Beautiful Mistake Book 3

KYLA

I couldn’t believe it.

My mouth felt dry, and I swallowed hard.

Would the fact that Jensen had once been my boss never stop haunting us?

I mean, we were married. We loved each other.

We had a child together.

And Nathan Holmes was suggesting that it was all…what?

Some kind of ploy? A trick to cover up inappropriate behavior?

Beside me, Jensen’s fingers gripped his phone so tightly that I thought he might shatter the screen.

“None of that is true. You know it,” I said gently, prying the device from his fingers.

Putting my hand on his chin, I turned Jensen’s face to look at me.

His sky-blue eyes were filled with anguish. “I know. It’s just…seeing that photo of me and Julian. Remembering how…empty my life used to be. And everyone is so ready to believe—”

“No one is going to believe that trash. Gomez is just trying to stir up trouble, as always. And Holmes took the advantage to promote his own agenda.”

“People have a way of believing the bad stuff first.”

Part of me wanted to agree with him. It was so easy for strangers to place blame without digging deeper for the truth.

But that wasn’t what my husband needed to hear right now.

“That’s not true. Hawksley Enterprises has done a lot of good in this city.

“What about the Ambassador’s Ball?

“What about the new corporate office that’s going to bring tons of jobs to the community?”

I kissed Jensen on the cheek. “Besides, if this was all a ploy to trap me into marriage, it seems to have worked out nicely.”

My attempt to lighten the mood seemed to work. His lips tugged upward with the hint of a smile.

“Should we respond? Put out a statement or something?” he asked with a sigh.

I thought for a moment. If we fired back at Holmes, it would only fan the flames of the false accusations he was making.

“Let’s just try to put it out of our minds for now,” I said.

“Don’t worry, Jensen. We’ll get through this.”

***

Ugh. How am I ever going to get through this?

At work the next day, my to-do list was as long as my arm.

Sarah Barnes had been busy, and the new sustainability campaign was beginning to come together.

Despite there being no help from me.

I was trying to get through the daunting pile of unread emails in my inbox. I kept having to stop every five seconds to yawn.

Charlie’s first tooth was being joined by the stub of a second, which meant she’d been up for most of the night, fussing in discomfort.

Jensen and I had taken turns walking with her through the penthouse, and she finally settled about an hour before dawn.

Today she was staying home with Dante, who delighted in his new double-role of chauffeur and part-time nanny.

That way I could get some work done.

In theory.

The only trouble was I still couldn’t seem to get myself motivated for the next big project at the Grand Hotel.

All I could think about was whether or not Dante had remembered to make sure Charlie had Mr. Feathers to chew on when the teething became too painful.

You have a job to do, Kyla.

It took years of hard work to get to where you are.

Focus.

I sat up straighter at my desk and took a long sip of coffee.

Thankfully, the interview with Holmes didn’t seem to have gone viral yet.

Still, this ongoing feud between Jensen’s family and Nathan Holmes was creeping closer into my life.

I hated to think about the damage that could be done using nothing more than shaded words and clicks on the Internet.

Half an hour later, I was sorting through a stack of paperwork when I got a text from Rose, one of my oldest friends in the city.

I stared at my phone in astonishment.

I had completely forgotten.

***

When did going out after ten o’clock become such an ordeal?

By the time I’d gotten home, fed Charlie, put her to sleep, and gotten to the club, I felt dead on my feet.

When Dante dropped me off at Overrun, I experienced a moment of uncertainty before going inside.

It had been more than a year since I’d been out to the clubs, and it was louder and dirtier than I remembered.

Or I’m just old and lame now?

I shook my head, refusing to give in to my anxieties, and walked through the door.

In my neon-purple dress and black slouch boots, I was still young and fun and ready to party.

And if the dress I wore was two full sizes bigger than before I was pregnant, who cared?

Megan and Rose were standing at one of the tables, alongside our other friend Marie.

My girls. I didn’t see them as often as I used to, but that didn’t mean I didn’t love them dearly.

I felt a pang of sadness that Coleen wasn’t here to celebrate.

My best friend hadn’t been able to take the constant reminders of her abusive relationship and had moved down to St. Louis last summer.

But then my friends saw me and squealed with joy. Megan nearly tackled me in a hug.

“Happy birthday!” I said happily.

We all had to shout to be heard over the pounding music.

“Thanks! I’m so happy you came!” Megan gushed.

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

“We haven’t seen you in ages. How’s Charlie?” Marie asked, sipping her scotch.

“She’s good! A little cranky lately from teething, but she laughs all the time now. I just can’t get enough of her.”

“Well, I can’t get enough of your boobs! It’s like Dolly Parton showed up instead of you!” Megan laughed.

Her face was flushed, and I wondered how long she’d been celebrating.

I chuckled with everyone and glanced down at my breasts, which seemed twice as big as they had been.

“Yeah, I could take an eye out with these things. And wait until later. If I don’t pump, they start to leak!”

Rose sensed the stress behind my weak joke. “How are things back at work? Is it rough being there all day?”

“Well, it’s only been two days. Yesterday I brought Charlie with me. It was nice, but it’s hard to think about marketing when all I want to do is squish her cheeks,” I said.

“And then today I left her at home because she was up all night with the tooth, but I still felt like I didn’t get enough done. I might have to think about putting in more hours.”

They all looked aghast.

“Why would you want to work more hours?” Rose asked.

“What do you mean? Because I have a job to do!”

“But why are you still so hyper-focused on your job? It’s not like you can advance any higher. You’re the head of your department.”

I was taken aback by her words. “Well, yeah, but that doesn’t mean that I can just sit back and let everyone else do all the work.”

“But why do you need to work at all? Doesn’t marrying a billionaire mean you can just…I don’t know, do whatever you want?” Megan added.

“I can’t just do whatever I want—”

“But you don’t necessarily need to work for a living,” Marie chimed in.

I looked at all of them, feeling confused and a little attacked.

My career was everything to me.

I’d sacrificed a lot over the years to get where I was today.

And up until recently, it had been the sole focus of all my time and drive and ambition.

I refuse to give up on my professional goals just because I have a family, I thought stubbornly.

But they’re right, in a way. I don’t have to work for a living. I have it a lot easier than most.

I thought again of the young woman who had helped me off the ground when I’d fallen in the park.

It was freezing outside. How many mothers didn’t even have a roof over their children’s heads tonight?

All my struggles seemed so petty by comparison.

My frustration must have shown on my face because Megan brightened and changed the subject.

“It’s my birthday! I want a round of shots, and Kyla wants a margarita as big as her face!”

Rose and Marie cheered and held up their drinks.

“I don’t know about shots... I can’t stay out too late...” I said.

But Megan was already calling over a bartender.

“Hush. You need to let off some steam. How long has it been since we had a girl’s night out?” Rose said.

“Yeah, come on! You can’t let a girl down on her birthday!”

I chewed my lip but smiled at their infectious enthusiasm.

There was plenty of milk already pumped for Charlie in the freezer...

Perhaps just a few drinks would be okay.

***

My alarm clock blared in my ears.

The sun was barely up.

And I had a ferocious hangover.

Turned out, not drinking for nine months—and then only occasionally since Charlie was born—had severely lowered my tolerance for alcohol.

What had happened last night?

After the shot of tequila and the fish-bowl margarita, everything got a bit fuzzy.

I had only vague memories of dancing with my friends.

Of singing 90s pop music in the car as Dante drove me home.

Of...

Oh no.

Beneath my closed lids, I heard movements near my head. I opened my eyes to see Jensen holding two pieces of toast and a glass of orange juice.

“Good night?” he said, unable to contain his smirk.

“Did I wake up the baby?” I asked, taking a sip of juice. It was like rain on the desert of my parched tongue.

He chuckled. “You mean when you came home screaming Spice Girls lyrics at the top of your lungs?”

My heart sank.

For a lovely moment, I’d hoped that that was a dream.

I waited for Jensen to chastise me, but instead, he gently stroked my hair. “Don’t worry, I got her back down.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m a terrible mother.” I sat up in bed, clutching my throbbing temples.

“Hey now. That’s my wife you’re talking about,” he teased, kissing me softly on the cheek. “I’m glad you had a good time.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Nope,” Jensen said cheerfully. “But I’ll let you make it up to me later.”

With effort, I got out of bed and headed toward the shower.

“I’ve got an early meeting. But I already fed Charlie, and Dante has her, so take your time.”

“I love you,” I said, still feeling guilty but also grateful for his understanding.

“Love you too, Baby Spice.” With a wink, he headed out the door.

I spun the hot water to blasting and stepped under the rain shower, willing my head to stop pounding.

It was going to be a long day.

***

When I stepped out of the shower in my plush terry cloth robe, I noticed my phone blinking on the bedside table.

I went to the blog that mainly reported on celebrity sightings in the Chicago area.

When I saw the front page, my phone tumbled from my shocked fingers and fell to the floor.