Page 76 of Malicious Marriage

How the hell can I tell him about our baby? Never mind telling him the truth about Hailey, about my uncle, and even how our meeting wasn’t accidental without looking as bad as her? If notworsesince Dean went to such lengths to persuade me to say yes.

It won’t matter that I did it all to save my family. All he’ll see is another person manipulating him to use the Savoy name for their own selfish games, and he’d be right.

It doesn’t matter that I’ve fallen for him. In the wake of Trisha’s cruelty, there’s no way he’d believe me.

“Dean,” I say softly, reaching for his hand. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Y’know, part of me had this little inkling of hope that motherhood would change her. That having a baby and holding that life in her arms would unlock some sort of compassion in her and raising a child together wouldn’t be the absolute terror I feared. But she had nothing in her eyes while telling me the truth. Not a single fucking thing. I think she only told me because of the painkillers they gave her.”

When he shakes his head, I step right up to his stool and slide my arms around his shoulders, unable to hold back my comfort any longer. Dean immediately sags into my hold until I’m cradling his head against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I say as tears warm my eyes. I’m apologizing for me. For being another person destined to betray his trust and hurt him.

“I would have been a good dad,” Dean says hoarsely. “I would have been so good.”

“I know. I know.”

“I’m sick of it.” Warmth builds against my chest as he talks against me. “I’m sick of the lies. Of the deception. I’m sick of putting my trust in the wrong people. Sick of it.” With most of the scotch bottle warming his veins, his hold around my waist istighter than normal, but with every ounce of strength he uses to seek comfort against me, my guilt grows.

Will finding Hailey really be worth betraying this beautiful man? Will having her by my side really make up for the pain I’m sure to see in Dean’s eyes when he learns he was once again used?

Those thoughts bring tears to my eyes as much as I try to blink them away. Dean’s arms around my waist tighten a fraction, then he lifts his head and looks up at me.

He’s such a handsome man. Even in the low light, the happy wrinkles around his eyes remain prominent and the silver in his beard appears to glow as he lightly rolls his jaw and presses his lips together.

“Thank you,” he says softly. “For being here.”

“Of course,” I say just as softly.

“It wasn’t part of our agreement. All of this. Me, drunk in the kitchen like a wet blanket.”

“Don’t do that,” I scold immediately, cupping his cheek with one hand. “Don’t diminish your feelings into a joke. You’re hurting. You’ve been lied to and manipulated and tricked. You’re allowed to feel and cope exactly how you need to. Please, don’t put yourself down.”

“How did I end up with someone so perfect?”

He’s breaking my heart. “I’m not perfect.”

“You are. You came to me at a time of need without knowing just how much I needed someone. You treated me so kindly, like I was a real person, and you gave up a part of yourself to help me. Never have I known anyone so kind.”

Stop. He needs to stop before his sweetness causes me to spill every secret I’m burying inside me.

“You helped me too,” I remind him gently. “It was a mutual deal, remember?”

“I remember.” His eyes close. “I still picture you in that black dress. You looked…” He trails off and his head tilts slightly, then he opens his eyes and locks gazes with me.

Heat pulses through my chest, but just as the surging urge to blurt out my truth rises, Dean also rises. In half a second, he’s standing over me with both hands cupping my face, and then his mouth gently crashes into mine.

Should I give in? Is now really the time to sink into physical intimacy when we’re both clearly so sad?

Yes. Yes it is.

33

DEAN

Itoss Clover onto the bed and crawl over her, claiming her lips in another hungry kiss. Despite the desire burning hot in my heart and igniting a fire through my entire body, I keep my movements slow and match the gentle, intimate energy she gives me.

Her fingers thread through my hair like every touch is precious and when she slides my shirt from my shoulders, her warm, soft hands caress down my scars with such tender softness that it almost brings a tear to my eye.