Butterface(39)

All that talk of accepting reality, of being alone, it had been her shield, her defensive wall, because no matter what she said, she still saw herself as the world did. She was guilty of the biggest lie of them all—lying to herself. Well, that stopped now. From this day to forever, she was going to mean it when she said she loved herself just the way she was, with or without anyone by her side. She owed her brothers that much. Hell, she owed it to herself.

Butterface was dead.

She was Regina fucking Luca, successful businesswoman with friends, a home of her own, and a life that she loved.

Her heart hurt, and she had no idea if that was from missing her brothers already even though they drove her nuts, or from a bittersweet happiness that they were finally getting their dream. She folded the letter and handed it to Ford.

“Here you go.” She had no idea how she managed to keep the tremble out of her voice, but she did. “You have them dead to rights on threatening a police officer. Good luck finding them. They’re in the wind for good.”

Ford took the letter, opened it, and gave it a quick read. The sympathy in his eyes when he lowered it and looked at her was a punch in the gut. Good thing she could take a hit.

“And what the fuck were they talking about when they said not to blame you?” Fury and hurt swirled around inside her like a tornado of misery. “What did you do?” she asked, agony burning the inside of her throat.

He held his hands up, palms forward, as if he was trying to show he meant no harm. “I tried to help.”

Help? He thought getting rid of her brothers was helping? The need to lash out, hurt him as much as she ached, made her heart slam against her ribs hard enough that she was surprised they didn’t crack.

“Why does that sound familiar?” she practically screamed at him, no longer even able to pretend to be calm. “Oh yeah, I remember the last time you tried to help. Only in this case instead of me worrying you were steering my clients wrong, you forced my brothers to leave.”

“No.” He took a step closer. “I just told them that their line of work wasn’t good for their health.”

“Why, because you were going to throw them in jail? After all, you had signed up for hazard duty by pretending to like me.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Why, because you said so? What kind of idiot am I to believe that?” She barely got the words out before she broke, the last words coming out as raw and pained as she felt inside.

“Are you okay?” He reached out for her, but she evaded his touch. “I know you were close to your brothers, that’s why I tried to help.”

And this is where it got them. Her screaming in the kitchen at the man she’d thought wasn’t like the others, who wanted her for her. But he hadn’t. He’d only come back to see what her brothers had left behind, not because he loved her the way she loved him. And that’s the thought that drained the last bit of emotion from her, leaving her cold and empty.

“I’ll be just fine as soon as you’re out of my house,” she said softly and got up and walked toward the stairs. “Your stuff’s in the box on the front table. Lock up on your way out.”

She didn’t wait to hear whatever bullshit would come out of Ford’s mouth next before going up the stairs to her room. It didn’t matter what he said. She had better things to do with her life.





Chapter Nineteen

Gina had wine, chocolate, and a sledgehammer. What could possibly go wrong?

“Let’s not find out. Give me the hammer, G.” Lucy held out her hand.

Shit. Did I say that out loud? Gina wobbled just a bit when she turned to face Lucy head-on. She didn’t weave because of the wine. It was because the fifteen-pound sledgehammer put her off balance. Really.

“I have it for therapeutic reasons. It’s DIY therapy. I should totally get my own show,” Gina said, only slurring a little, which was pretty good since she had a bottle head start on Lucy and Tess wasn’t a drinker. “You could be my sidekicks! Do you know how to use a circular saw?”

“Of course I can use a circular saw,” Lucy said, giving Gina a dubious look. “Why don’t you give me Mr. Sledge, and then you can tell me all about your show idea.”

That seemed like a solid plan. The stupid hammer was getting heavy, anyway. She handed it off and grabbed the almost-empty bottle of red on her way to the couch in the front room. She sat in the middle, relaxing against the Ice Knights blanket draped over the back. It was the blanket he had used when he came over to spy on her. The bastard. He’d defiled the Ice Knights.

She turned her head so her nose was close to the red and silver material—thank you, big honker—and sniffed the blanket. She couldn’t help it. She was weak, and he had always smelled so good—especially for a big jerk with sexy green eyes and perfect forearms. “He deserves to marry someone with a Cajun Rage tattoo.”

Lucy flopped down beside her and took the wine bottle from Gina, then poured herself a glass with what was left. “I don’t even know what that means.”

“They’re a hockey team,” Tess answered as she sat down on Gina’s other side. “But I have no idea what that has to do with…you know.”

Pressing her lips together to keep her gaze focused—she had no idea why that helped, but it did—she surveyed her friends. They were such good people. If only Lucy could get stop doing the whole scaring the shit out of guys to push them away before they had a chance to reject her thing, and if only Tess could stop getting so freaked out anytime she was around someone she found attractive that she basically forgot how to speak, they could find love. Then they’d be happy. Or they’d find someone like Ford who’d crush their hearts under his boot. But she hoped it wasn’t the second one. They deserved better than someone like Ford.

“I love you two.” She put her arms around her girls. “You are so sweet to have come over.”

“Are you kidding?” Lucy said. “After you told us what happened with that dick-doo-wah, I snagged a couple of shovels from the store in case we needed to help you bury a body.”

And that brought tears to her eyes. Maybe she was kinda drunk. But still, only a true friend would help you dispose of a body. “You’re the best.”

“I put the two best old-school chicks-kick-ass movies in the Netflix queue I could find,” Tess announced, leaning forward so she could reach her laptop, which was set up on the coffee table to click on whichever movie they picked. “Kill Bill or Thelma and Louise? Chick with a sword or driving off the cliff?”

“Spoilers!” Lucy yelled.

Gina turned to her friend. “How can that be a spoiler? These have been out for twelve billionty years.”

“Billionty?” Lucy giggled and took a drink of wine.

“It’s the longest unit of time ever,” Gina said in the most serious voice she could manage at the moment. “I’m a wedding planner. You can trust me.”

Trust me. The phrase fell out of her mouth and boomeranged on her, smacking her right in the feels. That’s what Ford said she could do with him. And she had. You’re an idiot, Regina.

“No, you’re not an idiot,” Tess said, sitting up and turning to face Gina.

Shit. She’d said it out loud again. No more wine for her.

“Yeah,” Lucy chimed in. “Don’t be mean to my friend. She’s a pretty cool chick.”

“I’m sorry, guys.” She let out a sigh and did some fast blinks to get rid of the tears making her vision all watery. “This whole thing just brought back a lot of stuff I thought I’d gotten past. You know, I thought if I acknowledged my own undateabilty that it would make everything easier.”

“But it didn’t?” Tess asked.

Gina just shook her her head. The double friend sandwich hug was immediate. She really did have the best friends.

“Nope, the thing is—” she said, getting a mouthful of Tess’s auburn hair as she spoke, cutting off what she was about to say.

That set off a giggle fit between all three of them that lasted through a trip to the kitchen for more chocolate and then coming back with everyone’s glasses refilled—Lucy with wine, Tess with Pibb Xtra, and her with water.

“What’s the thing?” Lucy asked once all three of them were back on the couch.

Gina took a deep breath and tried to think of prettier words to use, but the only ones that came to her head were the plain, unvarnished, rough-around-the-edges truth. “The thing is that this is me. Sure, I could have plastic surgery and tweak this and alter that, but I don’t want to. More power to anyone who wants to go that route, but it’s not for me. I don’t want to get a makeover. I don’t want to change my face. I just want a man who sees me and doesn’t see the ugly girl. He sees me and he loves me, not in spite of my face but in part because of it.” She’d never verbalized it before, but it was true, and putting the words out there lifted a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying.

The truth was, she didn’t want to be a beauty queen. She wanted to be herself, and no one could stop her from being the best her she could be unless she let them, which she sure as hell wasn’t going to. “And if that doesn’t happen, I’m okay with that. I like me just the way I am.”