absolute best behavior.

“You don’t need a television when we have a perfectly good one in the living room,” he said, addressing her latest grievance.

“Yeah, but I probably won’t want to watch the same crap you watch.”

“Hey, watch the language,” he warned her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Crap is so not a swear word.”

“Yeah, well, I say it is.”

“Oh my God. Your rules are so arbitrary. Why do you have to be such an old man sometimes?” He merely raised a brow to that, and she huffed dramatically.

They were at Spencer’s place having some lunch after an “epic” shopping trip, for some “absolute, must-have” last-minute finishing touches to Charlie’s room. Spencer didn’t see what was so essential about a pod chair, or a weird pink fur rug, or whoever the hell that sulky teen boy in the ridiculously expensive framed poster was, but he’d had a blast getting the items for her. And the tasks took his mind off Daff—and the huge gaping hole she had left in his life and his heart.

God, he missed her. He felt so lost and lonely without her. Being with her on her terms didn’t seem so bad compared to the constant, dull ache he now carried with him. With Daff he’d felt a sense of belonging, and not having her in his life made him question whether the traditional bonds he sought were as important as he’d once believed they were.

“So are you and Daff not, like, together anymore?” Charlie’s subdued question completely threw him, and he blinked at her dumbly.

“I—uh . . . well, we weren’t really together,” he explained awkwardly, and she took a sip from her soda before daintily picking up a french fry and biting it in half.

“You seemed like you were.”

“It wasn’t serious.”

Charlie dragged the other half of her french fry through some mustard, drawing patterns on the plate, and shrugged.

“You guys looked at each other the way Daisy and Mason do, and they’re getting married. And you look sad lately.” The last bit was mumbled self-consciously, and her eyes dropped to her plate. She was clearly uncomfortable making such a personal observation about him, while Spencer was more than a little shaken up that his overwhelming grief had been so evident to this young girl who barely knew him.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “I am. I miss her. A lot.”

He blinked rapidly, horrified when his vision blurred.

“Uh, so how do you like your dress for the wedding?” He changed the subject and left the table abruptly, ostensibly to get a bottle of water from the refrigerator. He took a moment to compose himself while his back was to her.

“It’s pretty. Daisy says it’s exactly like the other bridesmaid dresses, only theirs are knee-length and mine is long. I’ve always wanted a long dress. And I’ve never been a bridesmaid before.”

Shortly after Charlie had moved in with the McGregors, Daisy had insisted that her new sister be included in the bridal party. Charlie had initially played it cool, but it was clear to see that she was very excited about it. Spencer didn’t know how complicated these things were, but evidently it had taken some doing getting a dress organized for Charlie on such short notice. But somehow, apparently against all odds, they had managed to pull it off. Spencer turned to face the smiling teen and felt his own mouth quirk in response to her sheer happiness. He really didn’t care about the particulars—what mattered was the end result. And—if Charlie’s bright and excited face was anything to go by—the result was pretty damned great.

He was so damned grateful for Charlie. So happy to have the opportunity to provide a stable home for her. He had no real idea how to raise a girl, but he knew where she came from and he would make damned sure that nothing in her life from here on out was anything like she had experienced in the past.

“I’m glad you’re here, Charlie,” he said, that gruffness creeping back into his voice, and this time Charlie was the one blinking rapidly.

“I guess I am, too,” she finally admitted, then added with that usual air of teenage insouciance, “I mean, you’re not that bad for a boring old fart. And you are letting me have a dog.”

It was an ambush, plain and simple. Daff knew Shar Bridges would be at the only salon in Riversend for her bimonthly dye job and caught her as she exited the salon.

“Why the hell did you tell all of my boyfriends that I was into BDSM?” Daff launched at the other woman without preamble. Firing on all cylinders was the only way to get results with Shar, and Daff knew that stating her suspicion as fact would get the most honest reaction from the other woman.

“Daff. I hear you’ve been spending time with that mouth breather Spencer Carlisle. Slumming, are we?”

Daff inhaled deeply. Oh man, the bitch was courting a slap, and it would be Daff’s greatest pleasure to lay one on her.

Don’t lose focus, Daff! Keep it together.

“Answer the question, Shar.”

“Why should I?” Shar asked laconically, showing her disinterest in Daff and anything she might have to say by keeping her focus on her phone and lazily scrolling through her texts and e-mails.

“Oh, I don’t know . . .” Daff mused. “Maybe because of Ryan Casey? Or Dirk Pieterse? And let’s not forget Bryan Pienaar.”

Shar’s head shot up, and she went paler with each name Daff itemized.

“You wouldn’t!” Shar gasped, and Daff’s lips quirked.

“I so would. And those are just the names off the top of my head. If I really put my mind to it, I’m sure I could come up with many more. Now you tell me what I want to know, or your husband and I are going to have a very interesting conversation.” Shar was married to an extremely wealthy man, old enough to be her father. She loved the lifestyle that went hand in hand with being his wife but cheated on him quite indiscriminately. The older man cheated on her, too, but they both enjoyed pretending nothing was amiss with their marriage.

“I remember you once telling us that Frank’s an old-fashioned man . . . cheating’s all well and good as long as you’re discreet about it, right? He won’t like learning that half of the town knows that you’re sleeping around on him.”

“You and your fucking sisters,” Shar hissed suddenly. “With your perfect parents and your perfect lives and your perfect bond. You were always so perfectly fucking insufferable.”

“Why did you tell those lies about me?” Daff pressed, ignoring the bitter diatribe.

“It wasn’t a lie, though, was it? You stayed with Jake for three years, and he was heavily into that shit.”

“Wait, you didn’t tell Jake I was into bondage?”

“No. You saw Jake and decided you wanted him. And perfect Daffodil McGregor always got exactly what she wanted. Jake and I were . . . I liked him.” Daff blinked in surprise.

“But you introduced us,” she reminded her, a little blindsided by the revelation that Shar had liked Jake.

“Because he took one look at you and forgot all about me, didn’t he? He demanded an introduction, and that was it. Daff got the guy. Of course, I knew about his little bondage games—I quite enjoyed them.”

“You and Jake were sleeping together when I met him? Why didn’t you say something?” Why was she only hearing this now?

“Right. Like I’d let you know that you managed to steal the guy I wanted. How smug that would have made you.”

“You were my friend. I would have backed off,” Daff said incredulously. How had Shar developed such a skewed view of Daff and her sisters? Her unfounded jealousy had made her irrationally competitive.

“Whatever.” Shar shrugged, flipping her artificially blonde locks nonchalantly. “It’s ancient history now. The fact is you stayed with Jake for three years, so you must have been into the BDSM stuff. After you broke up, I thought it would freak out a few of your potential boyfriends if they knew about your particular kinks, but they never seemed particularly fussed by it. So no harm, no foul.”