Beard Necessities (Winston Brothers, #7)(35)

“Oh, honey.” Sienna squeezed my hand tighter.

“How could I choose Billy?” I appealed to Sienna quietly. “My mother hated my father and I think he hated her too. I grew up like that, around bitterness. There was no choosing between Billy’s hate and Ben’s love. Plus, I had my father to consider. Being with Ben had kept me out of his reach. If I left the McClures, I didn’t know if I’d still be safe. And then . . .” I paused, having oddly mixed feelings about everything now that I’d removed guilt from the narrative.

“What?” Sienna whisper-asked.

“So.” I twisted my lips, sending her a look. “The night before my ‘official’ marriage to Ben, Billy showed up at my window. Ben was at his parents’ house for the night, and I was alone.”

“What happened?”

“He tried to seduce me.”

“Well.” She reared back, her eyes wide but blinking, like she needed a moment to process this information. “How about that, from the pillar of absolute honor, Billy Winston. Did it work?”

“No.” I tilted my head back and forth, giving her a sideways glance, finally admitting, “Actually, almost. He made a few suggestive remarks, which flustered the tar outta me, and he kissed me, and we made out to the point that my brain stopped caring about right and wrong, and . . .”

“And?”

“And then he pulled away and demanded in no uncertain terms that I leave Ben and run away with him.” I frowned, fighting a sudden headache as I recalled his caveman mandates, how angry he’d been, and how ashamed I’d felt after realizing how close I’d come to breaking my promise to his mother. But when he’d kissed me, when he’d touched me, I couldn’t think.

That night had been our first huge fight. We’d had a few more over the years, more shouting matches, more angry words, but that had been our first where words had been knives and looks had been arrows and I’d needed every weapon at my disposal to push him away.

“And?” Sienna skootched to the edge of the rocking chair, bringing my attention back to her.

“And nothing. I walked out of the room.” I shrugged, suddenly tired, so tired. I didn’t want to tell any more stories tonight. I was done. “When I came back, he’d left, and the next time we spoke was after Ben died. The end.”





Chapter Seven





Billy





“It hurts to breathe. It hurts to live. I hate her, yet I do not think I can exist without her.”

Charlotte Featherstone, Addicted





“Thanks for taking the time today, Congressman. We appreciate it.”

“Not a problem.” I frowned at the clock on my laptop screen, double-checking the time on my phone. This time difference was a killer. I had six more hours of back-to-back calls in the States before I’d get a chance to check on Roscoe, and it was almost dinnertime in Italy. “I don’t have much longer, so is there anything else?”

“Just campaign prep. Karl? You want to fill the congressman in about campaign prep?”

“We can have a separate call,” Karl said. “We’ll schedule it later.”

“No, Karl. It’s now or never,” I said, clicking through my calendar for tomorrow and the day after, seeing more of the same. Wednesday was blocked off, though, the entire day. I didn’t remember doing that, but then there’d been a lot to remember and focus on.

Karl hemmed and hawed before finally saying, “It’s somewhat personal in nature.”

“Are you quitting?” I asked, opening the all-day appointment on Wednesday to see who’d added it. “If you’re not quitting, then there’s nothing you need to say that the team can’t hear.”

Becca Mason, my chief of staff, cut in, “The congressman knows there’s no such thing as a private life for a politician. Go on.”

“Fine,” Karl said on a sigh that sounded like he didn’t believe it was actually fine. “So, there’s a rumor going around that you and Judge Payton’s granddaughter are no longer engaged. Is this true?”

Answering immediately and with no emotion, I said, “It’s true. She’ll be sending out a statement in the next few weeks, but yes. We broke the engagement.”

“This is a problem,” he said.

It wasn’t a problem; nevertheless, I asked, “And what do you see as a potential solution?”

“Hell if I know.” He sounded despondent, like someone who enjoys being upset.

I’d have to reevaluate Karl’s position with us if I ultimately decided to run for the senate seat. I hadn’t made my mind up yet. He was new, sent from party headquarters, and everything was always a problem. My contact at the party had called Karl savvy. But on my team, people who see nothing but problems while offering no solutions are called fired.

“The thing is, Billy,” he said, using my first name as though he knew me, paused as though giving the matter great thought, and then starting again, “Older voters don’t trust candidates who aren’t married, just like they don’t trust candidates with beards, or candidates who smile too much, or candidates who smile too little. I know this might all sound silly, but—”