Page 50 of Playboy Husband

CALLUM

After suffering through dinner with the guys, I made my excuses and went looking for Maisie.

I hadn’t seen her all damn day. Mom and Sterling had made plans to substitute the traditional bachelor party and bachelorette party, which meant that Maisie had been with the women all day while I’d been stuck with the men.

Every sip of whiskey had felt like sandpaper being forced down my throat, every laugh dry, but I’d played my part despite feeling her absence in every single fucking minute. I couldn’t do it anymore though, so I headed out, but I couldn’t find her anywhere.

I checked the grand hall, which was just about ready for the reception tomorrow. Something in my chest twisted at the sight of it. Will there even be a reception here tomorrow?

I shut the door quickly as soon as I realized she wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the dining room, the library, or any of the sitting rooms either.

Eventually, I found Sadie curled up on an armchair in the drawing room. She had a book in her hands, a blanket draped over her knees, and mug of something warm and steamy on the table beside her. She looked up when I paused in the doorway.

“Maisie went to bed early,” she said as her eyes met mine. “That’s what you’re doing here, right? You’re looking for her?”

I nodded. “How was she today?”

“Broken,” Sadie said simply, a glimmer of pain crossing her gaze. “She’s really hurting, Cal.”

“Yeah, well, so am I.” I cocked my head at her. “You know, don’t you?”

“Yes, but I haven’t for long.” Her voice was soft and gentle, and as I looked at her, I waited for the anger to come.

Rage about her having known when I hadn’t, but I just didn’t feel it.

Besides, I didn’t know when or how she’d found out, and she wasn’t the person I wanted to talk to about it.

As I turned to leave, however, she added, “She loves you. I suspect part of her always has. She might just not have believed that you could ever love her back.”

Her words cut me to the quick. I didn’t respond, just striding to the staircase and heading up, wondering if my heart was physically strong enough to withstand all this. I’d never felt pain this intense and there wasn’t even a drop of blood to show for it.

It sucked. I had no idea how some people went through their entire lives feeling so damn deeply. I wouldn’t have survived it. That was all I knew for sure right now.

Pale light spilled out from underneath Maisie’s door at the end of the hall. I raised my hand and knocked softly, but she didn’t respond.

“Maisie?” My voice came out rough, vulnerable. Too naked. But I knocked again. “Please, Maisie? It’s me. Will you open up?”

Still nothing. I pressed my forehead lightly against the door, palm flat to the wood like I could reach her through it if I tried hard enough.

“Please,” I whispered, so quiet this time that I knew my plea wouldn’t have reached her ears. “Just talk to me.”

The silence stayed. I tried the handle, but the door was locked.

Of course.

For a moment, I kept standing there, utterly torn between giving her space or kicking the damn door down, gathering her in my arms, and holding her until we’d found a way to work through this.

I was missing her so badly, it felt like someone was taking an ice pick to my heart, stabbing it with every beat.

More than anything, I wished I could climb into bed with her and remind her of what we were. Show her what we could be. Eventually though, I turned and walked away. Every step I took felt like I was taking it in the wrong direction, like leaving her was the last thing I should ever do.

Harrison appeared from around the corner, and he looked like hell. His hair was mussed, his eyes half closed. He managed a tired grin when he noticed me. “Entertaining a seven-year-old indoors all day wrecked me. That kid is relentless, so I’m out. Enjoy the rest of your night, bro.”

“Yeah, you too.”

He kept walking like it was all he could do just to stay on his feet. Once again, I wondered how Maisie had managed by herself all these years. Keeping up with Brody through seven long winters while Harrison looked like that after only one day? That took strength.

Jameson, who had come around the corner just after Harrison, hung back as our youngest brother disappeared into his room. Jamie tilted his head, his gaze sharp and assessing. It was the kind of look I usually only got from Sterling, but clearly, Jameson had been working on perfecting it.

“Alright, that’s enough,” he said. “You’ve been out of it all day. I thought it was just wedding jitters, but clearly, something else is going on. What is it?”

I hesitated, but as I stared at him, I realized I needed a sounding board. Talking about my feelings wasn’t in my nature, but fuck. Everything I’d been thinking all day was rising from within like a tide, and it needed an outlet.

“Let’s go outside,” Jameson said.

He led me downstairs to an enclosed patio with roaring flames in a fire pit, comfortable, padded chairs all around it, and a drinks cart ready in the corner.

Jameson pointed at one of the chairs. “Sit. I’ll get the drinks.”

Restlessness surged through me, so instead of sitting, I started pacing, but as I watched him slide the door shut behind us, the whole sordid story tore right out of me. He hadn’t even reached the damn drinks cart yet.

“Brody is mine. He’s my son. I didn’t know. I only found out yesterday. Fucking yesterday. The kid is seven, Jamie. That’s seven years I’ve missed out on. Missed everything. Seven years I should’ve been there for.”

Jameson didn’t interrupt, letting me sort through my thoughts out loud.

He did finally press a drink into my hand, though.

The tumbler was filled with one of Sterling’s top shelf Scottish whiskeys and I took a deep gulp, instantly deciding that if this was therapy, Jameson was the best therapist I’d ever heard of.

I hadn’t realized until this very minute how much I’d been needing someone to just hear me out with no judgment and no interruptions.

I kept pacing. Drinking. Pacing some more.

Finally, I continued. “I should be angry. Fuck, I am angry. I’m so pissed, I feel like I could rip this place apart with my bare hands.

I’m angry at her, and at myself, and at the situation, but mostly, I’m so fucking angry at the guy I used to be. ”

Jameson sat down in one of the chairs, sipping his drink. He watched me pace but he still didn’t say anything.

“She was right to be scared of telling me, Jamie. That’s what hurts the most. She said she didn’t tell me because I wouldn’t have believed her and she’s right. I wouldn’t have. I would’ve walked away without looking back.”

My brother’s lips twitched like he wanted to make a joke, but for once in his life, he didn’t. “You’re not that guy anymore, Callum. We all made mistakes back then, but we were kids. The best we can do now is to focus on the future. To be better going forward than we were in the past.”

“I know, but that doesn’t erase the guilt. It doesn’t erase missing out on him, on us, for seven fucking years.”

“She chose to protect Brody,” he said evenly.

“She did what she thought was best, based on the information she had at the time. That doesn’t make you any less a father.

Or any less her fiancé, for that matter.

You’ve got to accept that. You missed out on the first seven years, but it doesn’t mean you need to miss out on the next seventy. Or however many years you’ve got left.”

“I know.” I gulped down the rest of my drink, then started pacing again.

“It’s just hard to reconcile the boy I used to be with the man I’m trying to be now, you know?

It fucking sucks that she was forced to grow up and she’s raised this awesome kid, and I spent the rest of my time at college guzzling beer, fucking cheerleaders, and playing a game that didn’t even matter because I’ve always known I was going to work for the company as soon as I graduated. ”

Jameson grinned. “It sounds like you’re finally growing up, little brother.

I wish I could warn you to turn back. To cancel your subscription to adulthood.

All that stuff, but it’s too late. You’re already right in the thick of things, so all I can really say is that Brody is lucky to have you now. ”

I laughed dryly and shook my head. “I don’t know about that. I don’t know if he will have me because I’m not sure Maisie’s ever going to forgive me, man. I’m also not sure she should.”

“She will. Just give her time. And maybe get some sleep, huh?”

I nodded, watching the firelight flicker across the stone walls, but feeling his eyes on me.

He just came right out with it. “Are you going through with it tomorrow?”

“I don’t know if I can.” I finally dropped into a chair and groaned, setting my empty glass down and scrubbing my hands over my face. “God knows, I want to. I want her. I want us. I want Brody and the fucking chaos of away games. I want all of it.”

Jameson’s eyes narrowed. “So what’s stopping you?”

“Me. I’m stopping me.” I exhaled. Even to my own ears, the sound was hopeless and ragged.

“I’ve been a dick. I’ve been selfish. I spent all day pretending like everything was fine while she’s been in her room, probably thinking I hate her.

I haven’t spoken to her since last night.

I don’t know what to say or do to fix this. ”

“Sometimes, the only way to do it, is to do it,” he said. “You just have to start. It doesn’t really matter where. You’re not going to get it perfect. You just have to try. Fuck, man, not even Sterling got it right the first time around, but he didn’t give up.”

I nodded, but the tension in my chest was still making it ache. “What if she doesn’t show up tomorrow? What if she’s realized that Brody deserves better?”

Jameson gave me a pointed look. “Then you’ll deal with it when it happens, but worrying about it won’t change what’s going to happen. You do need to get some sleep though, or tomorrow’s going to be a disaster before it even gets here.”

I didn’t answer, but I knew he was right.

A few minutes later, I was back in my room and I stripped down, fully intending on getting the sleep I knew I needed, but it was impossible.

Every corner of the room echoed with the memory of her voice last night, of her tears, and the way she’d bolted when I’d raised my voice like an ogre.

So I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with my heart drowning. I wished I could just go to her room, pull her into my arms, and tell her everything I felt. Tell her that if she gave me just one more chance, I’d never leave her again.

Instead, I drifted in and out of a shallow sleep all night, wondering if she would still be here tomorrow. I didn’t know if she could ever forgive me, but I desperately wanted to try and earn it. Despite everything else, I still fucking loved her. I loved Brody.

Life was so much better and fuller with them in it, and now that I’d had a taste of it, I didn’t want to lose it. Not without a fight, at least. Definitely not without even trying.