“Because you told me to,” I remind her. “And because I’m actually hungry.”
At that, my sister smiles, whipping a mass of dark curls off her shoulder and behind her back. “Glad to hear it. You need to go get your woman back. And you need to convince her to marry you tomorrow.”
Because that won’t be challenging at all. I smirk at Harlow. “Thanks, doc.”
“I’ll send you my bill later.”
“If you’re so damn smart, why are you marrying a man you don’t love?”
She freezes, fork filled with eggs halfway to her mouth. Slowly, she lowers it. “We’re compatible. Simon is easy to get along with…and easy on the eyes. We both want kids. He’ll never demand attention if I’m busy working. He’s a logical choice.”
But his behavior just before the wedding… He’s utterly ignoring her. Doesn’t she care? “Twenty bucks says he’s cheating on you.”
Harlow tries to shrug but falters. “I know he probably does when he’s on the road. But is that really the most important thing in a marriage? He’s kind. He’ll never do half the shit Dad did to Mom. And I won’t fall in love with him so he can’t break me.”
I stare at her like she’s lost her mind. “So the most he has to recommend is that he won’t be asshole enough to hurt you but you won’t care because he’s not interesting enough to fall for? Why get married at all?”
My sister glares at me and scoops up her plate. “I don’t want to be alone. Simon is fine. It will be…fine.”
Fine? “A pretty day is fine. Vanilla ice cream is fine. Flowers are fine. Love should be more than that.”
“I’m not looking for it. I’m glad that you and Maxon found it but…” She dumps her plate in the sink with most of her food still on it. “Yeah, that shit’s not for me. I’m going to…”
When she seems to search for words, I swallow my next bite and try to help her. “Run on the elliptical? Take a shower?”
She shakes her head. “End this conversation. Putting me and love in the same sentence gives me hives. Hey, I need to know if we should keep all the wedding plans tomorrow as is or start bailing on what we can?”
“Leave it. I’ll do my best to get Britta there. If it doesn’t work…” At least I’ll have gotten to see it, and I’ll be able to close my eyes and imagine our perfect wedding for a brief, bittersweet moment. If I can’t have her anymore, at least I’ll have that memory.
“All right.”
Her expression tells me I’m crazy. Maybe I am.
She waves as she heads up the stairs. “Good luck.”
Yeah, I’m going to need it.
How the fuck did I get here?
An hour after breakfast with my sister, I sit outside of Britta’s little blue house. There’s a FOR SALE sign in the yard.
My heart still stops at the sight.
The longer I sit in my Porsche and stare at her door, the more I refuse to give up on her without one last attempt. If she doesn’t want me—us—even after I’ve given her every part of myself… Well, there’s nothing more I can give her.
I check to make certain I have everything I need in my pockets, then I head to the front door. Her car is under the carport. There’s a sign in the window proclaiming it for sale, too. Yes, she might have decided it’s time for a new car. It sounds more likely that she’s decided to leave Maui.
Guts twisting, palms sweating, I knock and wait the longest thirty seconds of my life for her to open the door.
Finally, she cracks it. Her golden hair is slicked into a ponytail. Her face is as bare as her feet. She’s wearing a pair of short denim cutoffs and a too-big Hawaiian-print blouse with the tails tied at her slender waist. I can’t go down the rabbit hole of being aroused by the sight of her. I’ve got too many important things to say. But I can’t help being a man. I think of the perfect night we spent together last weekend. I wish to fuck I could go back there and do it all again and make different choices the next morning.
But I have to play the hand I idiotically dealt myself.
“Griff.” She bites her lip. “What are you doing here?”
“I’d like to talk to you.” I glance across the yard. “You’re moving off the island?”
“Yeah. The landlord called me on Tuesday and told me he’d decided to sell the house. So it seemed like the right time to head back to Chicago.”
She’s not just leaving the island; she’s leaving me. Her mother has always tried to tempt her to go back home. Maybe, with nothing to tie Britta to Maui anymore, she’s relented.
My gut seizes up. If I don’t succeed today, I’ll be lucky if I see Jamie once a year. I’ll be a name, a picture, and a voice to him at most. Britta will only speak to me through lawyers. But if my gamble doesn’t pay off, I won’t even have that.
“You hate Chicago.”
She stifles whatever is on the tip of her tongue. “What else do we have to say? I’m pretty sure we said all we needed to the other morning.”
“I just want one conversation. Can I come in and talk to you? That’s all; just talk.”
When Britta blocks the entry through the door with her body and looks like she’s going to refuse me, I blurt, “I have something you want.”
“You don’t.” She shakes her head. “You don’t have a damn thing I want anymore, Griffin Reed.”
I dig into the pocket of my shorts and take out the papers she gave me weeks ago to force me to relinquish my rights to Jamie. “If you give me thirty minutes, I’ll sign them. And you never have to see me again.”
It guts me to offer her that. Hell, to even think it. The thought of never seeing Britta or my son again is a physical ache twisting my stomach. My chest is on the brink of imploding. I’m making the biggest gamble of my life. If I lose, I can’t even imagine how it will decimate me.
I never wanted to sign the papers. Normally, I would refuse for the rest of my fucking life. But it’s literally the only way I know to persuade Britta to listen. To save us.
Finally, she sighs and opens the door wide enough to admit me. “Thirty minutes.”
“Is Jamie here?” When she nods, I look around for my son. “Can I see him before the clock starts?”
Before Britta can even call him, he comes toddling down the hall, holding a book in one hand and a truck in the other.
“Daddy!”
I run to scoop him up and hold him close. He smells like baby powder and peanut butter and sunshine. Grief twists my insides when I think this may be the last time I hold him. I can’t imagine it. This can’t be it.
“Jamie, boy,” I manage to croak out. “I missed you, buddy.”
He wriggles out of my grip and tries to hand me his truck. “Can we play?”
“Not right now, young man,” Britta says softly. “You’re supposed to be taking a nap.”
“Don’t want my crib,” he insists. “I want da big-boy bed.”
It’s still at the Stowe estate, in the room adjoining the master. It’s the only thing in there that reminds me Jamie once slept feet away from me. Everything else of my son’s is gone.
“I know. How about if I let you sleep in my bed?” When Jamie looks unsure, Britta throws in a sweetener. “And ice cream for dessert.”
“Yeah!” the little boy cheers, then looks my way. “Can we play later?”
Britta sends me a warning glance. Don’t make promises I can’t keep. Right.
“We’ll see,” I say finally. “I hope so.”
“Go on.” Britta shoos him down the hall and into her room. I hear a fan engage. Then she shuts the door behind her.