Page 72 of Tangled Vows

Was any of it true? Did he love me? Had he really turned down Jessica’s advances?

Or was it all for show? Just a ploy to win back the public’s affection. If he truly loved me, he would have told me, right?This was a publicity stunt. Roni probably put him up to it to salvage his reputation.

“I knew it was all a big lie and that Easton hadn’t been unfaithful,” my mom claimed. I turned to see tears glimmering in her eyes, and I frowned.

“You don’t actually believe all that, do you?” I asked, my voice dripping with derision. She drew back, surprised by my tone.

“Of course, I do,” she proclaimed, pressing a hand to her chest.

“He doesn’t love me, Mom. He never did.”

“How can you say that?”

“Because it’s not real!” I snapped, then immediately regretted it. My mom and sister wore matching shocked expressions.

“What do you mean it’s not real?” Makenna asked.

I dropped my head into my hands and took a few deep, calming breaths. I’d never planned on telling them the truth. Easton and I were just going to quietly divorce and claim that we simply drifted apart. But the truth hung in the air between us, and there was nothing I could do to reel it back in, so I had to come clean.

“My marriage to Easton is fake,” I confessed. “We were never in love. I only married him to get my trust fund, and he needed to repair his image. It was all an act.”

“Oh, honey, there’s nothing fake about that man’s feelings for you,” my mom replied, completely glossing over the part about my trust fund, and I smothered the flare of hope rising in my chest.

“Wait a minute,” Makenna said, holding up her hands to halt the conversation. “You’re telling me you never…” Her voice fell away as she curved her fingers into a circle and used the opposite forefinger to poke into it to simulate sex. I winced and glancedaway, unable to lie to her about being intimate with my husband. “You did!” She gasped, her eyes bugging out of her head. “It may have started out fake, but it’s definitely not anymore. I agree with Mom. You should see the way he looks at you. That man is absolutely enamored,” she claimed, using jazz hands to emphasize the last word.

“You guys don’t know Easton like I do,” I argued. “Sure, we’re … compatible in the bedroom, but that doesn’t equal love.” Reducing our connection to nothing more than sex felt like a knife through the heart, but I couldn’t admit I’d fallen for him when he didn’t feel the same.

They shared a look as though they were both questioning the state of my mental well-being. “And I don’t care what he said in that press conference; that woman put her hands on him several times, and he continued to let it happen. Hell, he even touched her back as he led her out of the bar and covered her hand with his while she groped his arm.” Okay, groped might’ve been too strong a term for what she did, but it drove my point home. “If what he claims is true, why would he have touched her?” My voice shook, and my chin quivered as tears filled my eyes.

“You love him, don’t you?” Makenna asked, head tilted as she studied me.

“I don’t want to,” I insisted, squeezing my eyes shut to stave off the tears. It didn’t work. They slid down my cheeks, unbidden.

“But you do.”

“Yes, I love him,” I admitted out loud. It was the first time I’d ever uttered those words, and now that they were out there, I couldn’t take them back.

51

EASTON

Ihadn't heard Shayla's voice in days, and I was beginning to lose hope. She still refused to take my calls and only responded to my texts when I asked for updates on her mom. At least she hadn’t cut me out completely. I wasn’t above calling her sister to make sure Christine was on the mend. She’d promised we’d talk when I got home, and I was clinging to that like a lifeline.

The moment our plane touched down in Richmond, I was ready to go after my girl. I rushed home, breaking every speed limit between the airport and Willow Brook Falls. The drive that normally took forty minutes took less than half an hour.

I didn’t even bother grabbing my bags before I hopped out of my vehicle and rushed to the front door. Throwing it open, I called her name.

“Shayla?” My voice rose and became more frantic each time I called for her. “Shayla!” I tore through the house searching for my wife. When I reached our bedroom, I instantly sensed something was wrong. There was a shift in the air. It lacked her sweet scent, and the implications of that change landed in my gut like a lead weight.

“No,” I breathed, my voice shaking.

I went to the closet and flipped on the light switch. My knees buckled at the sight of the empty hangers. Moving to her dresser, I pulled open the drawers.

Empty.

Just like the hollow feeling in my chest.

No. She couldn’t be gone. We would work this out. I just needed to show her that what we had was real. She needed to see I wasn’t the cheater those gossip rags made me out to be.

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