My Rules (Kingston Lane, #2)

by T.L. Swan

“Henley is a big boy, and if he wants to go to Vegas, he can go to Vegas,” Juliet repeats. “Thank you.” I smile. “This is why we are marrying you, sweet Juliet.” “I’m not marrying you, Blake,” she replies dryly. “So you think.” Antony smirks as he goes back to flicking through the suits.

She doesn’t deserve any of this. She never did. I want her to be happy. I want her to find the man of her dreams. I want someone to love her as much as she loves them. I tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear, and I know what I need to do. I’m going to find her a good man . . . even if it kills me.

My phone rings on the table, and Blake snatches it up before I can answer it. “Hello.” He listens. “Hi, Dad.” I frown. What’s he doing? “Oh, really? Shit.” He listens. “Yeah, okay.” He nods, all serious. “No, it’s okay. We can do that. We’re on our way.” He puts his hand over the phone as he plays along. “It’s Nana.” “Nana?” I frown. “She’s fallen down a flight of stairs.”

This is hilarious

“You know, sometimes I wish I didn’t live on Kingston Lane,” he says softly. “You do?” I frown. “How come?” “Because then . . . we wouldn’t be friends.” My eyes search his. “And . . .” He pulls my spaghetti strap back up onto my shoulder. “And what?” I whisper. “And . . . we could have just met as strangers.” Everyone else in the street disappears as we stare at each other. “And I would have asked for your number.”

“I’ll pull the fold-up out; my back is hurting,” I tell her. My back isn’t sore. That’s a deplorable lie. I just like lying next to her, and sometimes, if I’m lucky, we even fall asleep this way.

She rolls over in her sleep and snuggles into my chest. Her head rests on my arm, her top leg leaning over mine. The warmth from her body begins to liquefy mine. Fuck . . . I put my lips to her forehead as I hold her. She’s warm and sensual and feels perfect in my arms. Like a luxury that I could never afford. With my lips resting against her skin, I close my eyes and pretend that she’s mine.

“Gregory . . .” Blake stands. “Don’t touch her again.” “I’ll do what I want with her,” Gregory fires back. “She is my date.”

Funny

“So . . .” He points to his house with his thumb. “Blake Grayson, your date, is going to go home now.” “Right.” I nod again. “And Blake, your friend . . . was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie on your fold-out.” I smirk.

Looking back on all his betrayal, knowing that he treated them with more respect and took them to better places than me was the information that hurt me the most.

Anger wins. “You want to know my problem?” I spit. “I’ll tell you what my fucking problem is. I went to the bathroom last night and heard two women talking about how there’s no way in hell that a washed-up divorcée could ever hold you and that it’s only a matter of time before you dump me.” He puts his weight onto his back foot, physically taken aback. “And it got me thinking about our situation and how they are completely right. It is only a matter of time before you break up with me, and I’m not prepared to get my heart broken, so I’m saving you the trouble.” “You fucking coward.” He sneers. “What?” I explode. “The only person who is in danger of getting their heart broken around here is me.”

turn back to see him lying there on the couch, and I get a vision of me picking up the lampshade and beating him with it. Hurting him half as much as he’s hurting me.

“Are you okay?” “It’s weird, you know. I just . . .” I pause as I try and get the wording right in my head. “It kind of feels like I’m dead inside.”

His eyes hold mine for a beat. “You’re wrong. Let’s be real, Rebecca. You’re wrong.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “I was happy. I was content. You’re still thinking about your ex-husband.” His eyes fill with tears. “I went through all the trouble to get a yellow diamond from Cancún. I’ve been working extra hours to help pay for it,” he whispers. “I wanted you to wear your dream ring.” He angrily wipes his eyes. “But it turns out, it was never your dream. It was only mine.”

I close my eyes in horror. The longer he cools down, the less chance we have of getting over this. “We need to see each other to talk this through.” “He doesn’t want to see you.”

All I can think is that this is very immature behaviour on his part. She’s had a bad experience. She’s been cheated on. Naturally she was scared. He should have laughed and reassured her and they should have reaffirmed their love and instead he threw a major diva like tantrum. Nope. 👎🏽

“It means he’s fine,” he snaps in frustration. “I’m sorry, but if you expect me to have sympathy for you, Rebecca, I just don’t. You’ve broken his fucking heart.”

If this is the way he’s going to behave. There is no hope for them in the future.

like the masochist that I am, I hit play on Spotify. I’ve been listening to this song on repeat, again and again. I tell myself it’s to make me feel better, but the reality is that I want to keep being sad.

to fucking kill me. Why does everything feel so wrong now? Trapped in purgatory with no way out, I slide down the tiles and sit on the floor. The hot water falls over me like a dark blanket.

Such a drama Queen. He’s the one who created such a big issue about nothing .. now he’s sleeping with other women. Useless.

We stare at each other, and it’s the weirdest thing. He’s so familiar, but at the same time, he feels like a stranger.