He pulls his free hand from his pocket and slides closer into my space.
Way too close.
His steadfast eyes meet mine. “Please. I want to make shit right. My brother is marrying your best friend. I’m the best man. You’ll no doubt be the maid of honor. We need to be civil and stop dancing around each other if we don’t want everyone to know something happened between us.”
There’s the answer I was looking for. I wince, unsure if he’s more worried about our tension ruining the wedding or that people will find out about our one-night stand.
I wave my hand through the air, careful not to hit him in the face. “Consider that night forgotten. I already have.”
“Don’t bullshit me. We’ve known each other long enough for you to be honest with me.”
I hold up my hand in anger, the need to spew out something terrible snapping at me. I want to strike him with pain that consumes him like he did me. “In case you’ve forgotten, you kicked me out of your bed. What do you want from me? A friendly hug? A casual conversation with fake smiles? Not going to happen, so quit wasting both of our time. You stay out of my way. I’ll stay out of yours. Agreed?”
“I didn’t kick you out of my bed,” he hisses. “You ran out my front door faster than a speeding bullet.”
I forget we’re not alone and edge closer until my chest hits his. “You jumped out of bed like you were dodging a speeding bullet.” I grit my teeth to gain control of myself. “That was before you said that what we did was a mistake, over and over again, like your lips were a broken record.”
His face burns like I didn’t just hit him with the verbal truth, but also a physical one. He lets out a hard sigh, giving me a small sampling of the whiskey and frosting lingering on his lips. Tightness forms in my throat, and I clutch at my stomach. Just like his cologne preference, I’m sure the taste of him hasn’t changed.
“I’m sorry. I overreacted,” he replies. “I tried calling to apologize, but you wouldn’t take my calls.”
“Nor will I ever.”
“Fuck, Willow, how many times do I have to say this until you forgive me? I was in a dark place and was out of line.” His voice lowers even more, and I barely make out his next words. “I didn’t regret that it was you in my bed. I was pissed at myself for even letting it happen, for putting you in that situation.”
His answer doesn’t make me feel any better.
I slide against the wall to move away from him. “It’s done. I’m over it.”
“Twenty minutes and a pastry,” he pleads. “Give me that, and I promise I’ll never bring it up again.”
I take a deep breath. This is Dallas Barnes. A man I worked alongside for five years. A man whose job was to protect Stella and me. Tragedy changes a man. Loss changes a man. This isn’t the Dallas I knew. This is a new man, a man who lost himself when he lost his wife.
I sink my teeth into the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry, but I can’t. I’ll be civil for Stella’s sake, but I won’t spend a minute longer with you than I have to.” This is for the best. I want him to hate me. I want him to want nothing to do with me in case he ever finds out what I’m keeping from him.
The anger in my words shocks him, and he runs his hand over his face.
“Daddy!”
He stumbles back at the sound of his daughter’s voice. She’s barreling our way, and her brown pigtails soar through the air. She runs right into his leg with a humph and giggles when he catches her.
“Come dance with me!”
Affection fills his face when he peeks down at her with a smile and twirls a pigtail around his finger. “Give me a second, sweetie. I’m talking with Willow, and then I’m all yours.”
“But this is my favorite song ever.” She pouts.
I force a laugh, seeing my perfect escape plan. Dancing seems to be my savior tonight. “You can’t deny a dance with a girl that adorable,” I say, shooing them away. “Go. I need to make a call anyway.”
Maven jumps up and down, clapping her hands in excitement, and Dallas stares at me with concern before leaning forward.
“I never had any intention to hurt you,” he whispers.
But you did, I mouth back.
Damn, did he.
“Daddy!” Maven whines. “The song is going to be over!”
He gives me a nod before walking away.
I don’t let the tears fall until I see his back.
The fuck?
I’m not this overly sensitive chick.
These hormones are messing with my hard-ass persona.
I brush them away, sniffling, and dash toward the exit. I need to get out of here and away from these people. I need silence, a moment to sulk about how I made a stupid decision for the millionth time.
I’m almost out the door when I nearly trip on my feet. My arm is grabbed, and I’m pulled down a dimly lit hallway. I attempt to swat the connection away, but it doesn’t work, and I’m not released until we land in a small utility room.
“What in the flying fuck is going on with you?” Stella demands, crossing her arms. “And don’t you dare try to feed me some new diet bullshit. Diets don’t make you cry.”
“Nothing,” I stutter out, wiping my warm cheeks in an attempt to rid myself of the evidence.
“Bullshit.” She pauses, waiting for me to let out my secret, but I stand my ground. “I’ll keep us in here all night.” She narrows her smoky eyes my way. “Do you want to be blamed for keeping a girl away from her engagement party?”
Guilt trips. Stella excels at giving them.
“I’ll tell you later. I promise.”
She shrugs, pops a squat on the carpeted floor, and stretches out her legs.
I let out a dramatic breath. “Fine. But you have to promise, it won’t leave this room.”
“All of your secrets are safe with me. Always have been.”
“This is bigger than hacking into Brett’s phone or when I pissed myself after we drank too many Skinnygirl margaritas.”
“You could’ve killed Brett, and I wouldn’t blab.”
“Promise me.”
“Jesus, Willow, did you kill the bastard?”
My heart thunders in my chest. I’m on the verge of passing out, so I sit down across from her. I can’t take these words back. The secret won’t be mine any longer, and she’ll be thrown into a difficult position.
“Someone you care about will get hurt if I tell you.”
Her voice fills with worry as she hunches forward. “Is it about Hudson?” She relaxes when I shake my head. “Then, what is it?”
“I’m pregnant.” The words feel heavy when they fall from my lips for the first time.
She silently stares at me, stunned at my response, and then her face brightens with fake excitement. “That’s great! Congratulations.” She’s won an Emmy, but even she can’t fake enthusiasm about this. “I didn’t know you were back with Brett.”
Brett. My asshole of an ex who’s out on bail and awaiting trial after driving drunk and hitting a family of four.
“We’re not. I haven’t seen him since we broke up.”
“Then, who’s the father?”