The Rejected Wife: Chapter 17

The buzzing of the phone reaches me. I don’t pick it up. It buzzes again and again. Then stops. Then buzzes again.

With a sigh, I reach for my purse on the bed next to me, pull out my phone, and realize it’s my alarm. I switch it off, and drop it on the pillow next to me. Then wish I could go back to sleep.

The headache knocking against the backs of my eyes tells me I should not have had another glass of wine last night. But I couldn’t resist. Since leaving Tyler’s penthouse, I’ve thrown myself into my job, and accepting invitations to go out from all of my friends.

And yes, I’ve also started using dating apps. Not that it’s helped. Because every man I’ve met has spectacularly failed to live up to Tyler. Argh! He’s spoiled me for everyone else. And I hate that I compare everyone I’ve been on a date with to him.

I’ve ended up cancelling on dates or running out, then coming back home and spending evenings with take-out and a bottle of wine, watching my favorite series on streaming platforms. All in a bid to not think of Tyler and Serene.

The worst times are when there’s a baby on a show I’m watching, or a dad who reminds me of Tyler. Then, I find myself tearing up, before scolding myself for my weakness.

It’s hard to believe it’s already been three months since I walked out of his apartment.

Later in the day after I got home, the books Tyler had bought for me had arrived. It was proof that I hadn’t dreamed up that encounter with him. Proof that I actually met the man of my dreams and lost him on the same day. It took me a week before I could unpack the books. Then I pushed them to the back of my bookshelf where they weren’t in plain sight. I hoped it would stop me thinking of him.

I’ve tried to keep myself busy, in a bid to rid my mind of thoughts of him. Not that it’s worked. Unfortunately, my dreams seem to feature him. And when I’m awake, despite my best efforts, everything seems to remind me of him. I’ve also managed not to peek at the selfie he took of himself on my phone… Okay, maybe I have peeked… Twice… Fine, a few times. But I’m not keeping count.

I also couldn’t stop myself from looking up the socials of The Sp!cy Booktok. I checked out the picture of the two of us Giorgina had posted online. We looked so happy. We looked like we were a couple. But were not. He’d made that clear.

Only good thing? I’m proud to say that I’ve stopped myself from reaching for my phone and calling him. If I did that, I’d never forgive myself. He has my number.

I hope he’s doing okay with Serene. I’m sure he is. He’s resourceful, after all. Of course, I wonder how he’s coping with her. Taking care of a child is a big responsibility.

I’ve been through the denial phase. And the angry phase. Then the bargaining, and the sad phase. I think I’m easing into the acceptance phase now. At least, I hope I am.

Then again, the mere fact that I still find myself fantasizing about a life with him belies my hope that I’m ready to move on. They say the stages of grief are never sequential. But I don’t want to spend any more time feeling upset about what happened.

Clearly, Tyler didn’t want me in his life. He felt a connection to me; that much, I know. But Serene arriving when she did took up a lot of his emotional resilience. He wasn’t able to think past the necessity of having to figure out what to do about her. He seemed convinced he wouldn’t have time for a relationship while he had to sort out the situation with Serene.

A part of me doesn’t blame him. That’s one heck of an emotional sucker punch he was dealt. Of course, he could have shared some of his feelings with me. But… It’s not like we were in a relationship. Not really.

Hell, we weren’t even dating. In fact, it’s not like we even had a one-night stand because we didn’t sleep together. We…fooled around a little. No, it was more than that. We had an intense connection. And I loved talking to him. I loved spending time with him. He was gorgeous, stunning even, and he swept me off my feet. And if Serene hadn’t come along—I shake my head. I won’t think about that.

I gave myself a few days to nurse my broken heart—then tried my best to move forward. I told myself that if he wanted to call me, he would. If he really wanted to reach me, nothing was stopping him. But he hadn’t. And I wasn’t going to sit around waiting for him. I decided to focus on myself. My life. I’m going to look out for me from now on. I am not going to let a six-foot-four-inch, sex-on-a-stick man occupy my thoughts and overrun my life.

Today isn’t just a fresh start. It’s a full-blown rebrand.

Sure, it sounds like something you’d find on a mug at a wellness retreat, which it is, but today, I’m claiming it. Because the alternative? Curling up like a sad cliché in last night’s mascara, watching my heartbreak on a loop is not acceptable.

Yes, I met someone who cracked me open. Yes, I lost him. And yes, I’m still standing.

I have my health. And clean hair—I sniff the strands and make a face—mostly. And the roof over my head—barely. That’s practically enlightenment.

So no, I’m not falling apart.

Today, I’m the CEO of my own damn energy.

As for manifestation? I’m making her my bitch. So what, if I did attract the man of my dreams and lost him within twenty-four hours? I’ll simply have to try harder next time.

And if I have been self-sedating with wine? Well, I owed it to myself. But I’m done with that now. I stumble into the bathroom, grab the aspirin, and swallow down two of them with tap water. Then I brush my teeth and head toward my tiny kitchenette to make myself a cup of coffee.

By the time I’ve downed it, I feel better. The intercom buzzes. I frown. Who could it be? I’m not expecting anyone. It can’t be him, could he? My heart somersaults into my throat. Ugh, I hate that I’m so excited at the thought. It’s definitely not him. Calm Down. I purposely slow my steps before I head over to answer it. “Hello?”

“It’s Toren.” My brother’s voice comes over the receiver.

I slump, half in relief, half in disappointment. “Come on up.” I buzz him in, then head into the bedroom to pull on a sweatshirt before returning to open the door.

I survey the tall, broad-shouldered man who brushes past me and into the apartment. He looks around, and when he turns to me, there’s a look of distaste on his face. One I choose to ignore. Nothing but the best for Toren Whittington.

My little, one-bedroom apartment doesn’t measure up to his standards, but it’s more than enough for my needs.

‘What are you doing here?” I frown.

My brother doesn’t bother replying to my question. Typical Toren. He’s the quintessential rich billionaire, who acts like a prick and is not even aware of it. He’s always been so self-assured; he oozes confidence from his pores.

He looks at me closely, and his brows draw down. ‘You look terrible,” he drawls.

“Gee, thanks?” I toss my head, then grab my now cold cup of coffee, walk over to the kitchen sink, and dump it in. ‘Want some coffee?’

Without waiting for his answer, I top up the cafetière fresh coffee grounds and switch on the kettle.

‘You’ve lost weight since I last saw you.’ I can hear the accusing tone in his voice and resist the urge to roll my eyes.

Given the fifteen-year age difference between us, Tor’s often felt more like a father than a sibling. To his credit, he also supported me when I wanted to leave home at eighteen and fend for myself. My father was upset, but my brother stood up for me.

He hasn’t interfered in my life or offered to bail me out the many times I came close to losing the roof over my head, which only made me respect him more. Which is why, seeing him today is a surprise. We’ve kept in touch on the phone and the Christmas dinners I’ve gone home for. He checks in on me by text message and insists on taking me out to dinner every month. But this is the first time Tor has come to visit me.

I pour the now, almost-boiled water into the cafetière, stir it, then slide the plunger down without depressing it fully, and turn to him. ‘What brings you here?”

“You missed our dinner last night.”

‘Huh?” I’m normally good at keeping track of my appointments, both work and social.

I walk into my bedroom and pick up my phone from the nightstand. I check my calendar and, sure enough, dinner with Tor shows up as an entry under yesterday’s date.

“Sorry, I’m not sure why that happened.” I turn to find him leaning a shoulder against the doorway. “Guess I was—uh— preoccupied.”

“Hmm.” He slides a hand into his pocket.

“What’s the hmm for?”

“I know we had this dinner planned for a while. But you’ve never agreed to meet and not shown up.”

“So, you felt you had to check on me?” I turn back to the cafetière, pour out a cup of coffee for him, and refill my own, then walk over and hand him his cup. “I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

His expression gentles. “You’re a strong, independent woman who I’m very proud of, you know that.”

My anger fades. “Thanks, big brother.” I take a sip of my coffee. “I’m sorry I missed our dinner. Time just got away from me, that’s all… I promise, I’ll make the next one.”

“Hmm.” He studies me again, eyes sharp with something unspoken.

“There’s that hmm again. I’m getting the feeling this visit isn’t just about checking in on me.” I walk over to the tiny breakfast nook and slide onto a stool. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”

He walks over to place his coffee on the counter opposite me. “You mean, I can’t drop in on my sister and say hi?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re the hotshot CEO of the Whittington Group of companies. Your time is money.”

“And I was worried about you.” His tone is serious. His expression is grave.

Warmth coils in my chest. I can’t help but feel moved that he’s here and concerned about me.

Only, I’m not five. And he’s not the twenty-year-old who came to my aid when bullies teased me on the playground. Tor would show up in his black suit like an avenging angel and glare down at the boys who made fun of my wiry hair and my being overweight. It took one glower for him to send them scrambling. They left me alone. And my brother became my hero.

He’d already started working at our father’s company by then, so he wasn’t around as much as my middle brothers. But he was the one we all went to for help, especially since my father was too busy running an empire.

When I told my father I wanted to leave home and strike out on my own, he threatened to disown me. I left anyway. My father carried out his threat. Tor tried to dissuade him, but to no avail.

Since then, my brother has made sure to continuously check in on me. He knows I won’t accept money from him, so he’s settled on ensuring that I’m doing fine.

My mother passed when I was five. I don’t need a shrink to tell me it’s one reason I turned out to be such a rebel. Then at nineteen my father passed away, which made Tor more protective about us. My brothers and I are adults, but Tor took it upon himself to become our de facto parent. He makes sure to support us emotionally while expanding the company our father built.

‘I really am sorry I missed our dinner.’ I rub at my forehead, wishing my headache would lessen. ‘It won’t happen again, okay?’

My brother gives me another grim look, then spins around and begins to open and close my cabinet doors.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask, bemused.

In reply, he opens a couple of the drawers, then holds up a bottle of Advil. He shakes one out, fills a glass with water, and places them in front of me.

‘Thank you.’ I swallow the pill with some of the water and shoot him a small smile. ‘You haven’t said why you came here.’

‘I told you; I was worried about you.’

‘You could have called.’ I arch one brow. ‘What’s the real reason?’

He gives me another of his looks, then props a foot on the footrail of the stool opposite me. ‘I have…a proposition for you.’

I level a quizzical expression in his direction. ‘A proposition?’

He slides a hand into the pocket of his slacks. ‘It’s something to consider. And I’ll never push you to do it.’

I tilt my head. ‘Sounds ominous.’

‘It’s not. It’s straightforward.’ My brother hesitates, which is unusual for him A prickle of unease runs up my spine. The fine hair on my forearms stands on end. I push aside the foreboding that crowds in on my senses.

‘It doesn’t seem straightforward, considering you’re trying to figure out the best way to spring it on me.’ I nod in his direction.

He raises the cup of coffee to his mouth, takes a sip, then makes a face.

‘Sorry, it’s not the expensive-as-gold coffee, made from beans that nocturnal mammals shit out, that you’ve grown accustomed to,’ I drawl.

‘If you’re talking about Kopi luwak that are made from partially digested coffee cherries that have been eaten and defecated by the Asian palm civets, then I’m not apologizing. I like my creature comforts. I’ve earned them,’ he says with a straight face, though his eyes gleam.

‘Creature comforts?’ I chortle. That was an intended pun. My brother has a dry sense of humor.

He glances around, voice suddenly serious. “You, too, could live in style and not in this—” He looks back at me.

I pop my shoulder. ‘I like my hovel. I earned it on my own merit, too.’

The skin around his eyes softens. ‘And I’m proud of you, Pri. I knew it would do you good to earn your living and be away from the family money. But there comes a time when one must also deliver on one’s responsibilities to the family.’

‘You mean, like you are?’ I tip up my chin. “Besides, our father disowned me, remember?”

“But I haven’t.” He tilts his head. “And neither have your other brothers.”

In addition to Tor, I have four other older brothers. All of whom are protective. My mother was the only other feminine presence in the house. And when she died, it felt like I’d lost someone who’d have been my greatest ally in that male dominated household. Perhaps, that’s why I felt compelled to go out into the world to find my place?

Not that I’ve succeeded, yet. Is that whyI empathized so much with Serene? At least, I knew my mother didn’t have a choice in leaving me. For Serene—she’ll have to grow up with the knowledge that her mother gave her up. Poor mite.

‘I took over the family business so I could take care of all of you. It certainly wasn’t out of love for our sperm donor.’ His eyes grow hard, his lips firm.

Nope, there was certainly no love lost between him and our father. He expected a lot from his sons. Enough for him to be at loggerheads with my brothers.

‘I assume business is going well?”

Tor’s features turn into granite. ‘Getting the board to embrace new technology has been challenging. Left to them, they’d run the company into the ground.”

“But that’s where you come in, right?”

“And you,” he points out.

My brother is ruthless, highly successful and used to getting his way. Another reason I’m intrigued by the fact he’s not simply commanding me to do whatever it is he came here to ask of me.

‘You’re deflecting.’ I take a sip of my coffee.

He seems taken aback, then nods. ‘I am.’ He squares his shoulders. ‘I want you to consider an arranged marriage.’

Surprise twists my guts. Arranged marriages aren’t unusual in wealthy families like mine—but I never thought my brother would suggest one.

He must see how taken aback I am, for he raises his hand. “I know. You didn’t expect me to say that, and I’d never coax you into it. It’s only a possibility I want to raise with you.”

I blink, trying to get my head around what he’s suggesting.

“I’ll be honest. You marrying this person will help me expand the Whittington Group’s market share. And again, I want to stress—” He raises his hand. “You’re under no compulsion to accept it.”

I shake my head. “Why suggest it to me then?’

“Because—” He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “Because I’m not one to pry in your personal life, as you know, but as your brother, I’m concerned that you are, uh—suffering from affairs of the heart and, perhaps, this might be one way for you to move on?”

I search his features, looking for any clue that he knows what’s occurred in my life over the last few months, but Tor being Tor, he gives nothing away. “Is this you making an educated guess, or⁠—”

“It’s my summation, since you haven’t answered my calls, and you missed our dinner. And now that I’ve seen you in person, given how bedraggled you look—” He raises his hands in a gesture that’s meant to convey that he was right.

“Thanks, big brother; you always were good for my ego.” I begin to pace. This out-of-the-blue suggestion from Tor has taken me totally by surprise. I don’t know what to make of it. On the other hand, it’s the first time in months I haven’t thought of Tyler, so there’s that. I blow out a breath. But an arranged marriage? Nah, that’s so not me. The thought is ridiculous. Then, just for shits and giggles, and because I’m just a little curious, I turn to my brother and ask, “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Tor seems to have been expecting the question because without preamble he says, “It’s one of the Davenport brothers.”