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His face softens as if he’s fighting a war within. He removes the broken band from him and sits next to me, anguish shadowing his features. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
“I’m not freaking out,” I say, waving my hands in hopes of creating some airflow to cool the sudden heat rising in my chest. “What are the odds?”
“Not zero,” he replies, his expression shifting with concern.
“Do you even want kids?”
The question hangs between us. It’s not something we’ve discussed in detail.
“The timing has to be right,” he confesses in a hushed tone.
“Yes,” I whisper, allowing myself to drift into a daydream.
It’s easy to imagine playing with our children. It streams in my mind like a home movie as unspoken words and emotions float between us. Weston would be pure happiness. I can envision our kids, little versions of us, running around, playing baseball, delicately plucking piano keys, and splattering paint onto a canvas with him. A laugh escapes me as I picture them being cheeky smart alecks with our attitudes.
“It’s a nice thought,” he says, almost as if he saw exactly what I did.
I move to my room and pull my birth control out of my bag. I take the two pills I missed, swallowing them down. When I return to him, I wrap my arms around him and fall back onto the mattress with him. With my head resting on his chest, I hear the rapid thud of his heart as he draws shapes on my arm.
“It’s going to be okay,” I tell him, knowing I’ve had a scare like this once before.
“Of course it will.”
A smile touches his lips as he holds me, and the weight of the world melts away. With my arm draped around his waist, I moldagainst him, feeling like he might disappear if I’m not touching him. Weston gently scratches my back, and I release a relaxed sigh, knowing I lost my full self with him.
I snuggle into him, our faces inches apart as he lifts the blankets over our bodies, covering us.
“I just remembered you said your divorce will be finalized tomorrow.”
“That’s right,” he admits.
“So, I guess the thirty-day timer starts for when you can get remarried?” I ask curiously as he holds me.
His brows leap upward in surprise. “There’s no waiting period in New York. I can get married the next day if I want.”
“Why did she stop fighting you? I don’t understand.”
“After hanging out with my sister, I filed a statement with the court, detailing why I’d asked for a divorce, accompanied by the evidence I’d recently gathered that could put her in prison. She likes her freedom more than my money, so she decided to settle for the original amount I offered her.” He brushes his thumb across my cheek.
His gaze lingers on me, a silent conversation unfolding.
I exhale as emotions swirl between us. “Will you tell me what happened between you two? It’ll stay between us, I promise.”
He’s never told me any details about his divorce, and I want to know so I can support him.
Weston’s eyes close tight, and I interlock my fingers with his, offering my support silently. He can take as much time as he needs.
“I caught her sleeping with her bodyguard, and then I found out she’d hired a hit man to murder me while I was with Easton.”
“No,” I whisper, my heart sinking as I realize the extent of her betrayal. It’s much worse than I ever imagined. My nostrils flare, and nausea rolls in my stomach.
“Brody saved my life,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “If he hadn’t been there, I wouldn’t be here right now.”
Weston doesn’t say anything for at least ten minutes. “I cherish every day because I was given a second chance. Nothing like a wake-up call after facing the Grim Reaper,” he continues, and I hold him a little tighter as if I can protect him from his past. “I’ve got the best people watching out for us.”
“I can’t imagine a world where you don’t exist,” I breathe out, the realization settling heavily in my heart.
“When we first met and I said you made me feel alive, I meant it. I was a walking corpse, haunted by knowing the woman I’d loved wanted me dead and almost succeeded. I looked past the cheating, but the death wish is unforgivable. She wanted to make sure if she couldn’t have me, no one could.” His voice is full of pain, and I hate that he lived this hell.