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“That’s the problem! We are who we are.”
He grabs my arm and leads me down an empty hallway. Generic paintings and huge mirrors decorate the cream walls. I catch my reflection in one, white as bone except for hints of my pink lipstick I ate off poking at my dinner.
“Why is that a problem? I love who you are.” He sits on a taupe leather bench near a table full of little snowman figurines.
I step between his legs, and he bunches the skirt of my dress in his fists. “Do you, though? Do you know who I am? I’m ten years younger than you, we’re in different places in our lives. I don’t know how a computer works, and I can’t be left alone. I don’t want babies yet, can’t have them anyway. I can’t make them because I can’t have sex. Max’s dad knew all that. He knows I’m no good.”
“And I’m a PI, a dropout cop. I live in a shitty apartment in the industrial park, have a dog for a roommate and a few grand in the bank. I fucked up my relationship with my dead brother, and my stepfather’s a prick. Lady, I’m not much of a prize, either.”
He didn’t shave, and a short beard covers his chin and jaw. I run my fingertips over it, the rasp of his whiskers sending shivers over my skin. “Why does this have to be so complicated?”
“It’s not. If you’re not ready to do this, then we stop, not a big deal. Fuck, I’m not stupid. I know there are no guarantees, but I never want you to make a decision because you think I don’t love you.”
“What about babies?”
“Zarah, no one said anything about babies. You aren’t ready to start a family. Do you think you would have been any more ready if Max were alive? I doubt it. You wouldn’t have been able to give him anything you can’t give me.”
I sigh. If Max were alive, right now, no, I wouldn’t be pregnant, wouldn’t be married or even engaged. My recovery wouldn’t have been any faster. For better or worse, I’d be in the same place, only I wouldn’t have Gage. Had Max lived, more than likely I might never have met him.
“But your speech—”
“My speech was full of regret. Regret how I treated Max, regret he’ll never have anything I’ll enjoy. A successful career, relationships, and yes, a family. When you’re ready, and not a minute sooner, I would like for you to carry my children.” He presses a kiss to my belly. “But not now. We just met.I’mnot ready for little rugrats. We have time, Zarah. All the time in the world.”
His words spark something inside me. Happiness. Joy. Possibilities. “Can we do something fun tomorrow? Can we spend the day together? I haven’t done any Christmas shopping. Can we? And have lunch? I’ll meet you somewhere in the city.”
“Let’s not meet. Spend the night. I want to fall asleep holding you, wake up and kiss a smile on your face. I’ll cook you breakfast.”
I push my fingers into his hair and kiss him, his lips soft and yielding under mine. I trust him. I trust him to keep his promises, to lie beside me and cuddle and fall asleep without pressuring me to do something I’m not ready to do. “Yes. That sounds perfect. I packed a bag hoping you would ask. Can we play a little? In bed?”
“My little minx,” he says, laughing, and he nudges me into his lap, trailing kisses all over my face and neck. “I’ll give you whatever you need.”
Hoping no one is watching, I twist toward the entrance of the hallway to check, but Senator Cook is there, a look of pure hate coloring his expression. I turn to tell Gage, but I glance back and he’s gone.
The pit of dread he planted in my stomach stays with me all night.
We walk to the table, Gage holding my hand, and we sit and eat the crème brûlée that was served in our absence. Zane shoots me a puzzled look, but I smile and wrinkle my nose. I wish he wouldn’t worry about me so much, and I hope he doesn’t argue when it’s time to leave.
In her usual fashion, Stella smooths things over. “Sleepover?”
We slip our coats on in the lobby and several people stop Gage to pay their respects. Linc looks giddy at the prospect of going home.
Zane glares. “I don’t think—”
“Yes, actually,” I say, fastening the buttons of my jacket. “I have a bag in the car.”
“But—” Zane sputters.
“That’s great,” Stella says, shooting him a warning look. “Do you have your medication?”
“Yes. Ingrid helped me pack.”
“Good. I’ll tell her she has the day free tomorrow. She was saying she’d like to visit her family soon. Have fun.”
“Thanks.” I smile at the doorman who opens the glass door for us.
“Be good to my sister, Davenport,” Zane says as we step outside and into the cold night’s air.
Gage passes his truck’s ticket to the valet. “You know I will, or you wouldn’t let me take her home. Thanks for coming.” He holds out his hand, and my brother grasps it. “Max would have appreciated it.”