“It hurt,” I whispered because it had. I did have my own stuff to apologize for, and I was trying to do that, but I also couldn’t deny how much it had hurt when he hadn’t answered me, hadn’t readily chosen us.
“I know. I’m sorry. So sorry.” His voice broke, and he took a shuddery breath. “And I hurt too. The last few days have been painful.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. Over at the playground, the little girl went down the slide again, with absolute trust that her father would catch her at the bottom. I wanted to trust someone that boldly and bravely. “I have no idea how it happened so fast, but sad doesn’t even begin to describe my mood. Felt like I lost some vital organ.”
“My heart. I lost my heart.” Duncan held my gaze until my eyes burned, and I had to blink. Didn’t help. I was still too close to crying. Forget replying. All I could do was take little sips of air as Duncan patted my leg. “And what you said is right. I have a hard time being selfish, doing something for myself, especially when it’s going to make certain people unhappy or risk a negative consequence.”
“I get it,” I managed to whisper.
“But on the flight here, my phone battery was dying, so I actually paid attention to the safety lecture. Put your own oxygen mask on first. Hell, I’ve even given that advice. When I help myself, when I give myself what I need, maybe that puts me in a better position to help others. So yeah, the fallout from dating a client might suck, but if it makes me happy, truly happy, perhaps that means I’ll be more able to take better care of everyone else important to me.”
“Wow. Now who has been listening to Danny?”
Duncan joined me in laughing. “He’d be delighted. And he’d also be right. I’ve been pretty worthless since our fight. Not really able to think about A-List or anyone else. If I can get things straight with you, maybe I can actually think and function again.”
“Same. I’m no good to the band or anyone else this unhappy.” I studied the ground again, moving a dirt clump with my shoe. “But the negative stories? I can’t guarantee all the press will be kind. I wish I could, but I can’t, and I get why you might want to keep things under wraps. I can do that for you. We don’t have to go public.”
Duncan shook his head. “Well, I’m not ready to take out a billboard, but I’m done hiding. You’re right that I never want to be my dad, but I’m not turning into him. I’m already not him. Falling for you doesn’t make me a narcissistic user. Speaking of Danny, he said Dad has no bearing on his life, that his actions don’t reflect on Danny. I want to get to that place.”
“Danny is right. Your dad being a jerk doesn’t make you one.”
“Yeah. Sucks that I couldn’t see it before, but I’m a good person regardless of who my father is or who he isn’t. And maybe the press won’t see it my way. Maybe they’ll try to paint me with the same brush. But it’ll be okay. I know I’m not him.”
“You’re not.” I put my hand over his on my leg. “You’re a good man. The best.”
“All I really want to be right now is the best for you.”
I made a strangled noise. “Melting. You can’t go giving me those kinds of lines when I don’t have anything to write them down with.”
“Ha.”
“No, seriously. I kind of did a crap job of telling you how good you are for me, how much I need you. You are the best, Duncan.”
“So are you.” He gave me a soft kiss, so fast I almost missed it, but my heart kept hammering long after the contact ended. And then we sat there together, holding hands, watching the playground, neither of us talking.
A group of shrieking kids came racing past us, ending the quiet moment, making us both laugh until Duncan sobered first. “Where do we go from here? I’m kind of out of my depth here. I’ve never been this without-a-plan before.”
“We float.” I laughed and patted him. “We float together in the deep end, and we figure it out. And for what it’s worth, my mom was making cinnamon rolls when I left.”
“That works.” Standing, he offered me his hand, and with a full heart but light steps, I followed him into whatever came next.
Chapter Thirty
Duncan
“I think your mom has a sly plan to keep us here forever with her cooking.” Groaning, I stretched my legs out in front of me on the bed.
“I know.” Ezra yawned. His room at his mom’s house was a little bigger than the guest room with a larger attached bathroom. It had more of a lived-in look with a wall of built-in shelving full of Ezra memorabilia and books. Rather than the golf-inspired paintings in the rest of the house, the wall featured framed ticket stubs and early album covers. Being in a space that felt so much like Ezra was cozy, like being wrapped in a soft blanket after the cold of the past few days. The room featured a wall-mounted TV screen, and we were half paying attention to a recent action movie, but I was more invested in the cuddling. Giving a happy sigh, Ezra settled himself more securely against my chest. “I’m not sure I can move after that dessert.”