Inconvenient Wife Read online

  Inconvenient Wife

  Natasha Boyd

  INCONVENIENT WIFE

  © 2018 by Natasha Boyd

  A ll persons depicted herein are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons, real or imagined, is coincidental and unintentional. Seriously. Not everything is about you .

  Plagiarizing or pirating this work is illegal. Not to mention, if you enjoy reading books, I assume you’d like the authors of them to be able to have a roof over their heads, a computer to write on, eat, and feed their children. That way they can write more for you. Sounds good, right? I thought so .

  We’re all reasonable people here .

  That’s all .

  Read on .

  ebook ISBN: 978-1-7322385-1-0

  To stay up to date with new releases, text NATASHABOYD to 31996

  Contents

  1. Gwen

  2. Gwen

  3. Gwen

  4. Beau

  5. Beau

  6. Gwen

  7. Beau

  8. Gwen

  9. Gwen

  10. Gwen

  11. Gwen

  12. Beau

  13. Beau

  14. Beau

  15. Beau

  16. Beau

  17. Gwen

  18. Gwen

  19. Gwen

  20. Gwen

  21. Beau

  22. Beau

  23. Gwen

  24. Gwen

  25. Gwen

  26. Beau

  27. Beau

  28. Gwen

  29. Gwen

  30. Beau

  31. Beau

  32. Beau

  ALSO BY NATASHA BOYD

  About the Author

  Untitled

  1

  Gwen

  W omen are dangerous and expensive!” Beau’s eyes sparkled with mischief and a bit too much to drink .

  His brown hair flopped over his brow, and his dusky blue eyes matched his shirt. I was convinced if he let go of the pool cue, he’d lose his balance .

  The petite, dark-haired confection in a pink dress who’d just prompted Beau’s declaration, unpeeled herself from him and gave me a dirty look as she approached me .

  “I was just offering condolences, he doesn’t have to be so mean,” she said .

  I couldn’t imagine Beau being mean, so I offered her a small smile. Most of the time he was just honest, which I guess could equate to the same thing sometimes. “Condolences? Nobody’s dead yet,” I said. “Besides, he’s just having a rough day,” I assured her. “Better luck when you see him next.” She cast one more longing look over her shoulder, a shoulder that seriously only came up to my elbow. Then she flounced away .

  “Why, thanks, Beau.” I rolled my eyes and took a sip of the beer I dangled between two fingers. “Women are dangerous and expensive? I’m a woman in case you missed it.” I handed my cue to the guy waiting to take over our table. He was a muscled gym rat with a fake tan, purple tank top, and shoulders wide enough to carry dinner plates .

  “You sure are,” Gym Rat said, his eyes rising finally from my chest to my eyes. “You can chalk my cue anytime .”

  I felt sure he’d use me for practice bench-pressing instead. Though he’d probably need two of me to reach his bench weight, despite my solid bones. “Nice line,” I said .

  “But you’re Gracie,” Beau said loudly. “You don’t count .”

  “I don’t count,” I said apologetically to Gym Rat. Gym Rat seemed to belatedly realize some chivalry might be in order and turned. His purple tank top stretched dangerously across his chest. There was hardly enough of it as it was .

  “Don’t worry about it.” I laid a hand on Gym Rat’s shiny shoulder in case his steroids accidentally gave him a heart attack and wondered if I could ask him his skin care regime so I could make my legs look as smooth and glossy as his arms. “I don’t need saving. I’ve known that joker for twenty years. I’ll just go on and take him back to his momma .”

  I grabbed Beau round the middle and walked him through the bar. “And you’re right Beau. I’m expensive. You owe me fifty bucks, and I’m dangerous because you always owe me when we play pool. Have you not learned by now ?”

  “Awww, come on, Gracie. Do we have to leave ?”

  I caught the eye of the bartender and our friend Alice, the owner, and waved with a motion toward Beau to explain our sudden exit. They knew one of us would be back in to settle our tab. And if not tomorrow, we were there every Sunday. It was our ritual .

  “Wait,” Beau said, suddenly digging his heels in and squinting at the flat screen behind the bar. “I didn’t see who won the game .”

  “Carolina lost.” I gave him a shove to keep moving. “Clemson nailed a three pointer at the buzzer .”

  “Nooooooooo.” Beau drew out the word incredulously .

  “Jeez, you’re drunker than I thought. What’s going on ?”

  “Oh, Gracie .”

  “Stop calling me Gracie .”

  “Gwendolyn,” Beau boomed in a deep, severe voice, a hand on his chest. “My apologies, fair maiden .”

  “Beau,” I said in warning .

  “Fine, Gwen ,” he said with a chuckle. “Gwen getting on with your life with your fancy job, Gwen .”

  I frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean ?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Your dad been on your case again?” I asked, knowing his comment was probably more about him hurting today than anything about me. “I thought you’ve been working for him. I’ve hardly seen you. Is he saying you’re not doing enough?” I felt indignant on Beau’s behalf. Beau considered working in his family business a death sentence. He hated it. The thing was, he wasn’t ungrateful. That wasn’t it. And he worked damn hard. But as long as I’d known Beau he’d wanted to build boats. He was like a thwarted and tortured artist whose family laughed at his efforts. Unable to work with his hands and create on his own was slowly killing him. He helped my dad when he could, but those boats weren’t his . I could see the hope for his own business fading over the years as time went on and he realized he’d never get to fulfill his life’s passion. I had to tell him about my dad’s news. But now probably wasn’t a good time .

  “I have been working,” he said loudly. “I’ve been working my ass off. I’m there aaaalllll the time. And I hate it,” he explained needlessly because I knew. “And now grandfather is in the hospital. And …”

  He trailed off and rubbed his hand down his face. “He’s gonna die Gracie, and they’re going to ask me to commit full time to Montgomery Homes & Facilities .”

  I sucked in a breath and didn’t correct him on my name this time. “I’m so sorry, Beau.” No wonder Beau had been acting strange and with forced joviality all day. And it was probably why little pink confections kept swinging past him “with condolences”—because Beau Montgomery was about to go from eligible bachelor to extremely eligible bachelor. And he was straight. A unicorn! I could almost hear the morbid squeals of delight over the Charleston City skyline .

  “How bad is it? Is he really about to go?” I asked. I’d known his grandfather’s heart disease had been getting worse, but he’d always seemed infallible .

  “I always had a ‘some day,’” Beau went on as if he didn’t hear me .

  “I know you did .”

  “I thought grandfather would groom Dad, have him running things so I could step away. At least for a while. But now grandfather’s in the hospital. I should be sad I’m about to lose him, but instead I’m so fucking mad, Gracie. He’s going to die without ever addressing what I’ve asked him for. Freedom. I just wanted freedom to forge my own path. I missed my chance to go out on my own and thumb my nose at the money. If I’d just left and made my own way I’d be better off. I wa
s stupid, Gracie. Greedy. And they’ve controlled every aspect of my life .”

  Beau saying it all out loud in no uncertain terms pierced me in my chest .

  “And our family is so splintered and fucked up. What would it have mattered if I’d left?” he growled and threw an arm out in an empty gesture across the dusk-lit parking lot. “Just one more Montgomery cast to the wind .”

  I assumed he was talking about his cousin Trystan. I squeezed Beau’s lean and hard waist as I guided him across the gravel in the muggy night air, the heat of his skin emanating through his rumpled button-down shirt. It was an abbreviated version of the hug I wanted to give him. I could feel the hopelessness and sadness he wore like a heavy mantle, and I wished I could relieve it. I wasn’t even sure he was that drunk, but he seemed to need comfort. So I held on .

  “It would have mattered to me if you’d left, Beau .”

  Trystan, or should I say the lack of Trystan, was the reason I had Beau. I remembered that summer clear as anything .

  I was fully thirteen, as only a thirteen year old girl can be. Full of sass and the desperate hope to be noticed, but wanting to fade into the wall when anyone did .

  Beau his cousin would run down to the marina every day, every chance they got. They’d offer to do odd jobs and invariably cause trouble when they got distracted and bored .

  “Do you remember the summer we met?” I asked Beau, trying to get him to focus on something other than his pity party while I hustled him into my brand new Jeep Wrangler I’d bought after a year at my new job. She was indigo blue and I called her Eliza .

  “Yeah. Course .”

  “No, specifically. Do you remember getting into trouble grabbing a fish from old Dwyer’s cooler to try and lure the dock cat closer, and it turned out that was one of his redfish he’d just caught, and he almost skinned you alive he was so mad .”

  Beau chuckled as I got in on my side. “Yeah. Your dad had to come out there and save our behinds .”

  “He gave you and Trystan jobs at his boat shop to keep you out of trouble.” I snapped my seat belt in and checked my rearview. “You remember what my dad said? Boys with idle hands and no skills — ”

  “Fall for trouble and cheap thrills,” he finished .

  I smiled as I pulled the open-air car toward the exit, wheels crunching. “Trystan left soon after, but think about how momentous that was for you, Beau. You may never have known what incredible skill and artistry you had if not for Trystan leaving. Not to mention, you wouldn’t have me .”

  “Sure I would. You’re a cheap thrill .”

  “Oh you are so freaking funny I could die .”

  “That’s me .”

  “Seriously, Beau. I became your friend because I felt sorry for you. You were lonely. When Trystan was around, you never even knew I existed .”

  “Not true .”

  “So true.” So painfully true .

  “Fine, maybe. But that wouldn’t have lasted long. I mean you can’t have two teenage boys running around a marina and not notice the hot blonde girl with the flyaway hair. All tan skin and bubblegum lips.” Beau sounded annoyed by his memory .

  My own voice failed me for a second. “Wait. What? You thought I was hot .”

  “Stop it. You used to wear those tiny cut off jean shorts, hair like an angel, legs for miles and perky tits. Flitting around all over the place like an exotic bird, fuck, you were a sixteen-year-old’s wet dream .”

  My breath caught in my chest, and as I rolled the Jeep to a stop at the exit onto Coleman Boulevard I had to actually think about which way to turn from a place I’d driven out of a thousand times. I was shook. Had Beau Montgomery had a kid crush on me? It was the first I’d heard of it. “ Beau — ”

  His phone rang and I jumped. That obnoxious, old-timey, shrill ring like an actual honest-to-goodness landline from a 1950’s TV show. “God, could you have your phone any louder?” I asked. Why didn’t he ever just set it on vibrate like normal people ?

  “Sorry.” He fumbled it out of his pocket, frowning at what I could see was his father’s number lighting up the screen. He let the cacophony continue .

  “Answer it,” I muttered, feeling weirdly annoyed and utterly out of sorts after his revelation .

  He sighed and hit the green accept button. “Hello ?”

  I could hear the sound of his father on the other end but not his words .

  “Oh,” said Beau. “Yes, I’m—I’m so sorry.” His voice caught. “I’ll be right there .”

  He hung up, pressed the phone to his chest, and turned his head out the window. “Can you drop me at MUSC ?”

  “Of course. Beau is he — ?”

  “He’s dead. He passed away about fifteen minutes ago while I was telling you how mad at him I was.” He let out a long breath and continued to stare out the window .

  “I’m so sorry .”

  “Thanks,” Beau said, and his hand came over and landed on my upper thigh and gave it a pat. “You’re a good friend, Gwen .”

  So we were back to Gwen now. My thigh burned and my chest squeezed. It occurred to me right in that moment I was a complete masochist. Who other than someone with masochistic tendencies could continue to be friends with someone they were insanely in love with ?

  I drove over the Cooper River Bridge, the warm spring wind tossing our hair and battering our ears. Neither of us attempted to have a conversation. Beau lifted his face up and watched the suspension cables slip over the night sky. The moon was rising, lighting everything up and leaving a silver path across the black water beneath us .

  The bridge tipped us smoothly into the city, and I followed

  the Crosstown toward the hospital on the other side of the peninsula .

  I pulled up at the brightly lit drop off entrance to the hospital .

  “You know my condo’s right around the corner,” I said as he made no move to get out. “You can come over if you need to after.” That was me, always there with a shoulder .

  “Can you come in with me ?”

  I glanced at him in surprise .

  “I’m sorry to ask. I know you can’t stand my grandmother. But I need you .”

  “I don’t hate your grandmother. It’s the other way around .”

  “She doesn’t hate you, she’s just — ”

  “Incapable of affection?” I finish off the sentence we’d both said so many times before. “Uninterested in people not of her class ?”

  But Beau wasn’t playing along tonight. “Please, Gwen. She’s just lost her husband .”

  Sighing, I smiled tightly. I was being bitchy. He was right. “I’m sorry. Sure. Let me go and park .”

  What are friends for, after all ?

  2

  Gwen

  I nside was exactly how I imagined. Bright, sterile, and full of memories from when my mom died. I stalked alongside Beau as he made his way to the elevators, following the directions we’d been given at the front desk. The doors closed us in the sealed box, and I reached out a hand for the railing, squeezing tight .

  “You okay?” Beau’s voice broke the silence .

  I opened my eyes to his concerned face .

  “Oh shit,” he said. “I forgot you don’t do hospitals. Damn, Gwen. I’m sorry. I’m a selfish fuck .”

  “It’s fine, Beau,” I said, my voice weak. “Got to get over it sometime .”

  “Thank you, Gwen. I mean it. You’re a g — ”

  “Good friend. I know.” The doors pinged and opened .

  In a small, pale blue and gray grieving room at the end of the hall by the chapel sat Isabel Montgomery. She was wrapped in the arms of her son, Beau’s father, Robert. He rested his chin on her not-so-perfectly coiffed gray hair. Despite my long history with her disapproval, my heart broke seeing her so crumpled by the loss of her husband that she’d let someone hug her and hold her up in public. She looked smaller than I’d ever seen her. On her other side sat Suzy, Beau’s younger sister who stood up to give him a hug. Opposite the
m sat Father Peter .

  I crossed myself. “Father .”

  “Gwendolyn Grace Thomas,” he said with his slightly Irish lilt he’d never managed to shake. “Good to see you. You haven’t darkened my doors in over ten years. How are you?” The guilt. Always with the guilt .

  “Fine, thank you, Father.” I glanced at Mrs. Montgomery as she extricated herself from her son’s embrace and allowed Beau to lean down and kiss her cheek. “I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said to her as Beau straightened .

  She dabbed at her eyes. “Thank you .”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Beau said .

  His father patted his shoulder. “It’s fine. He never regained consciousness after we all left yesterday. Mother sat with him all day, and he just slipped off .”

  “I wish we could have taken him home.” Isabel Montgomery sniffed .

  “I know, but it happened so quickly,” Father Peter said gently. “It was better this way, leaving him comfortable rather than trying to move him .”

  I hugged Suzy and then tentatively touched Robert’s blazer sleeve to get his attention. “I’m sorry for your loss too,” I said. He opened his arms and I gave him a brief, stiff hug. It was the first time I’d ever hugged him. How odd .

  “Thank you, Gwendolyn .”

  He’d put on weight but was about the same height as Beau. Beau got his coloring from his father. Brown floppy hair, Montgomery-blue eyes, a healthy complexion. But Beau had a smile that went from nice to naughty with one wink of a dimple. And where Robert was stocky like his late father, Beau had grown up willowy like his mother, all long lines and awkward angles. He’d finally grown into himself and was now a sleek racing yacht with every part of him beautiful and practical. It was only when they stood side by side like this that you could see Beau was Robert’s son .