So Not Meant To Be

Meant to Be Podcast

Jason and Dottie

Kelsey: Welcome, listener, to the Meant to Be Podcast, where we talk to madly-in-love couples about the way they met. Jason and Dottie, thank you so much for joining me today.

Jason: It’s an absolute honor.

Kelsey: And this potato salad you had sent over, did you make this, Jason?

Jason: I did. We’re in the early stages of production, but hopefully soon we’ll have my potato salad in grocery stores around the country, not that I’m trying to promote it here or anything, but you know . . . Best Butt in Baseball Salad, coming to a store near you.

Dottie: It’s all he talks about. Like . . . all he talks about.

Jason: Can be used for backyard barbecues, family dinners, intimate evenings . . . I even licked it off Dottie a few times.

Dottie: Can you not say those kinds of things?

Jason: She’s always been camera shy.

Kelsey: You know, I’m always looking for sponsorship. A potato salad for lovers could be the first one.

Jason: Don’t you play with my heart.

Kelsey: Well, I just love the letter you sent in, Jason, about you and Dottie, and I’d love for you to tell the listeners how you two became meant to be.

Dottie: Please note, anything he says is going to be exaggerated, so take it with a grain of—

Jason: It was a dark, morbidly chilly evening in Chicago, where everyone was searching for hope and love.

Dottie: Oh, dear God, here we go.

“ARE YOU NERVOUS?” I ask Lottie as we stand outside on the patio of Huxley’s and her house.

For the reception, they had the pool covered in a clear surface, decorated it with seven tables, and added some soft, pink uplighting on the stone walls of the fence. Strings of flowers make for a faux ceiling, while two cellists are tucked off to the side, adding sophistication to the intimate night.

It’s family and friends, that’s it.

The original plan was for me to stay here tonight with Lottie and get ready in the morning, but Huxley wanted nothing to do with being apart from Lottie, so I’m spending the night at JP’s place. I’ll make the short walk here in the morning, where we’ll all get ready, Ellie, the other bridesmaid, included.

Thankfully, she has no ill feelings toward me, given I ditched her brother. She said he understood completely and had wondered if someone else had been on my mind when we’d gone out. I feel bad that I didn’t give him all my attention, but from what Ellie has said, he’s dating someone right now who lives in Hawaii, and he’s enjoying the “commute.”

Lottie exhales next to me and then knocks back her champagne, emptying the flute. “Am I nervous? Not really.” She speaks quietly, keeping the conversation just between us. “I’m not nervous about my choice. Without a doubt, Huxley is the man for me. I can’t wait to be married to him. I’m just nervous about all the fanfare, you know? I really wish we just got married back here tonight, and then we could go on our honeymoon, but I understand Huxley wanted more of a traditional wedding.”

“The ceremony will be short, and then you get to party. That will be so much fun.”

“True. Plus, tomorrow we’re going to have fun getting ready, right? Did you get those Mad Libs I sent you a link to? The bridal ones?”

“I did. I have them in my bag of things to do tomorrow. Can’t wait to insert boob and penis into every category.”

“Don’t forget fuck—that can be a verb, noun, adjective . . . it’s universal.”

“Yes, there will be tons of fucks, boobs, and penises.”

“Good.” She taps my hand and then looks me in the eyes. “I’m getting married tomorrow. How crazy is that? It feels like just the other day I was attempting to find ways to drive Huxley nuts to get me out of our contract.”

“I know. I still remember you telling me you’d met someone and were going to discuss terms over chips and guac at Chipotle.”

“I think that’s what won me over—he paid extra for guac.”

I laugh just as Huxley stands in front of everyone and taps his glass. The small group quiets, and the cellists stop playing. With one hand in his pocket, the other holding a tumbler of beer, Huxley addresses the backyard.

“Thank you so much for coming tonight and for being a part of our special day tomorrow.” His eyes land on Lottie. “A few months ago, I made a business mistake that I thought was going to cost me our company’s reputation. I did everything I could to recover, including convincing this random girl I met on the sidewalk to pretend to be my fake fiancée. I thought I was so clever, getting this woman to be by my side and act like the doting fiancée I needed. Little did I fucking know that I was in way over my head. She was headstrong, breathtakingly beautiful, and the biggest challenge of my life, and I quickly fell for the girl who was supposed to be temporary. But tomorrow . . . tomorrow she becomes my forever. Leiselotte, you’re the love of my life, and you make me happier than I could ever imagine.” I grip my sister’s hand tightly. “You’re doing me the greatest honor of my life tomorrow, by becoming my wife. I promise you, no matter what comes our way, I’ll always be the man you deserve. I love you.”

Lottie swipes at the tears on her cheeks. She stands from her chair, grips Huxley by the cheeks, and kisses him deeply.

As I watch them, completely and utterly in love, a warm hand grips my shoulder before smoothing down my back. “Hey,” JP says, taking a seat next to me. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all night.”

I turn toward him, our legs twining together as I scoot in closer. “I know, but I like that I saw you and Jeff having a good time, or at least what seemed like a good time.”

JP takes my hand in his and rests it on his lap, his other hand resting over my thigh. “We were talking about Jason Orson and his new potato salad. I told him Jason sent some over to you, and Jeff said he actually read an article in the Player’s Tribune, written by Jason’s best friend and brother-in-law Cory Potter—they both play for the Chicago Rebels—about Jason and his love for his potato salad. The dude has been claiming it’s the best since college. I’m stoked to listen to your episode, actually.”

“How did I forget Jeff is a big baseball fan? I feel like I’m failing. I should’ve gotten Jason to send over a signed ball or something.”

“But, babe, that would be against all that he believes in. He’s a Los Angeles Rook through and through.”

“True.”

“I told him that I’d take him to a game soon. He’s always dreamed of sitting behind the backstop, so I figured I’d treat him.”

“Oh my God, he’ll lose it. You’d seriously do that?”

“Yeah. I enjoy his company, but not only that, he’s important to you, which makes him important to me.”

The words are on the tip of my tongue—I can feel them. I love this man. I can’t imagine what life would be without him now. Without his teasing, his caring heart, the way he makes me feel whole, needed . . . sexy. He’s the total package. But saying those words, here, on the night before my sister’s wedding . . . I don’t think I want to do that. I want to keep the attention on Lottie, and I know if I tell JP I love him, I won’t be able to keep it to myself.

Plus, there’s always that worry in the back of my mind that isn’t sure if he’s at the same place as I am. It might take him longer to get there, so I need to wait.

“Hey, dude, can I talk to you for a second?” Breaker asks JP.

“Is it important?” JP asks, not letting go of my hand.

Breaker smooths a hand over his jaw and gives JP a curt nod, saying, “Stuff for the wedding tomorrow.”

Oh jeez, for a second I thought it was more important than that, like something was actually wrong.

“Sure,” JP says before dropping a quick kiss on my lips. “Be back.”

Breaker pulls him to the side, and I stand to grab myself some more champagne. When I sway, I realize that maybe I’ve had a few too many glasses, but . . . then again, it’s a rehearsal dinner and the champagne is flowing. It’s time to celebrate!

JP

A SHARP LINE etched on his brow, Breaker pulls me into the house, shuts the sliding glass door, then moves us into Huxley’s office.

“Do we really need this much privacy?” I ask when he shuts the door and turns to me, pinching the tension in his brow with his fingers. Worry starts to hit me. “What’s going on?”

His eyes flash to mine as he asks, “Remember the night you were talking about polar bears dying and donating to help the pigeons?”

“I remember the night, not the details.”

“Do you remember sending an email?”

“An email?” I shake my head. “No, why?”

“Fuck,” he mutters. “Can you open your email?”

I hand him my phone, and he clicks on the mail app.

“What the hell is going on?”

He taps away, and when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, he presses his fist to his mouth. “That night, we spoke on the phone. You were extremely drunk, and I told you to get some food and not do anything stupid.”

“Okay . . .” I drag out.

“Well, I think you did something stupid, but I can’t find it.”

“What the fuck did I do?”

“You were upset about Kelsey and the wedding and needing a date, so you told me you were going to send a generic email to girls you knew, asking if they wanted to be your date.”

My stomach sinks. “Shit, I vaguely recall that.” I scour through my emails. “But I don’t see anything in my sent box.”

“I know.” Breaker pushes his hand through his hair. “I’m fucking confused.”

“Why? Why are you even bringing this up?”

“I was tipped off by Dave Toney. He said there’s an article coming out tomorrow about you sending an email to a bunch of women, asking if they want to be your date. But . . . but you didn’t send anything.”

“What?” I say, the cool, breezy attitude I had slowly shrinking away. “How the fuck would someone have known that? Is it a fake email?”

“That’s what I’m thinking. But I can’t be sure. Dave sent me the name of the person who tipped him off and I sent them a text, asking for more information.” His eyes meet mine. “I’m not worried about Huxley and Lottie. I’m worried about Kelsey.”

“Well, it’s fucking fake. I didn’t send anything out. The proof is in my email.”

Just then, Breaker’s phone beeps with a message. He pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the text message. He turns the screen toward me and asks, “Then what the fuck is this?”

I bring the phone closer to me and read the email.

Hey ladieeees,

Sending a big old cock of an email because, you know . . . I have a big cock, so this email has to match.

Here’s the thing. Hux is getting married to Lulu Lemon and they told me I need a plus-one. Looking for a willing candidate to escort me down the aisle.

All expenses paid. Promises of pleasure.

If interested, hit me up.

I wear condoms still.

K. Bye.

JP

“Fuck,” I say. “I don’t remember sending this. It’s not in my email. I don’t fucking understand.”

Breaker points to the top of the screen. “It’s not your work email . . . it’s your personal.”

At that moment, I feel all the color drain from my face as I realize he’s right. I never check my personal email, ever. I shove Breaker’s phone at him and open my personal email. I sift through promotional newsletters until I see several responses to my email.

McKayla.

Kenzie.

Hattie.

With every reply, it feels like a nail in my coffin as I try to figure out how to fucking deal with this.

I squeeze my hand over my forehead and say, “Fuck, this isn’t good. Do you know anything about the article?”

“All I know is this email is in it, it mentions the wedding, and, uh . . .” He winces.

“What?” I ask, a ball of twisted, tortured anxiety forming in my stomach.

“Uh, it talks about Kelsey and her business, and alludes to the girls using any means necessary to be successful, including hooking up with the Cane brothers.”

“Fuck,” I yell as I pace the office. “FUCK!” Hands on my hips, I say, “We need to kill it, man. We need to kill that fucking article.”

“I’ve already contacted Karla, and she’s working on it, but I don’t know, JP. I don’t know if we can fix this.”

“We have to fucking fix this. Do you realize how damaging that assumption would be for Kelsey? She’ll be fucking humiliated. Not to mention, that email is damning.” My lungs seem to stop working as I attempt to catch my breath. “I’ll . . . I’ll fucking lose her. I’ll lose everything.” I look at Breaker, pleading. “Please, dude, please help me. Throw whatever kind of cash we need to throw at it. It just needs to be dead.”

“I’ll work on it. Let me call Karla again and see what I can do.”

He starts to walk by me, but I grip his arm and say, “I love her, Breaker. I fucking love her so much, and this will destroy us. I can feel it. Please help me.”

“I will. Just hang here for a second. Let me see what I can do.”

KELSEY

“MY SISTER IS GETTING MARRIED,” I shout as I hold my glass of champagne above my head. “Ahhh!”

We’re standing on the clear surface over the pool, Lottie’s arm around my waist as we sway to the music. Breaker returned without JP, only to whisk Huxley away, claiming they had “man things” to talk about. Mom and Jeff are cuddling by the outdoor fireplace, and Dave and Ellie are dancing next to a palm tree, taking great advantage of the alone time away from their newborn.

It’s a beautiful night.

The stars are bright.

The champagne is pulsing through my veins.

And all I can think about is when I get back to JP’s place, I’m going to hump his brains out.

“I’m going to hump his brains!” I lift my champagne glass.

“Hump whose brains?” Lottie asks me.

“JP’s. Tonight. I’m going to sit on his head and hump him.”

“Oh, I love sitting on Huxley’s face. Nothing is more satisfying than feeling his hands ride my inner thighs while his tongue does all the work.”

“I haven’t sat on JP’s face yet, but I deep-throated him in a plane.” I turn toward my sister and grip both of her shoulders the best I can while still holding a champagne flute. “Have you deep-throated with your head hanging off the bed? Highly recommend. I never enjoyed balls in my face as much as that night.”

“Oh, when a nut-sack rests on my eyeball, it’s a strangely comforting thing. Like a cold cucumber, but instead, a pouch full of semen.” She taps her eyes. “Hmm, maybe I’ll ask for a crotch facial tonight. Huxley hates when I call it that, so now, I always call it that.”

“I wonder what JP would say if I asked him for one.”

“He’d probably say yes. Every man likes to show dominance by setting his junk on a woman’s face. Think of it as a form of marking their territory.”

“It’s appealing, but I also want to use this vibrator he has in his nightstand. It’s just a regular one, but I’m pretty sure he’s used it in his butt . . .” I laugh so hard that I start coughing.

“Huxley likes things in his butt. Sometimes I twirl my finger in there.” Whispering, she says, “He doesn’t like the twirl.”

“I haven’t stuck my finger in JP’s butt yet. I don’t think I’m confident to do that.”

“No need for confidence, just poke it on up there. If he moans, congratulate yourself. If he asks what the fuck you’re doing, just say, ‘oh . . . I’m sorry, was that not where my finger was supposed to go?’”

“I don’t know. I think I should just tickle his balls with the vibrator tonight.”

“That’s also a winning idea. Ooo, put it at the underneath part of his head. I did that to Huxley and, I’m not kidding, he came in five seconds. It was so hot.”

“I like that idea. I should text him.”

“Oh, yes. Great idea. Sext him.”

I grab my phone from the table in front of us and open our text thread.

Kelsey: Hey, big man.

“You call him that?” Lottie asks.

“Uh, not really, but it was the first thing that came to my mind. Should I delete it?”

She nods. “Call him lover.”

Kelsey: Hey, big man. Hey, lover. I’m thinking about your big cock right now.

“Oh yeah, tell him how big,” Lottie says.

Kelsey: Your enormous, thick, girthy, massive, heavy, veiny cock.

“God, I love a veiny cock. You should see Huxley’s when it’s hard and straining. Sometimes I just like to watch it bob up and down when it wants release.”

Kelsey: When we get back to your place, I want to sit on your face, but I also want your balls in my eyes, and I want to vibrate your butt.

“Yes, and tell him how you like his tongue.”

Kelsey: And I like your tongue and how it . . . uh, how it . . . licks me.

“So sexy,” Lottie says over my shoulder.

“You think so?”

“Uh-huh. Hit send.”

Satisfied, I press the blue arrow and clutch my phone to my chest. “I’m going to sleep with man-balls on my face tonight.”

Lottie clutches my shoulders. “What a lucky girl.”

JP

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK,” Huxley roars as he reads through the article that’s supposed to be posted tomorrow. Somehow, Karla, the magician in our lives, was able to secure a copy of it, and we’ve spent the last ten minutes reading it over and over again.

To say that I feel sick to my stomach is an understatement. When I say this is bad, I really fucking mean it. It’s not a flattering article in any way. Not flattering for me and my drunk ass—it paints me as a philandering nitwit who sends borderline sexual harassment emails when drunk. And it paints Kelsey as a gold digger looking for handouts.

It’s worse than I expected.

I’ve now resorted to rolling up my sleeves, pacing the length of Huxley’s office, and praying to the goddamn pigeons to please fix this. I’ve been a good person in my lifetime. I’ve donated a lot of money, volunteered my time, done some real, life-changing things to afford me some good karma. So, I’m calling on the universe to toss some solid, good-natured karma my way.

Huxley turns on me. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” I shout at him. “I was drunk and desperate. Heartbroken. You don’t know what those two weeks were like in San Francisco. Seeing her go out with someone else when she wouldn’t even look my way—fuck, man, it ate me alive.”

“So, you go and send a crude email to a bunch of women asking if they want to be your date?”

“Well, you fucking told Dave Toney you had a pregnant fiancée. We don’t always make smart decisions,” I shout back.

“Hey,” Breaker says, stepping in between us. “Karla is working with the reporter who wrote the article. It seems like the website can be paid off, so we might not even have to worry about it.”

“Fuck,” Huxley shouts while pulling on his hair. “This is not what I fucking need the night before my wedding.”

“Do you think I need this?” I ask, pointing to my chest. “My goddamn happiness rests on what happens. No matter what, Lottie is going to marry you tomorrow, but Kelsey, she might not even look my way if this gets out.”

“Would serve you right,” Huxley says.

“Hey,” Breaker yells, pulling our attention. With angry eyes, he stares down Huxley and says, “You fucked up big time when it came to that bullshit with Lottie. The company’s reputation was at risk of being demolished, and we stood by your side and helped you. We made sure to go along with everything you needed to make sure no one was harmed. So, don’t turn your back on your brother. He’s right, you have no clue what he’s been going through, not to mention, the fact that he actually allowed someone into his life again after Dad’s passing. You should be asking him how he’s feeling, not making him feel worse.”

Huxley glances at me, and his shoulders deflate as he says, “Fuck, you’re right. Shit, I’m sorry.” He rubs his brow. “Are you okay?”

“No.” I shake my head. “I’m not. I’m fucking scared. I can’t lose her, man. I can’t.”

“How about this. It’s getting late, so why don’t you just explain to her what’s going on, be ahead of the curve, and tell her that you’re killing the article? That way, you’re honest with her, and stopping the possible argument that could break things up,” Breaker suggests.

Huxley nods. “That’s probably smart. Being caught off guard is worse than having that conversation with her.”

“You’re probably right. I should take her to my place, sit her down, and have an honest conversation with her.” My phone beeps with a text message. I glance at the screen and see that it’s from Kelsey. “She just texted. Maybe she’s ready to leave.”

I open the text and read it.

Kelsey: Hey, lover. I’m thinking about your big cock right now. Your enormous, thick, girthy, massive, heavy, veiny cock. When we get back to your place, I want to sit on your face, but I also want your balls in my eyes, and I want to vibrate your butt. And I like your tongue and how it . . . uh, how it . . . licks me.

What . . . the . . . fuck?

“What is it?” Breaker asks.

“What were the girls doing before you left them?” I ask Huxley.

“Getting more champagne,” he says, confused. “Why?”

“Because, from the text Kelsey just sent me, I can almost guarantee she’s completely wasted.”

“Fuck,” Huxley says.

Yeah . . . fuck is right. I can almost guarantee whatever conversation I attempt to have with her tonight is going to be absolutely pointless.

KELSEY

“YOU’RE SO HANDSOME,” I say as I wait for JP to open his front door. “Like, really handsome. The most handsome.”

He looks over his shoulder at me and raises a brow. “How much did you have to drink?”

“Lots.” I fling my arms up in the air. “And I have a fun fact for you, JP.”

He opens his door, takes my hand, and brings me into his house.

“What’s your fun fact?” he asks, relocking his front door.

“When I drink, something happens to my body.” Leaning in, I whisper, “I get really horny.”

His eyes widen and he starts coughing. I offer him a sturdy pat on the back and then . . . I unzip my dress and let it fall to the floor. Before he can say anything, I grip the cups of my strapless bra and flip them down, exposing my breasts to him.

“Kelsey—”

I don’t give him time to finish before I grip the back of his head and bury his nose right between my breasts. I add a little shimmy, a little shake, and then pull him away.

His hair is mussed.

His body is rigid.

And there’s no smile on his face.

Umm . . . did he not like that?

“Kelsey—”

“Wait . . . did you not enjoy that motorboat? Lottie said Huxley likes it. I figured it would run in the family. Does that mean you like the butt twirl since he doesn’t like the butt twirl?”

He grips his hair. “What’s the butt twirl?”

With my index finger, I make a twirling motion and shoot it up to the sky. “Right up the old toot-toot.”

His face falls. “What the fuck did you two talk about?”

Breasts still hanging out, I move around him and go to his staircase. I lie across the stairs and spread my legs. “Come and get her. She’s ready for you. Ripe and ready.”

“Kelsey, baby, maybe we should just get ready for bed.”

I lift up on my elbows and say, “Oh, trying to lure me into the bedroom. I see you, Cane. I see you. Sure, let’s ‘just get ready for bed.’” I use air quotes.

He offers me his hand and I take it as we walk up the stairs. I drag my hand over the black stair rail, enjoying the smooth, polished surface, and I allow him to guide me to his room. But he doesn’t stop at the bed. Instead, he walks me to the sink and helps me with my toothbrush.

“Are you saying I have bad breath?” I ask him.

He shakes his head. “No, babe, this is just routine. And I know how much you like routine.”

I stick my toothbrush in my hand, stare him down, and say, “God, it turns me on that you know that about me.”

“Seems like everything is turning you on right now.”

“Show me your toenails, and I bet I come right here, right now.”

“Wow, that champagne has really done a number on you.”

“I love champagne. Don’t you?”

“Why don’t you just focus on brushing your teeth? I’ll get you a shirt to change into.”

“Don’t bother, I want to sleep naked.”

I see his Adam’s apple bob. “Are you sure? You can wear one of my shirts.”

I shake my head. “Naked, or I scream.”

“Well, we don’t want you screaming—”

“Only when it’s your name, right . . . Jonah?” I wiggle my eyebrows and he heaves a heavy sigh.

We spend the next few minutes “getting ready for bed” aka, prepping our bodies for the magic that’s about to happen, and when I’m done, I trot into his bedroom to find him standing in his boxer briefs, staring down at his phone.

Wearing nothing but my very own skin, I grip the doorframe and say, “Yoo-hoo, look who’s ready for bed?” I twiddle my fingers at him.

He sets his phone down and turns toward me. I watch as his eyes practically eat me alive. That’s right, take your fill, big boy. I move one foot in front of the other and saunter toward him in this come-hither, sexy way that I know must be driving him absolutely crazy with need.

“Congratulations,” I say when I reach him and put my hands on his chest.

“Congratulations for what?” he asks.

“For growing such a large boner.” I cup his crotch, ready for his rocket, only to come up with . . . a snail. I glance up at him. “Why are you not hard?”

“Listen, Kelsey, I think we should just go to bed, okay? It’s been a long night and we have a big day tomorrow.”

I take a step back. “No, you’re not—you’re not hard. Do you not find me attractive?”

“Baby, you know that’s not true. You know I fucking love your body. You know I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever met. You know I’m absolutely head over heels attracted to you.”

“But . . . you’re not hard.” I back away again. “Is it my flirtation? Do you not like it?”

“Kelsey, let’s just get under the covers and go to bed. You’ve had a lot to drink—”

“Oh God, I turned you off.” I back up some more until I run into his dresser, where the shirt he wanted me to wear is folded. I quickly put it over my body, attempting to find some sort of shield as embarrassment consumes me.

“No, that’s not it at all.” He blows out a frustrated breath and grips his hair. “Can we just go to bed?”

I feel my eyes well up with tears as my heightened embarrassment pushes me toward the other end of his bed. I pause and quietly ask, “Do you want me to share your bed? I can go over to Huxley and Lottie’s.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls, and then he approaches me. He takes my hand in his and places a soft kiss on my knuckles. “I want you in my bed.”

“But you don’t want me . . .” I say as a tear falls down my cheek. I quickly wipe it away. “I came on too strong. I said things that probably scared you. I’m not the girl you thought I was, that’s what you’re thinking, right? This is why I’m always vanilla, why I don’t step out of my box to do things I don’t normally do.”

“Baby, stop.”

I shake my head and pull my hand away from him. “I get it, JP. You didn’t like what I said tonight.” I slip under the covers of his bed. “I should just sleep it off, you know?”

He stands next to the bed, staring down at me, tugging on his hair. I can see he wants to say something, that there’s something on the tip of his tongue, but instead of telling me what’s on his mind, he turns away and goes to his side of the bed.

My heart completely falls.

I almost expected him to tell me that he did like what he heard, but that . . . I don’t know, something is on his mind. But instead, he turns off the lights and slips under the covers with me.

But the worst thing that happens, worse than his rejection, is that when I fall asleep, he’s not holding me. He’s on his side of the bed, as far from me as he can be.

JP

“I’M GOING TO FUCKING PUKE,” I say as I walk into Breaker’s place.

He woke me up at five with a phone call telling me he needed me at his place as soon as I could get there. I sprinted out of bed, threw some clothes on, and rushed to his place.

Kelsey was still sleeping when I left. The phone call luckily didn’t wake her.

Last night was fucking torture, and I still feel sick about it now. All I wanted was to take my confident girl to bed, to do all the things she wanted to do, but I knew I couldn’t, not with the threat of that defamatory article hanging over my head. It not only didn’t feel right, but I’ve been so nauseated with worry that attempting to get it up seemed impossible. That was proven when she was walking toward me, so goddamn sexy in absolutely nothing, and I didn’t even have a stir of excitement. And the hurt on her face. Fuck. I hated that in particular.

“What’s going on?” I ask Breaker. “Is Huxley here?”

He shakes his head as we both walk into his office off the entryway. “I didn’t think I’d bother him with this bullshit. He has a wedding, so I just told him it was handled.”

“Has it been? Handled, that is?”

He shakes his head as he takes a seat at his desk. “The article is currently on hold, pending our decision.”

I know exactly what that means—blackmail.

Searing anger pulses through me as I ask, “What do they want?”

“Well, the good thing is, the person who sent them your email had signed an NDA with the gossip website, meaning they can’t sell the story to anyone else. So, if they don’t run it, she can’t take it to another website.”

“Thank fuck for that. But I’m sure they paid her to sign that NDA.”

Breaker nods.

“And they want that, on top of what they would’ve lost in website revenue for clicks, right?”

“They want two million.”

“Jesus fuck,” I roar as I stand. “That’s fucking extortion.”

“I have Taylor on it. That’s why it’s currently pending. They, of course, don’t see it as extortion, they see it as us buying out a piece of revenue.”

“Bullshit,” I yell. “Show me the goddamn numbers that prove they’d make two million dollars of revenue off that story.”

“I know, but, dude, this is a dip in the bank that won’t make a huge difference. I looked over the numbers, and I can maneuver things around and slip the damage control fee into the books in a way that no one would know, and we’d still get a tax break for it. We’re trying to convince them to see it as a donation.”

“That’s lying.”

“Which is why I thought I’d talk to you. They said they’d use some of their website ad space to promote something we’re passionate about so it looks like a donation on their end.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“What an entirely fucked-up situation. So, what, they’re asking what we want to promote on their website?”

“Yes, and offered to put our name on it.”

“Fuck that,” I yell. “They’re not getting Cane Enterprises on anything.”

“Dude, I know you’re upset, but given the situation we’re in—and wanting to save Kelsey the embarrassment if this got out—it would be smart to take the deal. And just throw down some charity, some random . . . oh, hey, fucking give them the pigeon charity to promote. It won’t have our name on it, but we can write it off in the books, and I’m sure the last thing they want on their website is a sponsored ad about pigeons.”

I pause, the anger easing only slightly as I think about the pigeons and how comical that would actually be. I grip my jaw, my fingers rubbing over the morning scruff. “You know, there are some real ill-looking pigeons we could get for the ad.”

Breaker laughs. “Not a good look for them, but it all kind of works out in the end.”

“I need front ad space, for two weeks, and final say in what the ad looks like.”

“Taylor has already worked that in.”

“Okay.” I nod and take a seat in a chair again. “Fucking do it. Get this nightmare off my hands.”

Breaker shoots off a text, and when he’s done, he sets his phone down on his desk and leans back in his chair. “Fuck, dude, can you just listen to me next time? I might be younger than you, but I’m pretty damn smart. Sending an email to random girls in your contacts list doesn’t scream best idea ever.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully those days are behind me.”

“I’m guessing, given Kelsey’s inebriated state, you weren’t able to talk to her?”

“No, and then she tried on this cute seduction thing . . . fuck. I loved seeing her so open and wanting to try things, but I couldn’t participate. I couldn’t, in good conscience, fuck her. She was devastated, even cried.” My stomach twists uncomfortably. “I don’t think I slept more than two hours.”

“Well, this is taken care of. Maybe stop by her favorite coffee place on the way home and make it up to her now. Because our brother is getting married, and we want to be there for him, mentally.”

“I know.” I stand and reach my fist out to my brother. He knocks it with his as I say, “Thanks for taking the lead on this. It means a lot to me.”

“It’s what family is for, dude, and I meant what I said last night. I’m really fucking happy for you. I know losing Dad was harder on you than Hux and me, and seeing you out there, opening yourself up to love . . . I’m really happy for you. Proud of you.”

“Thank you.” I smile at him. “Okay, fuck . . . I feel like a giant weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Time to go shower my girl with love. Still meeting at my place in an hour?” I ask, checking my phone.

“Yeah. Why Huxley wants us there so early is beyond me, but he has plans to spend time with his brothers before the I dos. I think basketball is on the schedule.”

“I’ve been practicing.” I point at Breaker as I head toward the door of his office. “Look out.”

“I’m not even worried in the slightest. There’s no way you could’ve improved to be able to beat me in the short amount of time since we last played.”

“What little faith. See you in a bit.” I tap his doorframe and then take off. I need to grab a coffee for my girl, and hopefully, I can give her one quick orgasm before I send her on her way.