Page 78

TWENTY-TWO

MILLIE

I lie in bed, terrified to move. Does the floor creak? I can’t remember if the floor creaks. If I get out of bed, will my father know there’s a woman in Gavin’s room? Dammit. This is the worst possible way to get caught. He cannot find out about us while I’m naked and in Gavin’s bed. All arguments for why we work and how age shouldn’t matter go right out the window when it looks like we’re doing nothing but sneaking around and having sex.

Gavin and I are so much more than sneaking around and sex. Sure, the forbidden thing was fun, and yes, the sex is phenomenal, but so are our conversations and the feel of his arms holding me tight. His smiles and his forehead kisses and his encouragements. He makes me happy every day, even when we aren’t together. Though we’re together more often than seems possible now thanks to Gavin’s private jet.

When the season started, I was at the game, cheering on my brother, and then I spent the night in my boyfriend’s bed, lost in him, in us. So much so that we were both late to brunch the next day with my father and Lake. Lake definitely knows the truth, even if she hasn’t said it in so many words, but my father is completely oblivious. Hell, he’s the one who invites Gavin along every time we meet up in Boston.

Despite how adamant Gavin is about coming clean with my dad, it’s the last thing I want to do.

If Gavin and I date out in the open, then it’ll send a message to them that I’m okay with my dad’s relationship with Lake. And though I’m better at keeping it to myself, I’m still struggling on that front.

Not because I don’t believe that my father loves her. Or that she loves my father.

The root of the issue lies in my relationship with my dad. Since Lake came into the picture, things have not been the same between us. Maybe it’s unfair to put that on her, but it’s easier than admitting the truth: that my father broke my heart.

He broke my heart when he gave her half the company without considering that I may have interest in working with him. Yes, I told Gavin that I’m happy with my job, and while it’s not a complete lie, I’ve become stagnant.

But so long as I have Gavin, I can push all those concerns away. He’s like a bandage, covering all my ugly, broken pieces and keeping me stitched together. It’s not until I’m alone that the anger starts to bleed out of me again.

And if my father isn’t okay with us dating—if he makes Gavin choose—I worry that he may not choose me. And regardless of the disconnect between us, I don’t want to lose my dad either.

But time is barreling forward whether I want it to or not. And now my father is down the hall while I’m here, naked in his best friend’s bed.

Fuck.

Could this get any worse?

I’ve spiraled for a solid thirty minutes when the main door opens and closes again. Two minutes later, the bedroom door swings open, and Gavin walks in.

At the sight of him, I blow out a breath of relief. “Is he gone?”

Gavin nods slowly, but the movement is robotic, like his mind is somewhere else.

“Everything okay?” I ask, finally sitting up.

Without responding, Gavin snags my robe from the back of his bathroom door. Little by little, my things have migrated here and found homes in his space. I don’t hate the way he smiles every time he finds something else of mine.

He holds it up, silently signaling that it’s time to get out of bed. Once he’s wrapped me in it, he presses a kiss to my neck. “Yeah, we should talk.”

Tying the sash, I spin so I can see his face. “That doesn’t sound good.”

Head shaking, he rubs at his chin, blinking again. “It’s not bad. He doesn’t know.”

He leaves it at that. It’s a reassurance, though his words fill be with dread instead of relief.

“What’s going on, Gav?”

He drops to the mattress, then pulls me onto his lap. “Your father really should be telling you this, and he plans to. Tomorrow, I guess. But I can’t know and not tell you.”

Anxiety races through me as I clutch his shoulders and search his face.

Is my dad sick? Is he ? —

“Lake is pregnant.”

For a moment, my brain goes blank, and I hold my breath. There’s a humming in my ear, maybe a buzzing, a warning, perhaps, that I’m being starved of oxygen.

“I know it’s probably not what you want to hear,” Gavin continues, pulling me into his chest, “but maybe it will work to our advantage. He’s happy. And yeah, it will be a little weird when our kids are close in age to your sibling, but stranger things have happened, right?”

He pulls back, his lips quirked in a hopeful smile, as if he’s waiting for me to agree, but his words are still ricocheting through my brain.

“Did—did you just say our kids ?” I latch on to that one thing as my heart hammers painfully in my chest.

His smile fades slowly, and the light in his eyes snuffs out. “Millie, I’m not getting any younger.”

“I’m twenty-three,” I deadpan.

“Believe me, I’m aware.” He runs a hand through my hair, frowning. “Do you not want kids?”

He swallows audibly, studying me as if he’s trying to read my mind. One of the things I love most about him—how well he understands me—makes me feel itchy all of a sudden.

God, please don’t let him read these thoughts.

Trembling, I turn the question around on him. “Do you?”

His expression is thoughtful as he nods. “I never used to think I did…”

I breathe out a sigh of relief. Okay. He’s just having a moment. “Then where is this coming from?”

“My brother is such a good dad to Liv’s kids, and now he’s having twins and he’s so excited about it. And then your dad?—”

I groan. “Please stop reminding me that my father is having a baby with someone my age.”

“She’s older than you, and their age difference is the same as ours,” he argues.

“No, they’re twenty-one years apart.” I smile. “We’re eighteen.”

He laughs. “Do you hear yourself?”

I close my eyes and bow my head. “I know. I know I sound ridiculous, but give me a minute with this. A couple of hours ago, we were talking about telling my dad that we’re seeing each other. Now you’re talking about kids, and I’ve got a new brother or sister coming. This is insane.”

“My hope to have a family with you is not insane. And I wouldn’t be telling your father about us if I didn’t want you in my life forever, Millie. I wouldn’t have risked my friendship with him months ago. I want to marry you. I want to have kids with you. And I want my best friend to be okay with that.”

This is so not how I thought today would go. I sit there, dumbfounded. Shocked. “You haven’t even said I love you, but you want to marry me?”

“Millie—”

I cover his mouth. “ Don’t . Not like this.” I shake my head and suck in a breath, suddenly feeling slightly claustrophobic. “I think I need to go for a walk. Get some fresh air.”

“It’s seven already. It’s dark and it’s freezing out. Don’t do this. Don’t run.”

My breaths come in ragged, uneven gasps, my lungs burning. “I’m not. I’m just—” I can’t look at him. Can’t see his face when I say this. “I can’t do this. I think…” I swallow and take in another breath, searching for words that make sense. “I should go back to Paris. We’ll be fine. This just isn’t the right time to tell my dad. I think maybe…maybe later.” I nod. Yes. That’s exactly what needs to happen. We need to slow down. Things have been so perfect between us, and I want to go back to that. We just need to hit pause for a little bit.

“You’re going back to Paris?”

I stand and snag my clothes. Then I spin in a circle, searching for my other belongings. My suitcase is still full and open on the floor. I’ve only been here for a few hours. “Yes. Then my father can’t tell me about Lake, and I—we’ll—things can stay the way they were. Nothing has to change.” I turn around, clutching my clothes to my chest, and plead with him. “Please, Gavin. I can’t tell him. I can’t hear it. I can’t do that.” I point to him, then to myself. “I can do this. We’re perfect. Come back to Paris with me. We can spend Christmas together in my apartment. We’ll get a little tree and go to that café you like. I’ll even sing that song you love.” My heart starts to settle the more I think about being with him there, away from all this. Yes, this is what we need. To spend the holidays, just us two. No talk of kids or the future. No Lake or my father.

No pressure. Just us.

“No.”

“Fine. I’ll sing it in English,” I say with a smile.

His frown only deepens. “I tell you I want to marry you, and you start packing your bags?”

“That’s not—” I shake my head and look away. The pain in his eyes makes my heart feel like it’s cracking in two. “I’m not ready to tell my father.”

“Millie, I’m saying this because I lo?—”

I whip around and glare at him.

He swallows and huffs out a breath. “Because I care about you. I do. I care about you so much.” He steps closer and grasps my hand.

My stomach twists at the wariness in his expression. He’s watching me like he’s trying to weigh his words, as if I might break. “I’ve risked my friendship with your father for you, and I wouldn’t take it back. Not for anything. But we can’t have a healthy relationship if you don’t talk to him. I won’t be a dirty secret, and I won’t be an act of revenge.”

Pain blooms in my chest, so acute I have to fight not to double over. Revenge . That might have been my motive that night, but he has to know that changed the moment I went home with him. Lungs burning, I heave in a breath, but when I speak, my words are barely audible. “You know you aren’t.”

For several long seconds, we stare at one another. In the silence that stretches between us, I will him to remember every moment we’ve shared. Every word. Every touch. To hold on to the connection we have. But then he blinks, and the deep brown of his irises goes dull. That’s when I know we’re not on the same page. Hell, we’re not even reading from the same book.

“Then prove it to me.” He sighs and releases my hand. “I’ve got to go. I told your father I’d meet him at the restaurant.”

“What?”

He shuffles to his closet and removes a pair of dress pants from a hanger. He steps into them, then slips a button-down shirt on. Once his shirt is buttoned, he turns around and looks at me, his face a mask of calm determination. “I can’t keep playing these games, Peaches. The sneaking around isn’t fun anymore. Not when I feel the way I do for you.” He steps up to me and presses a kiss to my lips. It’s so quick I don’t have time to return the gesture. “I’ll always be here for you. Always.” His forehead falls to mine, but he doesn’t hold my hands, clasp my arms, touch me anywhere else. “But this isn’t healthy.”

My heart splits in two, and a tear slides down my cheek. “Are you breaking up with me?”

When he steps back and a rush of cool air hits me, the loss of him is palpable. “How could I break up with you? We’re—” He shakes his head and takes another step back.

“I can’t lose you,” I whisper. The world is upside down right now, but that’s the one thing I know for certain.

Gavin presses his lips together and gives me a pitying smile. “Can’t lose something you never truly had,” he says. “Take care, Millie.”