Jeannie checks the time on her phone. “We should be going. Unless there’s anything else?”
Honor’s confused gaze passes between us. “I’m not staying?”
“You’ll be moving in two weeks from today,” I say. “Remember?”
Despondent, she slinks off the counter stool and takes her time shuffling to Jeannie.
It shatters my icy heart into two imagining what’s going through her mind. She’s too young to understand, but old enough to know that grown-ups make promises all the time that they never keep.
Going to her, I crouch down and place my hands on the sides of her arms, looking her straight in the eye. “Two weeks. You have my word.”
Throwing her arms around me, she hugs me tightly one last time. When I peel her off me, I’m met with a Texas-sized grin.
I escort them to the door and lock up when they’re gone. Back against the wall, I run my hands through my hair and exhale a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding.
I’m in way over my head.
But I’m fully committed.
I’m heading back to my room to get dressed for a run when I realize I haven’t had a chance to wrap my head around the fact that Astaire is Honor’s kindergarten teacher. Last weekend, I took her out to Txikito, where we shared a delicious bottle of Spanish wine and she asked way too many questions, and afterwards, she refused to so much as entertain a drink together.
I decided to back off because I know what happens when someone comes on too strong—it has the opposite intended effect.
Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder.
I’m sure she’s spent the entirety of this past week wondering why I’ve gone radio silent on her.
She’ll hear from me soon enough.
I’m dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, a towel draped over my shoulder as I make my way to my home gym, when there’s a knock at the door.
I’m tempted to ignore it when I allow curiosity to get the better of me.
I peer through the peephole, groan, and yank the door open. “The hell are you doing here?”
“We need to talk.” Errol looks like shit. Dark circles under his eyes. Greasy hair tucked behind his ears. Ripped jeans. White t-shirt. Knowing him, this is all part of some derelict-chic look he’s going for.
“Busy.” I attempt to slam the door in his face, but he places his foot in the doorway.
“Two minutes.”
“Busy.”
“It’s about the girl.”
“Oh, you mean the child you fathered with our adopted sister? That girl?”
His eyes widen then squint. “Please, Bennett. Let me come in for two minutes.”
I study his sorry face, the one that looks like a one-off of mine, the proportions just different enough so we’re occasionally mistaken for twins.
“Fine.” I stand back and let him in, but only because I’m dying for a chance to tell him exactly what I think of him and this is the perfect opportunity.
Errol begins to say something. I shut the door and then lift my hand to silence him.
“First of all, what the hell is wrong with you?” I fold my arms tight across my chest. He doesn’t answer. Doesn’t blink. Just stares at me as if he’s wondering what I know and what I don’t. “It’s not a rhetorical question, Errol.”
“You can’t adopt her.” He finally speaks, but there’s a hint of a quiver in his voice.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because it’s fucked up.”
I chuff and scratch the underside of my nose with the back of my thumb. “No. What you did was fucked up. Adopting her is the best way to give this girl a chance. She deserves a good home.”
Errol smirks. “And you think you can give her that? With your manwhoring workaholic ways?”
“And what do you propose? You and Beth adopt her? Live as one big happy family with your infant son and secret lovechild?”
He doesn’t answer, which I take as a “yes.”
“You’re out of your goddamned mind.” I grab fistfuls of my hair. “If that’s what Larissa wanted, she’d have specified that, I’m sure. There’s a reason she chose me. You’re nothing more than a sperm donor. A disgusting, fucked-up-in-the-head, sorry excuse for a sperm donor.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then enlighten me.”
“We were in love.”
“I think I’m actually going to be sick.” I can’t look at him.
“Hear me out, Benn. We were in love, and we knew there was no way we could ever be together. I didn’t even know she was pregnant! I just knew that she stopped talking to me for about a year. I thought it was because I married Beth. I thought she was too heartbroken to come around anymore. Trust me, if I knew there was a child involved …”
“What? What would you have done? Would you have swooped in and saved the day? Divorced Beth and married your legal sister? I’m sure Mother would’ve given you a glowing stamp of approval on all of that.”
“I would’ve supported her. Financially. That’s all I could’ve done given the circumstances.”
“You can hardly support yourself financially. Don’t think I don’t know about all the personal loans you’ve taken against your trust, all the handouts you’ve accepted from our mother over the years because the two of you can’t seem to live within your extremely generous means.”
Errol is silent for a beat. He won’t look at me.
“Are you going to come clean to Beth about any of this?” I study his face, worry etched across his sun-bronzed forehead. “Because I can’t imagine she’ll want anything to do with you or your biological child if she learns the truth.”
His gaze flicks to mine.
“According to my math, Honor had to have been conceived shortly after your honeymoon,” I add. “So there’s that. And there’s also the fact that Beth hated Larissa with a passion for reasons I never fully understood nor did I try to. I assumed it mostly had to do with our mother’s meddling ways, but now I’m beginning to wonder if she was onto your … perversions. So tell me, brother, do you honestly believe your wife is going to accept and raise this little girl as if she were her own?”
“Don’t talk about my wife as if you know a damn thing about her.”
“I might know her better than you think. For instance, were you aware she was taking birth control pills when the two of you were pouring thousands of dollars into fertility treatments?”
Errol’s hand cups the lower half of his face and he forces a hard breath through flared nostrils. “You’re such a fucking liar.”
“It makes no difference to me whether you believe me or not.” I shrug. “But I’m willing to bet money that she doesn’t want to have kids. This adoption thing is only happening because she’s running out of excuses. You and I both know this baby will be raised by a team of nannies—nannies that’ll surely be bankrolled by our mother because God knows the two of you can’t afford them. But that’s none of my business …”
Errol’s hands clench at his sides, his complexion turning ruddy and flushed, and without warning, the pathetic bastard attempts to deck me with a left hook—which I block.