Therese Beharrie - Second Chance With Her Billionaire

But Summer had no desire to give in to her mother’s dares. The first had been her taking a chance anyway; the second wouldn’t be true. She did love her parents, which was why all of what they’d gone through—and what she, alone, was still going through—was so hard. Besides, she was there, after all.

She sighed. ‘If I stay, I’m not sitting with you and Dad. I’d prefer not to embarrass myself like that.’

Lynette gave a light laugh. ‘You will stay, but that’s perfectly acceptable.’ Her face changed slightly. ‘Would you prefer sitting with Wyatt?’

‘Mother.’

‘You’re not looking forward to the reconciliation?’

‘I didn’t look forward to it, no. Since we already had it, I can say that I was right not to.’

Her mother didn’t say anything for a moment. Summer wondered whether it was because Lynette wanted to encourage her to sit with Wyatt. Her parents had always liked him. Which made sense, considering Wyatt so badly wanted them to like him.

It wasn’t that Wyatt pretended around them, but rather that he wasn’t entirely the man she’d fallen for when they were all together. She’d tried to avoid spending time with her parents during her marriage because of it. It hadn’t helped. Wyatt had turned into that man anyway.

‘Fine, dear,’ her mother told her with a pat on the shoulder. ‘You can sit by yourself. I just want you here with us.’

Summer nodded, swallowing her sigh. This added to her problem. Her mother was the same person she’d been before the affair. It hadn’t changed her, finding out. Not for the first time, Summer wondered if that would stay the same if her mother found out Summer had known before Lynette had.

Not wanting to think about it, Summer walked past Lynette to get a blanket and basket, hesitating when she reached her father and Wyatt.

What was the protocol with this? Did she ignore them, or did she join in the conversation?

Because neither appealed to her, she offered them both a smile—small, polite, like the one she would have given to two strangers—and passed them. A hand closed around her arm before she could let out the breath she was holding.

‘Are you looking for a blanket?’ Wyatt asked her.

Her head lifted, though she wanted to stare at the hand that was sending uncomfortable shots of electricity through her body. Staring might make him stop touching her. She resisted, looking from her father, who was watching them with interest, back to Wyatt instead.

‘Yes. I was told they’re in here.’

‘They were.’ He lifted a hand, which held a blanket. ‘This is the last one.’

There was a beat when she wondered what he expected her to say. Okay? Thank you for telling me? Can we share?

When all of them rang true, Summer let out a little breath.

‘Okay. Thank you for telling me. Can we share?’

There was another beat, but this time it was long and awkward, making her stomach turn.

‘Of course we can share, Summer,’ Wyatt said slowly, politely , and she gave him a bland stare.

When she looked at her father now, he seemed almost amused. Which annoyed her, though she wouldn’t show it.

Avoid, avoid, avoid.

‘I’ll leave you two to it, then,’ Trevor said, giving them both a nod before walking out to join Lynette. Summer stared after him while the ball of tension in her stomach that was always there when she was around her father unravelled. She took a deep breath.

‘That was weird,’ Wyatt commented before she could say anything.

‘What?’

‘You were being weird just now.’

‘I’m sorry, this is the first time I’ve had to interact with an ex-husband,’ she said flatly.

His expression tightened, but he continued. ‘I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about you and your father.’

Her heart immediately thudded in her chest, but she tried for an easy smile. ‘Not sure what you mean, Montgomery.’

He blinked. She didn’t need that to tell her she’d taken him by surprise though. She’d only ever called him by his surname when things had been good between them. When things had been easy. It hadn’t been her intention, but she hoped it would be enough to distract him.

‘I’ll get us a basket,’ she said, and headed to where the wait staff were standing.

She smiled at the waiter who handed her the wicker basket, then did a mental shoulder roll before heading back to Wyatt. She couldn’t let him suspect anything was wrong. She’d hidden the turmoil between her and her father for the entire year she and Wyatt had been together. She hadn’t let him see how his desire to be like her father had affected her either.

She wouldn’t reveal it now. Which would be an effort, considering the anniversary—the vow renewal—was challenging for her.

But she would play the part. She wouldn’t let Wyatt suspect she was keeping secrets. She wouldn’t let her mother and Autumn suspect it either. She’d just let them all think she was being her usual surly self. And everyone could go on pretending everything was fine.

She swallowed down the wave of nausea.

When Wyatt reached out for the basket, she handed it to him, then took the blanket instead. In silence, they made their way to the grass. There was only one spot free, a little to the side of the cliff, where they wouldn’t have a perfect view of the sunset. But the spot offered them a different view. Of the large green trees on the hills a short distance away; the houses amongst the trees; the ocean crashing against the rocky bases of the hills. Not seeing the sunset didn’t seem so bad, considering.

She spread out the blanket in front of them, looked down. Realised she wasn’t entirely sure how to sit. All her options seem to involve inelegance or flashing some poor unexpected guest.

‘Need help?’

Her body tensed at the prospect of his touch, but she managed to arrange her expression into a careful smile.

‘Yes, please.’

Wyatt held her hand as she settled onto the blanket, legs to the side, one angled over the other. Before he sat down, a waiter approached him with two glasses of what she thought was lemonade. She couldn’t be sure since the ice filled the glass just as much as the liquid did. He handed her one of the glasses, then lowered his body onto the blanket.

‘What is this?’

‘Lemonade,’ he confirmed. ‘I ordered it when you went to fetch the basket.’

‘Quick work,’ she commented. ‘Thanks.’

It was all either of them said for the longest time.

‘How badly do you wish someone else had got the last blanket?’

‘On a scale from one to ten?’ she asked thinly. ‘An eleven.’

‘Ten being how badly you wanted it to be me then?’

She glanced over at him. His mouth curved. She let out a breath.

‘You’re being a lot less prickly than earlier.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

She didn’t even blink. ‘Sure you don’t.’

Something flickered in his eyes. ‘I thought it might be easier if I were nicer to you.’

‘No, you don’t,’ she replied. ‘You don’t believe in being nice for the sake of easy.’

The edges of his mouth turned down. ‘True,’ he said softly. The tone of it brushed over her skin. ‘Fine, then. Your father asked me to be.’

HE HADN’T MEANT to tell her that, and, somehow, he’d made it sound worse than it had been.

Which he knew based on the way the air around them was now standing to attention.

‘Is that what you two were talking about just now?’ she asked stiffly.

‘Yes.’

‘He asked you to be nice to me.’

It wasn’t a question, and it sounded as if she was speaking to herself more than she was to him.