Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55765 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
I drop my phone into my pocket, turning to find Maci adjusting her clothes. Her cheeks are flushed red, but this isn’t with the lust and passion that usually drives me so crazy. This is with something else entirely. She looks like somebody has just told her it’s the end of the world.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Kayla knows Ethan’s real name. I guess he told her. She wants to speak to us both.”
Maci swallows. “So that means it’s all out there, then.”
I step forward and take her hand. She flinches like she’s debating snatching it away but then lets me hold onto her. She tightens her grip like she never wants to let go. That’s all it takes with us: moments of contact that lead to conflagrations of connection.
“No more running,” she says. “It’s time to face up to what we’ve done.”
As I drive us back into the city, Maci picks at the fabric of her pants. She pulls a thread loose and then keeps picking at it, twisting it between her fingers, grinding her teeth from side to side. I reach over and gently touch her face.
“You’ll hurt yourself.”
She wraps her arms around her body like a straitjacket, which may be appropriate. Maybe we’re both crazy for ever thinking this could work.
“I’d rather hurt myself than hurt Kay,” she murmurs.
“It’s too late,” I tell her. “All we can do now is go in there and do our best to explain.”
“Explain what?” Maci leans away from my hand. “Explain I spied on you in the pool? Explain we almost had sex twice when we were staying in the same house as her? Explain we’ve had weeks to come clean, but we haven’t?”
“We didn’t want to hurt her,” I say.
“That’s never a good excuse.”
“I’m doing my best here, Maci,” I tell her.
She softens, touching my arm. It gives me more comfort than I ever believed a single touch could. If I were driving to have this conversation with Kayla alone, I’d be panicking more. I’m sure I’d be going crazy. It does feel like a bomb’s about to go off, but somehow, the tick-tick-ticking isn’t as unbearable as it should be. With Maci, I can face anything.
“We would’ve had a beautiful relationship,” I say as we drive over the bridge. The city’s towers seem to get taller and more imposing.
“Yeah?” Maci whispers.
“We would’ve moved fast,” I tell her. “We would’ve dated and made love, and then, we would’ve taken it to the next step.”
“The next step?” she says softly.
I glance at her, savoring the look of her pursed lips, wide eyes, and the emotion touching every part of my woman. “You know what I’m talking about.” I turn away. “But I can’t say it. If I say it…”—marriage, a life together—“I won’t be able to do the right thing. If I talk about the life we could’ve had—all the moments, all the happiness, and lust—I won’t be able to, to…”
“Be the dad you need to be,” she fills in for me. “Be the dad you always have been until I came along.”
We don’t say anything for a while. Then she says, “It’s the same for me. If I think about it, about you c-carrying me…”
“Say it,” I urge.
She pushes past her emotion, the pain in her voice. “Across the threshold, I’ll want it too badly, and then I won’t be able to be the friend I should be.”
All too soon, we’re close to Kayla’s apartment. We can do nothing except park, head inside, and do our best to make up for the pain we’ve caused. I hate the fact that Kayla has heard the recording. That little prick didn’t have to show her that, but I know he must have if he’s told her his real name. Why wouldn’t he tell her all of it?
CHAPTER 22
MACI
As we walk into Kayla’s living room, I realize my mistake. Lukas and I have arrived together, but I almost laugh at the thought. Does that really matter now? Arriving together? She’s heard us being intimate, moaning, almost having sex, wanting to have sex. This is minor compared to that.
Kayla is sitting on the couch, her hand on Finn’s arm. I didn’t expect to see that. Shouldn’t she hate him? Finn is hunched over, vomiting into a bucket, and crying at the same time.
“I’m sorry,” he moans. “Kayla, I’m sorry.”
Lukas glances at me, apparent surprise in his piercing eyes. “Kayla,” he says, turning to his daughter.
I expect to see hatred in her eyes, the resentment that has plagued my nightmares since the steaminess in the pool. Instead, she smiles like she’s relieved. She glances at me, and the smile doesn’t falter.
“Sit down,” she murmurs, seeming too preoccupied with rubbing Finn’s back to note that Lukas and I arrived at the same time.
We sit on the other couch. Finn looks in bad shape, his shirt covered in sweat, his hair shining. He’s got both arms wrapped around a wastebasket.