I crinkle my brow. “With your wife?”
He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. “First of all—quit calling her that,” he demands. “And yes, with her, too. I couldn’t imagine Karen as a mom. Not that she wanted to be at first. But then last year all of a sudden she became interested in getting pregnant. I really only think it was because all her friends were having kids and she felt left out.”
“Oh. What did you say to her when she told you?”
“I kept putting her off and coming up with excuses why we should wait to have kids. Thank God we never had any; that would have made the divorce a lot more complicated.” He shifts uncomfortably. “Listen, can we stop talking about her while we’re lying here naked? My dick will never get hard if I’m thinking about that conniving bitch.”
“You want me to help you forget about her?” I ask.
“What did you have in mind?” he asks with a raised brow.
I look him up and down seductively and his dick twitches.
“Are you fucking me with your eyes, Mitchell?”
“Hmmm . . . maybe,” I whisper in his ear. “Is there any other body part you want me to use for that, McBride?”
“Only every goddamn one,” he says, quickly hardening in my hand.
chapter thirty-one
A noise startles me awake and it takes a minute to remember where I am. A smile dances across my face when I see Gavin lying next to me. In his sleep, he’s as innocent-looking as the boy who shares his gorgeous looks.
Remembering my son, I frantically look at the clock next to the bed to discover it’s after midnight.
Shit!
I attempt to get out of bed, but strong arms come around me from behind and pull me back to spoon against him. “Stay,” he says. It’s a command. It’s a declaration. It’s . . . exactly what I wanted him to say.
“I . . . I . . .” My brain battles with my still-naked body over the words that will exit my mouth. It turns out to not be much of a fight, however, as sparks from his heated flesh permeate my entire nervous system.
“We still have so much to talk about,” he says. “Besides, I already texted your nanny to tell her you’d probably be out all night.”
I sit up. “You what? . . .When?”
“You fell asleep and you looked so beautiful and peaceful that I didn’t want to wake you,” he says. “I didn’t want you to go, so I texted Callie from your phone and told her not to expect you home.”
I want to be mad at his presumption. But my mind races back to when he did the very same thing in college when he texted my roommate so she wouldn’t worry about me. I can’t keep the grin off my face. After only a few hours, he’s already taking care of me. Just like he used to.
He holds me tight and says into my hair, “Sleeping next to you that week of spring break was the best week of my life.”
“Mine, too,” I admit. Then sadness washes over me. “How did we let it happen, Gavin? Why did we believe her lies?”
His hand traces the curve of my hip, over and over as he says, “I’ve thought about that a lot over the past few weeks. I remember being so pissed that you were spending more time with Chris than with me. You claimed you were studying with him.”
“I was studying with him,” I say. “I promise you, that’s all it ever was. Chris was a great study partner. I couldn’t concentrate around you. My mind went to mush every time you so much as looked at me. I’d let my grades slip those first two months we were together and I couldn’t risk tanking my GPA.”
“Well, I was jealous,” he says. “Maybe that’s why I believed her lies. I knew you were bogged down with school work, but that didn’t make it hurt any less when you missed more than a few of our runs.”
I nod. “I know. I was exhausted. I thought it was from all the studying, but now I know it was the pregnancy. I guess being hormonal didn’t help me make the best decisions, either. When they told me I was pregnant, the first thing that flashed through my head was our conversation on your couch during spring break. I had said something about how our kids would be attractive and you stiffened up like a freshly-starched shirt.”
He shakes his head in frustration. “I was twenty!” he says. “I needed a minute to wrap my head around the idea of kids. But before I could come to my senses and tell you that having kids with you was exactly what I saw in my future, you grabbed my dick.
“Then after everything went to shit and I showed up outside your dorm to see you in Chris’s arms, being kissed by him, I freaked. But what killed me was he just happened to be wearing a ‘Thing 1’ shirt that day, soon after you’d told me there wasn’t one.” He pinches the bridge of his nose.
“It wasn’t a lie,” I tell him. “When I bought that stupid shirt, I bought it alone. It wasn’t until after Chris and I started dating that he bought his as a joke.
“God, Gavin, even before Karen’s plot, things were working against us. We misinterpreted so much back then.”
“Of course we did. We were young.” He leans up on an elbow and I can barely make him out in the moonlight shining through the window behind me. “But, don’t misinterpret this—I want you.”
Then he backs up his words with actions as his lips crash down onto mine.
I wake up to the smell of coffee and breakfast. I pull a sheet up to cover myself when Gavin walks in the room with a tray of food. And purple orchids.
He smiles when he sees I’m awake. “I trust you’re not going to throw these back at me?” he teases.
“No.” I smile. “A lot of difference twenty-four hours can make, huh?”
In the light of day, as we eat eggs and pancakes, reality sets in. Not that I regret last night or anything. I just wonder if it was the right thing to do. Maddox is my priority. He’s everything to me. Before I can think of anything or anyone else, I have to ensure his wellbeing. Gavin seems genuine, but I can’t help worry, just a little, if this is about me, or about getting access to his son.
“Those must be some serious thoughts you’re havin’,” he says, with a sexy southern drawl that hasn’t completely disappeared, despite his move to the west coast.
I nod and put my food down, moving the tray off to the side. “I have to think about Maddox, Gavin. I have to do what’s best for him. And I can’t help but wonder if all of this”—I gesture to the bed we’re still sitting on— “is just a way to . . . to . . .”
“Hold on there,” he interrupts. “I know what you’re thinking and you can stop right now. I’m not doing this to get to Maddox. I’m not going to take him from you. Even if you say you don’t ever want to be with me, I still won’t take him from you. But let me make this clear—my intention is to have the both of you, for the rest of my life.” He takes my hand in his. “If I wasn’t sure before last night, I’m sure now. I’m still in love with you, Baylor.”
I gasp in disbelief. “You can’t love me, Gavin. You’ve known me for like ten minutes.”
“I know you, darlin’,” he says. “I know your every expression. I know your scent. I know what makes you squirm under me.” He points to my discarded breakfast tray. “I know how you like your eggs. I know you are a generous and kind person. And most of all, based on that incredible photo album, I know you’re a great mom to our kid.” He takes my other hand so that he’s now holding both. “I love you,” he repeats. “I think I’ve always loved you—even when I hated you.”
I frown and resist the chink he tries to put in my armor. “Gavin . . .” I sigh.
He drops one of my hands and puts a finger to my lips. “It’s okay, you don’t have to say it back,” he says. “I don’t want you to say it until you know you mean it. I can wait. I’m a patient man. It’ll happen, Baylor, that I know.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask, tears prickling my eyes.
He frees a flower from the bouquet and hands it to me. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he is thinking of the story I told him long ago about the purple orchids. His words from last night echo in my hea
d. I remember everything, Bay.
“Because what we had, what we have, that doesn’t happen all the time. You’d be married by now if it did,” he says. “We weren’t finished. We’re not even close to being finished. There has only ever been one woman for me. I was your first, darlin’, and you can bet I’m going to do my damndest to make sure I’m your last.”
My chin quivers and I swallow hard. “You have to give me time, Gavin,” I beg through my tears. “Who knows how Maddox will react to all of this. He’s my priority. I hope you can understand that.”
“I wouldn’t expect otherwise,” he says. “I’ll take it slow, Bay. I want you to be able to trust me. I want Maddox to trust me. But, please don’t ask me to wait long. I’ve missed seven years of his life already.”
On the drive home, I think about the terms we agreed upon. Gavin has to fly back to L.A. for business. He does own a company and I don’t expect him to abandon that for us. He said he plans to come back this weekend.
That gives me four days. Four days to prepare Maddox to meet the father he never knew about. I’m terrified that he’ll hate him. I’m terrified that he’ll love him. I’m terrified that Maddox will bond with him and then Gavin will rip his heart out by leaving.
How can he claim to love me? He doesn’t know me anymore. He doesn’t understand that I gave up the capability of loving a man eight years ago. He said he’s sure I will love him back, but when he finds out I can’t; when he finds out that piece of me died when I was eighteen, will he want me then?
chapter thirty-two
Maddox stares at me in disbelief. In curiosity. In . . . excitement? He looks between me and Callie, who is here for moral support. Over the past thirty minutes, I’ve tried my best to explain everything to him in terms a child would comprehend. I decided to tell him right away. Give him time to absorb the news about Gavin before the big meeting. So as soon as he came home from school today, I sat him down.
“Do you understand everything I’ve told you?” I ask him, thinking how completely overwhelming this must be for a seven-year-old.
“Yeah,” he says. “That man at the swimming pool at the hotel is my dad. But he didn’t know he was my dad until he saw me.” He frowns. “But then why didn’t he tell me he was my dad?”
I look guiltily at Callie and then back at Maddox. “Well, there was a big misunderstanding a long time ago, before you were born. And because of that misunderstanding, I thought that your dad might not want to meet you, so I asked Callie to get you out of the pool before he could tell you he was your dad. Then we left the hotel and it took him a few weeks to find me and tell me that he really does want to meet you and do some fun things with you, if that’s okay.”
He looks at Callie. I may be his mom, but she’s more like his best friend than his nanny. He runs everything past her. Last week when I wanted to trim his hair because I thought it was getting a little too unruly and Gavin-like, he insisted on waiting until Callie got home to see what she thought about the idea.
She nods her head at him in reassurance.
Maddox narrows his eyes and looks back at me. “You promise I won’t have to leave you and Callie to go live with him?”
“I promise,” I say, hoping to God the words are true.
“I guess it’s okay then,” he says, with an unmistakable McBride grin.
“Alright then, it’s settled. He will come to the house on Saturday.” It’s not lost on me that we keep referring to Gavin as ‘he’ or ‘him.’ At this point, I’m not yet comfortable calling him Maddox’s dad in front of Maddox. Understandably, Maddox feels the same way. Maybe in time.
“But I have a game Saturday,” Maddox whines.
I almost roll my eyes at how important soccer has become to him. Gavin will be over the moon.
“Well, then he’ll simply have to come watch you play. He was once pretty good at soccer himself, you know. He was the starting something-or-other on our college soccer team.”
Maddox’s eyes grow wide. “He would come to my game?”
I’m pretty good at reading him, but those words, I’m just not sure if he spoke them in terror or excitement. “Sure he would,” I say. “Why don’t I invite him to the house first, so you can talk and get acquainted, and then we’ll all go to your game.”
“Can I go play now?” he asks, getting all fidgety. I’m sure he must be nervous about the enormity of the situation.
“Of course you can, buddy.” I ruffle his hair and plant a kiss on the top of his head.
Callie and I watch him take off out the back door and run to the end of our large yard that boasts a soccer goal in the corner. He lines up six soccer balls and takes shots into the net.
Callie smiles. “That’s adorable. He wants to impress Gavin at the game.”
I raise my eyebrows at her.
“What?” she says. “Since when has Max ever run out to play before snack time?”
I watch my son through the large picture window in the living room. My heart skips a few beats at the thought of him meeting Gavin.
As if on cue, my phone pings.
Gavin: Have you told him yet?
Me: Just now, as a matter of fact.
Gavin: You’re killin’ me, woman. How did it go?
Me: He ran outside to practice soccer. Callie thinks it’s because he wants to impress you. BTW-he has a game Saturday afternoon if you can come.
He doesn’t immediately text back and I get nervous. Maybe he really doesn’t want to be here for the day-to-day stuff. Maybe he wants to be a dad in name only. I try to remind myself of everything he told me last night and this morning, about how he wants me, wants Maddox.
Was that just all talk?
Gavin: Darlin’, going to a soccer game with you to watch our son play would be like a dream come true. Tell me when to be there and I’m yours.
I breathe an unexpected sigh of relief and then I re-read the last few words of his text. I’m yours. My heart flutters for a second. But only for a second. Only until my brain regains focus on my priorities.
Me: Why don’t you come to the house at 2 so you can meet and talk for a while before we have to leave for the game.
Gavin: 2 on Saturday? Do I have to wait that long to see you?
Me: See me?
Gavin: Yes, you, Baylor. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you left the hotel this morning. It was torture not being able to text or call you from my flight. I wanted to make sure you knew what a great time I had last night. My flight arrives at 10 PM your time Friday night, can I see you at the hotel right after?
My pulse quickens and my insides get all gooey, spreading dampness between my thighs just thinking about what he might do to me if I see him Friday night. What I know he will do, because he did it all to me last night. And this morning. Over and over.
No. I should wait until Maddox and Gavin meet. What if they don’t get along? What if Gavin decides having a kid is not like he thought it would be? What if Maddox is uncomfortable with him?
What if Gavin is lying to me to get to him?
Gavin: Bay?
Me: I have plans Friday.
Gavin: I thought you weren’t seeing anyone.
Me: I’m not. I’m going out with the girls.
Gavin: Unless I can change your mind.
Me: Not likely.
Gavin: You underestimate my charm, Baylor.
Me: But not your ego, apparently.
Gavin: Ouch! That hurt, Mitchell.
Me: See you Saturday, McBride.
Gavin: Not if I see you first.
I laugh at the same phrase he used on me back in college.
Maddox was unusually quiet during dinner and I tried to give him time to get used to this and come to terms with it on his own. He exhausted himself with soccer, falling asleep even before I could read him the next installment of his favorite series: Harry Potter.
I stand in the doorway, watching my perfect little boy sleep in the soft glow of the nightlight by his bed. He’s
tucked under a comforter adorned with black-and-white soccer balls. I can’t help but wonder if what is about to happen to him will be the best thing in his life or the worst. I’ve seen kids put in the middle of a divorcing couple. It happened to Chris and his little sister. It was awful. The arguing over who gets to spend what holidays and birthdays and summer vacations with them. Forcing the kids to pick sides when parents can’t come to terms. Is that the life I’m inflicting on Maddox? Because, let’s face it, even if Gavin and I end up together, it will be a long-distance relationship at best. He owns a production company in California. Everything I have and everyone I love is here. In Maple Creek. Three thousand miles away.
I tried to explain to Maddox that Gavin wouldn’t be here all of the time; most of the time, in fact. I don’t want Maddox getting too attached too quickly. I don’t want him thinking we’re going to become one big happy family. Because it’s not going to happen.
Even so, a part of me hopes that maybe we can find some kind of middle ground. A way to make things work for Maddox. For us. But those kinds of happy-endings only happen in books. I should know. I write them.
I’ve often heard that relationship problems are the backbone of the music industry. If you listen to the words of the majority of songs, they are about one of two things: falling in love or getting dumped. Apparently, when a musician is experiencing either one of those, writing songs comes easily to them. Not so for writers. Or at least for this writer. I haven’t been able to put two sentences together for weeks. Not that I’m experiencing love or loss, but admittedly, I’m on an emotional roller coaster right now. Scenes should be flowing out of me. Love scenes. Fight scenes. They should be coming to me without much thought at all. But whenever I sit down to write, it’s pure crap. I can’t concentrate. Every love scene morphs into a re-creation of the night I lost my virginity. Every fight scene reminds me of why Gavin and I once fought—Karen.
The Mitchell Sisters: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 22
