I gulp down a second, larger sip of wine, praying the liquid courage will kick in quickly.
“Will you tell me about Grier’s mom now?”
It’s quiet between us, and for a moment, I think Lexington is going to flat-out say no. But then he nods, his throat bobbing as he swallows a hefty sip of wine.
“There’s not much to tell, to be honest. I told you, she was never in Grier’s life. She was ‘the egg donor,’ remember?”
I roll my eyes at the reminder of that stupid nickname. Men can be so gross sometimes. “Yeah, I remember. But I still want to know the whole story. You promised you’d tell me everything. I’m cashing in on that promise.”
Lexington chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re as stubborn as always, Cor. But I guess you deserve to know. She was a lawyer living in New York, at the time. We’d been seeing each other for a few weeks, but it was never anything serious. And then, well, she got pregnant. I thought we were being careful, but I guess not careful enough.”
“Accidents happen,” I say, doing my best to suppress my teacher voice. “No matter how careful we are.”
“I tried to make it right, though. I told her we could figure out joint custody, or even try to make a relationship work. Give the baby the life he or she deserved. But she couldn’t have been less interested in either of those ideas. Next thing I knew, she was looking into adoption agencies. She said she never wanted to be a mom.”
“But you wanted to be a dad?”
He scrubs a hand through his dark hair, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, yeah. I didn’t envision it happening like this, but hell, life doesn’t always go as planned. And my conscience couldn’t let me just walk away.”
With that, he takes a hefty swig of his wine, so I follow suit, draining what’s left in my glass. It sends a warm, pleasant tingle radiating through me. Maybe wine was a good idea after all. It’s certainly taking the edge off this conversation.
“So she gave you full custody then?” I can’t help but press. No way am I letting this conversation fizzle out without getting every detail that I can from him.
“We didn’t make anything official until a few months after Grier was born. You know, in case she changed her mind. But she didn’t. Last we spoke, she was preparing for a big case. She’s one of New York’s top trial attorneys. I guess that’s kind of hard to do with a toddler.”
My chest constricts with an unexpected bit of jealousy. “Oh. So you two still talk?”
“No, not really.” Lex’s laugh cuts through the tension, and for the first time since this conversation began, I feel like I’m not walking on eggshells. “Not like there was bad blood between us or anything. But after she signed the paperwork, it was just me and Grier from then on.”
“Grier and Lex versus the world,” I murmur, pouring myself a tiny bit more of my new favorite chardonnay.
“And Corrigan,” he says. “Grier and Lex and Corrigan versus the world. I couldn’t be doing this right now without you.”
I shake my head. “No way. You got this far on your own. I’m just lending a helping hand where it’s needed.”
“Maybe. But Grier sure has taken a liking to you. My mom has been saying from the start that she needed a woman in her life. I guess she was right.” He pauses, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips. “Don’t tell my mom I said that. It’ll go to her head.”
I cross my heart. “Your secret is safe with me.”
It’s quiet between us again, but this time, the silence is easier. Comfortable, even.
It reminds me of the nights we used to spend walking the beach back in high school, our fingers intertwined. Sometimes we’d chat away about whatever it is teenagers talk about. But other times, the only sound between us would be the crashing of the tide. If I hold my breath, I swear I can hear it now, even from a quarter mile away.
I’m so laser focused on listening for that distant sound that I hardly catch the words coming from the man right beside me. Something about dinner? That can’t be right. We already ate.
I turn his way, refocusing my attention. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.”
There are those warm, hopeful eyes again. They’re an even brighter blue in this light. And they cut right through me as Lex repeats the words I swore I misheard.
“You and I should get dinner sometime. Just the two of us.”
I blink a few times to be sure I’m not imagining things. Is the wine going to my head, or is he asking what I think he’s asking?
“Are you . . . asking me out?”
“As long as you want me to be.” He shifts in his seat, leaning in a bit closer to me, close enough that I catch a whiff of his woodsy cologne. It’s earthy and sweet, with notes of honey and leather.
But beneath that is a more familiar smell, a clean, masculine scent that’s pure Lexington. Because after all, beneath the grown, handsome man in front of me is the same Lexington from high school. The same boy who took my heart and cracked it wide open. And I just can’t go down that road again.
“Well, I don’t.” I sigh, which makes Lexington’s blue eyes widen.
“Oh. I . . . I’m sorry, I must’ve been reading this wrong. I thought . . .” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. “Do you not feel the connection between us?”
“Of course I do.” I sigh again, my voice dripping with exasperation. “But I’m here to watch Grier. That’s all. I’ve been down that road with you before. And if you remember, it was a dead end for me.”
“I already apologized for that,” he says, his voice husky and sterner now that he’s on the defense. “We were young and dumb. And I’m sorry.”
“You were young and dumb,” I say firmly, correcting him. “I was young and heartbroken because you disappeared on me and gave up on what we had. You gave up on me. I’m the one who was left in the dust.”
His thick, dark brows draw together. “I thought . . . we talked that out. I was hoping you forgave me.”
“Forgiving and forgetting are two different things, Lexington. And I can’t just forget ten years of complete silence from you.”
I set my glassdown on the table before pushing to my feet, which carry me straight back inside without missing a step. If he has anything else to add, I don’t hear it over the blood pounding in my ears.
I’m going home. And this time, I’m the one leaving without saying good-bye.
12
* * *
LEXINGTON
I flip through the massive stack of papers. “Can you go into a little more detail about this part?” I ask the representative, pointing to a firmly worded clause. “I’m not yet as familiar as I’d like to be with this state’s laws.”
I’m currently in a title company office, closing on the first piece of real estate I’ve bought in North Carolina—a beachfront investment property I hope to rent out to tourists. Grier sits on the floor near my feet, munching animal crackers and mashing her fingers against the screen of her tablet. After Corrigan shot me down so thoroughly last week, I wasn’t exactly in a hurry to call her, and besides, this bit of business is easy and fast enough to permit splitting my attention.