Wild Billionaire Romance - Chapter 52: Chapter 52
You are reading Wild Billionaire Romance, Chapter 52: Chapter 52. Read more chapters of Wild Billionaire Romance.
My heart broke for her. I just could not fucking imagine. He was her best friend. Her first love.
I had to force myself to look at it like the observer I was, and not someone involved with one of the major players in her story.
Her story. A tragic childhood romance.
The organ inside my chest pumped slowly. I never thought much about my heart, but I felt it contracting and releasing as I held my wife. I felt her pain through every fucking beat.
It should have been sweet and innocent, but it was tainted with sickness and death, hurt and abandonment.
My poor Baby. Sweet Dumplin’.
She had such a beautiful heart. I couldn’t even understand that kind of selflessness. She’d abandoned everything she knew, gave up her home and family to try to give her friend something he wanted.
The fact my wife had been married before was like a nail through my chest, but I forced myself to understand it from her point of view. First, she didn’t know me back then. Second, she married a dying boy, granting him his last wish, and breaking her whole life apart in the process.
She’s too good for me. I don’t deserve her. But I’m keeping her. I. Am. Keeping. Her.
“Timmy had a lot of energy on the plane ride to Vegas,” she said, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. “Someone staying in a neighboring room at the motel called an ambulance after they heard him getting sick. He was rushed to the hospital and there, they called his parents. They arrived later that night with papers to transfer him back to the East Coast.”
“They moved him?” I asked, confused why anyone would think that was a good idea.
“The doctors argued to keep him there. I argued. My parents came. Our marriage license wasn’t official yet, so the police said I couldn’t decide for him legally yet. I was young and stupid and scared, so I let them have their way. I just wanted what was best for him.”
She took a deep breath, and I squeezed her tighter.
“I just wanted him to be happy. He’d asked me to marry him when he was sixteen, and he thought he was going to be better. He thought he had time. When they told him he was terminal, he begged me to elope. He said it was one thing he wanted before he died. To be married to me.”
“I can understand that,” I whispered so low I didn’t think she heard me.
“My father and mother came to Vegas. They were so mad. My Dad called me a whore. He told me he and my mom would never speak to me again because of what I did. He was so ashamed of me.”
“Fuck. You know that’s not true, right?”
“I couldn’t believe they just thought we wanted to run away to have sex. I tried to explain. Timmy was my best friend. I loved him. He loved me. I just wanted to give him the thing he wanted. To experience what our future could have been like for a little while, you know? To say he was my husband, and I was his w-wife,” her voice cracked with the last word.
She cried in earnest then, and I held her tighter.
“While my father was yelling and distracting me, Timmy’s parents were busy packing him up and taking him away. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize until they’d already gone. My father told me it was what I deserved. He said I was too young and stupid to understand being a wife. He said I would learn how hard life was without them. Said I’d made my own bed.”
“Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry,” I repeated impotently.
Rage boiled inside me. No longer simmering on the edge of my awareness. I wished her father was still alive so I could track him down and shout at him. I wanted to tell him he was wrong for what he’d said.
What kind of father pushed his own daughter out of his life? What kind of mother allowed it?
They should have been there for her. Should have lifted her up, praised her for what she did for that poor dying kid.
But he was long gone, and her mother was sick. It was a moot point, I supposed, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
I wondered when her father died. How many years had he let pass without talking to her? Checking on her?
I made a mental note to find out. She’d obviously forgiven her parents, and that was her choice, but I knew she hadn’t been back to visit. Not in the twelve years she’d lived in Sin City.
I knew she still spoke to her brother, and she’d been sending him money for her mother’s care. But when did that start?
The idea of my sweet Dumplin’ waiting tables and dealing with her asshole ex-boss had me seeing red again. She’d worked so fucking hard.
Did her family know the shit she’d been through on her own? Did they care?
At least I could make sure she never had to do that again. I felt proud that I could ease at least part of her burden. Make her life easier. Better.
I can make her happy if I try. I know I can.
“Timmy died the day after they landed in New Jersey,” she whispered.
Her voice was hoarse by then. Her tears were running like a faucet, staining my shirt, breaking my fucking heart.
“I never got to say goodbye. It was years before my parents reached out to me again. My father was sick, but I was still so mad. I wasn’t there when he died, either. My mother told Bear she would never forgive me. She said I did it. I killed my father by breaking his heart. But I, I didn’t mean to. I was so hurt. I didn’t understand how cruel and fragile life could be,” she sobbed.
I couldn’t take it anymore. This fucking woman. She’d been through so much.
She carried all this guilt on her own for so long, and there I was putting more stress and blame on her, none of which she deserved. I pulled her to me, lifting her until I had both arms wrapped around her, crushing her to my chest.
“Shhh. Please, Baby, don’t cry anymore. I’m so sorry you went through all that alone. My sweet Dumplin’. My brave girl,” I told her, kissing her hair, her cheeks, everywhere I could reach.
We sat like that for a few more minutes, wrapped around each other, me rocking her back and forth while she cried.
“You already know this, but Mom has dementia. I’ve been sending Bear whatever money I had extra to help pay for her care, but the doctors say she needs to be in assisted living. He found a place, and that’s why I’ve been meeting with him this week, to talk about her diagnosis and discuss her care,” she explained, and I felt like an even bigger piece of shit.
“I know Josef had me tailed, so he probably knows I’ve been giving Bear money for Mom. But I need you to know you and me, we were never about money.”
“What? Dumplin’, I never thought you wanted my money,” I said, needing her to know.
“The money I gave Bear was what I had in my account. It was the rent money. But y-you canceled my lease, and I never got to pay it. Then you transferred all that money to me,” she said, shaking her head against my chest.
“That was for you to do with what you wanted. Baby, that was a gift.”
“I never asked for it. And I didn’t touch it. The money you put in my account was too much, Marat. I don’t want it. I don’t want you or your family to think I stayed married to you for that. Please, just take it back—”
“Shhhh. Shhh,” I whispered, holding her tighter, and closing my eyes when I felt her small hands clutching my sides. “Don’t you think I know that? You’re so good, Dumplin’. So fucking good. Your heart is pure gold. Shhh. It’s okay. I got you.”
That money was hers. She could do whatever she wanted with it. It meant nothing to me. I gave it to her just so she would have a cushion until her credit cards arrived.
But fucking appearances made it look like she was maybe taking advantage of me. Like she was capable.
Destiny was the most honest person I knew. Even when she withheld information from me, it was my fault. I was the one building walls, keeping distant. I was the one who’d tricked her into being my wife.
Like the spoiled fucking child I was, I saw her, wanted her, and took her.
To hell with the consequences.
I couldn’t say I regretted my decision. In fact, I was starting to believe it was the best damn one I ever made.
A shiver ran through her body, and I held her close and whispered soothing words and phrases, sweet nothings, as she cried herself to sleep against my chest.
“It’s okay if you change your mind, Marat. I’ll understand,” she whispered.
I knew exactly what she meant, and it stopped my heart in my chest. Did she think I wanted out because I knew she’d been married before? Did she think I regretted choosing her?
“I’m not changing my mind, Dumplin’,” I murmured against her hair.
But her body was completely relaxed against me, and I knew she’d fallen asleep without hearing me. I sat there for over an hour before carrying her to bed.
Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to let her go. I held her soft, warm body in my arms even as my own self-disgust reached immeasurable heights.
What kind of monster am I?
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was the Devil. I looked down at my sweet wife’s face, so peaceful in sleep, and I kissed her temple. It didn’t matter.
Angel or Devil, Destiny was mine. Again, that same thought that had been on replay since I first saw the sweet temptation that was my wife played inside my head.
I’m keeping her.
I had to force myself to look at it like the observer I was, and not someone involved with one of the major players in her story.
Her story. A tragic childhood romance.
The organ inside my chest pumped slowly. I never thought much about my heart, but I felt it contracting and releasing as I held my wife. I felt her pain through every fucking beat.
It should have been sweet and innocent, but it was tainted with sickness and death, hurt and abandonment.
My poor Baby. Sweet Dumplin’.
She had such a beautiful heart. I couldn’t even understand that kind of selflessness. She’d abandoned everything she knew, gave up her home and family to try to give her friend something he wanted.
The fact my wife had been married before was like a nail through my chest, but I forced myself to understand it from her point of view. First, she didn’t know me back then. Second, she married a dying boy, granting him his last wish, and breaking her whole life apart in the process.
She’s too good for me. I don’t deserve her. But I’m keeping her. I. Am. Keeping. Her.
“Timmy had a lot of energy on the plane ride to Vegas,” she said, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. “Someone staying in a neighboring room at the motel called an ambulance after they heard him getting sick. He was rushed to the hospital and there, they called his parents. They arrived later that night with papers to transfer him back to the East Coast.”
“They moved him?” I asked, confused why anyone would think that was a good idea.
“The doctors argued to keep him there. I argued. My parents came. Our marriage license wasn’t official yet, so the police said I couldn’t decide for him legally yet. I was young and stupid and scared, so I let them have their way. I just wanted what was best for him.”
She took a deep breath, and I squeezed her tighter.
“I just wanted him to be happy. He’d asked me to marry him when he was sixteen, and he thought he was going to be better. He thought he had time. When they told him he was terminal, he begged me to elope. He said it was one thing he wanted before he died. To be married to me.”
“I can understand that,” I whispered so low I didn’t think she heard me.
“My father and mother came to Vegas. They were so mad. My Dad called me a whore. He told me he and my mom would never speak to me again because of what I did. He was so ashamed of me.”
“Fuck. You know that’s not true, right?”
“I couldn’t believe they just thought we wanted to run away to have sex. I tried to explain. Timmy was my best friend. I loved him. He loved me. I just wanted to give him the thing he wanted. To experience what our future could have been like for a little while, you know? To say he was my husband, and I was his w-wife,” her voice cracked with the last word.
She cried in earnest then, and I held her tighter.
“While my father was yelling and distracting me, Timmy’s parents were busy packing him up and taking him away. I didn’t know. I didn’t realize until they’d already gone. My father told me it was what I deserved. He said I was too young and stupid to understand being a wife. He said I would learn how hard life was without them. Said I’d made my own bed.”
“Fuck. Shit. I’m so sorry,” I repeated impotently.
Rage boiled inside me. No longer simmering on the edge of my awareness. I wished her father was still alive so I could track him down and shout at him. I wanted to tell him he was wrong for what he’d said.
What kind of father pushed his own daughter out of his life? What kind of mother allowed it?
They should have been there for her. Should have lifted her up, praised her for what she did for that poor dying kid.
But he was long gone, and her mother was sick. It was a moot point, I supposed, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow.
I wondered when her father died. How many years had he let pass without talking to her? Checking on her?
I made a mental note to find out. She’d obviously forgiven her parents, and that was her choice, but I knew she hadn’t been back to visit. Not in the twelve years she’d lived in Sin City.
I knew she still spoke to her brother, and she’d been sending him money for her mother’s care. But when did that start?
The idea of my sweet Dumplin’ waiting tables and dealing with her asshole ex-boss had me seeing red again. She’d worked so fucking hard.
Did her family know the shit she’d been through on her own? Did they care?
At least I could make sure she never had to do that again. I felt proud that I could ease at least part of her burden. Make her life easier. Better.
I can make her happy if I try. I know I can.
“Timmy died the day after they landed in New Jersey,” she whispered.
Her voice was hoarse by then. Her tears were running like a faucet, staining my shirt, breaking my fucking heart.
“I never got to say goodbye. It was years before my parents reached out to me again. My father was sick, but I was still so mad. I wasn’t there when he died, either. My mother told Bear she would never forgive me. She said I did it. I killed my father by breaking his heart. But I, I didn’t mean to. I was so hurt. I didn’t understand how cruel and fragile life could be,” she sobbed.
I couldn’t take it anymore. This fucking woman. She’d been through so much.
She carried all this guilt on her own for so long, and there I was putting more stress and blame on her, none of which she deserved. I pulled her to me, lifting her until I had both arms wrapped around her, crushing her to my chest.
“Shhh. Please, Baby, don’t cry anymore. I’m so sorry you went through all that alone. My sweet Dumplin’. My brave girl,” I told her, kissing her hair, her cheeks, everywhere I could reach.
We sat like that for a few more minutes, wrapped around each other, me rocking her back and forth while she cried.
“You already know this, but Mom has dementia. I’ve been sending Bear whatever money I had extra to help pay for her care, but the doctors say she needs to be in assisted living. He found a place, and that’s why I’ve been meeting with him this week, to talk about her diagnosis and discuss her care,” she explained, and I felt like an even bigger piece of shit.
“I know Josef had me tailed, so he probably knows I’ve been giving Bear money for Mom. But I need you to know you and me, we were never about money.”
“What? Dumplin’, I never thought you wanted my money,” I said, needing her to know.
“The money I gave Bear was what I had in my account. It was the rent money. But y-you canceled my lease, and I never got to pay it. Then you transferred all that money to me,” she said, shaking her head against my chest.
“That was for you to do with what you wanted. Baby, that was a gift.”
“I never asked for it. And I didn’t touch it. The money you put in my account was too much, Marat. I don’t want it. I don’t want you or your family to think I stayed married to you for that. Please, just take it back—”
“Shhhh. Shhh,” I whispered, holding her tighter, and closing my eyes when I felt her small hands clutching my sides. “Don’t you think I know that? You’re so good, Dumplin’. So fucking good. Your heart is pure gold. Shhh. It’s okay. I got you.”
That money was hers. She could do whatever she wanted with it. It meant nothing to me. I gave it to her just so she would have a cushion until her credit cards arrived.
But fucking appearances made it look like she was maybe taking advantage of me. Like she was capable.
Destiny was the most honest person I knew. Even when she withheld information from me, it was my fault. I was the one building walls, keeping distant. I was the one who’d tricked her into being my wife.
Like the spoiled fucking child I was, I saw her, wanted her, and took her.
To hell with the consequences.
I couldn’t say I regretted my decision. In fact, I was starting to believe it was the best damn one I ever made.
A shiver ran through her body, and I held her close and whispered soothing words and phrases, sweet nothings, as she cried herself to sleep against my chest.
“It’s okay if you change your mind, Marat. I’ll understand,” she whispered.
I knew exactly what she meant, and it stopped my heart in my chest. Did she think I wanted out because I knew she’d been married before? Did she think I regretted choosing her?
“I’m not changing my mind, Dumplin’,” I murmured against her hair.
But her body was completely relaxed against me, and I knew she’d fallen asleep without hearing me. I sat there for over an hour before carrying her to bed.
Even then, I couldn’t bring myself to let her go. I held her soft, warm body in my arms even as my own self-disgust reached immeasurable heights.
What kind of monster am I?
Maybe she was right. Maybe I was the Devil. I looked down at my sweet wife’s face, so peaceful in sleep, and I kissed her temple. It didn’t matter.
Angel or Devil, Destiny was mine. Again, that same thought that had been on replay since I first saw the sweet temptation that was my wife played inside my head.
I’m keeping her.
End of Wild Billionaire Romance Chapter 52. Continue reading Chapter 53 or return to Wild Billionaire Romance book page.