Shifting in the bed, he turns to face me. “You’re my everything.”
That’s impossible when I can’t have all of him.
When I’m the one being shoved into the shadows because of her.
“Then why do I feel like nothing?”
“What do you want, Kit?” His voice is a painful rasp that slices through the wall I’m trying to build in order to protect myself. “What else can I do to prove how much I love you? I already risked my relationship with Jameson for you.”
That might be true, but so is the reverse.
“You also risked your relationship with me for him.”
But Jameson isn’t the problem. He’s an innocent child.
The problem is her.
The color drains from his agonized face. “You want me to abandon him.”
It doesn’t come out like a question. It comes out like a devastated resolution he’s forcing himself to make. One that renders him inconsolable.
But that isn’t what I want.
I touch his shoulder. It’s meant to be reassuring, but he reacts like I burned him.
“That isn’t the solution. Jameson should be in your life.” Not only because of the bond they have, but because it sounds like Jameson seriously needs him. “I just don’t want Becca in your life.”
Hell, another dimension would still be too close for comfort.
“I don’t want her in my life either, but I don’t have a fucking choice.” My heart aches when he rolls back over and returns his stare to the ceiling. “It’s like you and Jameson are hanging off the edge of a cliff…but I can only save one of you.”
When he puts it like that…the decision is easy.
Only one of us is an adult. Therefore, one of us needs him more.
“I’d want you to save Jameson.”
I’d be irate if he didn’t. So much so I don’t think I could be with him.
He tilts his head. White teeth flash as he bares his teeth. “I’d want to throw myself off it.”
A heartbreaking pang fills my chest. Because a world without Preston isn’t a world I could live in.
Which means I need to find a way to come to terms with this new reality.
I reach for his hand, entwining our fingers together. “No one is going off anymore cliffs, okay?” Moving closer, I drape my free arm around his midsection. “It’s a little rough for me right now, but I’ll learn to accept it.”
His deep sigh fans my forehead. “That’s not fair to you.”
Perhaps. But sometimes in life there are situations where there is no fair outcome for all involved.
And sometimes the only solution is for everyone to get a little of what they want…not the whole enchilada.
“Tell me about Jameson.”
I can tell my request throws him for a loop, but then his face lights up and he starts talking. Telling me all sorts of interesting things about a little boy I’ll never meet.
And I listen, soaking everything up like a sponge.
Because what’s important to him…is important to me, too.
Chapter 43
Preston
My wife is a fast learner who picks up new skills quickly. However, the concept of time is clearly something she never quite got the hang of.
We were already running late to the airport, thanks to her striking up a conversation with a couple in the elevator on our way to check out.
And let’s not forget the never-ending chat she had with our driver about his two cats.
Or her incessant requests that we stop for some iced coffee.
And now? The culprit is shirts with pink flamingos. I figured the tiny giftshop was small enough that her quick look around wouldn’t be too distracting, but I was wrong.
I glance at my watch as the minutes continue ticking by. “Our flight leaves in a half hour.”
She waves a hand. “Relax. It’s a private jet. They’ll wait.” Bringing the straw from her iced coffee between her lips, she continues leafing through the rack. “You need this shirt.”
Gritting my teeth, I glance down at the one I’m currently wearing. The one I had no choice but to accept from her because the only thing I came to Hawaii with was my keys, wallet, and the clothes on my back.
It too, has pink flamingos on it. Along with flowers and pineapples with sunglasses.
I’m burning it the second we get home.
“I don’t,” I assure her.
“Fine.” Frowning, she walks over to another rack of Hawaiian shirts. I mutter a curse when her eyes light up. “But you definitely need this one.”
The shirt in question has at least four different patterns running through it. It’s missing the pink flamingos, but worry not. It has plenty of palm trees, flowers, pineapples…and a gigantic parrot smack dab in the center.
It’s so hideous it makes the one I’m wearing look like Armani.
“Hard pass.”
“Really?” She crinkles her nose at the parrot. “But he’s so cute.”
I love her. God, do I fucking love her. But she’s seriously testing my patience.
“We’re late.”
It’s like I’m speaking a different language.
“Breslin might like it.”
Breslin wouldn’t be caught dead in that, either. Not unless she takes it to her studio and throws a gallon of paint over it first.
Kit taps her chin. “Then again, it isn’t really her style.”
I’m not sure how this monstrosity could be anyone’s style.
“Angry girl.”
“You know who might like it?” she says to absolutely no one because I might as well be the wallpaper. “Landon.”
Landon would pretend he did for her benefit, but he’d sure as fuck never wear it.
“Doesn’t really go with his rock star schtick,” I mutter, glancing at my watch again.
The plane leaves in twenty minutes now. If it was a commercial flight we’d already be boarding.
“Yeah. You’re right.” A little wrinkle forms between her brows. “Man, this sucks. I really wanted to find this guy a home.”
“It’s a shirt, Kit.”
“I know but it’s interesting and the parrot is adorable.”
“So why don’t you get it for yourself?”
“I don’t know.” She chews the corner of her lip as she ponders this. “It doesn’t really fit my vibe.”
Hell. At this point we’ll be here until they close.
“You know who’d love it?”
She cocks her head to look at me. “Who?”
“My brother.”
Payback’s a bitch. Asher gave me a shirt with his dog on it for my birthday. He’s getting the ugly parrot.
Grinning, she takes one off the rack. “You’re right. This is totally his style.”
Finally, she runs over to the cashier.
Worry etches her pretty face when I join her at the register.
I’m probably going to regret asking this because it will lead to yet another pit stop, but it’s obvious something is bothering her.
“What’s wrong?”
She hands the cashier her credit card. “We didn’t have sex today.”