He Put His Ex First So I Found My True Mate Chapter 02
Graham let go of my wrist as if the argument was already settled.
“I’m going upstairs to get the pups settled. You clean up down here and get some rest.”
Then he picked up Blair’s luggage and carried it into the ocean-view suite.
Less than five minutes after the door shut, I got a text from him.
*The kids have finally calmed down. Don’t come upstairs tonight, and don’t make any noise.*
He never came out again.
I unfolded the sofa bed by the fireplace myself. One of the supports was broken, and every time I shifted, the frame shrieked loudly enough to make me flinch.
In the end, I lay there stiff and sleepless, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling.
Ever since I met Graham, I had worked to become someone they would accept.
The Whitmores were a founding family in Tidewatch. Blair and their friends had all gone to the same pack school, spent summers at the cliff house, and trained together at North Ridge.
They would mention some club only old families could join, some private patrol boat, some story about whose grandfather had humiliated himself during an inheritance trial, and everyone else would laugh at the inside joke.
I never did.
I grew up moving between foster homes in different packs.
I had no ancestral home, no childhood friends, no group I could call through the heart-link whenever I wanted.
So when Graham first handed me a key to his front door and said he would submit my pack application after we married, I thought I had finally found a home.
I managed our shared calendar for all five of us. I kept track of every physical, dentist appointment, and therapy checkup for the two pups. I answered every email from the pack school. I spent weeks comparing a dozen summer camp programs and their refund policies.
When Graham forgot about parent-teacher conferences, I rescheduled them.
When Blair changed pickup plans at the last minute, I left work to get the pups.
When his friends came over, I handled the menu, the shopping, and the cleanup. I remembered who had a nut allergy, who couldn’t eat shellfish, who only drank sugar-free tonic water.
No one ever asked how I kept track of it all.
They only ever called out, “Where’s Mara?” when something was missing from the table.
I thought if I was reliable enough, someday their “we” would finally include me.
But when they told old stories, they still never bothered to explain them to me.
When plans changed at the last minute, I was still always the last to know.
This weekend at the cliff house was the worst it had ever been.
I had screened more than twenty properties before renting this house on Tidewatch’s private shore. The transportation, groceries, menus, supplies for the pups, the entire event schedule—I had arranged all of it.
The bill came to over twelve thousand dollars.
The deposit went on my credit card.
Six people had dragged their feet for two months, and not one of them had offered to pay their share.
Graham had only said that these were all my future pack family, the people who were about to welcome me in. There was no need to be so exact about money.
They didn’t even know who bought the food in the fridge or who ordered the flowers on the terrace.
On this trip they called a “family weekend,” their role was to perform as a complete unit.
My role was to make sure everything ran smoothly.
I only drifted off shortly before dawn.
When I woke, sunlight was already hitting the sofa.
The main hall was a mess. Champagne flutes and empty plates were piled on the coffee table. In the kitchen, all that remained were maple-syrup-smeared dishes. The insulated coffee carafe was empty. The bacon and muffins were gone.
The house was empty.
I picked up my phone and saw a story Blair had posted to the pack’s social channel.
The photo showed four pairs of feet in wet sand.
The two pups stood in the middle, with Graham and Blair on either side. A wave was washing over their toes.
The caption read:
*Morning at the beach with my pups.*
She had tagged Tidewatch’s family channel so everyone could see that “complete family.”
As I stared at the image, Graham called.
“Why aren’t you here yet?”
There was no trace of apology in his voice for leaving me to sleep in the hall.
“When did you leave?”
“The pups were up early, so we came out first. Hurry up. The kayaks are booked for ten.”
“No one woke me up.”
“Didn’t you set reminders for the schedule?”
Before I could answer, he asked, “Where are the spare beach towels and snacks? The pups are hungry.”
“In the blue beach bag. I left it by the front door last night. You didn’t bring it?”
Silence, for half a beat.
“Then why didn’t you get up earlier and bring it yourself?”
I stared at the empty hallway.
“Because I was asleep when you left.”
“Stop making everything someone else’s fault. Just get ready. Don’t keep everyone waiting.”
He hung up.
I didn’t eat breakfast.
I washed my face, repacked extra towels, drinks, and snacks into another bag, and headed for the beach.
They had already claimed two large umbrellas.
Clothes and bags were spread across the lounge chairs. Not one seat was left for me.
The first thing Graham said when he saw me was, “Finally.”
Cynthia nudged a pile of phones in the sand with her toe.
“We’re getting in the water. Watch these for us. There are wallets, car keys, and pack access badges, too, so don’t lose anything.”
I handed over the towels and snacks.
They took what they wanted and dumped six phones, four wallets, two sets of car keys, and a handful of badges at my feet.
I had no choice but to sit in the sand just outside the shade of the umbrellas.
By noon, the sand was scorching. Even through my skirt, it burned my skin.
A few yards away, the shore patrol was checking life vests for the two pups.
I stood up.
“I’m going, too.”
For this trip, I had taken a pediatric first-aid course and had confirmed the kayak age limits and ocean conditions.
I knew Graham’s son was allergic to bee stings, and his daughter had suffered a seizure during a high fever last year.
In my bag, I had waterproof bandages, ice packs, a tourniquet, children’s antihistamines, a breathing mask, and an emergency blanket.
I didn’t just want to join in.
I genuinely wanted to spend time with the pups.
Blair got to the kayaks first and rested a hand on one of them.
“Four seats. Perfect.”
She pointed at herself and the two pups, then looked at Graham.
“You promised you’d teach them how to paddle. Without you, I can’t keep us going straight.”
Her voice was soft, the intimacy in it not even thinly veiled.
Graham had already picked up a paddle.
He glanced at me.
“Mara, stay on shore. Someone needs to watch our things.”
“We can leave them with the rental stand.”
“It’s not safe to leave phones, wallets, and family access badges there.”
“Then let Cynthia watch them for ten minutes.”
Cynthia was sunning herself in dark glasses. At the sound of her name, she sat up.
“Why me?”
Blair smiled.
“Let’s not make a thing of it. The pups can’t wait any longer. Mara, you’re not familiar with ocean kayaking. It’s safer if you stay on shore.”
“I checked the route, and I finished the pediatric first-aid course.”
I bent to grab my bag, but the zipper snagged on a towel and sprang open.
The red first-aid kit fell out and rolled to Cynthia’s feet.
She picked it up and unzipped it, pulling out the tourniquet first, then the emergency blanket and disposable breathing mask.
“Oh my God.”
She deliberately held the mask up for everyone to see.
“We’re only paddling close to shore. You packed like you’re responding to a border attack.”
Several people laughed.
I reached for it.
“Give that back. The pups have allergy histories, and someone could get cut on the rocks—”
“That’s enough, Mara.”
Graham cut me off.
“Can you stop being so over-the-top?”
“I’m just being prepared.”
“Prepared?” He stared at the first-aid kit, his expression tightening. “You bring all this because you want everyone to think you’re the only one capable of protecting the pups?”
I froze.
“No.”
“It’s always the same. You do a ton of research, take on things nobody asked you to do, and then wait for everyone to praise you for it.”
His voice wasn’t quiet.
Several other Tidewatch members on the beach had already started looking over.
“The kids came here to relax, not to help you prove a point. They can smell your tension, you know.”
Ember flashed with anger, but my scent remained controlled.
Cynthia gave a little laugh and tossed the first-aid kit back into the sand.
The zipper was still open.
Pill cases, bandages, ice packs, and gloves spilled everywhere. Some landed in the damp, gritty sand.
I crouched to gather them up.
A gust of sea wind lifted the course completion card from an inner pocket and sent it skittering across the sand.
Blair slipped her arm through Graham’s.
“Don’t talk to her like that. Mara means well. She’s never raised pups, so she doesn’t know what’s appropriate.”