The Ex Files (Ocean View #1)(57)

“Yeah. And his family. It’s always… hard.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know them. I never did, really. I didn’t know most of them existed when I was younger. He’s from money, but we never knew. We always struggled. When it… all came out, and I met everyone, I was the trashy first wife’s kid. Not his kid. I’d hear aunts say they didn’t blame him for hiding me. Cousins murmur things, you know, about my mom. About me. How I look. They’re all thin and lithe and blonde. I’m… me.”

“You’re beautiful.” He says it without hesitation.

“You have to say that.” He pulls me back to look at me, and there’s frustration on his face.

“I absolutely do not. Not by any means. But you are, Cassie. You’re beautiful inside and out. Curves in all the right places that any man sees and instantly pictures in his bed. Hair you want to run your hands through. A fuckin’ flawless face. And you’re kind and sweet and hardworking. Perfect package, baby.”

“I’m—”

“I have sisters.” He stops there, and I move my head from his chest to look at him with confusion on my face.

“I know that, honey.”

“I have sisters, so I know how easy it is for the world to make you feel less than. Saw it happen with Quinny, with Tara. I’m their brother, but from a pure bystander point of view, I know they’re gorgeous. But they still struggled. And when they hit a time when they thought they weren’t the everything they very much are, they had my dad reminding them they’re gorgeous. Mom whispering to them late at night about how to get over it, teaching them to be confident. You…” He pushes the hair behind my ear with a sympathetic look. “You didn’t have that. You’ve told me about how your dad wasn’t there. You’ve told me about your mom and her diets. I’m sure she knew, in some way. Knew he wasn’t loyal, was trying to keep his interest. But they were so caught up in themselves they never reminded you how beautiful you are.”

‘I don’t—”

“That’s my job now.”

“What?”

“From now on, it’s my job to make sure you know how fucking beautiful you are. To make sure you don’t question it, and when you look in the mirror, you only see beauty. When you see spots you used to hate, you remember me kissing them. Make sure you know how fucking gorgeous I think every damn inch of you is.”

I smile at him and try not to cry. No one has ever said anything like that, much less cared.

And in his eyes, I see sincerity. He really, truly believes it. Wants it, wants me to see it. And though he won’t be here in a week, a month, a year to remind me, today, I’ll let him. I’ll let him tell me he thinks I’m beautiful, if only so I can make it through this in one piece.

“Okay, Luke,” I say, and he smiles.





Twenty-Five





-Cassie-





“Hello, name?” The pretty young hostess with long, straight black hair at the entrance to the private dining room in the hotel asks.

“Cassandra.” Her eyes scan the sheet in front of her before squinting. Then, finally, she meets my eyes again and fuck, fuck. I know. I know.

“And you’re with the Reynolds party?”

“Yes, Cassandra Reynolds. The groom is my father.” She looks over her paper again before looking to her right.

“One second, please.” I hear a giggle behind me and turn to see one of the cousins I met at the first ‘family event’ I was forced to attend after the divorce. I remember her being particularly cruel, making some joke along the lines of it being ‘no wonder her dad didn’t want anyone to know about her, now that I’ve seen her.’ She’s my age, 29, and it’s clear she’s working her way up the ladder of wealthy rich men, judging by how every time I see her, she has a new and older version on her arm. This one is probably in his late 50s, early 60s, and not in the hot silver fox way.

“Your dad didn’t even put you on the list? Priceless.” A new hostess waves my cousin forward, and she gives her name.

“Bianca Tate.” The woman puts a French manicured nail down the list, stopping on a line.

“Ah, yes. Table seven.” She nods and walks past me, bumping into me in the narrow hallway and giggling a mean girl laugh again.

“Still haven’t tried that workout program I suggested, huh, Cassandra?” she says before striding off, but not before she does a swift head to toe over Luke and winks at him.

“What the fuck was that?” he says, the angry gleam in his eye, the same one he had when my date touched me that night. The temper rising, heat rolling off him.

“Just one of my sweet cousins,” I mumble as the server comes back with someone else, a manager, it seems.

“Hi, Ms… Reynolds?” She says the name like she’s not buying it.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“It seems that we don’t have you or your date down on our list. Could there have been a mix-up? This isn’t the wedding reception, just the rehearsal dinner.”

“I don’t believe so. He’s her father.” Luke says, stepping forward.

“I understand, but sometimes—”