“Hmm.” I’m noncommittal because I refuse to add fuel to her fire. But I won’t lie to her face and agree, either.
She narrows her eyes at me. “Griffin James Reed, don’t you dare act as if you didn’t step way over the line with me.”
“I did.”
My admission seems to startle her, then she narrows her eyes at me. “But you’re not sorry.”
“If I upset you, yes. That I got to touch you again and remind you of what’s between us, no.” When she stiffens and opens her mouth, likely with a comeback, I hold up a finger. “But I promised Maxon I wouldn’t drag our personal shit into the office.” I glance at the folder in her hands. “So, did you have something else to discuss?”
“That’s a convenient excuse. I’m engaged, and you grabbed me and kissed me. You put your hands on me—”
“My mouth, too. Don’t forget that. In fact, after I left your house and got alone in my own car, I could still smell your pussy on my fingers. It was driving me crazy. I had to lick them. Savor them.” God, she tastes exactly as I recall.
Her eyes bulge, and she turns a hundred shades of red, then whips her stare out the interior window to see if Maxon or Rob could possibly have overheard us. “Don’t say things like that!”
“I should lie?” I lean back in my chair.
“You’re twisting my words. Don’t say sexual things to me.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to candy-coat how much I want you, angel. Or how much I love you.”
She rears back as if I’ve slapped her. “Don’t say that, either. You’re only claiming you have feelings for me now because you want parental rights to Jamie. I won’t let you sweet-talk me into—”
“Let’s get one thing straight.” I stand and round the desk, approaching her on slow steps. “I still loved you even before I knew about Jamie.”
Britta pauses as if absorbing my words. “Funny how you never took the time to say that until you found out about your son. My reply is still the same.”
Fuck off.
“Too bad. I won’t walk away from Jamie,” I promise. “Or from you.”
“Why do you always expect that everyone will bend to please you? I’ve moved on. I don’t need you.” She clenches her fists with a grunt. “I never lose my damn temper unless you’re involved.”
“Because I matter to you, just like you matter to me.”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No. It’s because you infuriate me. You can tell me you ‘love’ me all you want. I don’t believe you. I never will. Ugh, you make me hate you.”
Not true. I get under her skin. “That didn’t feel like hate on your guest-room bed less than forty-eight hours ago.”
She blinks, looking as if she’s fighting furious tears. “You’re throwing my momentary lapse in my face?”
I refrain from pointing out that her “momentary lapse” was closer to five minutes.
“Stop it, Griff. I’m not a naive little virgin anymore. I’m done letting you manipulate me.” She slaps the folder down on my desk. “This is the solution to our problem. Read these papers and sign them, damn it. If you ever really cared about me and what I want, you’ll do this.”
I stare at the spilling paperwork like it’s a snake. I round the desk and flip the folder open. The header at the top of the stapled document on legal paper reads VOLUNTARY RELINQUISHMENT OF PARENTAL RIGHTS.
Holy. Fuck.
More words swim before my eyes. GRIFFIN JAMES REED DOES HEREBY IN WRITING EXPRESSLY CONSENT AND AGREE TO THE TERMINATION OF HIS PARENTAL RIGHTS CONCERNING JAMES TUCKER STONE. CONSENT IS PERMANENT AND CANNOT BE REVOKED…
I stop reading. I stop breathing. I probably shouldn’t be surprised that she’s fighting back…but I didn’t see this coming. The gnawing in my stomach is definitely panic. I try to keep myself under control as I close the flap of the folder, covering the document. “No.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I see she’s trying to will them away.
I soften my refusal by pointing out one detail. “I’m not his father legally, so I have no rights to relinquish. This document is unnecessary.”
“Damn it, Griff.” She sniffles. “Do the right thing by me for once and sign it so there’s no question in the future.”
Her insistence hurts. But seeing her so upset is killing me, too. She clearly feels backed into a corner, and this legal maneuver is tearing her apart. It must be. If Britta flat-out hated me, she would be coldly silent. But she isn’t the sort of woman to share her vulnerable side easily. So all her upset tells me is that she truly doesn’t want to cut me out of Jamie’s life.
It tells me she’s far more terrified to trust me than I thought.
The other thing this morning says is that Makaio has absolutely no control or sway over Britta. That’s great news for me. Sure, he might have lied to my face about his thoughts and intentions, but I doubt it. He’s a truth-justice-and-American-way sort of guy. He would view something important, like Jamie’s custody arrangement, as too vital to play games with.
Well, I’m not playing games, which he’ll figure out…eventually. Britta isn’t messing around, either. She’s simply trying not to think with her heart.
I need to show her that she can believe in me, that I’ll be here for her. I can’t do that if I’m unable to spend time with her and our son. So I’ll fix that problem—fast.
But I will never, ever sign this document, no matter how much she pleads.
“I’m trying, angel. I’m simply not convinced that me bowing out of Jamie’s life forever is best for any of us.”
Through the interior window, I see Maxon glaring my way. Not in the office. Right.
“You’re just going to confuse him. The schlepping him back and forth between your place and mine… He’s too young to understand. He doesn’t take that well to strangers or new surroundings. You don’t know the first thing about kids. Please. It would be better if you let us go.”
A tear finally escapes and rolls down her cheek. With a valiant sniff, she tries to call it back, but it’s too late. Instead, she wipes it away and blinks stoically, determined to press on no matter how much this is killing her. I’d be happy to kiss her tears away, but I’d rather not be kicked in the balls—by her or my brother.
Of course, I could argue with Britta. I’ve got a hundred comebacks whizzing through my head. He’s a smart boy. We’ll help him figure out any new arrangement. I’ll do everything possible to make him comfortable, and I’ll ask your advice so the transition is the best it can be. What I don’t know about kids, I’ll be more than happy to learn… I could go on. All that does is prolong the argument. We’ll never get to the heart of the issue that way.
Clearly, she’s torn. Her head is telling her one thing. Her heart is saying something else entirely. I’m going out on a limb—not really—and guessing that after I abandoned her, she mentally combed through every moment of every day we spent together and tried to figure out where it went wrong and how she could have been so mistaken about our commitment, etc. When she didn’t find anything she could definitely point to as the moment, she resolved never to let her guard down with a man, especially me, again.
Yeah, I’ve got to fix a lot of shit.
“Why do you think this arrangement would be better?” I ask.