He needed revenge. His moral compass didn’t always skew the same as most people’s, but in this he was damned sure of his path.
Hunter was right. He was distracted with Gabi. But he also knew he wasn’t going to send her away. To ask her to send another nanny so he wouldn’t be...what? Conflicted.
Damn.
“Daddy?”
“Right here, buddy. How was your nap?” he asked, sitting down on Conner’s toddler bed that was shaped like a race car. One of his friends was the F1 driver Marco Moretti, and Marco had sent the bed to Conner as a gift for his last birthday.
Kingsley rubbed the back of his neck. He had a good life. A life he’d carved for himself out of the ashes of that arrest. The only loose end was the person who’d done it and why.
He wanted to know why. Hunter needed it, too. He felt as if he was responsible for Stacia. And while Kingsley had Conner and a group of good friends, Hunter hadn’t allowed himself to care for anyone since Stacia’s death.
It had haunted his friend.
“Good. I like Gammi.”
“Gabi, buddy, her name is Gabi.”
“That’s what I said. Gammi.”
He rubbed Conner’s head. He’d read an article that said to gently correct speech mistakes but not make a big deal of them. Then the child would just struggle to speak. So he let it go. He had nicknames for many people in his life.
“I’ve got to go to a meeting on the East Coast. Gabi and Mrs. Tillman are going to watch you. Gabi might need to go to her office to work and you’ll get to go with her.”
Conner watched him with those serious little eyes of his. Sometimes Kingsley felt as though his son was an old soul. It was impossible not to look into that innocent face and those eyes and not feel as though there was a lot more going on in there.
Conner nodded and then climbed onto his lap, hugging him. “Can’t I go with you?”
Kingsley hugged his son tightly to him. “Not this time. Gabi can’t come with me and neither can Mrs. Tillman.”
He nodded. “Will you call me?”
“Yes. I will video chat with you anytime you want and every night before bed.”
“Okay, you can go,” Conner said.
“Thanks,” he said. He wondered if, when he was little, he’d been as sure of himself and his place in the world as Conner was. He’d have to ask his older brother. His parents had been distant since he’d been arrested. His marriage and providing them a grandson had mollified them somewhat, but they still weren’t sure he wasn’t entirely blameless.
“You’re awake,” Gabi said from the doorway. “I thought we’d go down to the beach after your daddy leaves. Sound good?”
Conner nodded. “I have to potty.”
He jumped off the bed and ran to his adjoining bathroom and Kingsley stood up and looked at Gabi. She watched him as though she didn’t know what he was going to do next. He wasn’t sure, either. He wanted to pull her into his arms.
Say to hell with everything else and carry her down to his bedroom. But he wasn’t going to do that. When he’d been a quarterback he’d been known as the iceman. Nothing could shake him. And he channeled that right now.
He had to.
It was the only way he had been able to do what he’d had to on the field. Facing linebackers and rushers who wanted to punish the pretty boy who’d hurt a girl.
He had to put that in the past. Had to exonerate himself. Had to find a place where he could be the man he wanted to be for his son. And if he were being honest, for Gabi.
He wanted to get to know the woman she’d become without the big shadow of the past hanging over them.
“I’m not going to apologize.”
“I wasn’t about to ask you to. I’m still not sure what’s going on between us.”
“Good. I don’t want to be managed by you. You’d probably draft up a plan like you advise parents to do and try to manage it.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts and shook her head. “You’re right. I want to deny it but I’m aching to plan this. To figure out what’s going to happen next. But you won’t let me.”
“Good. You have become too rigid—too structured. You need a man to shake you up.”
“I’m back,” Conner announced. “And look what I did.”
Kingsley turned to his son and noticed that he’d put on his swim trunks and swim shirt all by himself. He felt a lump in his throat. His little boy was getting so big.