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Nathan quirks an eyebrow as I take the baby from him. “Looks like your son kind of loves me.”
He hums, running a hand over his beard. “My brother too. And my wife apparently.”
I suppress a satisfied smirk. “Guess that means we’ll have to see more of each other, huh?”
He rolls his eyes. “As long as there’s a good bottle of Scotch available, I may find it tolerable. And obviously, I’m only ever calling you Bam from here on out.”
I shrug. “Better than what you usually call me, I wager.”
His lips twitch, and he tries to suppress his grin but fails miserably. “Since I’m here apologizing, I guess I should also apologize for that day I saw you in Freddie Kemp’s office.”
I school my face into neutral, but I feel the color drain from my cheeks. Not even Luke’s adorable gurgling is enough to banish the memory of that day.
“Elijah never told me what happened, but…” He sucks on his top lip. “But whatever it was, given the people he asked me to put him in touch with after, and reflecting on the state you were in… Well, I can imagine.” His throat works as he swallows.
I’ll be damned. Confronted with his uncharacteristic unease, I feel a little less anxious.
“I made an assumption that I now know was erroneous. I’m sorry that I wasn’t a safe space for you, Amber. If it were Mel, and she bumped into any one of my brothers in that state, I would expect them to take care of her and to kick Freddie’s ass. No matter what’s happened between us, I’m ashamed that I wasn’t that for you. I should have been.”
I’m about to tell him that he doesn’t need to apologize, that he couldn’t have known what had happened, but I stop myself. I was sexually assaulted and I ran into my brother-in-law immediately afterward. He’s absolutely right—I should have been able to at least ask him for help.
So I force myself to recognize the role I’ve played in our antagonistic relationship and nod, holding onto Luke’s chubby fist to stop him from shoving it into my mouth, which he appears intent on doing. “I appreciate that, Nathan. Thank you.”
Obviously sensing my unease with this conversation, he clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Did we just have a civil conversation?”
I gasp, feigning surprise. “You know, I believe we did.”
Nathan looks behind me and gives a nod in greeting to someone. “Everything okay here?” Elijah’s smooth, deep voice fills the entryway, and a second later, his reassuring hands are sliding around my waist as he pulls me against him. I can’t deny how good it feels. Like we’re on the same side. A united front.
“Everything’s good,” I assure him.
He leans over me to give his nephew a kiss that makes Luke giggle and squirm in my arms, then Elijah directs his attention to his brother. “I didn’t expect to see you. I thought Mel was dropping Luke off.”
“I wanted to apologize to your wife for what I said yesterday. For some other shit too.” I can only imagine the look of disbelief on my husband’s face when Nathan adds, “And she accepted gracefully.”
Elijah kisses the top of my head. “That’s because she is both gracious and accepting.”
I can practically feel Nathan struggling not to roll his eyes, but he manages it, and I can’t help but smile.
This doesn’t mean we’re besties, Nathan and I. We’re not going to call each other up to discuss the latest episode ofDrag Raceor go for drinks after a tough day. But we’re no longer enemies, and that is definitely progress.
ChapterForty-Seven
AMBER
Four days after I accidentally flashed Maddox, I received an email from Drake. It wasn’t a surprise, but it still made my heart sink and my stomach churn. The words held a power over me that I didn’t expect.
The divorce is final. Elijah and I are no longer married. I glance at the wedding band and engagement ring still adorning my left hand. It never felt right to take them off, and it feels especially wrong now.
The paperwork will follow, but as of yesterday afternoon, I’m not Mrs. Amber James anymore. It feels so odd after all this time. I was a child when I met him, only nineteen years old. Married at twenty-two, which seems almost Shakespearean by modern standards. I was always happy with that, though. I’d had boyfriends before, and they paled into insignificance next to Elijah. The way I fell for that man… It was like my heart took a plunge down the Tower of Terror.
Now, here I am. In my forties, unmarried, and a completely different human being. Heck, I’m a different woman than I was mere months ago. The sheer amount of time I save by not doing a full face and hair every day is astounding, and I don’t miss my huge wardrobe or my fake society friends in the slightest. Instead of persuading other rich people to donate to charities that support faceless victims, I’m now hands-on, providing the help myself. My residence is a tiny house in Brooklyn, I hang out with bikers, and I swear whenever I damn well please. And I absolutely love it.
As Granny Lucille would tell me, we live many lives—we are constantly changing and evolving. The Amber looking back at me from the bathroom mirror today is not the same as the Amber who made her vows to Elijah all those years ago. She’s older and wiser, in some ways stronger, in others more fragile. But she is most definitely still in love with Elijah James.
I get ready to head to the center for my evening class, wishing he were here. He’s finalizing the Kim deal in Seoul, and I haven’t heard from him since the email arrived. Korea is thirteen hours ahead of New York, so while I saw that email at two in the afternoon, it was three a.m there. I hoped he might be in touch by now, but he’s busy with nonstop meetings, which I understand. Work is important to him. It’s not about money—lord knows he has enough of that. It’s about his family and his ethics and his whole identity. And those are all things I’m proud of.
Still, I wish he were here. Reading those words chilled me to the bone.