Page 48 of Risky Game

One good thing about Vanessa being in Italy with another man was that it was the sole reminder I needed to erase the visions I’d so casually had and thrown out to make Ruby suffer right along with me.

I was not a good partner. I was not a good husband. I was too selfish. Too in my head about the things I wanted and enjoyed and not nearly thoughtful enough to take into consideration what was good for other people.

I steamrolled through life, doing what I wanted, taking care of me first.

The very fact my ex-wife, a woman I’d loved for a long time, was answering my phone call while on some sort of extravagant holiday with another man named Renaldo, was proof of that.

“It must be early there,” Vanessa said as soon as she answered the phone. “Is Amelia okay?”

I didn’t warrant a “Hello, how are you?” anymore.

“Good morning.”

“It’s afternoon here.”

It was too early to do the math. Six hours ahead, seven? I always forgot and definitely hadn’t been thinking about it before I called.

“Whatever. Listen, Amelia’s fine, I promise. She’s sleeping, but there’s something I need to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”

“Of course. What’s up?”

My ex-wife was gorgeous. A cheerleader in college, we’d met through friends at a football party. She’d stolen my breath immediately, but it wasn’t her looks that had captivated me from the first sight of her. It was her smile. Her laugh. She was friendly to everyone. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Vanessa be rude to anyone, even after I started playing professional football. Money didn’t change her or her morals. She was full of goodness and sunshine, sprinkling it in her wake everywhere she went.

It was why her trip, leaving Amelia so suddenly, threw me. It was also why I couldn’t fathom the things Amelia said were true.

There was no way Vanessa had any plans to come back and be anywhere close to me.

“Amelia’s been saying some things that have concerned me.”

“Oh gosh. Like what?”

I scratched my jaw, pacing back and forth in front of my office window. The sun was just rising, making the lake shine as steam gently lifted from it from the heat. Normally, it soothed me.

Not today. Not with how epically I’d already screwed up.

“Well, she’s made a few comments, even from the day I picked her up at the airport. Things like when you get done in Italy, you’re coming back here.”

I tried to stress the here.

“To the States? To her? Of course I am,” she scoffed, like I was the one being ridiculous.

“No, Vanessa.” I blew out a breath. “I think she’s taking whatever you’re saying and believing you’re coming back here, to my home. To me.” I forced myself to choke out the last part.

We hadn’t ended on horrific terms. It was cordial. Probably the politest and easiest divorce anyone in the Los Angeles area had ever taken care of.

Through the phone, Vanessa groaned and then laughed. “Logan. She doesn’t.”

“She does. She’s said the same things to Ruby, her nanny.”

“I know who Ruby is, Logan. I’ve talked to her when I’ve called.”

Of course. “That doesn’t change—”

“I’m so sorry. Maybe we should have a family call or something? But you can’t honestly believe I’d be on vacation with Renaldo all while planning on trying to get you back when I return, do you?”

I hadn’t, even if the comments made me wonder. “I’m not a four-year-old girl whose mom left for an extended vacation at the drop of a hat and whose dad moved across the country all in six months.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like we’ve totally screwed up our daughter.”

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