Billy’s arm flies out, and he extends his hand for a shake. It’s so adorable and the first time he’s done this. My heart swells to bursting. Slater shakes his hand, and his large palm swallows Billy’s much smaller one. “I’m Billy. You be my fwend?”
“I’d love that, buddy.” Slater’s voice rattles with emotion.
“You play bahketball?” Billy’s eye’s pop wide when Slater nods. “Oh, yay.” He wriggles out of my arms and I let him down. “C’mon!” He grabs Slater’s hand without hesitation, dragging him toward the door.
My heart is in my mouth as I watch them together, and I’m so overcome with emotion I have to look away before anyone spots the tears in my eyes. At some point, when the time is right, I want Billy to know Slater was there when he was born and how profoundly affected he was by the experience. I still well up every time I remember the tears of joy he shed. It’s a moment that will forever bind the three of us together.
“What about me?” I hear Ryan ask as they walk outside, the pout evident in his mock-surly tone.
“Oh, sweet child. You’ve got it bad.” Mom caresses my damp cheek, smiling softly.
“I do. I have it bad. God, that was so sweet.” There’s no point denying it. “I’ll never forgive myself if I’ve messed it up forever. We were so good together, and it felt so right. The timing sucked, is all.”
“Start by being his friend again, and then see where it leads,” she advises.
Slater returns to the kitchen twenty minutes later, full of praise for Billy. “Oh, Belle, he’s amazing. Always smiling and laughing and he has so much to say!” he gushes.
“He takes after Gabrielle,” Mom confirms. “She had an incredible vocabulary at age two as well.”
“You should be so proud, Belle. He’s a real credit to you.”
He has no idea how much it means to hear that. “Thank you, but it’s pretty much all down to Billy. He’s always been so good and so sweet despite how much my family tries to spoil him rotten.”
“I can see how easy that’d be.”
My smile is so wide it threatens to split my face. The look of adoration and pure, unconditional love on Slater’s face for my child makes me want to fling myself into his arms and tell him I’m still crazy about him, but I manage to restrain myself somehow.
“Can I help with anything?” he asks, resting his hip against the counter.
“Could you drain the beans?”
He rolls his sleeves up higher, and I greedily follow the movement until I remind myself I’m supposed to be channeling friendship and restraint.
“I’ll organize the drinks and let everyone know we’re almost ready,” Mom supplies, slipping outside with a knowing wink.
“How long have you lived here?” Slate asks as he takes the pot with the green beans to the sink.
“A little over a year. I couldn’t even bring myself to check out the house the first six months after Dylan died,” I honestly reply. “But I’ve a great grief counselor and she helped me work through some stuff, and when I finally came here, I fell in love with the house straightaway, but I wasn’t ready to move in by myself yet.”
“Did you stay at Heather’s?” he inquires, straining the water off the beans and tossing them back in the pot.
“I moved back to my parents’ place a little while after you left. I didn’t want to do that to Heather, but there were too many memories in that house, and it wasn’t healthy for me there. She was a little pissed, but she understood, and she got over it. And I make sure she sees Billy every day.”
“I thought she might be here today.”
“She usually is, but she’s on a cruise with some of her friends in the Caribbean right now.”
The others pile into the house then, and dinner gets underway. It’s just like old times, and the atmosphere is relaxed. Thankfully, I didn’t burn anything, so the food is good too. Everyone bombards Slater with questions about his life in Iowa and how he feels about coming back home. I don’t contribute much to the conversation, but I hang off his every word, basking in the glow from his presence. Every so often, our eyes meet across the table, and there’s no denying the chemistry we still share. It’s as palpable as if it was a living, breathing thing.
He’s always the first to break eye contact though, and I wish I had a hotline to his mind, so I could hear what he’s thinking. To know if there’s any chance of salvaging our love.
Terri and Alice insist on cleaning up, and they cajole their men into helping too. My parents take the kids back out to the yard so it’s only Ryan, Slater, and me left at the table. “Would you like a tour?” I suggest, angling for an opportunity to talk to Slater alone.
“I’d love a tour.” He stands, offering me his hand and helping me up. The feel of his warm palm against mine sends a flurry of memories to the forefront of my mind. When we were together, it was often the little gestures that meant so much to me. Like holding hands, or cuddling up against him on the couch, or waking up beside him. “Lead the way,” he says, dragging me back to the present.
“You coming, Ryan?”
He arches a brow. “I thought I was persona non grata?”
I round the table and wrap my arms around my brother. I’m not one to bear grudges for long, and I hate this tension between us. “I’m sorry for butting into stuff that’s none of my business. I’m just disappointed for both of you, but I don’t want to argue with you over it.”
“You know, better than anyone, that sometimes love just isn’t enough.” He’s talking to me but eyeballing Slater as he speaks.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Sorry for trying to force you to talk to her when you clearly don’t want to.”
He holds me close, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “It’s okay. I know you meant well, but you’ve got to let it go. It’s over, and you should work on retaining your relationship with your best friend instead of trying to fix her love life.”
“You’re right.”
“You hear that, Evans?” he quips, and I roll my eyes. “I think you need to say that again, Tornado, so I can record this momentous moment.”
“Jerkface.” I shuck out of his embrace, grinning.
“Love the bones of you, Gabby.” He squeezes me one more time. “Let’s never fall out again.”
“Agreed, and I love you too.”
“I’m going to help the others in the kitchen,” he says, backing toward the door. “Enjoy your tour.” He enunciates the word as if it’s code for something else, something dirty, and my cheeks inflame.
Slater chuckles. “I’ve missed your brother even if he needs a slap at times.”
“You’re preaching to the converted,” I joke, gesturing for him to follow me. I take him upstairs first and we keep the conversation light and nonconfrontational as I show him around. Then we come back downstairs, and I take him to the gym, game room, theater, and swimming pool. Our final stop is the living room. It’s our personal, private space and the one room I’m nervous to show him.
“That’s a fabulous picture,” he says, instantly walking to the large printout of Dylan and me. It’s the most dominant feature in the room, taking center stage over the marble fireplace. It’s my favorite photo from my maternity shoot. I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, and Dylan is kneeling in front of me, kissing my swollen belly. The ruby and diamond choker around my neck is as dazzling as the day Dylan gave it to me. I remember that shoot with so much fondness, and I’m glad Dylan thought to organize it.
“I think so too. I really wanted to display one of the family ones we had taken the day after Billy came home, but they are too upsetting, and I don’t want to remember Dylan like that.”
He nods his head in agreement. “I didn’t take any photos of Mom when she was dying for that very reason. I want to remember how she looked before she was ill and keep those memories alive.”
“
I have the album kept up for Billy, and he can make the call when he’s old enough to deal with it.”
“He mentioned Dylan outside, so he clearly knows who he is.”
I wrap my arms around myself. “I talk to him all the time about his dad. I promised Dylan, but even if I hadn’t, I would still talk about him. I want Billy to grow up knowing how amazing his father was and that he would’ve done anything to be here with him.”
A pang of guilt flashes across Slater’s face, but it’s gone so fast I’m not sure if I imagined it. “Dylan would be very proud of you, Belle.”
I smile up at him. “I hope so.” I wring my hands, trying to work up the courage to say what I need to say. It’s harder than I thought, but I force myself to go there. “Slate?”
“Yeah?” His eyes drill into me.
“I miss your friendship, and I was hoping, now you’re back, that we could spend some time together. Get reacquainted.”
His face twists into a mild grimace, and my stomach dips, but I keep a placid expression on my face. “I miss your friendship too, and I’d like that, but I’m going to be very busy with work so…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t need to. I don’t blame Slater for being wary, and, this time, it’s my turn to put everything on the line for him. “I understand, but maybe when you have some downtime, you can text me and we can go out or you can come here for dinner or I can come to your place. I’d love to see what you’ve done with the house.”
Over dinner, Slater explained he was renovating his Mom’s house, and it sounds like a big project. I’m so glad he decided to keep it and not sell it like he was considering at one time.
His eyes scope mine out, and I wish I could wind back the clock and remove the enduring sadness that radiates from him like a flashing beacon. “It’s still a work in progress, but maybe I can show you sometime.” His response is very noncommittal and I sense that’s on purpose. He averts his eyes, and I try to dampen the hurt forming in my chest.
“Great. Just message me during the week and we can make plans.”
Except I don’t hear from Slater at all that week, or the week after, and my fingernails are basically chewed to the bone at this stage. I’ve tried to put myself in his shoes, to understand what’s going on in his head, but I’m not sure if he’s keeping his distance because he’s still hurting, because he’s genuinely busy, or because he’s just no longer interested in being in my life.
I’ve done a lot of soul searching these past couple weeks, and I believe if I’m to have any chance of a relationship with Slater that I’ve got to do all the hard work this time.
Slater helped get me through a dark period in my life, and he did it selflessly even though he was hurting himself in the process. But he still didn’t give up, waiting patiently in the wings for the timing to be right. I was the one who fucked it all up by throwing him away, like it was easy to discard him, like he didn’t mean everything to me, so it’s up to me to rectify this.
It was only in pushing him away, and in dealing with the aftermath of Dylan’s death, that I truly understood what Slater means to me. And, in recent months, I’d been formulating a plan to go to him and beg for forgiveness and a second chance. Now, he’s virtually on my doorstep, so what the hell am I doing sitting around wallowing in self-pity?
Even if he doesn’t feel the same anymore, I still want him to know how I feel.
I didn’t fight for him, for us, before, so it’s time I started doing it now.
Chapter Forty-Eight
I park at the curb outside Slater’s house, behind a black BMW, marveling at the changes I can already see. He’s completely renovated the outside of the house, and it’s freshly painted with a brand-new porch and wraparound deck. The front yard has been landscaped, and while it’s low maintenance, and there aren’t many colorful shrubs or flowers, it still looks pretty.
I get out of my car and lock it, wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my jeans as I approach the house. I debated messaging him to let him know I was on my way over but decided against it. I don’t want to give him any opportunity to back out. I need to say what I came here to say before I drive myself crazy going over and over it in my head.
I press the bell, nervously brushing my hair back off my face as I wait for him. The door swings open, and a tall, slim, stunning brunette answers it with a smile. All my bravado disappears in a split second. “Hello.” Her voice is soft, and her accent is from out of town. “Can I help you?”
Bile coats my mouth, and I feel like puking, but I return her smile with a shaky one of my own. “I was looking for Slater, but I should’ve called before dropping by.” I turn on my heel. “I’ll come back another time.”
I don’t even give her the chance to respond before hightailing it out of there. A heavy pressure settles on my chest, and my stomach has dropped to my toes. An anguished lump rests at the back of my throat, and I feel like crying.
Slater has clearly moved on, and that’s why he was so hesitant about letting me back into his life. He’s probably told his girlfriend all about me and he’s trying to keep me away from her.
I fumble in my purse for my keys, cursing when they slip through my fingers, landing on the ground. As I bend down to pick them up, I commence a silent inner chant. Don’t you dare cry, Gabby James. This is all your fault, and you’ve no one to blame but yourself. I slide into the car, and my hands are shaking as I buckle my seat belt.
A loud thump on the side window has me jumping in fright.
“Belle! Lower the window.”
Just looking at Slater, knowing that I’ll never have the chance to reclaim any kind of relationship with him, breaks my heart all over again. I need to get out of here before I fall apart in front of him, but I won’t be rude. I lower my window a smidgeon. “I’m sorry, Slate.” I hate how my voice trembles. “I didn’t realize you had company. Forgive the intrusion.”
He scrutinizes my face, missing nothing. “You’re here now, so you might as well come inside.” He opens my door and holds out his hand. “C’mon.”
I shake my head. “It’s fine, Slate. I’m fine.” I force my mouth into a smile. “Go back to your girlfriend. We can talk another time.”
Planting his hands on top of the car, he leans in. A subtle half-smile plays on his lips. “Belle, it’s not how it looks. Come inside and we’ll talk now.” His eyes plead with me, and my traitorous body wants to go inside, but my aching heart won’t let me.
I just want to go home and sob into my pillow.
And, yes, I’m aware of how pathetic I sound.
Bite me.
“Please, Belle.”
I shake my head, struggling to keep my composure. “Just forget it, Slate, okay,” I whisper.
Determination creeps over his face, and he reaches in, quick as a flash, and grabs my keys. Then he slides his arms under me and lifts me out of the car, throwing me over his shoulder.
“Slate! Oh my God. What are you doing? Put me down!”
“I asked you nicely, Belle, and you still turned me down, so you should’ve known I’d take matters into my own hands.” He shuts the door with his foot, locks the car, and tightens his hold on me as he starts walking toward the house.
“Slate, what’s your girlfriend going to think!?” I hiss.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he says, striding toward the house like a man on a mission.
His words are like a balm to my sore heart, but I caution myself not to celebrate prematurely. “Okay. This is ridiculous. I’m a grown-ass woman and a mother! Put me down. I’ll come inside, but I’ll do it on my own two feet.” I attempt to wriggle out of his hold, and he brings his other hand up and slaps my ass.
I’m so stunned I’m speechless.
“Cat got your tongue, Belle?” he teases, and I pound my fists on his back.
“Slater Kellan Evans!
Put. Me. Down.”
He chuckles. “You sounded just like Mom there.”
“I’ll bet you never carried her into the house like a sack of potatoes.”
“Nope, but she never gave me reason to.”
“I’ve left the paperwork on the kitchen counter,” the mystery woman says, fighting to keep the laughter from her voice. “Just sign where all the yellow tabs are and then seal it in the envelope.”
Slater finally puts me down, but he wraps his arm around my back, keeping me pressed firmly against him. I’m about to protest when I realize it would be completely counter-productive. Instead, I lean my head on his chest and fist my hand in his shirt, relishing the smell and touch of him against me. If this is all I’ll get, I’m going to milk every single drop of it.
“Thanks, Madilyn. I’ll do that and organize a courier to come pick it up first thing.”
“It’s already organized,” she confirms.
“You’re the best. Thank you.”
“It was nice meeting you, Belle,” she says, and I force my face away from Slater’s warm chest. He spins me around so I’m facing her. “Assuming you are the infamous Belle?” She arches an elegant brow.
“Infamous?” I squeak.
“Madilyn.” Slater’s voice holds considerable warning.
She grins, stepping away. “Enjoy your evening, boss. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Boss?” I inquire, looking up at him.
He takes my hand and escorts me into the house. “Madilyn is my assistant. She moved from Iowa to help me set up the office here.”
“Oh.” That thought equally elates and depresses me. “Does she have to be so hot?” I blurt instead of keeping that thought trapped inside.
He throws back his head, laughing. “Jealous, Belle?”
“No.” I lie, tossing my hair over my shoulder.
“Well, your observational skills haven’t improved much,” he taunts with a playful grin.
When Forever Changes Page 37
