Page 10 of Knight Life In Vegas

My world in New York had gotten so small. It was much bigger and louder in Las Vegas, but I was still hovering on the periphery. My tenuous connection to Ava aside, none of the people at the party today, besides my children, were mine. They weren’t here to see me. If I disappeared tomorrow, they would probably never notice.

I wantedsomeoneto notice.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I sipped my way through the rest of my coffee, trying to stop the flood of tears. By the time I reached the bottom of the cup, I felt steadier. I couldn’t hide in the kitchen for the whole birthday party, however tempting that was.

I slipped out into the main room that was now full of Ava’s extended pack family. I always got the sense that a good portion of them wondered why I was here, but at least it wasn’t the sneers and gossip I’d experienced back in New York when news of Andrew’s arrest had blown through the company. I could handle a few confused looks a lot easier.

I kept to the edges of the group, settling myself on one of the many couches. Eventually Sammy got overwhelmed by this sheer amount of people and came to sit with me, nestling into my side while he sucked down a juice box.

“Lucy gets so many presents,” he commented.

“She’s the first baby of her generation for most of the people here. Everyone always gets excited about that.”

Sammy looked up at me with wide hazel eyes that matched mine. “Did people get excited for me?”

“Of course they did.” He let me draw him onto my lap. “You’ve seen the pictures of your first birthday. We almost lost you in the mountain of gifts.”

That was one thing Andrew’s parents had been good for. They were free with their wallets for my children, but they had the personalities of pit vipers. I’d always spent as little time around them as possible. With their son in prison, and us officially divorced, they’d cut contact so I would never have to see them again.

It was cruel that they got to live while my own parents had died in a car accident. My parents were the grandparents a child would dream of: hand-knitted baby blankets, sleepovers, over-the-top parties, and endless affection. I tried to make up for their loss myself, and while the boys enjoyed it, it made my own pain that much sharper. I was still half convinced that my grief at the time had unleashed a new level of awfulness in Andrew. It was one thing to pretend to be faithful to the perfect wife, but agrievingone? His appearance of loyalty didn’t stretch that far.

I kissed the top of Sammy’s head. Ollie was parked next to Ava and Lucy, helping open presents since Lucy, at one year old, didn’t quite have the motor skills required to do it herself.

“Can we have a family nap when we get home?” Sammy asked.

“Sure, baby. We definitely can.”

Family naps were a tradition we had started when Andrew had begun to travel more and I would bring the boys into my bed to push back the crushing loneliness. We would have snacks, sometimes watch a movie and get some good snuggles in. Now they loved it as much as I did, and it was a lovely way for us to all recalibrate and connect.

“Good. I’m gonna get another juice box,” he said, sliding off my lap.

“Only one more. Water after that.”

Sammy wrinkled his nose. That boy would drink his weight in juice in a day if I let him.

The doorbell rang and Bryce went to answer it, greeting his father. He was as tall as his son, which meant he towered over me, and had golden brown hair with strands of silver mixed throughout and blue eyes so bright I could see them from here. He looked so little like his son. Maybe Bryce got all of his features from his mother?

Someone brought over a glass of wine, passing it to the elder Mr. Carlton. Sammy barreled straight into him on his way back from the kitchen, spilling the wine all over both of them. It didn’t matter how often I told him not to run in the house; he never listened for long. I was on my feet and instantly tucking Sammy behind me with an admonishing look.

“I’m so sorry,” I apologized on Sammy’s behalf. I’d let the energy diffuse a bit before getting him to do it himself. Andrew had always gotten snappy when the kids made a mistake and I didn’t want to take the risk that anyone else would talk to him like that.

“Charlotte, this is my dad, Beau. Dad, this is Charlotte, a friend of the family.”

That was one way to put it.

Beau’s gorgeous eyes pinned me in place and his wine glass shattered in his hand.

What the hell was up with that?

No.

No, no, no.

What the fuck kind of joke was the universe playing?

Charlotte’s sweet lemon meringue pie scent stabbed me right through the heart. Primal knowledge ofwhoandwhatfate intended her to be to me rocked me to the core, almost as strongly as the fear that followed it.

I wasnotgoing to go through this again. I fucking refused.

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