Dirty Sexy Games

by Laurelin Paige

  “You know everything. Everything there is to know about me. I swear. Everything inside me belongs to you now. What else do you want me to tell you?”

  “Tell me again why you didn’t think you could tell me this as soon as you found out. Because I still don’t get that. Like you just said, people come to marriages with children all the time these days. Why did you think you would have to choose between me and your child?” It didn’t make any sense. I wasn’t going to keep him from his child. Why would he even think that?

  “Because…” He sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. “I want to be with you, Elizabeth. I mean that. I want to follow you wherever you go. And you’ve made it clear that being with you means being in France. But now I have a kid—a kid who needs a father in his life not just on occasion. A kid who lives with his mother. In the United States.”

  Oh.

  Now I saw it.

  It was a big problem.

  “I think I need to sit down.” I made it over to the wicker chair and sank down into it. My father’s biggest sin had been not being there. How much of his absence from my life had to do with the fact that he’d resided on a different continent? Maybe if he’d been a different man, it wouldn’t have mattered where he’d lived, but it sure had to have been a big part of it.

  I certainly wouldn’t wish that parental separation on another kid.

  Weston stood and wrapped the bedsheet around his waist, then he came and knelt in front of me. “Do you see why I couldn’t tell you?” he asked.

  I looked down into his blue eyes. “Because you didn’t think I would understand this?”

  “Because I know you, baby. And you would have told me to choose Sebastian.”

  Sebastian. The little boy had a name.

  I could picture him—the photo from the article only showed him in profile—but even with just that I could see he had Weston’s features. His eyes. That dimple.

  My husband was right. I would have told him to choose his child. There wouldn’t have been any room for discussion. I wouldn’t have even bothered with this honeymoon. I’d have sent Weston in the direction of his son’s door and told him not to look back.

  And, yes, it would have hurt like hell. But parents are supposed to sacrifice for their kids. I’d learned that from my mother.

  “I can’t tell you to walk away from him,” I said, confirming what he already knew.

  Weston gathered my hands in his. “But I will. To be with you.”

  “No, you won’t. Because if you were the kind of guy who would do that, you wouldn’t be the kind of guy that I’d be in love with. And I am in love with you. Obvious and stupid as it is.”

  “I know, Lizzy. Me too.”

  I bit my lip hard, trying to trap the sob inside.

  With the sweetest of sighs, Weston pulled me down to the ground and into his arms. “We’ll figure something out. This isn’t over. We’re going to work it out.”

  I listened while he said, “We’re going to figure something out.” And then I got up, and I walked into the bathroom.

  I listened, but I didn’t let myself believe it. I’d learned long ago not to trust men’s vague assurances.

  I knew who to thank for that lesson.

  Fucking fathers.

  12

  Weston

  “It’s not a secret that I had a baby out of wedlock, but my father isn’t really going to appreciate major press about it.” Callie’s clipped tone buzzed in my ear like an annoying fly.

  I stretched my feet out and propped them on the bed and sank down further into the wicker chair. Just what I needed—two women mad at me. “It’s not a major news site. It’s a stupid little gossip pit. No one will see it. It’s not going to grab network attention.”

  “It’s obviously worrisome enough that you called me about it. And I never had to worry about any of this shit before you came into Sebastian’s life.”

  I rubbed a hand over my face and willed myself not to throw the phone across the room. “It isn’t a big deal. I only wanted to make sure that you weren’t going to say anything until we had a chance to say something together. Just in case anyone came knocking on your door asking for more information.” I could hear my voice getting tight with irritation. “And let’s not forget that it was you who came into my life.”

  That last bit hadn’t been fair, and the timing had been particularly bad since that was when Elizabeth had decided to finally come out of the bathroom. After she’d heard me out, even encouraged me a bit, she’d gotten suddenly cold and sullen and had retreated to the en-suite for a long bath. I’d heard the click of the lock before she got in, signaling that I was not invited to interrupt.

  It had probably been about two hours since that door had shut in my face, and now she approached fully made-up, her hair dried and styled in luscious waves that dripped down her shoulders and back. She was wearing a sundress or, a midi dress was what she’d called it when she’d unpacked, a long straight thing without sleeves that hugged around her curves and fell all the way to her ankles. It was crimson and low cut with a giant slit up the middle, and even though I’d been under her skirt many times now, it was the kind of dress that made me want to pull it up and look again.

  But her lips were still turned into a frown, and I doubted she appreciated walking out and hearing me talk to my ex-lover. The mother of my child.

  I stood up, striding away from my wife. “Look, Callie, like I said, it’s not a big deal. Just don’t talk to anyone. I’ll contact you when I get back to the mainland. Cool?”

  “Fine. I wouldn’t talk to anyone anyway.”

  I wasn’t really expecting anyone to reach out to her, but, just in case Darrell sent someone, I didn’t want anything she said to be misconstrued or twisted in a way that would harm Elizabeth.

  I paused now, wanting to say something else, not sure how to ask about someone that I’d never met before.

  “Is there anything else?” Callie asked brusquely, and then I could hear it, the gentle sweet chatter of a toddler in the background.

  “Is that…him?” It was so weird that my chest could feel both tighter and lighter all at the same time.

  “Yeah, he’s supposed to be asleep, the goofball.” Callie’s voice got softer as well, I noticed.

  My eyes darted to Elizabeth, because she was the one I always wanted to share things with, which just came naturally. But though her head was tilted and she was obviously watching me, she wasn’t glowing the way I felt like I was glowing. But she wasn’t hearing what I was hearing either.

  And it wasn’t her kid.

  Could Sebastian ever be part of her family?

  The thought that he might never have a place in her life put a damper on the moment. “I’ll let you go so you can get him to sleep. Good luck with that. And…him… Give him a hug for me.”

  “Okay, Weston. I will.” She hung up, and again I looked to Elizabeth to see her reaction. This time she gave me a tight smile.

  “That was good,” she said. “You did good.”

  I let out a sigh of tension that I didn’t realize had been knotting through my muscles. “I just don’t have any idea what to do. I don’t know how to be a dad. I need you, Elizabeth. I need you to—”

  Her expression shadowed. “I can’t talk about this right now, please. I need a break from it. I need to get out of this room.”

  “Oh. Sure. Whatever you need.” I hoped I sounded supportive rather than punched in the gut. Which is how I felt. She was always so open and engaging. I didn’t like seeing her like this, didn’t know how to interact with her when she was closed off. And I definitely didn’t want to let her out of my sight, even just for a few hours, but if that’s what she needed, I would give it to her.

  I would give her anything.

  “We have tickets for the harbor cruise tonight. We can still make it if we leave now. You’ll want to hurry up and change.”

  “You want me to go with you?” This time I definitely sounded too eager.
/>
  “I said I wanted to get away from it, not you. It’s our honeymoon, you dork.” She stepped over to the bed and sat on the edge so she could begin putting on her strappy sandals. “Plus, it would be kind of embarrassing to go on a romantic sunset cruise by myself. So hurry up.”

  She didn’t have to ask again.

  Getting out of the bungalow seemed to lighten the mood, but Elizabeth remained quiet and aloof for the rest of the evening. Neither of us had really eaten during the course of the day, and while I didn’t have much of an appetite either, I forced us both to take a full plate of appetizers. The first glass of champagne was served as soon as we’d taken our seats, and with the gentle rocking of the boat and empty stomachs, alcohol didn’t make a great addition. Elizabeth nibbled her food, getting down some cheese and pineapple before pushing her plate away.

  “You’re going to get seasick if you don’t eat more than that,” I prodded.

  But she waved me away dismissively and kept her focus on the guy who was telling us stories about the island and the state of Hawaii in general.

  As the sun set, and the night got cooler, Elizabeth wrapped her cardigan around herself. A couple of times I attempted to pull her into my arms under the guise of warming her up, but both times she only leaned on me momentarily before finding a reason to push away: to stretch her neck and peer at a splash in the distance, to reach down and tighten the buckle on her shoe.

  I got the hint after that. I left my arm draped along the back of the seat behind her, accepting that she’d wanted me near, but she wasn’t ready to let me in. I certainly was the last person to fault her for that.

  She relaxed more as we made our way back toward the shore and the entertainment turned from the storyteller to a lone singer with a ukulele, his rich baritone singing the familiar songs of the Pacific islands. Her muscles relaxed as her thigh finally pressed against mine. Then her arm nudged against my rib cage, and I wondered how I’d ever lived without the heat of her body. How I could ever exist without hers close to mine.

  Back at the dock, I climbed down from the boat first, then turned to give her my hand, helping escort her down the stairs. I’d used that as an excuse to hold her hand—since when did I need an excuse?—and then I wrapped my fingers through hers and didn’t let go, holding on tightly as we walked back to the beach.

  When she didn’t pull away, I took it as a sign, and I plunged into the subject we’d been avoiding all evening, the one that had sat like a third person between us throughout the entire harbor outing. “I’ve never met him, you know,” I said, sure without a doubt that she would understand who I was talking about. “It isn’t like you, who lived with your father and then he suddenly went away. Sebastian has no idea about me. If he never meets me, it’s not going to be the same sort of loss.”

  She stiffened, attempting to yank her arm away, but I held firm, dead set on keeping this little bit of contact.

  Once she realized she was trapped, she sighed and looked out over the water. “He will still miss his father. Orphans, kids who were put up for adoption, children who were abandoned—all the research says they have abandonment issues because a parent has left them. It doesn’t matter the circumstances. You would forever change the scope of his life.”

  I had probably heard that somewhere before. It wasn’t the sort of thing I took note of. But I believed her, if she said that it was true.

  “And, besides, Weston—I saw you. I saw your face when you just heard him on the phone. Your entire being lit up. You want him. Why would you deny yourself that?”

  She was looking at me now, hard and deep. So hard and so deep that I thought she could probably see into my pores and capillaries. Behind my eyes and into the very lobes and neurons of my brain.

  “Because I want you too,” I said, sure that she could see that in all the things that she was looking at inside of me. Sure that it was as plain as the midnight blue sky above us. “I want you that much, too.”

  We’d reached the sand, and she stopped and faced me with her whole body. “I know that.” She squeezed my hand, as though that simple gesture could amount to understanding all the feelings that I contained for her.

  I would find a solution. I had to.

  “Callie doesn’t have a job,” I said, suddenly remembering that. “Maybe she could come to France with us. Who doesn’t want to live in Paris?”

  “You can’t just expect someone to pick up and move to another country!” She smiled at herself, hearing the words as they came out of her mouth. “You can’t just expect someone who’s not married to you, I mean. Someone who has no investment or commitment. And do you think that I really want that? My husband’s ex-lover, moving across the ocean just because he said so? That’s kind of creepy. I would always question why she would be willing to do that for you. It would just be icky all around.”

  “You sound jealous,” I said with a grin that was completely inappropriate for the moment. But jealousy meant she still cared, so I couldn’t help myself.

  While I was busy gloating, she tugged her hand away and started walking. I trotted right after her, about to apologize when she spoke first. “Hell, yes, I’m jealous. She has a part of you that I don’t have. It’s not fair.”

  “Oh, Lizzie.” I wrapped my arm around her, even as she bristled. “You think I don’t wish it were yours? I would give anything that my first child was with you.” I kissed her shoulders and along her neck.

  “Really? You want babies with me?” She was pouty and unsure. So vulnerable, and I realized that with all her confessions of when and how she wanted to have children I’d never confessed this to her.

  I felt like a vulnerable teenager myself when I said it. “Yes. I want babies with you. I definitely want babies with you. I get this really strange fuzzy feeling all down my spine every time I think about it.”

  Her lower lip was still pushed out, but her body eased into mine. “Me too. I feel that way when I think about having babies with you too.”

  We walked quietly for a bit, just enjoying the sand and the beach and the beautiful island night. After a bit, she asked, “How did you know her?”

  I was glad she’d asked. Part of me felt guilty for not telling her all this already, but I hadn’t known if she’d wanted to hear it. I didn’t want to tell it, to be honest. It made me feel shallow and promiscuous. Probably because I had been shallow and promiscuous. And though it wasn’t news to Elizabeth, I didn’t love reliving the details.

  Still, it was fair that she knew. I wanted her to know.

  “I met her at a rich kid’s party in Aspen. She was on a ski trip, but she sprained her ankle their first day in town. I occupied her time while her friends hit the slopes.” I paused, considering how best to say the next part. “We didn’t leave my hotel room much.”

  “Got it.” She was quiet and I could practically hear the wheels turning in her head. “I…thought you always used condoms.”

  Ah. “I do. I did. There was a…condom malfunction.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “I suppose that was bound to happen with your lifestyle.”

  With that tone, she obviously meant it to be a dig—I could feel the barbs piercing and twisting as the words settled on me.

  But I probably owed her at least that one. So I took it, and swallowed the urge to respond.

  “Why did she wait until now to tell you? Did she say?”

  “She didn’t know me. She made an assumption about how I’d react, and didn’t even try to tell me. Also, she has issues with dads. I guess that’s the ‘in’ thing these days.”

  She half-smiled. “And now she’s changed her mind just out of the blue?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe seeing I was getting married made her think I might actually be family material. I don’t really know. I didn’t ask. I was pretty overwhelmed with everything going on that day.”

  “That makes sense.” She kicked at a branch of seaweed in our path. “What do you think you would’ve done if she’d told you before? If you had
found out when she was pregnant?”

  God, I hated to even think about it. My stomach soured with the acidic honesty. “I think she was smart not to give me the chance to find out. I wasn’t ready to be a father until you came along. You’re the person who made me finally think about having a home. Finally made me think that I could maybe be good for that. That maybe I wanted to be part of one.”

  “Of course you’re good for being part of a home, you silly.” She turned her head and placed an open mouth kiss on my neck.

  She was right—I was good for being part of a home—but my home was with her. I wasn’t anything but scraps of a shallow, promiscuous man without her, and I couldn’t be good for anyone—let alone be a good father—in that condition. If I had a future with my son, it simply had to be with her at my side.

  “I’ll fly back and forth. It will work,” I said, determined to figure out the solution to the twenty-ton dilemma weighing down on us.

  “That’s not going to work,” she said immediately. “My father said the same thing. It lasted about three months.”

  “Elizabeth, I’m not your father.”

  “I didn’t mean to imply that you were. I’m sorry. And I know that you would do better than him.” She came up along the steps to the lifeguard station and paused against the railing. “But realistically, Weston. How can you manage a company and spend so much time in the air? Those are long flights. And if you’re going to manage the advertising division in France, they’re going to need you there.”

  I stuffed my hands in my pockets. “So I won’t manage. I’ll take a lower position. I can take a pay cut. Haven’t you heard? My wife is, like, a billionaire, and apparently what’s hers is mine.” Jesus, that felt terrible to say, even in jest.

  I immediately regretted it, though I knew Elizabeth would agree to it without batting an eye if I genuinely asked her to.

  She furrowed her brows disapprovingly. “Do you really want to give up control of your company? I thought you loved what you do.”