The Rejected Wife: Chapter 19

“Serene’s walking,” I announce.

Brody nods and smiles. I have a sneaking suspicion he’s humoring me, but I push it aside. “In fact, she’s running. Won’t be long before she’s playing football.”

“That’s awesome. Have you signed her up for football lessons already?” Connor’s voice rings with enthusiasm.

“Not yet, but I will. Also cricket. Don’t forget ballet. Really, whatever she wants to learn.” I know, I’m beaming like crazy and all puffed up. But hey, I’m allowed, right?

“Where is she today?” Connor looks around. “Can’t see her.”

“Dropped her off with Victoria.” She’s my friend Saint’s wife, and one of the few people I trust to take good care of my kid.

I pull out my phone, swipe the screen, and show Connor. “Look at her. She’s so cute, all dressed up.” Yes, I’m now one of those parents who can’t stop pulling out pictures of their kid and shoving it under the noses of unsuspecting fools, but whatever.

To Connor’s credit, he seems genuinely interested in seeing pictures of his niece. Both of my brothers flip the screen, seeing the pictures I’ve taken of Serene.

“She’s growing like a weed.” Connor hands me back my phone.

I pocket it and try to wipe the proud smile off my face. Focus. Focus. You don’t want to keep talking about your daughter’s accomplishments and bore everyone to tears. Then, and only because I want this lunch over with, so I can collect my daughter and spend the evening with her, I nod in the direction of Arthur’s house. ‘Anyone know what Gramps is up to?’

We’re in the backyard of our grandfather’s townhouse in Primrose Hill, for the weekly family meal. According to Arthur, the family that lunches together stays together. Given each of my brothers has a strong personality, these family meals make for lively discussions.

Tiny, Arthur’s Great Dane, ambles into the backyard, making a beeline for the long table packed with foodstuffs. He surveys it, and his ears droop. The mutt looks crestfallen, then walks back to Arthur.

Guess he’s unhappy he didn’t find any champagne. The dog has a weakness for the bubbly drink. But since Arthur’s diagnosis, Imelda has banned Arthur from drinking alcohol, and there’s no smoking of cigars at the house. To my surprise, the old man didn’t protest. Is it true love? Probably.

You wouldn’t have caught Arthur listening to anyone else before Imelda came into his life. Now, he seems less hard on himself. When Arthur walks out to take his seat, it’s a signal for the rest of us to take our places.

A petite blonde woman whom I identify as Knox’s assistant turns to leave, but Knox indicates she should take the chair on his right. She hesitates, then complies. The chair to his left stays vacant. The rest of us take our seats. There’s a general buzz around the table. Otis, Arthur’s butler, tops up our wineglasses with a non-alcoholic beverage then stands to the side. Knox is the only one guzzling liquid of the alcoholic variety like it’s going out of style. He must’ve brought his own. He seems on edge. Huh.

Arthur clinks his knife against his glass, and the chatter dies down.

‘No doubt, you’re all curious about why you’ve been summoned.’

‘Why should we be? We only had to drop what we were doing and turn up here,’ Brody growls under his breath.

‘Something you want to share with the table?’ Arthur arches an eyebrow in his grandson’s direction.

‘It’s Sunday, but it’s still a working day for some of us.’ Brody points out.

‘And I am the patriarch of this family… Still. So, you boys will come when I call.’ Arthur looks around the table, his expression leaving no room for argument.

Brody groans. Connor—who’s returned from another research trip to a far-off corner of the world—chugs down water from a bottle like it’s going out of style.

And Knox? His gaze is focused on the house. I frown. What is he waiting for?

‘Felix’—Arthur nods in the direction of my young cousin—’you have something to tell us?’

‘I’m joining the Marines.’ Felix clears his throat. ‘I hope to be half as good at it as my father was.’ Felix meets his father’s gaze.

Quentin’s throat moves as he swallows. He’s visibly moved by his son’s words. Then he raises his glass. ‘To Felix.’

‘To Felix.’ The rest of us toast him.

Then, Knox places his glass on the table and rises to his feet. He heads toward the house, where a woman steps out onto the porch. She’s tall, willowy, and wearing a green dress that reaches below her knees. It’s sleeveless, baring her gorgeous shoulders. Her auburn hair is a waterfall of health that flows down her back. Her eyes are almond shaped, her skin creamy, and so pale the sun seems to be reflecting off of it to bathe her in an ethereal light.

My heart slams into my chest with such force, I’m sure I’ve broken a few ribs. What. The. Fuck? What is Priscilla doing here? And why is Knox leading her over to the table?

He seats her on his left.

I drink in her features, unable to believe it’s her.

That creamy expanse of her neckline, those pink rosebud lips, the pert upturned nose, the thick auburn hair which is longer than it was when I last saw her—I can’t take my gaze off her. It feels like I’ve been rewarded with a ray of sunlight after scrambling in the dark for six months.

Taking care of a child subsumes your own life, as I’ve discovered. So, it was easy enough to tell myself that I didn’t miss Cilla. That I was too busy with my new reality. That she was better off without me. But seeing her now, in all her glory, is a gut punch. One that turns my heart into a live volcano and my blood to molten lava. I draw in a breath, and the oxygen seems to inflame my desire, my need, my yearning for her. I’ve missed her. Missed her smile, her spirit, her curves. I’ve missed having her in my life.

In a matter of hours, she wormed her way into my heart, dissolved into my soul, her scent embedded in my skin in a way that I haven’t been able to shake off. And the time and distance bring home just how much I’ve wanted to see her.

I will her to look at me, but she avoids my gaze.

Her eyelids are lowered, and she folds her hands in her lap, her expression almost serene. It’s only the pulse beating at the base of her neck which gives her away. She’s nervous. And the way she holds herself stiffly, with her spine erect and shoulders squared, I have an inkling that she knew she’d see me here today. And she’s prepared to ignore me. Not that I blame her. Not after how I told her to get out of my life.

‘Can I do the honors?’ Arthur glances around the table.

Knox shrugs. ‘By all means.’

‘This is Priscilla Whittington, Toren Whittington’s sister.’ Arthur nods in her direction. ‘Toren and I agree that the best way to resolve our family feud and join our collective fortunes is through an arranged marriage.’

An arranged marriage? My heart drops into my stomach. My guts heave. No fucking way. Does he mean her and Knox? My dream woman and my brother? No! This can’t be happening. My throat closes. I squeeze my fingers around the wineglass holding the spritzer.

‘Of course, you did.’ Brody snorts.

Arthur ignores him. “Tor couldn’t be here, but he was happy for us to go ahead with announcing⁠—’

‘To cut a long story short, Priscilla has agreed to be my wife,’ Knox cuts in with a bored eye roll.

There’s the sound of a glass breaking. I glance down to find the water glass I was holding has shattered. Water drips down the side of the wooden table. Blood drips from my palm. I can’t feel the pain. I push back from the table. Instinct draws my attention back to Priscilla. She watches me with a stricken look. Her brown eyes are filled with pain and regret. I glance from her to Knox’s considering look. He tilts his head, looks from me to Priscilla, and a look of understanding comes into his eyes.

I rise to my feet and stalk off.

I take a sip from my tumbler of whiskey and stare out from the window of my living room. It’s dark outside. The lights of the city twinkle in the distance.

Serene is asleep. It took hours for her to drop off. Likely, she picked up on my disquiet. I’ve learned how sensitive she can be to how I feel. And likewise, I’m tuned into her enough to know when she’s hungry or wet or wants attention. It helps that she’s already able to communicate her basic needs. But even before that, I became an expert in picking up on her unspoken cues. It’s strange how quickly we bonded… Or maybe not. She’s an adorable child. And I found myself falling for her very quickly.

After I walked out of the lunch at Arthur’s place, I went to Saint’s home to pick her up.

His wife, Victoria, and Sinclair’s wife, Summer, are the only two people Serene is happy to be with. They’ve helped to babysit when needed, advised me on everything from feeding to changing nappies to potty training—a phenomenon I never thought I’d spend so much time obsessing about.

When I told them about my experience with the last nanny and why I had to fire her, they insisted on drawing up a shortlist of nannies for me to contact. They advised me that it was a matter of continuing to search until I found the right one.

How I wish I had someone in my life with whom I could talk these things over. Someone with whom I could share the delight in Serene’s growing and crossing important developmental goals, like walking. Or when she said her first word. I miss having a confidante, someone living life with me who will understand my concerns and offer alternative viewpoints. Someone like Cilla. Clearly, she’s on my mind because I saw her earlier. Nothing prepared me for that.

I asked her to get out of my life—and today, she showed me just how much she took that to heart by appearing in my life as my brother’s fiancée-to-be. That’s a curveball I had not anticipated. Damn. I feel the need to toss back the whiskey I’m holding, but with a child in the other room, I’m limiting myself to one drink. I need to savor this one.

Patience… That’s what this entire gig as a parent has taught me. Perseverance. Persistence. The three Ps in my life. And what about Priscilla?

I shove the thought away. Since Serene came into my life, everything has become more complicated. If Priscilla were here, she’d have been dragged into the chaos too. No — asking her to leave was the right choice.

I couldn’t, in good conscience, ask her to treat my problems as her own. I would never have been able to give her the kind of attention she deserved; not when I’ve spent almost every waking minute learning how to be a dad. But to have Priscilla turn up six months later and engaged to my brother? Fuck. That’s same crazy shit.

I take another sip of my whiskey. She must have known Knox is my brother. So, why would she agree to this marriage? I’m not going to presume that it’s so she could be close to me. Perhaps, she was inspired by revenge. Maybe she’s trying to get back at me for asking her to leave that day—but no. My instinct tells me she wouldn’t do that. Even if, after the way I asked her to leave, she probably hates me.

And I haven’t contacted her since. I’ve been too caught up in the changes Serene has brought about in my life.

I pull out my phone and navigate to the picture of the two of us I saved from the social media feed of The Sp!cy Booktok. I did it in a moment of weakness. When thoughts of her crowded my mind and I wondered if I’d imagined it all.

Seeing us together in the picture reassures me. She may not be with me, but she’s out there somewhere. That’s enough. It has to be enough. For now. But it makes me miss her even more. You could call her. You could explain to her… What? What am I going to tell her?

What could make up for the fact that I asked her to leave hours after I all but hinted to her that I saw her in my life on a more permanent basis? That I was deeply attracted to her. That I felt connected to her. That… I still want her. I could explain that I haven’t called her because I haven’t felt ready. I was still adjusting to Serene’s presence and how it changed me and my life.

I could tell her I needed time to figure things out and sort through my feelings about her. That I was still trying to work things out in my head.

I could ask her why she’s engaged to Knox. I don’t, for a second, believe the two of them have any feelings for each other. I saw how Knox looked at his assistant, even if he thought he was hiding it. And Arthur made it clear, it’s an arranged marriage, and surely, she deserves better than that?

She deserves a man who loves her, adores her, and who’ll take care of her. A man like… Me? Fuck. This is screwed up.

I click out of the screen and onto the internet. I navigate to the social media platform of The Sp!cy Booktok. I scroll through the pictures until I come to the one Gio took of Priscilla and me. I take in our smiles. How excited Priscilla seemed. I recall how thrilled she was that I’d brought her to the bookstore. How her breathing hitched when I put my arm around her and pulled her close for the picture. How her scent drove me crazy. I close my eyes and recall how she felt in my arms. All feminine curves and softness. How I had such a raging boner, I prayed it wouldn’t show up in the picture.

And thinking of how much I wanted her, how hot it was when I made her come, my cock extends in my pants. It’s a relief to know that, while I’m a father, I can still feel desire. My longing for her hasn’t abated. And perhaps, seeing her with my brother has served as a wake-up call. The fact is, I never forgot about her. I download the photo and save it to my phone.

I might still be learning to be a good father, but maybe, that’s something I’ll spend a lifetime learning. I might still be trying to navigate my way through the emotions Priscilla evokes in me. But now that I’ve seen her again, I realize how much I miss her. How much I want her. How much I need her. Question is, what am I going to do about it?