by Lindsey Hart
“I’ll give you one. Of course. I’ll mail it to you?” I don’t want to ask for her number or her personal email. That would make her feel like I’m trying to trick her or pressure her into giving it to me.
“Uh, thanks. Is that all you’re here for? Just to tie up loose ends? If you are, then I can tell you I’ll be fine. And so will you. You’ll find someone else and train them, and everything will be great. You are more capable than you think. I meant what I said at the end of the email. I…yeah. I’m sorry I had to bail like that. I should have given two weeks, but I just couldn’t.”
“It’s fine.” Tell her. Tell her, you idiot.
“Okay.” Sutton’s throat bobs, and she swallows convulsively. She’s become even whiter, which is kind of alarming because she was already a terrible shade of pale before.
“Are you okay? I mean, you obviously haven’t told your grandma yet, but are you actually sick?”
“No.” She shakes her head, unconvincingly. “I just ate something last night that settled wrong.” She half turns, searching for the door handle like we’re finished.
Maybe we are. Maybe for her, this is all she wanted to say. Maybe I was wrong about it meaning anything. Maybe she just really didn’t want to have the kind of work relationship where we’d slept together, making it really awkward for her. Maybe there was no other actual feeling behind it other than what was done was done, and she couldn’t undo it and couldn’t live with it, so she had to quit.
Tell her. Tell her, dumbass. You’re not going to get another chance. “Wait!”
Sutton’s hand freezes on the handle. She angles halfway back around. Her face looks strange. Sad. Alarmed. Horrified.
“I’m sorry.” I search my mind, trying to grasp at some of what I rehearsed in the car. It was shitty for sure, but it was also better than nothing. “For everything. I’m sorry I pretended as if what we had was nothing. Like it didn’t happen. It wasn’t nothing. Not for me. And it did happen. Yeah, it happened. Like, a lot. I mean, it really happened. I’m sorry for shutting you out. For hurting you. For being a huge dickhead. I’m emotionally stunted, and it’s been a long time. No, I mean, it’s been never. I’ve never felt anything like this before, so I panicked. I shut down. I had to block it all out, not talk about it. Pretend like it wasn’t real because that would make it real, and I didn’t know how to make it real, and I—”
Sutton puts up a hand, cutting me off. She’s probably going to tell me where to stick my pathetic attempt at an apology and also telling her I care. Her eyes grow wide and frantic, and all of a sudden, she’s doing this weird, shallow breathing. It takes me a second to realize what’s about to happen, but I don’t react fast enough. She’s quicker. She whirls, steps to the edge of the step area—a few hedges are planted there near the house’s window that overlooks the driveway—bends at the waist, and throws up.
I’m so stunned that it takes me a few seconds to get my ass over there and place my hand at the small of her back. I rub gentle circles there while I try to keep her from toppling off the step with a hand at her shoulder.
I ignore the rush of saliva gathering in my own mouth. I get wicked sympathy stomach whenever I see someone else toss their cookies.
Even though she’s still breathing hard, Sutton straightens. She brushes the back of her arm over her forehead, swiping away her sticky hair and the sweat that is running into her eyes. I don’t have any tissues in my pocket or anything as motherly as that, but I do offer her my sleeve. She gives me a wobbly smile and uses the back of her arm instead.
“Oh my god,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry. I’m really not feeling well this morning. My grandma wasn’t kidding. It was rather convenient, using it as an excuse not to go into work.”
“That’s not…well, not exactly the response I thought I was going to get when I decided to come here and pour my heart out.”
“I’m…oh, shit,” she groans. “No. I didn’t…I really was feeling sick before you got here.”
“I know. I was just kidding.”
“I—Philippe… I mean, I’m—thank you for coming here and—and telling me all that, but…”
“But you don’t feel the same way,” I fill in for her. At least I manage to keep the utter disappointment from creeping into my voice. Being pathetic never looked good on anyone. “It’s my own fault I missed my chance. I—my dad was a real family man. Even when the company took off, and he became busy, he’d work from home as much as possible. We always came first no matter what else was going on for him. He was the best dad ever, and after I lost him, I was lost too. It was so sudden. I didn’t want to think about the fact that I’d never see him again. Never do anything with just us again. Never have him there for my own kids. He was so proud of the company, and he really cared. I thought if I could run it the way he did, I could make him proud of me. I…I thought I could be more like him then. Instead, I just buried myself in it. I lost sight of what he valued most, which was his family.”
Sutton is looking at me strangely. Her eyes are all big and round and shiny.
“Are you…are you okay? Are you going to be sick again?”
She shakes her head wildly. “So, you want kids one day? Do you actually like them?”
“Yes! I always saw myself having kids. My parents did so many things with us. Jen and I were so loved. We still are. I have so many good memories growing up. I just hope I can be half as good of a dad as mine was to me.”
“But you…you never…”
“Said that? Talked about it? I know. I lost sight of a lot of things these past few years. But I do. I want a family, and I want to love someone. I want to be loved. My parents had a great relationship too. Their marriage was happy, and they truly loved each other. I always wanted that for myself. I just didn’t think it was possible. And then, I can’t even say, and then I met you because I met you a long time ago, but I had my head wedged so far between my butt cheeks that I was totally useless.”
“That’s a great image.”
“It took reading the crazy journal you wrote to wake me up. I don’t know. Maybe it was before that. But I definitely know it was after. I really saw you, Sutton, and you made me see myself too. You made me remember all those things I wanted. Everything I had forgotten.”
“Glad to be of service in curing your amnesia.”
“Seriously.” We’re still standing close together. Really close. Close enough that I can take her hand and hold it in both of mine. Her fingers feel so light there. So delicate. “If you want to quit your job, that’s your choice, but I don’t want you to quit on me. I’ll fight for you. Do what it takes to convince you. I’ll romance you. I’ll date you. Properly this time. I’ll even ask your grandma’s permission. I’ll do whatever it takes. Beg you if I have to. I’ll get down on my knees right now and—”
“Please don’t.” Sutton’s free hand drifts over to mine. Her palm is damp and slightly cold, and I can feel her trembling. “Please don’t beg. That’s terrible.”
“I would do anything to make you believe me. I care about you, and I want this. I want it with you. If I lose you, I’m going to spend the rest of my life living with that as a regret. Give me a chance to get my head on straight and treat you the way you deserve to be treated. No more days that didn’t happen. They happened. You happened, and I’m glad you did—no more fake girlfriend bullshit. I want you to be real. My real girlfriend.”
Sutton shudders, but she doesn’t release my hands. She looks down at her feet. I think she’s going to tell me no and my heart plummets straight down to where she’s looking. Now I feel sick. I could probably throw up over the edge of the step too.
“Philippe…I…what if…what if I tell you something, and it’s big. It’s really big. What if it changes everything?”
“It wouldn’t change my mind. Whatever it is. I’m here. I promise. I might be shitty at first, as I need time to learn what it means to actually care for someone properly. I—I need time to learn how to be a good person again,
but I promise. I’m here. Are you…you’re not…oh my god, are you sick? Really sick? It doesn’t matter. I’ll be here. Through it all. I swear to you—”
“I’m not sick.” Sutton squeezes my hands. “Not really. Not like that.”
I feel like my whole body deflates as the panic that was overwhelming me ebbs away. “Whatever it is, I’m here. For good. Unless you don’t want me to be.”
Her palms grow even damper. Our hands are practically slippery now, but she clings to me like she never wants to let go. “I think we should go inside,” she whispers softly. “I would like to brush my teeth and get a drink of water. What I have to tell you, I think you and Granny should both hear. Then maybe we can decide what to do together.”
“Okay.” I draw her in gently. Our hands break away, but I wrap her up in my arms instead. She melts against me, a perfect fit.
“I want you too,” she breathes against my shoulder. “Very much. I didn’t know how you felt, and I didn’t know anything about it. But I’m glad you’re here.”
“I’m glad I’m here too.”
“Should we go in? Together?”
My heart leaps at that word. Together. Two of us. An us. The beginning of something I never want to end. Whatever it is that she’s going to tell me, I meant what I said. I’m all in. I’ll spend a lifetime learning how to do that, how to be there for Sutton properly if I have to.
“Yes. Together.” I drop a kiss to her forehead, drape my arm around her waist, and gently steer her inside.
I was walking around like a closed-up asshole for a long time with my eyes shut tightly against all the beauty in the world, because for me, it had gone dark. Sutton brought the light back. She brought the beauty back.
EPILOGUE
Sutton
I guess that sometimes, the one odd time, things work out. People can actually make a relationship work. People can raise children together. They can be all in, and they can be a family. But it’s not easy. In fact, sometimes I think I’m going to lose my mind drowning in laundry and dirty diapers. Having one kid going through the terrible twos—and let me tell you, they can seriously be terrible—and a three-month-old baby who so far hasn’t figured out that sleep is actually an awesome thing can be really tough.
But you know what? Most days are great. I always thought the expression ‘I wouldn’t change anything’ was pretty stupid. Of course, I thought moms would change the fact that they never sleep and have to change poopy diapers and do endless laundry. Of course, I also thought they’d want more time for themselves, even if it just means five seconds to actually be able to pee in privacy. But I was wrong. I wouldn’t change any of it, because every single smile and giggle makes it all worth it.
“Carson, don’t you dare pee on the plant!” Okay, maybe there are a couple of things I’d change. My two-and-a-half-year-old son who is potty training (I know it’s early, but I’m trying to be proactive) just whipped down his training pants and is standing in front of a six-foot potted plant that is pretty much my pride and joy since Granny gave it to us as a wedding present.
“But it needs waterin’, mama,” Carson gurgles and grins at me innocently.
I sigh and shift Alaina in the baby sling thing I have wrapped around me. She’s nestled in there against my chest. This is pretty much the only time she ever sleeps. At least it lets me go hands-free during the day when I need to try and attempt to get something done.
After Aliana was born, Philippe insisted I let him hire a housekeeper. I didn’t want to because I didn’t want to feel like I couldn’t do it, but as per usual, he was quick to point out that I wasn’t superhuman, and no one could do it all, especially on only a few hours of sleep every night.
“What’s this I hear about you trying to water the plants?” Philippe strolls through the room and scoops Carson up, who screams and giggles in delight.
“It dry, daddy,” he protests, pointing at the dirt, which I can see from across the room is indeed quite crusty looking.
“That’s not how we water, my boy,” Philippe informs him. “Water is the keyword there. Your pee won’t help plants grow, I’m afraid. Your mommy loves that plant because it’s from your great granny. She wants to see it thrive. So no peeing there, alright?”
“But, I do have to go!” Carson protests. “Mommy said to tell her when I had to go.”
“Great. I’ll carry you to the potty then.”
Philippe gives me a sympathetic look as he passes me with Carson thrown over his shoulder. He grazes my forehead with a gentle kiss. “Would it be too much to ask if you could look over the report I finished up?”
“Sure. I probably have about an hour before this one wakes up.” I gesture at the baby sling strapped to me.
“Thank you. You are infinitely patient and wise.”
I snort. “I seriously doubt that. But I do know the one you have over your shoulder can’t infinitely hold his urine, and if you don’t want to get peed all over, I suggest you hurry.”
“Well then, here we go. Off to the potty.”
Carson giggles the whole way. His voice gradually fades as they get deeper into the house.
I sigh and pat my sleeping daughter gently. I love her warmth and the delicious smell of her little downy head when I bend my nose to it. Babies really are wonderful. My life really is wonderful.
I can’t believe how much had changed since that day in Granny’s kitchen when the three of us sat down together. I told Philippe and Granny at the same time that I was pregnant. Philippe actually kind of fainted. He said he just blacked out for a second, but Granny made him drink two glasses of peach juice and suck on an ancient sucker she found in the cupboard. I’m pretty sure it was from some Halloween of the distant past. She didn’t seem surprised at all. To her credit, she didn’t give me a speech about how babies were made. I guess she figured I already learned it the hard way.
I told Granny why I quit my job, and I told Philippe how I thought he didn’t want kids and how the last thing he would ever want was a relationship with me. I told him about how I was raised and about how I felt my parents never really wanted me. Granny was pretty silent through all of it, so I made sure she knew how much I cared about them, how I knew I was loved to the best of their ability, and that she was the best part of my life and always would be. She got all misty-eyed and had to excuse herself to check on the cookies she hadn’t even baked.
Philippe told me that day that he was all in. He made good on his word every single day after that, and we didn’t rush things even though I was pregnant. We took things slow. Since I was super sick, he made it so I could work part-time hours from home since I didn’t have it in me to actually make good on my threat to quit. What he said went, so we didn’t have to explain ourselves to anyone.
We dated. Philippe—surprise of all surprises—is actually a romantic. It was fun. It was nice. When he asked me to move in with him six months after that, I agreed. I felt ready. I was sad to leave Granny, but she basically shoved me out the door and told me nothing would make her happier than seeing me live my life.
When we got married, Carson was six months old. We just did a ceremony in our backyard with our close friends and family, and Granny signed as my witness since I didn’t actually have a wedding party. She was overjoyed when we announced we were giving Carson a brother or sister, and when Alaina was born, she was there, waiting at the hospital just like she was when Carson was born. She told me she hoped I knew where babies came from by then because she was getting too old to keep chasing after young ones, but I knew she was just kidding. She cried happy tears when she held Alaina, just like she did when she saw Carson for the first time.
So yes. That brings me to about now. Philippe started working from home way more often when I moved in. Even though I was feeling a lot better by then, he wanted to keep an eye on me, even if he’d never admit it. He wanted to do what his dad did and make as much time for his family as possible. He said he finally understood what was really important.
I helped out where and when I could, and since I already knew the job so well, Philippe never had to get a new admin assistant. Instead, he just cut out the gross health food and made it himself at home. He also did his own dry cleaning and learned how to book his own flight tickets. Well, okay, so I still help him with that. Quite often. Not that I mind.
It’s a challenge to concentrate working from home, but we make it work, just like we make the rest of our crazy but awesome life work.
Even though it’s hard, it’s still wonderful.
I once thought I’d have to do this all alone, but now, I have the love of the best man in the world and two beautiful children. I have Philippe’s mom, who loves us all, and his sister, who has become like my own sister. We are healthy. We are blessed. And I have absolutely everything.
So yes, I’d say everything worked out perfectly.
The End
Did you enjoy this book?
If so, you might want to check out my other book Hot Jerk here.
HOT JERK
I was hired to find the cocky A-hole THE perfect wife.
What was not in this job description was kissing the future groom,
Much less having a one-night stand with him.
Not that any of this is going to happen.
If the prick thinks he can corrupt ME, his prim and proper matchmaker, well, he's got another one coming.
Read Now in KU
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lindsey Hart specializes in sweet to extra hot and dirty romances and strongly believes in happily ever after. If you are looking for a page turner, then you are in for a wild and naughty ride with feisty heroines and alpha male heroes.
