Page 12 of The Night
I gripped Parker’s arm. “Look, before you spin this into some fucking fairy tale, it’s not like that,” I gritted out. “You can’t have a second chance when you never really had a first chance. I don’t know why the hell he’s here, but I want himgone.”
“But whoishe?” Parker demanded. “What’s his name? How did you meet him? Is that his kid? When were you together? Why was it only one night? Does he live around here?”
Poor Parker. So adorable. So naive. So fuckingmisguided.
“His name is Liam McKnight,” I said, and even saying his name was a kind of magic because my heart clenched with a breathless terror I hadn’t felt since the moment I’d walked back to my Vegas hotel suite carrying breakfast and a stupid, overly sentimental rose… and found nothing but a plain, gold ring atop a pile of rumpled sheets. “He’s my husband.”
Chapter Three
Liam
I was monumentally stupid.
I’d known Gideon Mason for less than an hour before I’d let him press our joined hands against the air-conditioning-cold glass of his hotel room window and fuck me while the lights of the fake Eiffel Tower danced across our skin.
Ten sleepless hours later, we’d watched the sunrise at Valley of Fire Park in utter silence—partly because we’d both lost our voices thanks to too much talking and too-enthusiastic blowjobs, and partly because words would have been redundant.
Twelve hours after that, I’d opened my eyes to Gideon watching me sleep, solid and fierce and real in a way nothing in my life had ever been before. He’d said, “I love you,” in his deep, deep voice, with no disclaimer—no, “I think” or “You’re gonna say I’m crazy” or “I know it’s too soon, but”—and I, Liam McKnight, they guy who wouldn’t get a pet hamster or a tattoo becausewhat if I changed my mind?, had said “Marry me?” and felt not a single shred of panic once the words were out of my mouth.
Eight more hours, and the surprisingly chilly night air had seeped through our kitschy matching Vegas t-shirts as Gideon and I had walked down to a tiny chapel where a short, blond Elvis with a thick Russian accent formalized our union with a pair of gold ringsthat didn’t even fit,because who gave a shit what the ceremony looked like when Gideon’s name was already etched on my heart, and we hadforeverto get our rings sized?
Only three days afterthat, I’d finally convinced myself that Icouldn’ttake a chance on Gideon and handle all the newfound responsibilities in my life too, and that choice had felt like cutting off a limb.
And for the past five years, despite my best efforts to purge the man from my thoughts, I’d woken up in a panic—not a moment of concern, mind you, but an actual chest-heaving, scalp-sweating, nearly-in-tears, utterly irrationalfit— multiple times, convinced Gideon had gotten hurt or maimed or killed in a fire, and I’d never know he was gone from this world because I’d lost the right to be informed.
So, how in thehellhad I thought we’d get through this meeting with air kisses and civilized handshakes and a promise to exchange Christmas cards?
The answer was, I hadn’t thought at all.
What the fuck were you supposed to say to the guy you’d walked out on nearly five years ago? Hallmark didnotmake a card for this.
“Daddy? The Christmas tree one?” Hazel blinked up from her perusal of the bakery case, her brown eyes just a tiny bit worried, like she’d noticed my distraction.
I smiled, forcing myself to focus on her. “Sure, Bug. Looks good.” To the redhead behind the counter, I said, “Thank you.”
The guy waved a dismissive hand. “Always nice to feed people who appreciate good frosting.” He put a beautifully decorated cookie on a plate and handed it down to Hazel. “Enjoy it.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said politely. She held the plate in two hands as she made her way back to our table by the window and took her seat.
I didn’t sit down. Instead I cast a look back at Gideon, who was talking to the guy in the Santa hat like he’d ceased to be aware of my presence. The guy in the hat was cute—his build was lean like mine, but his face was objectively cuter—and the way he was leaning close to Gideon made me wonder if he was a friend or…
None of my business.None. Of. My. Business. Gideon could fuck every guy in town.
He probably had.
And they’d probably loved it every bit as much as I had.
My hands squeezed themselves into fists, and I forced them to unclench.
Myonlybusiness was getting Gideon to sign the paperwork that would cut the final thread tying us together, so we could both move on.
“Hey.” I ran a hand over Hazel’s curls. “So, remember how I’m here for grown-up stuff?”
She looked up at me, green smeared around her mouth. “Yeah?”
“Well, the person I need to speak to is right over there.” I hooked a thumb in Gideon’s direction. “I’m going to go have a privategrown-upconversation while you finish your treat, so don’t interrupt unless it’sreallyimportant. Okay?”
Her gaze sharpened with curiosity, and I almost laughed at my rookie mistake. Were any words more compelling to a seven-year-old thangrown-up conversation?