Twenty minutes in, she was making bets with him to touch the boat first.
Brit lifted her hand to her mouth, enjoying the moment. Damian was a damn good parent and guy. He was patient, kind and—
“Nice,” said a female voice behind her. She angled her head to recognize Candi, who stepped closer until they stood side by side. “Your daughter is very cute. Dad not in the picture?”
Eddie had moved out of their shared apartment two months after learning about her pregnancy, and she hadn’t made any attempts to get him back in her life. He’d called once, and left a message with a slurry voice so she’d assumed he had a few too many tequila shots and wanted to reminisce. Not once had he asked about Libby, which made her hate him even more. “No.”
“Damian seems like a good father.”
“Yes, he is.”
Candi fixed her sunglasses. “Yeah. Fathers are important.”
“Do you get along with yours?” Brit asked.
Candi nodded. “Yes. My dad is pretty cool. You?”
“Out of the picture,” she said, lifting her hands. “Guess it runs in my family.”
“You’re cute.” Candi chuckled.
That’s exactly what I was going for when I got dressed. “Thanks. You’re smoking hot, but I’m sure you know that. And your husband can buy a small island somewhere,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “Or several islands? I can’t ever keep up with how rich people are these days.”
Candi thinned her lips. “My husband feels differently about a lot of things. I don’t know if we’re going to make it.”
Brit chewed her lower lip. The air around them crackled, and the easiness from a moment ago vanished. What should she say? “Oh.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to just say this to you, but you’re easy to talk to.” Candi removed her glasses, and a flicker of sadness touched her blue eyes. “I want children and he doesn’t.”
“I understand.” She rubbed her forehead. Shit, bringing them here to spend time with the kids probably backfired. Or maybe not. Brit glanced at Candi. She probably flirted around to feel in control in a situation where both people needed a say so. Using her beauty to mask her real feelings.
“Do you think I’m crazy to do it?”
“I think you need to do what’s best for your heart. Sometimes, that means not being with the person you married,” she said. Brit was no relationship expert, but wasn’t that what Violet had done? She decided to divorce Damian even if they made such a nauseatingly perfect couple on paper.
“I’ll get a good deal of money with the prenup. But my close friends still think I’m crazy to leave Bill.”
Brit glanced at the sun shining down on the ocean. An odd sensation spread through her, and it came with a warning. Maybe she should cling to pragmatism and follow Candi’s friends’ train of thought. After all, Bill was older than her, and they had a critical different view on what they wanted from marriage. But still, she swallowed the lump of uncertainty lodged in her throat, and asked, “Do you love him?”
“Yes. I know most people don’t believe it, but we share a lot of the same interests. He’s good to me. He’s patient.”
Brit closed the gap between them a bit, leaning forward. “And he’s not interested at all in having kids ever again?”
Sadness flickered in Candi’s baby blues. “He said so. I can’t make him, though, right? So leaving is the only way,” she said, her voice losing energy at the end.
Brit’s heart squeezed in her chest. A nostalgic energy passed between them, and she could feel Candi’s pain. See it in her face. “Did you ever give him the ultimatum? Does he know how important this is to you?”
“He should know.” Candi glanced down, folding her arms.
“Sometimes guys need things spelled out for them,” she said, remembering how Damian had listened once she asked him to keep his mind open about them. What would that mean in the long run though? She drew in a breath. “Anyway, I’m so sorry you’re going through that. If there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” She touched her arm lightly.
Candi nodded. “Thank you for listening.”
“Anytime,” she said, and meant it.
“You’re good with kids,” Bill said to Damian, after Libby returned to the boat. She waved at him, smiling, and wrapped a towel around her and went to play with Amanda inside.
“Thank you,” he said. He’d always enjoyed Libby’s company. Unlike his daughter, who was more touchy feely and sensitive, Libby was always snarky and independent. Today he had the chance to help her, and it made him feel good. “I’m take it you’re done with kids, right?”
“Yeah. Candi keeps talking about having them, but I don’t know.”
Having kids? Hmmm… did he know Candi also entertained the idea of leaving him for good? Those two paths were opposite. “It’s a lot of responsibility for sure.”
Bill looked down at the water, playing with some of it, almost lost in his own thoughts, then turned his face to Damian. “Yeah. I used to be good with my kids. Like you.”
Damian touched the edge of a nearby rock. “How badly does she want them?”
The contours of Bill’s face sobered. “Hmmmm… I don’t know. We’ll see.”
“Hey. I’m sure it’s like riding a bicycle,” Damian said. Because he’d been an only child, he’d always wanted a big family of his own. Would he have the chance to give Amanda and Trevor a sibling in the future? Hmmm…
“Yes. Riding a bicycle when you’re pushing sixty, without a helmet,” Bill said laughing.
“Or knee pads.”
“No knee pads for sure.” Bill shook his head. “I’d better get back to slap some sunscreen on. Excuse me.” He swam back to the boat.
As he climbed up the ladder, Brit slid down and emerged in the water, the first time ever since he’d anchored in the sea. The sight of her in that swimsuit elevated his heartrate. What an amazing woman.
“Hey,” she said, erasing the distance between them but still keeping a safe buffer. “Thanks for helping Libby. She came to tell me about it, all excited.”
“My pleasure. She’s a good kid,” he said and meant it.
“I have to agree. She keeps me on my toes.”
“And you keep me on mine,” he said, pulling her behind a rock where no one could see them. He touched her cheek, outlining her jaw until she parted her lips. Her big eyes gleamed with desire, and a tremor traveled through him. “God, Brit, I miss you,” he said, his voice dropping an octave.
With his free hand, he clasped her waist, then slid it down her ass, bringing her closer. A small, almost inaudible moan escaped her mouth. “I want you so much.”
She touched his shorts, cupping his hard-on. “I can tell.”
“When can we be together?” he hissed out.
She kept her hand on his cock, without moving, and a throb zapped from the base of his throat down south. “I’m taking Libby clothes shopping tomorrow, then I can drop her at my mother’s for a few hours.”
A few hours would hardly be enough, but he’d take any time he could. “I’ll see if the nanny can have the kids for a bit.”
She disengaged from him, treading water, and he shuddered. “Okay.”
He touched her wrist, to keep her from swimming away from him. “Come here. Just a kiss. No one will see us,” he said, hating the trace of despair in his voice.
“Damian…”
“Please, Brit. I need to feel you close to me.”
He glanced behind his shoulder to make sure everyone was away, and noticed they were all inside the cabin. Maybe they had a few moments before anyone called them. A few moments with her wouldn’t be enough, but he’d take whatever he could get.
He pulled her to him, behind the large rock, his mouth falling on hers violently. She kissed him back, eagerly, and he squeezed her ass.
“Damian…” she said.
“Baby, I want you so much. Let me make you feel good.”
He closed her mouth with his,
and felt her soften in his embrace, her hands pulling at his rash guard. Her touch branded him, and suddenly a fever ran through him, filling him with heat and need that would explode if he didn’t do anything about it.
She slowed the pace of the kiss. He tried to steal a few more pecks but then she lifted her hand and put some distance between them. Disappointed washed over him in waves, but he forced a smile.
She splashed some water at him. “You can’t make me feel too good today.”
“I know, and it’s killing me.”
She chewed her lip. “Me too. Let’s change the subject before we head back so it won’t be so obvious.”
Good idea. Anything that would help him lose his erection had priority. “Bill said she wants to have kids with him. Can you believe it?”
The expression on her face sobered. “What’s so wrong about it?”
“Well, he’s got grown kids. Why would he want to do that now?”
Brit lifted her chin. “Because it means a lot to her.”
“But they have a shaky marriage. She flirts with other men. Why add kids to this equation?”
“I think she flirts for validation. It’s her way to make him pay for not giving her a family. I’m not saying she’s right or their relationship is the healthiest, but—”
“All I think is it’s wrong to get pregnant when the relationship isn’t solid or the conditions less than ideal,” he said. Why bring more stress when two people already didn’t get along?
Her throat worked, and she narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean like me, who got pregnant out of wedlock?”
He withdrew, running his fingers down his face. “What? No.”
“But it’s still less than ideal, isn’t it?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. A twinge of self-defensiveness underpinned her voice. Shit, he hadn’t meant to hurt her or to offend her in any way.
“I’m a single father right now, and in many ways, that’s less than ideal. Parenthood brings a lot of pressure that’s best shared between two people, whatever genders they may be. Two men or two women,” he said honestly. “Doesn’t mean one person can’t do it alone and excel at it. It’s just harder.”
“Not everyone is that lucky to have a perfect family.”
Boy didn’t he know it. As a kid, he worshiped his father, only to lose him after his mother’s injuries. For the longest time, he’d thought he was to blame—because he’d been the culprit of his mother’s scars which drove his father away. But his mother had told him much later his father had cheated on her throughout the marriage, and she managed to keep it from Damian. His perfect family had never been perfect to begin with. “I know. You’re a spectacular mother, the best one I’ve seen. Libby is a strong, smart girl because of you.”
“Thanks, I guess,” she said, but the pain in her eyes remained.
“I didn’t mean to offend you.” He swam to her and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re amazing, Brit, and if I didn’t—”
She put her hand on his shoulder, then took it away. “That’s not it. Sometimes, I get the impression you have the view of things, of how people should be or behave, and you’re set on them. And someone like me will never measure up.”
His throat clogged, her words ringing in his ears.
“Maybe it’s because you’re a surgeon and—”
“It’s not because I’m a surgeon,” he cut her off, his heart drumming in his temples. “Violet had the same complaint about me. I’m sorry. I don’t want to be a judgmental asshole. After my father left my mom, I focused on being the best I could be for her,” he said, remembering the nights his mother cried quietly in her room. “I wanted to be a certain way as a husband and father.” To be better than that bastard who left us.
“Sometimes life is messy and complicated. It doesn’t always follow the guidelines, but that doesn’t make you a bad father or husband,” she said. Kindness touched her chestnut eyes, and she gave him a tentative smile that carried the comfort of a well-worn sweater. “You’re doing a lot, and you’re doing it well. But you don’t have to do it all.”
A strong emotion welled up inside him, tightening his face for a moment. Tears pricked behind his eyes, but he blinked them back, too overwhelmed to deal with them. He should create some space between them, or perhaps look away so she wouldn’t see him at his weakest. But what she said struck a chord with him. Stirred sensations he’d avoided for a long time.
He held her gaze, allowing himself to be vulnerable in front of her, and more bare than when she’d seen him naked. She erased the distance between them and hugged him tight. The touch didn’t have an ounce of sexual promise, but he embraced her back like some unexpected wave would come and take her from him otherwise. He dipped his head down, sighing into her wet hair, and wishing that moment would never end. Wishing no wave would come crushing to take her away from his arms. Ever.
10
“Is Grandma here?” Libby asked, closing her backpack.
Brit turned off the TV and sat the remote on the coffee table. “No, she should be here at any moment.” She’d taken Libby shopping, and was going to take her to her mother’s when her mother texted her and said she was on the way to pick her up. So they’d returned home and waited—and Brit also waited for a text or call from Damian, ever since the previous day.
“Cool.” Libby grabbed her favorite pair of tennis shoes and slid them on. “Mom, are you dating Damian?”
A chilly sensation brewed in Brit’s stomach, pinning her to the spot. She cleared her throat, looking at her charming daughter who now perched her hands at her waist. A flicker of challenge touched Libby’s eyes—the warning that Brit couldn’t lie to her. Hell, she didn’t want to lie to Libby. But how to delicately talk about it? “What gave you that impression?” She shielded herself behind the safe question. She hadn’t talked to him ever since they returned from sailing the day prior.
“Hmmm… the way he looks at you.”
Brit erased the gap between them and leaned down to her daughter’s eye level. “Honey, it’s complicated. I like him but he’s a good friend and—”
“Mom, I’m not Amanda. You can be honest.”
Fear knotted her midsection. “Does Amanda suspect anything?”
Libby waved her off. “Nah. But tell me, pleaaase…”
“He’s a great friend. I don’t know if we’ll ever be something more. I don’t want you to think we’ll be this big happy family. He’s going through a lot,” she said. The previous day at the ocean, she’d shared a conversation with him that definitely opened more doors to a future together. But she’d mentioned she could meet him today, and she’d texted him a quick hello earlier, and he hadn’t replied. Maybe he regretted being so open with her—maybe he did want to be open, but he didn’t know how and that could be a huge problem.
Libby sighed. “I know. I like him, though. He’s cool.”
Brit bit back a smile. “He likes you too.”
“And maybe Amanda wouldn’t be against it,” Libby said. “Do you want me to ask her?”
Brit shook her head violently. Telling Amanda would have to be Damian’s job—if and when he decided she was ready. Hearing from someone else would probably crush the little girl’s heart. “No, please don’t. Promise me you won’t say a thing to anyone.”
Libby gave her a rueful smile. “Do I get to go to bed later on weeknights?”
“You get thirty more minutes,” Brit said between her teeth. Of course Libby would use the situation to her advantage—though, could she blame her? At least her daughter hadn’t seemed disappointed when Brit didn’t give her a more positive answer.
“More iPad time?”
Brit waved her off. “Don’t push it.”
“I promise.” She stuck out her pinkie.
Brit curled her pinkie on her daughter’s. Soon, her mother knocked on the door.
“Are you ready for some fun?” Lori asked. “I went to the grocery store and bought some more stuff to make slimes.”
; Libby jumped up and down. “Yay!”
“Take care, you two.” Brit closed the door behind them and checked her cell phone again. Nothing. Maybe Damian didn’t find a sitter for his kids, or preferred to cool it. When he’d talked about less than ideal situations, she’d become defensive, yes, but also wary. She’d dealt with too many jerks in life to let a seemingly ambiguous comment go.
She braced herself. Maybe she wasn’t ready for a relationship, even a loose one. Her mother never had luck in love, and ended up not trying anymore. What if I’m the same way? Brit fluffed the pillows, just in case Damian showed up and surprised her. Then, she glanced at her phone, toying with the idea of texting him again. They’d ended the day on good terms, so why hadn’t he reached out? Perhaps an emergency surgery had pulled him from his plans unexpectedly. Even so, he should still get in touch, shouldn’t he?
She lit a candle on the coffee table. Nah, she wouldn’t end up like her mom. She cared too much to be alone in the long run. Not that there was anything wrong with being on your own—she’d done it for too long and knew she could do it forever. But the idea of having a guy like Damian in her life without an expiration date…
A knock startled her, yanking her from her musings. She dashed to the entrance and opened the door, smiling.
When she found Nikki looking at her with a frown on her face, her stomach dropped. No Damian.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were banging Violet’s husband?” Nikki asked.
Oh, great. Her day was about to get a lot worse. She opened the door for her friend to enter, which Nikki did. “Lara?” she assumed out loud.
“Well, you didn’t make it to our last two Bad Housewives meeting, and you’ve been quiet on the group text. So I gave her some wine and cornered her,” Nikki, who had the talent of being pushy, said.
“I’m sorry. I meant to tell you,” Brit said, unsure if she lied or not. The idea had crossed her mind after the conversation she shared with Lara, but she postponed it like a crash diet. “Are you mad at me?”
Bad Friend Page 8
