The Billionaire's Favourite Mistake(43)

Asher stared at the chaos. "Where's Greer? Is she all right?"

Someone started crying harder again. The others were silent.

"Where is she?" He clenched the back of the chair in front of him to  keep from flinging it at someone's head. "Tell me she's all right."         

     



 

"She quit," one of the blonde triplets sobbed. "She quit and we're getting married in two days!"

"And my bridesmaids' gowns are ugly!" wailed another. "How can they go  down the aisle looking like big purple idiots!" She ripped at one of the  sleeves on the dress spread on the table. "And I don't know who to call  to fix it!"

"She quit?" he repeated. Please, God, let that be the only problem. Let her be safe and healthy. "She's all right?"

"She left," the woman in the apron spoke up. She gave Asher a  judgmental look. "She packed her things and went home to New York this  afternoon."

"What? Why?"

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Because you lied to her."

***

Greer went off the grid for the next few days.

No television. No Internet. No email. She'd left instructions at the  front desk of her building that no one was to be let in to see her. Her  phone was turned to silent and her texts were muted. She didn't want to  hear a thing about the wedding. She didn't want to know if it was  canceled, or if it had gone off. She didn't want to know which of the  triplets he'd married. She didn't want to hear a single solitary thing  about her father or his best man.

Instead, she went to the corner store, bought all the Ben & Jerry's  ice cream and potato chips they had, and sat on her couch and watched  Netflix. She watched every episode of Outlander. She watched all six  seasons of Breaking Bad. She ate all the chips and most of the ice  cream. She might have also puked all the chips and most of the ice  cream, but it didn't matter.

What did it matter when no one in the world loved you? She slept on her  sofa and cried herself to sleep each night, feeling unloved, alone, and  miserable. Asher had lied to her and was using her to get to the baby.  He didn't love her. He didn't want her. All those sweet things he'd  whispered? All the times he'd touched her? Lies. All of them.

The day after the wedding, she ran out of food. She splashed cold water  on her face, ran a comb through her snarled hair, and changed out of  her ratty "depression" pajamas and into her favorite jeans and T-shirt .  . . and then grew even more depressed when they were too tight. Her  body was changing, and the reminder of it was a good thing, she  supposed.

It was time to get her head out of the sand and time to move on. The  first order of business? She looked around her small apartment, now  messy with empty ice cream containers, discarded chip bags, and a nest  of blankets on her couch. She needed a new place. Someplace with enough  room for a baby. Maybe she'd call Hunter and have him set up  arrangements with one of his real estate agents to help her search.  Maybe near the park. She liked the park.

Greer picked up her phone. The screen rolled with dozens of text  messages. She deliberately ignored them, swiping right without reading a  single one. She didn't want to know. Didn't care.

She started to dial Gretchen's number . . . and then hung up. Maybe  Chelsea, or Taylor, her other friends in the city . . . but she hung up  on those before the call could go through. If she talked to them, they'd  want to know what was going on with the wedding. By now they would have  heard that either the wedding had gone off or it hadn't, and Greer  didn't want to explain why she didn't know anything about it and why  she'd left.

Maybe she'd go to the park and walk instead. Clear her head. She grabbed her keys and her purse and headed out the door.

In the lobby of the building, she smiled at the front doorman, Clark.  He nodded over at one of the couches in the waiting area, and she looked  over.

A blonde was there, her legs curled under her body, a bright blue  workout bag clutched in her lap. Tears streaked the makeup on her face  and she sniffed loudly.

Oh no. Greer stared. That blue bag . . . Blue was Kiki. But Kiki was the sensible one, wasn't she? "Kiki?"

The blonde's head whipped around and she lit up at the sight of Greer.  "You're here!" Then she burst into new tears, grabbing tissue out of the  box on the table. "Hi," she said, and then began to bawl even louder.         

     



 

Oh, crap. Greer delicately sat down on the lobby sofa next to Kiki. "What are you doing here? You're not in Vegas?"

Kiki shook her head, her shoulders moving with suppressed sobs.

Poor Kiki. If she was here then . . . "Which sister was it? Tiffi or  Bunni?" She reached out and touched Kiki's knee sympathetically. All of  the triplets were sweet, if flighty, but she'd liked Kiki the best.

"I don't know," Kiki wailed. "I left, too! And I d-don't have anywhere  t-to g-goooo." Her bawling reached new heights, and she mashed the  tissue against her eyes. "So I c-came here b-but they wouldn't let me  s-see you and I've been here for hours and hours-"

Greer bit her lip and cast a sympathetic look at the front desk. He  gave her an aggrieved nod as if to say, yup, hours and hours. "You want  to come upstairs and have some tea, Kiki? We can talk there."

The crying woman nodded, and got to her feet, clutching her bag to her  chest. Greer led her to the elevator and then back up to the apartment  she'd so recently escaped from.

"I'm sorry it's a bit of a mess," Greer said. "I've been having a hard time, too."

Kiki nodded, wiping her nose with a ball of Kleenex. "I'm glad you did.  When you left, I realized that I could, too." She gave Greer a  miserable look. "I felt . . . trapped. I didn't know how to get out, so I  just ran. I was worried he was going to pick me, you know? And then I  was worried he wouldn't." She swiped at new tears.

Greer picked up her blankets from the couch and moved them aside, then  handed Kiki her box of Kleenex. She'd needed her fair share the last few  days, herself. Curling up next to her on the sofa, Greer gave Kiki a  sympathetic look. "Did you want to marry Stijn?"

Kiki exhaled slowly, and then shook her head. "I think . . . he was fun  to date at first, you know? All that money and power. But he's kind of  nasty when he's mad at someone, and he would get mad all the time for no  reason. I just couldn't be married to that. I don't want to be a trophy  wife, you know? The other day in bed, I asked him what his plans were  for his wife, whichever one of us he picked. And he said he didn't see  why things had to change at all." Her face crumpled and she started  wiping at her cheeks again. "That's when I knew he wasn't taking things  seriously. That it wasn't going to end up being a real relationship. He  doesn't want a wife or a partner. He wants someone he can occasionally  fuck, hand fifty dollars, and tell her to go buy herself something  pretty." She shook her head. "I don't want that."

"What about your sisters?"

A small, watery laugh escaped Kiki. "On that, we disagree. My sisters  would be perfectly fine with just a fat wallet and a husband that  doesn't care what they do. I want the fairy tale, you know?"

Oh, did Greer ever know. She'd wanted it, too.

"I want what you and Asher have," Kiki continued. "You guys just look so in love."

"It's a lie," Greer said flatly. "He's just a really good pretender. He told me what I wanted to hear and I believed it."

Kiki looked up from her tissue, surprised. "Really? He seemed to adore you."

"Seemed being the operative word." A sad knot formed in Greer's throat. "He was just faking it."

"I don't know. I've seen guys fake being interested. Your father, for  one." She grew pensive. "Asher just always seemed . . . so into you.  Even when you hated him. I caught him looking at you with this soft look  on his face, and I thought, gosh, I wish someone would look at me like  that." She sighed. "I'm sorry if I'm dropping my problems into your  lap."

"It's okay." Greer reached out and squeezed Kiki's hand. Oddly enough,  hearing Kiki's problems had made hers seem . . . less significant and  more confusing. She'd been wallowing and moping, terrified that Asher  didn't love her. But hearing Kiki's confessions and knowing Stijn  Janssen like she did, she realized that Kiki was right. There was a  difference between pretending to care for someone and genuinely trying  to please them.         

     



 

And Asher? Greer was naïve, but she didn't think he'd go to such  lengths for her if he didn't care on some level. Which just made  everything that much more confusing.

"I'm sorry to show up on your doorstep," Kiki said with a sniff. "I didn't have anywhere else to go."

"Of course you can stay here. I certainly don't mind."