All for This
Page 39
“And you know that’s not me?” That hurts. Especially from Asher.
“Think it through for a minute. You dodge commitment, and Hanna deserves better than that. And even if you were willing to give her more, how’s that going to work? Are you going to move to New Hope to be with her and leave Collin in LA?”
Resting my elbows on my knees, I lean forward and study my shoes. Asher’s pulling out the logic I’ve been trying to make myself accept ever since I saw that f**king ring on her finger. Hanna belongs here, in this little picture-book town with its friendly people and quiet streets. And I belong in LA. Near Collin.
“Do you have any idea how much I hate being away from my daughter?” Asher says. “Three months in the summer, two weeks over Christmas and a couple of long weekends here and there—that’s all I get until I can convince her mom to give me custody. You know I have reasons beyond Maggie for staying away from the city, but I don’t see you making that kind of sacrifice for a woman. Am I wrong?”
“She chose him,” I repeat, because—fuck—I don’t need to hear this. There’s nothing to figure out. She doesn’t want me. She’s wearing his ring.
And I have to find a way to be okay with that, because a big damn part of me knows she chose right.
15
MY APARTMENT is a clutter of half-packed boxes, and my mind is a jumble of questions and missing memories.
When I walk into my living room, Nate is bare-chested and sitting on the couch with his bare feet propped on the ottoman. For a minute, I forget how to walk. My feet seriously don’t recall the order of operations necessary to get me from this spot at the edge of the kitchen island to the family room coffee table, where I left my cell phone.
Because Nate. Because bare-chested. Because hormones eating away at all the functioning parts of my brain and leaving only the parts that want sex.
I don’t know if his presence—his body—is evidence of a divine power that loves me or one that wants to torture me. My mouth is dry and my hands itch to touch, to trace the lines of his tattoos and the faint trail of dark hair from the center of his chest all the way down past his navel and into his jeans.
I’ve followed that trail with my mouth before, and sweet, sweet memory, I know what waits on the other side.
When I drag my eyes back up to his face, he’s smirking at me. “See anything good?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. And then I was going to ask you to please refrain from watching p**n in my family room.”
“Wanna watch with me?” He wriggles his eyebrows and spins his iPad so I can see the screen. Comics. Of course.
“How’d you get in here?” The question comes out with a squeak.
“With the key you gave me last summer. God forbid anyone see us together if I was in town, so you gave me a key so I could come in the middle of the night.”
I draw in a ragged breath at the bitterness in his tone. “God forbid anyone see us together.” I wonder if it occurred to me how selfish I was being. “Did you ever use it?”
“Once,” he says softly. He sweeps his eyes over me in my robe and lets them settle on the knot tied across my growing belly. “I got off the plane from London and hired a driver to bring me straight to you.” He sighs. “My phone was dead, so I used the driver’s, but you didn’t answer. When I got here, I let myself in with the key you gave me and climbed into your bed. Unfortunately, you didn’t know who I was, and we both know how that ended. Frankly, if you would have given me that knee to the balls before, you probably wouldn’t be pregnant now.”
I bite back a guilty laugh. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted me there.”
My legs seem to be functioning again, so I walk over to the living area and sit on the chair. He’s filling in blanks for me, and I’m desperate to see them filled.
“Tell me what else you remember from those days.”
Apprehension flashes across his face. “You’d called me in London. You’d left a message saying you wanted to talk. It was the first time I’d heard your voice since you’d left LA after our fight. You’d been ignoring my calls and my messages. The only reason I knew you were okay was because you were still talking to Janelle, and she assured me you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. She said you were thinking. You were trying to make some hard decisions, and I needed to give you space. At one point, she even suggested that she could fly out here herself and check on you if it would make me feel better. But then you left that message, and I thought maybe…” He shakes his head. “Obviously, I thought wrong.”
“I would have had to leave you that message before my accident.”
“Yeah. It was Thursday.”
I lift my eyes to his. The day of the accident. Was I calling to tell him I was going to marry Max? “Why didn’t you call me back?”
He stares at me a long time then blows out a long breath. “I thought it would be best if we had the conversation in person. And then it turned out you were engaged to him and it became a moot point.”
He’s silent for a minute, and then his serious face transforms to a smile.
When I realize his eyes have settled on the cle**age peeking out the top of my robe, I pinch it closed. “Sorry. I’ll go get dressed.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Yeah, well…” I shake my head. “I’m not going to tramp around in my robes if you’re going to be spending a lot of time at the house.”
“Think it through for a minute. You dodge commitment, and Hanna deserves better than that. And even if you were willing to give her more, how’s that going to work? Are you going to move to New Hope to be with her and leave Collin in LA?”
Resting my elbows on my knees, I lean forward and study my shoes. Asher’s pulling out the logic I’ve been trying to make myself accept ever since I saw that f**king ring on her finger. Hanna belongs here, in this little picture-book town with its friendly people and quiet streets. And I belong in LA. Near Collin.
“Do you have any idea how much I hate being away from my daughter?” Asher says. “Three months in the summer, two weeks over Christmas and a couple of long weekends here and there—that’s all I get until I can convince her mom to give me custody. You know I have reasons beyond Maggie for staying away from the city, but I don’t see you making that kind of sacrifice for a woman. Am I wrong?”
“She chose him,” I repeat, because—fuck—I don’t need to hear this. There’s nothing to figure out. She doesn’t want me. She’s wearing his ring.
And I have to find a way to be okay with that, because a big damn part of me knows she chose right.
15
MY APARTMENT is a clutter of half-packed boxes, and my mind is a jumble of questions and missing memories.
When I walk into my living room, Nate is bare-chested and sitting on the couch with his bare feet propped on the ottoman. For a minute, I forget how to walk. My feet seriously don’t recall the order of operations necessary to get me from this spot at the edge of the kitchen island to the family room coffee table, where I left my cell phone.
Because Nate. Because bare-chested. Because hormones eating away at all the functioning parts of my brain and leaving only the parts that want sex.
I don’t know if his presence—his body—is evidence of a divine power that loves me or one that wants to torture me. My mouth is dry and my hands itch to touch, to trace the lines of his tattoos and the faint trail of dark hair from the center of his chest all the way down past his navel and into his jeans.
I’ve followed that trail with my mouth before, and sweet, sweet memory, I know what waits on the other side.
When I drag my eyes back up to his face, he’s smirking at me. “See anything good?”
“I was going to ask you the same thing. And then I was going to ask you to please refrain from watching p**n in my family room.”
“Wanna watch with me?” He wriggles his eyebrows and spins his iPad so I can see the screen. Comics. Of course.
“How’d you get in here?” The question comes out with a squeak.
“With the key you gave me last summer. God forbid anyone see us together if I was in town, so you gave me a key so I could come in the middle of the night.”
I draw in a ragged breath at the bitterness in his tone. “God forbid anyone see us together.” I wonder if it occurred to me how selfish I was being. “Did you ever use it?”
“Once,” he says softly. He sweeps his eyes over me in my robe and lets them settle on the knot tied across my growing belly. “I got off the plane from London and hired a driver to bring me straight to you.” He sighs. “My phone was dead, so I used the driver’s, but you didn’t answer. When I got here, I let myself in with the key you gave me and climbed into your bed. Unfortunately, you didn’t know who I was, and we both know how that ended. Frankly, if you would have given me that knee to the balls before, you probably wouldn’t be pregnant now.”
I bite back a guilty laugh. “Sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed you wanted me there.”
My legs seem to be functioning again, so I walk over to the living area and sit on the chair. He’s filling in blanks for me, and I’m desperate to see them filled.
“Tell me what else you remember from those days.”
Apprehension flashes across his face. “You’d called me in London. You’d left a message saying you wanted to talk. It was the first time I’d heard your voice since you’d left LA after our fight. You’d been ignoring my calls and my messages. The only reason I knew you were okay was because you were still talking to Janelle, and she assured me you weren’t dead in a ditch somewhere. She said you were thinking. You were trying to make some hard decisions, and I needed to give you space. At one point, she even suggested that she could fly out here herself and check on you if it would make me feel better. But then you left that message, and I thought maybe…” He shakes his head. “Obviously, I thought wrong.”
“I would have had to leave you that message before my accident.”
“Yeah. It was Thursday.”
I lift my eyes to his. The day of the accident. Was I calling to tell him I was going to marry Max? “Why didn’t you call me back?”
He stares at me a long time then blows out a long breath. “I thought it would be best if we had the conversation in person. And then it turned out you were engaged to him and it became a moot point.”
He’s silent for a minute, and then his serious face transforms to a smile.
When I realize his eyes have settled on the cle**age peeking out the top of my robe, I pinch it closed. “Sorry. I’ll go get dressed.”
“I wasn’t complaining.”
“Yeah, well…” I shake my head. “I’m not going to tramp around in my robes if you’re going to be spending a lot of time at the house.”
