Page 42 of Hate the One You're With
At that moment, Jacob and Liam arrive.
“Fuck, I really can’t do this right now,” I mutter under my breath.
“What are we doing?” Liam asks, then points at Jacob. “Guess who was trying to pretend he wasn’t in his office to avoid helping?”
“I have work to do,” Jacob snaps, clearly exasperated. “I was okay following you around when I was five, but now I have responsibilities that don’t involve your nonsense.”
“He’s about to tell us what really happened with Emmersyn,” Max says, ignoring his younger brother. “Like all the way from the beginning.”
Jacob laughs. “Oh, I know most of it. If you let me go?—”
“Why would we let you go?” Liam glares at him. “Talk, Jacob, or I’ll unleash Eth and Max on you.”
I laugh. “This is exactly why your wives—and fiancée—insist you’re like children. Shall we start working, gentlemen?”
Ethan and Max exchange a glance, and I can tell they’re not letting this go. They’re not just here to help with the house—they want answers. But the truth is, I’m not ready to give them any. Not now, and maybe not ever.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Emmersyn
You knowthat moment when you walk into a room and everything suddenly goes silent? The kind where you just know something was being said about you? That’s exactly how it feels the moment I step into Grandma’s penthouse. Conversations halt mid-sentence, every eye turns to me, and my stomach drops as I realize I’ve walked into something I wasn’t supposed to hear. I narrow myeyes, scanning the room.
Caleb isn’t alone. Ethan is lounging on the couch, and the tall, dark-haired one—Max, I think—leans casually against the wall. There are two other men I don’t recognize. If I met them back when Caleb and I first got together, well, they must’ve changed a lot since then.
I’m not a fan of strangers, especially when they catch me at a vulnerable moment. So, I plaster on a smirk, trying to mask my unease. “So, is this the part where you booby trap the penthouse and try to make my death look like an accident?”
Max’s lips quirk in amusement. “Nope. He was just telling us why, after being so madly in love with you, things just . . . stopped.”
“And why you two never got divorced,” Ethan adds, his tone dripping with curiosity.
“Shut the fuck up,” Caleb growls, his jaw clenching as he glares at his friends.
I let out a laugh, though it sounds hollow even to my own ears. This is ridiculous and yet, oddly funny. They’re making him squirm more than I ever could. Maybe I should keep them around for the next six months. I’m curious as to why he never told them about us, more so when one of them just said Caleb was madly in love with me. As if, the guy hates my guts. But that still doesn’t explain why they’re here. “So, why are you here again?”
Max tilts his head, a spark of curiosity in his eyes. “Help me understand, sweetheart. Why the shotgun wedding if you weren’t pregnant?”
“The better question is, why are they still together?” Ethan smirks.
He’s clearly relishing watching Caleb squirm. Honestly,these four should stick around—I could use the help making mybelovedhusband suffer over the next six months. That’s when my gaze lands on Caleb. Wait . . . he’s never told them the story about us? I swallow hard, suddenly unsure how to respond.
One of the other men, the one who resembles Max but isn’t as heavily built—more lean muscle, like a runner or someone who spends time in the gym but doesn’t live there—speaks up. “She offered him a fortune in exchange for the ring—which I’m sure she paid for.”
“She did what?” Ethan asks, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
“How? Why?” Max echoes, then glances at Caleb with a smirk. “Seriously, the least you could’ve done is pay for the fucking ring, man.”
I consider setting them straight and telling them that Caleb did get me an engagement ring and even the wedding bands. They’re simple, but honestly, they’re the best jewelry I’ve ever had because the stupid girl in me . . . I stop mid-thought as the others start laughing at him.
“Yeah, it happened around the time Mr. Cunningham had a heart attack,” Jacob says, his tone matter-of-fact. “And got laid-off and . . . you know when already, don’t you?”
“Shut the fuck up, Jacob,” Caleb snaps, eyes narrowing. “What happened to attorney-client confidentiality?”
“I don’t practice law, only studied it. I’m a sports agent, and you’re not my client,” Jacob corrects him, his tone cool and precise. “Plus, I’m just stating the facts after gathering all the information I’ve come across over the past few days.”
Should I tell them the real story? Clarissa told me abouther dad being in the hospital after a heart attack and both parents being laid-off. It was all scary, and they were struggling.
I offered to help. Grandma wouldn’t have hesitated to support them, at least with the medical bills, since they’d lost their insurance. But Clarissa brushed it off and asked how I was doing instead.
