He expels a long breath before going on, “I’ve never told anyone this, not even Hudson. We …” He hesitates again. “We were trying for another baby. Maven was unplanned, so we wanted to do things the right way. Expand our family. Funny how life works. We could conceive when we weren’t ready but couldn’t when we were. Her doctor suggested IVF, which costs a fucking fortune, so we decided to save money and try it in a few years.”
Wow.
My heart breaks at his confession. He was desperately trying to have another baby with his wife and failed. Then, I got pregnant after a one-night stand with him. His wish for more kids has been granted but with the wrong woman.
“You regret not coming back,” I say, my voice thick, my throat hurting.
“Every fucking day of my life.”
I wanted his reality, his secrets, but I now wish for a dead end. This road is too heartbreaking, and I’m roaming along the sidewalks of guilt. He has to go through all of the motions with me now even though he wanted to do them with someone else.
“You don’t expect to lose your wife that young,” he continues. “You don’t expect your daughter to be motherless at six. We were fucking robbed, and I didn’t take advantage of spending all my time with her, protecting her, until life broke in and took her from me.”
His vulnerability shocks me. It’s comforting to see a flash of something other than anger spark out of him. His hurt opens up emotions in me, and I’m holding myself back from bursting into tears at the sight of this broken man. I’m fighting back the urge to reach out and console him. To let him know everything will be okay.
But I can’t, for fear of falling harder for a man who’s unavailable. When I fall in love, I fall hard, and that’s my weakness. People that love as deep as I do get their hearts shattered harder when it all falls apart.
He blows out a stressed breath and focuses on me in pain. He tilts his lips up into a forced smile. “And here I said I’d give you a good time.”
“You’re fine. I like this Dallas,” I answer, honestly.
He rubs the back of his neck. “You like me being a miserable bastard?”
“I like you being real,” I correct. I’ve never evoked emotions like this out of anybody.
“This is as real as it gets. This is me, and I wish I could be someone better for you.”
“What you’re giving me is enough.” He wants to be a better father, not a better lover, not a better man for me. I repeat that to myself over and over in my head, hoping it’ll drill the reality through. “I mean … what you’re giving the babies.”
“I hope that never changes.”
Chapter Twenty
Dallas
“Woohoo! We won!”
I can’t stop my lips from breaking into a smile, watching Willow jump up and down in excitement after the auctioneer yells, “Sold,” and points to me.
The men around me are either staring at her in annoyance or desire, and I want to slap all their thoughts from their heads.
I’ve managed to snag the excavator and got a better deal than I planned. An overweight man wearing a business suit had me worried for a minute when he started driving the price up, but lucky for me, he gave up early.
I know his kind. The men who are only in business for profit and for retail-fucking people with no concern about how they bust their asses every day to keep food in their families’ mouths. Barnes Machinery and Equipment isn’t like that. We give a shit about people, about their checkbooks, never high gross.
Willow insisted on tagging along with me at the bidding yard. I offered to let her wait in the truck or hang out in the coffee shop across the street since there’s a lot of standing and waiting around for your item to come up. She wouldn’t have it and refused to decline a ticket into my world.
She hasn’t complained once, which doesn’t surprise me. She’s a hard worker, who scored a job with one of the most prestigious celebrity PR and assistant firms in LA at twenty-one. She worked with Hollywood’s elite and impressed Stella so much, she hired her full-time. Even though Stella isn’t as hard on her, Willow works her ass off to make things easier for her boss.
Hell, most of the time she goes above and beyond what is asked of her. She works long hours, does the shit no one else wants to do, and fixes any problems that come along.
“How about some jams?” Willow asks when we get back into the truck.
I paid for the machine, filled out all the necessary paperwork, and scheduled the delivery. We’d gotten lunch before the auction started, and now, my goal is to find her some kick-ass tacos for being such a good sport.
“You be the DJ,” I answer.
Music comes blaring through the speakers when she turns the radio on. I haven’t used it since dropping Maven off at camp and cringe at the same time she bursts out into a fit of laughter. Since her laugh is contagious, I can’t stop myself from doing the same.
“Whoa,” she says when she catches her breath. “Didn’t peg you as a Bieber fan, Barnes.”
I turn down the volume a few notches. “I’m not. Maven is a Bieber fan.”
“Blaming it on the kid, huh? How convenient.” She smacks her palm against her forehead. “Oh. My. God.”
I lift my chin. “What?”
“My baby daddy is a Belieber.”
“A what?”
“A Belieber. A member of Justin’s fan club.”
For fuck’s sake.
Not only do I have to listen to this shit, but now, Willow also thinks I’m his biggest fucking fan with posters of his mug splattered all over my bedroom wall.
“I’m not, let me repeat, I’m not a member of his fan club.”
“I believe you.” A smile still dances on her moist lips.
“Appreciate it.”
“You’re the President of it.”
I can’t stop myself from smiling as a light chuckle echoes from my chest. “Oh, come on, you honestly can’t believe I listen to this shit.”
“The evidence is clear, counselor. His music is on your radio.”
Thunder roars through the sky so loud, I can’t hear Bieber, and rain smacks into my windshield. Fuck.
“And look at that. God knows you’re lying, too.”
“Or the weather predicted a seventy percent chance of thunderstorms, but I hoped it’d be in our favor.”
At least it waited until after the auction to pour hell down.
The windshield wipers squeak when I shift them to high, and Willow turns down the music, reading my mind so that I can focus better on the road. My headlights shine brightly as the sky turns a deep shade of black even though it’s only after six.
I lower my speed and get better control of my view on the road when a loud pop rings out, and my steering wheel starts to shake. The ride gets bumpy, and Willow hangs on to her seat belt for stability.
I pull the truck over and park it before slamming my hand against the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare out.
“Motherfucker,” I mutter.
“What?” Willow asks.
“We have a flat.”
She stares at me as if it’s not a problem. “You know how to change a tire, right?”