Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) (11 page)

Brad couldn’t ignore the fury spilling through him. “You didn’t mean to? Not quite an apology. Certainly not a solution. But at least you didn’t do it on purpose.” He fought to keep his voice low. To not disrupt Drea. The almost tangible glee in Emily’s voice still echoed in his skull, along with Jim’s statement it didn’t look good to introduce someone new into his life right now. “Not that it being an accident changes the fact you posted something so completely fucking incriminating. You all but admitted to the world exactly what we’re up to.”

“I thought I deleted it,” Gwen said again. “I meant to. This looks as bad for me as it does for you.”

“Except you lose money you’ve admitted you don’t need. I lose my child.” A new thought blinked into his thoughts, bright and glaring, taunting him with how ridiculous it was. At the same time, it made as much sense as anything. “Did Emily put you up to this?”

Gwen’s eyes grew wide, and she stared at him in shock. “Excuse me?”

The pieces snapped together, and he didn’t like the picture they showed. He knew that wasn’t Gwen, but at the same time, he hadn’t thought her capable of something like sabotaging them—him, her, all of it—so completely. It might not have ever occurred to him, if she hadn’t made the accusations she did that morning in her diner, so many days ago. “Accusing me of tracking you down online because I knew who you were—are you sure that wasn’t you? Being at my house that morning, when she dropped Drea off? Proposing this entire fake engagement thing?”

“Do you know how insane and conspiracy-riddled that is?” The apology vanished from her voice.

He did, now that he thought about it, but he was too upset to ponder for long. “It all seems really convenient.”

“
You’re
the one who introduced
me
as your fiancée that first day. No prompting on my part.
You
tracked
me
down at the diner. And why the hell would I kick you out of my office if I wanted to keep you around?”

“You’re a good actor? I slipped once. You suggested we perpetuate the lie for everyone.” He was being unreasonable. He didn’t care. The next hearing was Monday, and it didn’t matter how well the observation went. If the judge saw Gwen’s blog post and decided everything was a bullshit act, he wouldn’t rule in Brad’s favor.

“I didn’t do it on purpose. This is really bad, and I know
sorry
doesn’t fix it, but I didn’t mean to.” Her voice rose in volume, but she snapped her jaw shut before she reached shouting levels.

A whisper in the back of his head told him not to burn this bridge. He squashed it. “I think you need to leave.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “I think you’re right. I’ll give you every
I’m sorry
I can, and then some. I’d do whatever I can to fix this, but I won’t be accused of–or verbally abused for–something I didn’t do, when the truth is bad enough.”

He growled at the door as it swung shut behind her, and was both relieved and irritated further that she didn’t slam it. It would be one last thing between them he could be pissed about. The finality of the thought rocked in his head and gnawed at his heart. That hurt needed to go away. What he had to focus on now was finding out if there was any way to make this right. Talk to Ned. Work up a story about how he hadn’t known what Gwen was up to. Thought she was sincere.

Throwing her to the wolves, without giving her a chance to defend herself—he hated that idea. Even as he tried to argue with himself that this was about custody and wouldn’t impact her, he couldn’t justify the lie.

He raked his fingers through his hair, hand shaking. Time to call Ned.

“This is going to be an expensive conversation,” Ned said as a greeting.

Brad didn’t care about after-hours or weekend billing. He needed a solution. “I’m fine with that.”

“One of the things that makes you an excellent client. What can I do for you?” The shift in Ned’s tone from exhausted to alert was as if someone flipped a switch.

Where to begin? Maybe the post wasn’t as damning as he thought. Emily said everything would cause him problems, and the betrayal from Gwen dug deep enough it amplified Brad’s reaction. No reason to hang himself, before he knew if it was an issue. “Emily stumbled on a blog post and thinks it’s incriminating.” Apparently, she’d asked the right people at Brad’s company, to get Gwen’s website information. Another thing he had to deal with on Monday. Privacy in the workplace. “I need to know if I should be concerned.” There. Nice, neutral, and calm. Exactly the opposite of how he felt.

“Hang on. Let me get to my laptop. I want to see this
damning
post in its full glory.”

Brad felt a sliver of relief Ned could look at this now. He wasn’t sure he could sit still if the answer was,
I’ll research it and call you back Monday
.

“All right.” Ned came back just a moment later. “Email me the URL.”

“No need.” Brad spelled the web address out for him.

“Too good to be true? Like your site? Is this a marketing gimmick? Some stupid kid’s rip-off or something… Oh, fuck. Tell me this isn’t the woman you’re
engaged
to?”

For the first time since he met Gwen, Brad had an honest answer for the question. It wasn’t the kind of relief he expected. “She’s not.”

“Because this isn’t her, or because you aren’t really engaged? Wait. Where’d it go?”

“What do you mean?” Pain throbbed behind Brad’s eyes. He settled in front of his computer, and brought up the site.

“I just clicked to go to the second page, and it was gone.”

Sure enough, the offending entry no longer appeared on the home page. Or anywhere, as far as Brad could tell. Gwen must have taken it down the moment she walked out the door. That didn’t stop it from going to her thousands of subscribers, or change the fact that Emily saw it, but it did send a worm of doubt through Brad. Maybe his assumption was wrong, and Gwen didn’t do it maliciously.

“Emily saw it?” Ned asked.

“She told me about it.”

“I need you to be completely honest with me, so we can figure this out. What this woman wrote… Is it true? Did the two of you pretend to be a couple, in order to help your custody chances?”

“Yes.” Saying that hurt more than saying he and Gwen weren’t engaged. What they called their relationship might have been misleading, but God damn it, if he didn’t care about her. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t going to let anyone who could hurt Drea stay in his life. He should have been more cautious about this from the start. Shouldn’t have dived in for the easy answer.

“And you sat in front of the judge, under oath, and perjured yourself about it?”

Fuck.
“Yes.”

“I’m glad you’ve got deep pockets. Speaking of, we need a new strategy. This woman was after your money, wasn’t she?”

He and Gwen had never discussed how much she had, from her inheritance or otherwise, but he believed her when she said her dispute with her brother wasn’t about money. Too bad he couldn’t believe she was completely innocent when it came to this screw-up. “Probably not. She’s got her own.”

“So she’s greedy and wants more. This is what you’re going to say. Don’t stop me unless it’s something that can be proven otherwise.”

For the next couple of hours—Brad didn’t need a clock; Ned was kind enough to tick off the count for billing purposes—they discussed, rehearsed, and rehashed the approach for Monday’s hearing.

Sunday crawled past, slower than a sleeping turtle. Brad had never been so anxious for a Monday to arrive. He had to explain to Drea they wouldn’t be going to visit Gwen at work, and almost stumbled over the name and the lie that Gwen was too busy today. He’d save the breakup news until after the hearing. Drea didn’t need to deal with more stress right now.

Once the initial rage passed and reason set in, he accepted that Gwen hadn’t made the post on purpose. She wasn’t out to get him or in cahoots with Emily, or anything that ridiculous. Most of him was convinced it was an honest mistake. Still a costly one, and he struggled to reconcile with that.

Emily picked up Drea five minutes early on Sunday night. Something she only did around custody hearings. When they were gone, Brad’s condo felt emptier than it ever had, despite the fact he’d lived alone since he got divorced.

He tossed and turned most of the night and dragged himself through the workday on heavy doses of coffee and a steady diet of clock-watching. He arrived at the courthouse twenty minutes early, then sat in the foyer for another forty-five, while they waited for the case before them to finish.

When the bailiff let them into the courtroom, Brad thought he might jump out of his skin. He and Ned had gone over what he needed to say, and it was Ned’s belief that Gwen needed to take the fall. Brad would play the tortured father who missed his little girl—at least that bit was true—and fell head over heels for a gold digger, having no idea she was in it for anything other than love.

The standard fare unfurled—discussing the details of the case, what each attorney hoped to accomplish here today, reminding everyone to behave, explaining being under oath. Brad wanted to yell at the monotony of it, but he kept his smile pasted in place. They called him to the stand. He was asked about the blog post and his engagement to Gwen. The pre-rehearsed story slammed to the front of his mind, details lining up for easy access.

Then he looked at Drea, watching him, her expression curious and open. He wanted the best for her, so desperately. But if he sacrificed his own ethics to make it happen, did it really count?

Instead of spewing the crap he agreed on with Ned, he launched into the truth. Ned looked furious but was smart enough not to interrupt. Brad talked about how important it was to see his daughter grow up. How he cared about Gwen and wasn’t trying to hurt anyone, and how he wished he’d done it differently, but it was too late now.

The judge was impassive through most of Brad’s testimony and dismissed him once Brad was done.

More witnesses and questions. Emily weeping about how she didn’t want Drea subjected to Brad’s transient and promiscuous lifestyle, especially with all the tramps he brought home—and now this… How could she trust him?

Brad gritted his teeth through the entire thing, and Ned objected when he could. Drea joined the judge and court-appointed observer in the judge’s chambers, to discuss who she wanted to live with. Brad didn’t know what she said, but she always insisted she didn’t like to choose. He hoped that hadn’t changed.

Almost an hour later, the three emerged. Drea ran back to her seat, while the judge took his place behind the bench. Under the table, Brad clenched and unclenched his fist, to keep from tightening his hand into a permanent ball.

“In light of recent events,” His Honor said, “combined with the defendant’s willingness to perjure himself in my courtroom, I’ve made my decision. I don’t think it’s fair to separate child from parent, so I’m not granting full custody.” A happy skip jolted through Brad, but died when the judge added, “However, I am still concerned about your home environment, Mr. Goode. Because of this, I’m allowing supervised visits the first Saturday of every month, to be re-evaluated in six months’ time, unless there are extenuating circumstances.”

It took all of Brad’s restraint not to drive his fist into the table. Somewhere outside the haze of everything negative flooding his mind, he heard Emily say, “Come on, baby. Let’s go get ice cream.”

“Wait.” That was Drea. She ran up to Brad, hugged him tight, and said, “See you soon, Daddy.”

Everything inside him shattered. Not because she was gone for good—though he didn’t agree with the ruling, he still got to see her—but because he’d fucked up. He didn’t know if he’d done it for her or because he was selfish.

He was the last to leave the courtroom, mind in a freefall. He’d pushed Gwen out of his life and put Drea through the aggravation of another battle over who she’d live with, and now both of them were gone. He needed to think. He made his way to his car, pulled into traffic, and headed North, away from everything. Time to drive until the world made sense. If that was an option.

Gwen sat in her living room, watching twilight turn into night. Bright white headlights dotted the blackness. She glanced over at the TV, which asked if she was still watching. How long had that been up there?

Brad’s hearing would have ended hours ago. She hoped it went the way he wanted. Not that she expected to find out. The empty ache in her chest wanted her to call him after all. To try and make things work. She knew it was denial. They hadn’t been anything other than impulsive and horny, despite what they told each other.

She didn’t expect a happy outcome from the arbitration with George, and she didn’t know if she cared at this point. It was her own fault, either way.

Her cell-phone rang, and she jumped at the sudden shrill in the quiet room.
Brad?
She hated herself the moment she had the thought. She didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”

“Hi. Is this Gwen?”

Gwen furrowed her brow at the young voice, and then it clicked. “Drea?” Her stomach twisted in on itself, her brain overloading with the million possibilities around why the girl would call her, of all people.

“Yes. Hi. I’m sorry to call. I can’t get a hold of Dad, and my friends are out of town, and Mom had to go and said he’d be here soon, and I know I’m a big girl and I should be able to wait, but it’s dark. Do you know where he is?”

Gwen wanted to ask how Drea got her number. That wasn’t important right now though, and she remembered she’d given Drea a card when they played pretend business in Brad’s office. “I’m sure he’s out picking up dinner.” Gwen cringed at the lie and how weak it sounded.

“Maybe… It’s scary here. Do you think he’ll be here soon?”

“I’m sure he will be.” Gwen fumbled for what to do. “Where are you? I’ll call him and make sure he’s on his way, and I’ll come stay with you until he gets there, all right?” She didn’t know why he’d answer the phone from her anyway, but especially not if he ignored Drea. The words were meant to buy time, and reassure his daughter.

“Okay.” Drea gave her an address, and Gwen had directions up on her phone in seconds.

“Sit tight, and I’ll be there in ten minutes, okay?”

“All right.”

Gwen dialed Brad as she walked out the door, growling in frustration when she went to voicemail. “It’s me. Your ex-wife left your daughter at her home, alone, and she wants to know where her parents are. I’m heading over there to sit with her. Call one of us back now, and meet me there in ten minutes.”

The house was in the foothills—she shouldn’t have been surprised. Probably at least six thousand square feet on an acre overlooking the valley. Something told her it wasn’t Emily’s money paying that bill. Gwen shoved aside all her thoughts. Bitterness. Regret. Longing. Everything. No sign of Brad’s car. She called him again and left another message. “Get here
now.
”

She made her way to the front door. She didn’t want to sit around in this place, waiting for one parent or the other to drop by, but she wasn’t leaving Drea alone, and taking her back to her house was probably kidnapping or something as ludicrous. Steeling herself for some serious decision making, she knocked.

Drea opened the door and dragged her inside. “Is my dad with you?”

“No. But he’ll be here soon. Where’s your mom?”

“Gambling with Shawn. They said they’d be back tomorrow and I was staying with Dad, who was on his way over. That was
forever
ago.” Drea skipped to the couch and flopped down. “You’re staying until he gets here, right?”

Gwen couldn’t think of an alternative. “Of course I am.”

“Are you sure?” Skepticism crept onto Drea’s face. “You won’t put me to bed and then leave?”

The suggestion horrified Gwen; it sounded like it was based on the girl’s previous experiences. “Why would I do that?”

“Because that’s what grownups do. They break their promises, and they lie, because they can.”

The blunt statement stabbed through Gwen. It was bad enough to be reminded of the past few weeks and how much of that time was wrapped in deception. But to hear someone so young say something so cynical almost broke her heart. She sat down next to Drea. “I promise. I’m staying until your dad gets here.”

****

Brad narrowed his eyes at Emily’s name on his phone screen. It had only been a few hours since she won, and she was gloating already? He let the call go to voicemail. And the next two as well. She never left a message. When he stopped at the next light, he saw she’d sent him a text.
You might want to stop by my house. The sooner the better.

But no mention of Drea. Fuck it. He was tired of being at Emily’s beck and call. He’d spend the night in his cabin in Heber City and come back in the morning—see what it took to get life back on track. Two hours later, after a lot of meandering and rambling driving, he pulled into the local grocery-store parking lot and forced from his mind the nagging voice that told him to call and check.

The phone rang again, this time with Gwen’s number. He ignored it. He’d delete her voice mail later. She called back within a couple of seconds, and he itched to answer, but he couldn’t. He believed she hadn’t sabotaged him on purpose, but he didn’t know if
they
could work, and he wasn’t in the mood for the emotional lows tonight.

He grabbed enough groceries for dinner that night, headed back to his car, and resumed his trip. With each passing minute, he tapped his fingers faster on the steering wheel. By the time he pulled up in front of the cabin, he swore he was tapping out the 1812 Overture. Every instrument at once. Fuck.

He dialed Emily’s home number. No answer. His anxiety grew. He tried her cell-phone.

“Yeah.” Her boyfriend, Shawn.

Brad heard the clang of slot machines in the background. “Are you in Wendover again?” Stupid question, of course they were.

“Like you don’t know. Did you get the kid okay?”

Brad’s heart plummeted. “She’s not with you or a babysitter?”

“You were supposed to pick her up. Emily promised her.”

Brad disconnected the call without another word and hopped back into his car. If he pushed it on the back roads, he could be at Emily’s in about an hour. Sure, Drea wasn’t a kid anymore, but it was after eleven, and his mind raced through a million horror scenarios of what might happen if she was left alone all night. As he drove, he dialed Emily’s house. No answer. Fuck.

His phone rang again. “Answer.” He wasn’t taking his eye off the road for a minute. “I swear to God, Emily, if anything happens to her—”

“It’s me.” Gwen’s voice filled his head and added another layer of tension.

“Great. Swell. I can’t talk—”

“I’m with Drea”—her voice held an edge he’d never heard before. Not the same kind of anger she’d unleashed on him in the past, but a strange firmness—“and she’s fine.”

Relief flooded him, but the tension remained in his neck and shoulders. “Where are you?”

“Emily’s house.” She related the events of the last hour.

As she related the brief story, Brad’s fury with Emily and disgust with himself grew. “Thank you. I’ll be there in an hour.”

“What the hell did you do? Drive to Evanston?”

“Heber City. I have a cabin up here. I’m already on my way back.”

“Good.” The line clicked dead.

Brad pressed the pedal to the floor and cut through the night.

****

“Was that my dad?” Drea’s drowsy question dragged Gwen’s attention back to the couch. The girl rubbed sleep from her eyes, watching Gwen. As soon as she’d drifted off, Gwen had extracted herself long enough to call Brad again.

“Yes. He’ll be here soon. For real, this time”

“Then I want to wait up.”

Gwen didn’t want this. She didn’t want to feel bad for the girl or have a desire to comfort her, or to feel the strange whisper of attachment gnawing at her gut. “I guess we can watch TV until he gets here.”

“What are we watching?”

Uh…
What was appropriate for a ten-year-old? “What do you have?”

“Bugs Bunny cartoons.” Drea loaded up a disc and settled back onto the cushions next to Gwen. Before the first cartoon was over, Drea was yawning. By the end of the second, she curled up and rested her head on Gwen’s leg.

Gwen brushed a strand of brown hair from her forehead, but her fingers froze when she realized what she was doing. She wouldn’t get attached. She was doing what any decent person would do. As more anvils, explosions, and thinly veiled adult comments ticked by, her own eyelids tugged down, heavy with the stress of the day. She tried to shake herself awake without disturbing the kid, and exhaustion pushed back.

A persistent knocking filled the room, jarring her back to consciousness. She blinked several times, until she could focus on the clock on the far wall. She’d fallen asleep for almost forty-five minutes. She extracted Drea from her lap, amazed the girl still slept, and stumbled toward the door.
Please let it be Brad, and not Emily.
Not that Emily would knock at her own house, or that she wanted to see Brad, but it was better than the alternative.

Brad was on the other side, looking as if it took effort for him to stand still. “I’m so sorry,” he said, as soon as his gaze met hers. “Thank you. You’re sure she’s all right?”

Gwen knew it was the question of a concerned parent, but on top of everything else, the implication she either couldn’t tell or might have lied scraped her emotions raw. “I’m positive. Snoozing away.” She was too drained to keep the bite from her voice.

“She does that.” He stepped around her. “We’ll go.”

“Wait.” She almost rested a hand on his arm but drew back at the last minute. She didn’t want to have this conversation now, but if she didn’t speak up, she’d chicken out. “Give me two minutes.”

He glanced at the couch then back at her. “Okay?”

“The other day, when we said this is over, we were right.” The words hurt more than she expected. “I can’t do this roller coaster crap. I can’t pretend in front of her. I can’t break her heart. My own.” Shit, she hadn’t meant to let that slip.

“What about your case?”

Not quite the response she hoped for. Part of her wanted him to protest. To ask her to reconsider. At least to apologize for accusing her of setting him up on purpose. “I don’t care.” She did, just not about that, and that was why she had to walk away now. Better to rip off the Band-Aid than peel it away slowly as they drifted apart once the need for their charade was up. “George can have the money. I’m done arguing. We’re over. I’m glad your baby girl is safe. Take her home. Have a nice life.”

“Gwen.”

She stepped aside and gestured at Drea. “Before she wakes up.”
Before I have to be the one to tell her that, once again, an adult is leaving her
.