Just My Luck (The Kings)

“What about this one?” Sylvie held out the long skirt of an expensive-looking white chiffon dress on a wooden hanger.

After kidnapping me, I rode with Sylvie as she dropped her son off with her husband, Duke, and we’d made our way to a dress boutique in Kalamazoo. It was then she broke the news that the meddlesome biddies in town had negotiated a hostile takeover and demanded a wedding shower.

I had always been curious about the secretive group of women. It seemed that the Bluebirds were the heartbeat of Outtatowner and were wholly unaffected by the long-standing feud between the King and Sullivan families. I was sure they’d never take credit, but I also suspected they were the reason behind the lack of gossip regarding my best friend and her new husband.

But still . . . a wedding shower?

I had already done the expensive and draining rigamarole of show-stopping wedding events. My shower had been the social event of the season, according to my then-stepmother. Nothing about it was my own.

My fingers brushed along the soft fabrics that ranged from stark white to creamy beiges.

Everything screamed demure bridal. Nothing was flirty and fun or . . . me.

I tucked my lip between my teeth. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”

“Are you kidding?” Sylvie’s face looked disgusted. “We are having a shopping day to find you the perfect dress. One hundred percent funded by your husband.” Sylvie’s eyebrows bounced suggestively on her forehead.

“Yes, he is technically my husband, but you know the truth. It’s business.” I distracted myself by sliding dresses across the hanger bar.

“Mm-hmm,” Sylvie said. “And you’re telling me that business is the reason you moved in with him? Business is the reason you’re walking around like you’ve floated in on a cloud? Business that Abel actually cracked a real smile when I talked to him?” She shook her head. “You can try and peddle that bullshit to someone else, but I don’t buy it. I know you both too well.”

I turned and looked at my friend, unable to lie. “Fine. I think I’m catching feelings.”

Her eyes went wide and she scurried over to me. “I knew it! Did something happen on your honeymoon? This is so exciting!”

I shook my head. “No, I assure you . . . the honeymoon was very PG.” I glanced away as my thoughts wandered to the very not-PG evening we shared.

“But it’s not exciting. It’s terrible. This is not supposed to be messy. Business and nothing more. But . . .” I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I have no one else to tell, and it’s literally killing me.” I peeked out from behind my hands. “We had sex.”

A noise I am certain had never before left the stoic Sylvie King echoed through the boutique, drawing the attention of nearby customers. “Are you serious? Oh. My. God.”

I laughed, confirming it was true.

Sylvie was bubbling with energy. “Look, I don’t want the details because that’s my brother and—gross—but I am really, really happy for you!”This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

She shook my shoulders and a laugh escaped me. “Thank you. I’m happy too. But, like, also confused? I don’t know what this means, if it’ll happen again, what exactly I should tell the kids, if he likes me, too, or what. It’s all very chaotic up here.” I gestured wildly at my head.

There weren’t words to accurately describe the toil of emotions rolling through me at any given moment. It was clear Tillie already suspected something was happening between Abel and me, but even I couldn’t quite pinpoint what was developing between us.

What would happen once the brewery was acquired and the farmhouse rebuilt? The thought of staying married was ridiculous, but anytime I allowed myself to think of life after Abel and I called it quits, my stomach tightened and I wanted to vomit.

How had this all gotten so messy so quickly?

Sylvie’s hands squeezed my shoulders in reassurance. “You’ll figure it out. You always do. In the meantime, can I make a suggestion?”

I looked her in the eye and nodded, pleading for the right answers.

“Take it as it comes. Abe’s been through a lot and doesn’t ever open up to people. If he has, in any capacity, opened up to you, it means he trusts you. If he really is catching feelings, too, that’s a big deal. No matter how this pans out, I know that you’ll be fine, because you’re strong and resilient and a badass. He may not look it, but Abel is much more fragile. Just . . . be careful with his heart, okay?”

A lump lodged in my throat. I never imagined I would be the one responsible for protecting Abel’s heart, and that responsibility felt massive. “Okay,” I squeaked out, and it was all I could manage.

“Good. Thank you.” My best friend smiled at me. “One more thing . . . you’re going to have to break the news to him that he’s expected to show up at the shower.”

I squawked. “What?”

Sylvie’s laugh filled the boutique, and she raised her hands. “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Aunt Bug told me he needs to be there, and I am certainly not going to be the one to tell him that.”

“Well, why do I have to tell him?” I crossed my arms like a petulant child.

She grinned and shook her head. “He’s your husband.”

I chewed my lip. Abel was not going to be happy about this.

Damn it.

“Fair enough,” I grumbled. “I’ll tell him tonight.”

Sylvie came up behind me and gave my shoulders a quick squeeze. “Thank you. Now let’s find you something that screams I’m a hot wife so he doesn’t stay mad at you.”

Sylvie’s attention was drawn to a row of short white dresses nearby. I moved with her, hoping to ignore the ache that nestled itself into my chest.

“How about this one?” With wide, hopeful eyes, Sylvie held out the perfect dress.

It was a white mini dress in a fit and flare style that nipped in at the waist and flared out with a short tulle skirt. The top had a plunging neckline and had large, loose bows to tie the straps together. Small pearls along the bodice and skirt added a touch of romance and femininity.

The dress was an absolute showstopper.

Excited, I smiled and eagerly nodded and headed for the dressing room.

Once I stepped into the party dress, I stared at the woman looking back at me from the mirror. Sure, it was me, but she was somehow different.

I ran my hands across the delicate fabric. It fit perfectly and was a stark contrast to the sensible jeans and sweaters I’d adopted since becoming a single mom. I may have experienced luxury growing up, but making it on my own with two amazing kids relying on me was no easy feat.

Escaping life with Jared meant leaving everything I knew behind. I had never regretted it—not once. Still, standing in a bridal suite with a pretty white dress on, I felt like a little girl playing dress-up.

With Abel, I got to be a brand-new version of me. The version where my kids were the center of the universe, and he never questioned that. Instead, he acted as though pretending to be a partner in our day-to-day lives was the easiest thing in the world. He accepted my children, accepted me, without question.

Sure, Abel and I agreed that being husband and wife was nothing more than a business arrangement, but it was downright scary how much I was starting to like being his wife.

Later that afternoon, I’d gotten a text from Granddad that the pickup of Ben and Tillie from Bug had gone smoothly. They planned to get supper together, and I was eager to hug my babies.

Pulling down the secluded driveway to the Robinson property was eerie. It no longer felt like home. Instead, I drove past the burned-out shell of the farmhouse and relived the familiar ache of sadness and loss.

It was a very real possibility that Jared had either arranged for someone to burn down the farmhouse or done the dirty work himself. There had been no further sign of him, but I hadn’t let my guard down. Not when I had my two kids to worry about.

Pulling up to the cabin, I noted the excessive number of security cameras and chuckled. Apparently when Abel committed to something, he went all in.

Without knocking I opened the cabin door and entered. Ben, Tillie, and Granddad were sitting around the table with Uno cards in their hands. I paused, surprised to see Bug King sitting with them.

“Oh, hey, Bug.” I waved.

She smiled and nodded. “Sloane.” Then she triumphantly placed a wild card down. “That’s four, Bax.”

My granddad grinned at Bug and winked. “Ruthless. Just the way I like ’em.”

Wait. What is happening? Is he . . . flirting?

“Uh . . .” I moved deeper into the room. “Hey, chickens. Having fun?”

Tillie nodded, a smear of rogue chocolate still staining the corner of her mouth. “Granddad invited Ms. Bug to get hot dogs and ice cream down at the café. Then we came here and she is dominating at Uno.”

“Yeah, she’s not letting him win like you do,” Ben chimed in.

A tittering laugh escaped me as my grandfather frowned in my direction. I smiled brightly. “Great. I’ll get comfy. Deal me in to the next round?”

Ben scooted in his chair and patted the spot beside him. “Sit with me, Mama.”

Affection bloomed in my chest as I ruffled his hair and dropped a kiss on top of his head. “I’ll sit right here.” I took the open chair next to Ben and leaned toward him. “That way you can’t look at my cards like the little cheat you are!”

Ben laughed and dramatically pretended to peek over at me. I surveyed my grandfather. He looked younger and more content than I’d ever seen him. Moving out had been the right call—the man needed his privacy, and I was right to assume that a little distance from me and the children meant he had to step outside his comfort zone and be a tiny bit more social.

Apparently that included socializing with Bug King. I secretly looked at her and wondered about the mysterious matriarch of the King family. Sylvie adored her, and I’d never heard an ill word spoken about her. She was known to be a bit tough and no-nonsense, but there was no question that she was revered in Outtatowner.

She appeared to be a few years younger than my granddad. Her face had aged gracefully, and strands of silver were beautifully incorporated into her soft brown hair. Her eyes were Kings’—a myriad of darks and tans—but in the presence of my little family, they were expressive and kind.

After two rounds of Uno, the kids begged to play outside. I was nervous to let them go alone, but Granddad reassured me that Abel had done more than enough to make sure the cabin was “safer than Fort Knox.” I watched as Granddad fussed over Bug, offering her coffee and a few cookies, to which she obliged.

While he brewed the coffee, I eyed Bug carefully. “Sylvie questioned my intentions on Abel’s behalf today, but now I’m wondering if I don’t need to do the same with you.”

Bug laughed and fluffed her hair with a dismissive flick of her wrist. “Why, I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”

My lips pursed as I hid my amusement. “Mm-hmm.”

Bug lifted her shoulder. “I’ve known your grandfather for a very long time. Bax and I went to school together, though he was a few years older.”

From across the small kitchen, Granddad whistled. “So you’re . . . friends?”

Bug’s eyes slid to mine. “I suppose we’re as much friends as you and Abel. I take it your evening at the Wild Iris went well?”

I didn’t miss the slight tug at the corner of her mouth.

“Abel and I are—we’re—” I cleared my throat. “You see, things⁠—”

Shit.

Somehow Bug knew that my relationship with her nephew was changing, and given the fact he’d absolutely owned me last night, I didn’t have a leg to stand on.

Bug simply lifted an eyebrow.

I smiled softly and settled on, “I’m glad Granddad has a friend.”

Bug smiled. “Me too. And I’m pleasantly surprised you’ve been able to wear Abel down. He’s suffered so much by his own hand, and it’s not an easy thing for someone to get to know the real man he hides beneath the surface.”

I glanced down, tingling warmth filling my chest. “That’s funny. I don’t think he’s all that hard to figure out.”

Her chin dipped slightly. “That’s precisely my point. But I might suggest that whatever happens between the two of you . . . perhaps keep it close to the chest until you know for sure. For his sake.”

Who was this woman? She was far too insightful to deny my growing feelings for Abel and the complications they brought. “Agreed. I would ask you to please do the same for my grandfather.”

Bug smiled and offered a small nod.

My grandfather placed a small coffee cup in front of her, and I pinched the bridge of my nose to release the sting of emotion building there. “Okay, then. Can we never speak of this again?”

Confused, Granddad looked between us. “Speak of what?”

“Nothing!” Bug and I said in unison and laughed.