He starts to walk away again, but I latch on to his arm. “You have every right to be mad, but it’s not what you think. I didn’t agree to give her grandchildren. I only agreed to try—”
“Try to let me fuck you?” he snaps, low and angry. “Christ. It was bad enough when I thought you were going to sleep with me that night out of pity, but it’s fucking repulsive knowing you were going to force yourself to do it because of her.”
His words are the equivalent of a whip and I rear back. “The agreement had nothing to do with that night.” I swallow thickly, a razor’s edge away from crying because he’s got it all wrong. “Wanting to make you feel better was what prompted me to almost…you know. Not pity. And definitely not her.”
I just wanted to console him in whatever way he needed me to.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” I whisper, heart in my throat. “But I didn’t want you to freak out and run away.”
“So you could trap me.” He jerks his arm away and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. “You’re unbelievable.”
“You know me, Preston. I would never do that.” A heavy weight settles in my bones. The thought of him not trusting me hurts far more than I thought it would. “I honestly didn’t think it would be a big deal because we’re not having sex.” I follow him down the driveway when he walks away. “I just wanted to make her think I would be open to trying so she’d give me my parents’ house.” My heart sinks as I continue. “If she offered anything else, I would have told her to go fuck herself…but it’s the place where all my best memories with them are.” A sharp pang of hurt strikes my chest. “The only place that makes me remember what it feels like to be loved.”
Which is exactly why my Nanna dangled it in front of my face like I was a starving dog and it was a big, juicy steak.
It feels like an eternity before he stops walking and turns to me. “The only thing worse than being pitied is being used.”
My heart squeezes because I didn’t mean to hurt him, but it’s obvious I did.
“I would never, ever use you.” I cringe because technically I am using him, but not like that. “Not without your permission.”
He searches my face, his expression giving nothing away. “We can’t be a team if you keep me in the dark about shit.”
“You’re right. It won’t happen again.” I hold up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”
His mouth quirks a little. “You were a Girl Scout?”
I wince because my brief stint didn’t end well, but I don’t want to lie to him. “For about two weeks.” I draw in a deep breath. “Long story short, we went on a camping trip. I was too scared to go out into the woods all alone to pee in the middle of the night. I tried to hold it, but unfortunately, nature won, and I ended up peeing in my sleeping bag. Needless to say, everyone in my tent made fun of me, and it spread around like herpes to the rest of the troop…the rest is history.”
His forehead creases. “Bastards.”
Amen to that. “They all called me Pissy Kit.”
He starts to speak, but a cab pulls up at the end of the driveway. “Gotta go.”
I don’t want to nag, but I hate not knowing what he’s up to. Then again, I’m pretty sure I already do.
“I could have given you a ride.”
Not that I want to enable him, but perhaps I could have talked him out of gambling on the way there.
He strides in the direction of the cab, but then pauses and walks back. For a moment I’m excited that he’s changed his mind, but my hopes are dashed with his next statement.
“I don’t want kids.”
I blink, not understanding why he’s telling me this when I just told him I was lying to my grandmother about babies. “Okay.”
Blowing out a breath, he grips the back of his neck. “I’d do anything for you, but that’s where I draw the line.” His serious expression grows harsher. “Promise me you won’t ever cross it. No matter what your evil grandmother threatens you with.”
Whoa, Nelly. Although I’d like to have kids one day, asking Preston to be the sperm donor is a bit much.
“Promise.” I shrug. “Besides, I plan on going the turkey baster route.”
His eyes nearly pop out of his head. “Kit—”
“Not with your little soldiers,” I assure him. “I meant in the future with a random spermcicle.” I tap my chin. “Unless Demi Lovato wants to adopt instead, which is totally cool, too.”
Visibly relieved now, he laughs, flashing those pearly whites. “Good luck with that.”
“Laugh it up, chuckles, but it will happen,” I tell him as he ambles to the cab again. “Demi’s my soul mate.”
But what if she’s not?—my heart challenges as the cab fades into the distance.
Chapter 20
Preston
I’m pissed that she lied to me.
Which is hypocritical as fuck considering I’ve been the one keeping shit from her.
Then again, I never claimed to think rationally when it comes to Kit.
Blissfully oblivious to my internal plight, Jameson continues playing with his new toy dragon.
Becca ended up calling me when I pulled up to the casino and asked if I could watch him for a bit so she could make up some hours at beauty school.
Given I haven’t seen him since she drove away in a fit of rage, I wasn’t going to turn the offer down.
The muscles in my chest draw tight as I watch Jameson run around the empty park, flying his dragon through the air. He looks so happy, I can’t help but smile.
I don’t want kids…
But he’s the exception.
I’m not sure how he managed to get ice cream everywhere but in his mouth. Then again, I should have known better than to give him a cone.
Shaking my head, I take Jameson out of his car seat and grab some wipes out of his diaper bag so I can clean him up. “You’re a mess. Next time I’m getting you a bowl.”
He grins as the cab peels out of the parking lot and I sink to my haunches, attempting to remove the layers of stickiness he’s covered in.
Becca’s gonna kill me for returning her son with a sugar high, but it was worth it to see his eyes light up when I presented him with his chocolate ice cream cone.
“Daddy.”
I freeze, everything around me spiraling as I process what he just called me.
To my knowledge, he’s never said that word before. Hell, he barely says any words at all.
Logically, I get why he’d assign that name to me…seeing as I’m the only father figure he knows.
But fuck, it cuts like a goddamn knife.
“Daddy,” he says again, completely unaware that he’s continuing to drive the knife right through my cold, black heart.
I know I need to correct him…because it’s the right thing to do.
I just don’t want to.
“JP.” My next words feel like jagged pieces of glass slicing my throat. “I’m Preston.”
The jovial smile on his face tells me he doesn’t comprehend what I’m saying, and that only makes it worse.