Marry Me by Cheryl Holt

like a leech on a thigh. If you'd had a baby with her, and we'd admitted it, we'd never have been rid of her."
    Hatred washed through him, and he gave the powerful emotion free rein. His loathing for her had always simmered below the surface, and previously, he'd tamped it down. But no longer.
    She wanted to be a bitch? She wanted to hurt and wound? Well, two could play at that game.
    "Tell me about Father's mistresses."
    "He had no mistresses," she coldly replied.
    "How many children does he have besides us? Am I about to have half-siblings crawling out of the woodwork?"
    "Don't be ridiculous. Your father was the most faithful man on earth."
      "I've met his daughter—she's called Peanut; I don't know her real name—but how many others are there?"
    "I don't have to put up with this from you. Get out of here."
    She pulled out another sheet of paper and laid it on the table, then she grabbed her wine and took a sip that became a long gulp. She was trying to appear calm and unaffected, but her hands were shaking.
    "What's it been like," he taunted, "to deny my son—your grandson—all these years?"
    "I have no idea what you mean," she insisted.
    "I have a son!"
    "No, you don't, and whoever filled your head with these lies, they ought to be taken out and shot."
    "You hid him from me."
    "Shut up."
    "I won't be silent. I've had it with you."
    "Get out. I won't tell you again."
    "No."
    "Dustin!" she shouted. "Dustin! I need you."
    "He can't protect you."
    "He can toss you out. That's good enough for now."
    "Don't you wonder what he looks like? Don't you wonder what kind of boy he's growing up to be?"
    "Get out! Get out!"
    She was shrieking—it was the only genuine burst of emotion he'd ever seen her display—and she flung her wine at him. She missed, but wine spewed everywhere, and the glass smacked on the floor and smashed to pieces.
    Dustin ran in.
    "What the hell is going on?"
    "Get him out of here!" Jacquelyn wheezed.
    Lucas frowned at his brother. "Did you know?"
    "Know what?"
    "About my son?"
    "Your…son? You have a kid?"
    "Did you help Jacquelyn hide him from me?"
    "Hide…your kid? Me? You actually think I would? You think I'd side with her"—he made a derogatory gesture toward Jacquelyn—"against you?"
    "I'm not sure. I'm figuring it out as I go along."
    "You don't have a kid," Dustin said. "We'd have found out. Whoever told you is a liar."
    Lucas studied his brother, and he seemed perplexed, so maybe he was telling the truth. With Dustin, it was hard to guess.
    "We're done with Faith Benjamin," Lucas advised them. "We’re not suing her, we're not harassing her, and she's keeping the money Harold gave her."
    "No way!" Dustin fumed.
    "Yes, she is, and we're not arguing about it."
    "The hell we're not."
    "Don't mention her to me ever again. I won't listen."
    Lucas headed for the door, and Dustin blocked his path.
    "Would you stop for one damn minute?" Dustin pleaded.
    "I'm leaving for a bit," Lucas said. "While I'm gone, pack Mother's things and take her to the airport. I want her on the next plane to Santa Fe."
    "I'm not ready to return to New Mexico," she huffed.
    Lucas spoke to Dustin. "She better not be here when I get back. If she is, I can't predict what I might do."
    "Calm your ass down," Dustin demanded, "and tell me what's happening."
    "Jacquelyn can tell you—on your ride to the airport." Lucas glared at her. "By the way, Jackie, my son's name is Bryce. Not that you ever cared to know. But it's Bryce."
    He left without another word.
    * * *
    "Come to bed, Faith. It's so late."
    "You go on, Gracie."
    It was nearly two o'clock, and Faith was on the front steps, staring out at the quiet, dark street.
    Gracie had been in bed for hours, but unable to sleep. After Faith's scene with Lucas earlier in the day, the energy in the house was all mixed up. There were too many ghosts, too many lies swirling. Who could rest?
    "He's not coming back," Gracie said.
    "I'm not waiting for him."
    "Of course you're not." Gracie