A Decade of Misplaced Devotion

Catching the chill in my stare, she paused, then lied through her teeth, "The pipes burst, and Laurent came to fix them. His clothes got soaked, so I let him shower here."

Laurent shot me a mocking glance. "Yeah, I was fixing the pipes. Total flood. Sprayed me good."

I balled my fists, ready to punch him, but Stella, catching my intention, jumped in front of him, snatched a baseball bat from the corner, and jabbed it at me.

"Fresh out of the hospital and losing it again?" she warned. "I haven't settled the score with you yet. Touch Laurent, and I'll send you back there."

The scene was all too familiar.

Ten years ago, she'd thrown herself in front of me like that, and it'd hooked me for life. Ironically, a decade later, she was shielding someone else.

For a moment, it all felt pointless.

"This is my house. Get the hell out!" I ignored them, heading straight to the bedroom.

The soiled bedsheets from the Husky had been changed. Along with them, our wedding photo had been replaced by intimate pictures of her and Laurent—some so explicit they were eye-searing.

The floor by the bed was littered with over a dozen used condoms.

Stella followed me in, cringing when she noticed my gaze on the pictures. Clearing her throat, she softened her tone. "I photoshopped them to get back at you. They are not real. Look, if you own up to your mistake and swear it won't happen again, I'll swap our wedding photo back."

I stared at her face—still pretty, but it didn't stir a thing in me anymore. I said flatly, "No need. If it got replaced, it was trash anyway. Just toss it."

She fumbled for the right words to respond, but before she could, Laurent sauntered in with a bowl of gooey slop. "Mr. Rowe, what Stella said on the phone about marrying me was just to rile you up. Don't get the wrong idea. To clear the air, I whipped up some peanut paste for you. Have a try."

He shoved the bowl under my nose, but I didn't take it.

Stella scowled. "Laurent is being nice, making it fresh and bringing it to you. What's with that sour face?"

Laurent sighed, "Guess he is not ready to bury the hatchet."

I laughed dryly, then took the bowl.

Stella nodded, pleased. "That's more like it. Since you're being reasonable, we'll redo the wedding this weekend. One catch—I want Laurent to stand in for the early parts of the ceremony."

"Sure," I agreed without hesitation.

Stella blinked, then probed, "Are you really cool with that? You always hated me getting too close to him."

I kept it even. "I'm cool because it's what you want."

Satisfied, she flashed a rare smile at me, and Laurent clapped my shoulder. "Mr. Rowe is finally getting it. Don't worry. I'll make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch. Oh, and I've got a special wedding gift lined up for you."

Meeting his cocky expression, I chucked the bowl of peanut paste into the trash. "I'll have a surprise for you two as well. Stay tuned."