Chapter 18
18:
All eyes snapped to the source of the screeching tires and blaring whistle.
Inside the loud pink sports car, Ralphy flashed a mischievous grin, his gaze fixed on Christina like she was the only one there. With a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, he said, “Need a lift home, Miss Jones?”
Brendon’s jaw tightened instantly. First, the Morfort Restaurant’s owner had shown interest in Christina. Now Ralphy was here, all grins and casual flair. Earlier at the shooting range, Dylan had done the same—stepped up to speak for Christina without hesitation. The memory of his sister’s blunt comments came rushing back. A question crept into his mind that he didn’t want to answer—had Christina already been involved with these men before their divorce?
“I’m good,” Christina replied, her tone cool and unbothered. She slipped an arm around Davina. “But if you don’t mind, could you take my friend home instead?”
It was clear Davina had had more than a few drinks, and driving herself wasn’t an option.
“Anything for you,” Ralphy replied, flashing a boyish grin. “Just say the word, and I’m on it.”
Christina nodded in thanks, steadying Davina as she helped her into the passenger seat.
Despite his laid-back attitude, Ralphy’s friendship with someone like Dylan hinted there was more to him than just flash and jokes.
“I’ve got it covered, Miss Jones. Your friend will get home in one piece. And if she doesn’t, you can hunt me down personally.” Ralphy shot her a wink, still grinning like this was the highlight of his night.
“Take it easy on the road, alright? No need to rush,” Christina remarked, tilting her head slightly, her voice calm but firm.
Ralphy gave a casual salute. “Loud and clear.” Then, with a glance at Brendon and a grin that held more meaning than words, he added, “If anybody bothers you, just say the word. I’ll handle it.”
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That earned him a small smile from Christina, subtle but sincere. Moments later, the flashy pink car roared off, disappearing into the distance.
With his lips pressed into a hard line, Brendon stepped closer, eyes narrowed. “What’s going on between you and him?”
Christina didn’t blink. “Why are you asking? It has nothing to do with you.”
Brendon’s expression darkened. “We were once husband and wife. I’m only speaking out of concern. Men like Ralphy—the wealthy, charming types—are always tangled up in rumors and short-lived flings. You shouldn’t fool yourself into thinking you’ll suddenly be swept into high society just because one of them shows interest. Those elite circles aren’t as welcoming as you might believe. Even if someone like him wanted to marry you, his family would never accept a woman who’s already divorced.
The only reason you ever became part of the Dawson family was because of my grandmother’s insistence. Without that, you wouldn’t have made it in. I’m just afraid you’ll start chasing something out of reach, trying to live in a world that won’t have you, and end up hurt because of it. And when that happens, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself. Don’t twist what I’m saying. I know it’s blunt, but it’s the truth. It’s better to stay grounded in reality than get swept away by empty dreams.”
A laugh escaped Christina before she could stop it, low and amused. So, that was his message in a nutshell—a divorced woman should forget about marrying up. Her time in the Dawson family? Nothing but a lucky accident.
“That’s very thoughtful of you,” Christina said, her smile faint but firm. “But here’s a tip—people who focus on their own problems tend to live longer.”
Brendon’s eyes narrowed as he caught the bite in her tone. “Are you cursing me?”
With a casual shrug, Christina replied, “Nah. But if you have to twist it that way, be my guest.”
His temper spiked fast. “Christina Jones! I gave you more than enough to live comfortably. What more do you want? Why are you still out there, parading around with other men?”
She didn’t even blink. “Other men?” she asked with a humorless chuckle. Her stare didn’t waver. “Tell me, Brendon. What exactly have I done? Where’s your proof?”
“Isn’t it clear? First, it was Dylan, then the Morfort Restaurant’s owner. And now Ralphy. Don’t tell me you’re going to stand there and deny all of it,” Brendon blurted, locking eyes with her, waiting for her denial as if it was the only thing that could settle the unrest inside him, the only way to quiet that bitter suspicion clawing at his gut.
He didn’t love Christina, and he never had any real emotional ties to her. He could excuse his own betrayals without guilt, but the idea of Christina doing the same—that was something he couldn’t stomach.
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