"Thanks." She flashes a strained smile and leaves.
The door shuts, and I cross my arms. If the situation doesn't improve soon, I'm going to do something drastic to fix it. My wife won't approve, but I don't give a damn. I don't like this tension, especially not in my home.
And I most certainly don't like to see Belle unhappy every time she faces her sister.
I grab my phone and go upstairs for a swim. Restless or not, tired or not, I always swim. It helps clear my head, and it's good for staying in shape.
I toss my shirt and pants on the closet floor and pull on a pair of trunks. Just as I'm about to hit the water, my phone vibrates. I glance at it and see PAIGE flash on the screen. There is only one Paige in my phone-Ryder's wife.
"Hello, sugar lips," I say-my typical greeting-while gazing at the crystal-clear pool.
"Is that how you answer all your calls?" she says with a laugh.
"Don't you know? You've been with my brother for four years."
"And I think I called you maybe five times during those years."
Ryder likes to arrange our fun times himself. Or did.
"What does your experience tell you?" I ask lightly.
"That you're inappropriate."
"But you love me anyway. So. What's up?"
"I said we should catch up."
Huh. "That you did." I didn't expect her to call so soon.
"Um. It's kind of a serious catching up."
Her tone of voice makes me focus. "How serious? Did Ryder do something stupid again?" He almost lost her over his inability to just … do the right thing where she was concerned.
"Ryder is perfect. It's about your wife."
I sigh and lower myself into one of the poolside loungers. This doesn't sound like it's going to be quick. "What about her?"
"Did she say anything about what happened on Saturday?"
"Should she have?" I ask, my skin suddenly chilling. Does Paige have information about the tumble my wife took?
"Guess not. Okay, well … She had a run-in with Annabelle Underhill. You know, your father's third wife." She clears her throat.
Fuck. "Where?"
"In the bathroom. I was in a stall, and, uh, ended up overhearing them without meaning to. I feel bad about that … but I don't feel too bad because my god, that woman's a menace."
I'm on full alert now. This can't be good. "What did she say?"
"I think she knows about the … deal."
Paige doesn't have to clarify. She's referring to Julian's fucked-up proposition, designed purely to control us. I still don't understand why he thinks making us marry will make any difference, but then, who knows what the fuck our father's thinking half the time? He is the one who keeps marrying younger and younger women, as though it will give him the youth he can never regain. At some point, a man's gotta accept his mortality.
"There is no way she can know," I say. "Julian would've never told her … or anybody. He's a dickhead, but he's not the kind to advertise the fact." Most people think he's an awesome dad because he's spent so much time and energy portraying himself that way.
"You're probably right about your dad," Paige finally says. "I'm sure the only reason he sends me those folders is because of the nondisclosure in my employment contract."
"What folders?"
"Files-actual old-style manila files, like from an office-stuffed with negative reviews of Ryder's new movies every time they come out. Every time. It's amazing just how hard he works to do that."
"Fucker," I mutter.
"Agreed. But anyway, I think Underhill does know somehow. She may not know every detail, but she's got enough. She also threatened to release more embarrassing stuff about your wife to the press unless she divorces you."
"What the fuck?"
"Yeah … " Paige hesitates, then adds, "She, um, told your wife about a wedding closet incident … something about 'fucking in there' … ?"
I swear under my breath. It was a terrible, terrible mistake, done in a moment of drunken anger and humiliation. I never suspected she would flaunt it in Belle's face.
"I'm really sorry," Paige says quietly. "Of course I won't tell anyone."
"Thanks." But it's too late. The person I wanted to hide it from the most already knows.
"Talk to your wife. She might be more understanding than you think. She hasn't heard the story from your point of view."
I say nothing. Paige is sweet to think my spin on the event would sound better than Annabelle Underhill's. The story fucking sucks no matter who it's coming from.
I murmur my thanks, and we hang up.
Tossing my phone on the poolside table, I stare at the water. I wish my wife had told me about this yesterday. Even if she didn't want to talk about my shameful behavior at the wedding, she should've at least told me about the threats against her. Doesn't she know I'll never let anything happen to her or her sister?