More Than Need You (More Than Words 2)

“Nothing’s wrong with you. It’s been a rough few days. I know.” Just like I know I should have insisted she eat more than a pot sticker and a lettuce wrap before imbibing. I shove my half-empty beer away and stand. “I’ve got this. Let me take you home.”

“You’re really leaving now?” Keeley asks, looking a little bummed.

I rise and lean in to whisper in her ear. “I know you want Britta and me to have a happily ever after now, but FYI, she’s not ready. We have a lot to work through, and I have to get started.”

The clock is ticking against me.

“Have you made it through the CD I gave you?”

I know she spent a lot of time and energy to give it to me. “Not yet. I’m, um…taking it in small doses.”

“Like Britta, you weren’t totally ready, either. When you are, it’s waiting.” She kisses my cheek. “Now go.”

When I look around, Maxon is helping Britta to her feet and giving her a hug and some speech of encouragement that ends with a brotherly pat on the shoulder. Keeley hands Britta her purse, and my angel stares at Maxon’s fiancée as if she’s not sure what to say. Finally, Keeley ends the awkward stare-down by grabbing Britta up in a hug.

“We’re going to be friends, and I’m always going to be here for you. Maxon will give me your number, and I will call you soon.”

“You’re on Griff’s side,” she says. “So don’t bother.”

“I’m on love’s side. Tonight…just remember that he wants what’s best for all of you.”

“If you think he doesn’t have some control-freak vendetta—”

“He doesn’t.” Keeley shakes her head. “You won’t see it until you stop being angry and afraid. He hurt you, and you’re entitled to your feelings. But he’s moved heaven and earth to give you a choice. You can either unleash everything you’ve kept bottled up inside on him or you can genuinely see if it’s possible you two can make each other happy for the rest of your lives. You have to decide if you want to hate or are ready to love again.” She squeezes Britta’s hand. “Oh, and make sure you have a bottle of water and two ibuprofen before you go to bed.”

“Thanks.” I maneuver Britta behind me. I don’t think she’s in the mood to hear more wisdom just now.

After a manly chest bump with my brother, I wrap an arm around Britta’s waist and escort her to my SUV. We’re absolutely silent as we approach Jamie’s daycare.

Ten minutes later, he’s in my arms, looking happy—especially when I bring up pizza. I dial one of my favorite delivery places for those rare times I indulge in a pie. I know what Britta likes, so I make sure she’ll be happy. Jamie gets a kid’s cheese pizza all to himself. It will be delivered in an hour. When I give the restaurant the address, Britta is staring at me with a gaping jaw and wide eyes.

“You’re taking us to the Stowe estate?” she asks the moment I hang up.

She might be tipsy but her brain still works.

“Yes. We’re staying there until the end of our arrangement.” I explain the estate’s need for a caretaker. She already knows how I feel about staying at her house.

“There’s so much water… The pools. The ocean! Jamie…”

“Shh… I’m a step ahead. You don’t honestly think I would do anything to put our son at risk, do you?” I raise a brow at her. “I ordered a baby gate for the top and bottom of the stairs. We can put his toys in the spare room and keep him contained there with knob guards. He won’t be able to wander out unless we open the door. The rest of the time, he’ll be asleep or with us. If that’s not enough, tell me what else we need to keep him safe. I’ll take care of it.”

Britta falls silent as we head to the property. “Why are you doing this? Really?”

I know she’s not asking me why I want to protect Jamie. “Because I love you.”

She clenches her jaw. “You love me so much you’re going to force me to live with you?”

“I love you so much I’m willing to do whatever it takes to help you past your hurt, including taking your anger, which I fully realize I deserve, until you see that we belong together.”

With a sigh, she clasps her hands in her lap. “You confuse me.”

I don’t think she’d be admitting that weakness if she hadn’t consumed wine, but her honesty is more helpful than her blame.

“How? I’ve been very straightforward. The trouble isn’t that you don’t understand me; it’s that you don’t believe me. So this is me, trying to change your mind.”

Britta doesn’t speak again until we reach the house, but I can feel her thoughts turning. I wonder exactly what she’s thinking, but I also know better than to force her to talk before she’s ready. She’s quiet, my angel. She often has to think alone, sometimes reflecting for days, before she’s ready to reply.

By the time I pull all the suitcases and boxes of Jamie’s necessities from the back of my SUV and stack them in the foyer, the doorbell is ringing. I collect the hot pizza boxes and drinks, then pay the delivery boy. Less than two minutes later, we’re sitting down to gooey goodness at the breakfast bar in the rustic Hawaiian kitchen overlooking the peaceful tide of the blue ocean. I’m glad Britta included Jamie’s booster seat in her packing so we can make it through this meal with relative ease.

His playpen will come in handy later, too.

Britta picks at her food, mostly fussing over Jamie. I take over coaxing the little guy to eat when it looks as if she’s consumed less than a slice.

After he’s chowed down half of his kid’s plate and starts pushing at the counter, I clean him up and lift him into my arms.

“I’ll give him a bath.” Britta rises and grabs her plate, heading for the sink.

I grab her wrist and nudge her toward her chair. “Sit. Finish. I’ll bathe him. After that, we’ll set up his playpen so he can go to bed. Then you and I will talk.”

She looks pointedly at her stool, silently refusing to sit again. “I’m tired of you telling me what to do.”

“Then stop balking every time I try to lighten your load or meet you halfway.”

I’m not going to stand here and argue. First, it’s late for Jamie, and he’s beginning to yawn and fuss. Second, I think I’m getting to her. She’s being argumentative, picking fights, looking for faults…like she’s trying to stay mad at me. Like she knows she’s teetering on the edge of believing in me again.

Or like I’m thinking really fucking wishfully.

Right now, I’m pretty sure the score is me two, Makaio zero. Yeah, Britta might want to subtract a point from my total because I’ve twisted her arm, but I have to think that’s less of a deduction than her groom telling her that his mommy is going to plan their wedding. So really, the banker is in negative territory, right? I should be good.

But I’m not taking anything for granted.

So I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve…

After I bathe my boy and find some pajamas in one of his suitcases, I unravel the mystery that is his playpen and set it up in the room adjacent to the master suite. Britta packed away his night-light, so I plug it in before I retrieve his favorite blanket. Then I rock

him a little until his eyes droop.

“Hey, big boy. You ready for bed?”

I’m aware that Britta has wandered up the stairs and followed the sound of our voices. She now pauses just inside the doorway of the sitting room. I feel her eyes on me as I cradle Jamie and coo to him.

“No,” he whines as he rubs his eyes again. “I not tired.”

I try not to laugh. He’s obviously exhausted, and it’s already past his bedtime.

“Yes,” I say firmly, kissing his forehead. “You are. Come on.”

With a frown, he touches my cheek. His big eyes and a curious