Nothing But This (Broken Pieces 2)

But he didn’t have that right. It killed him not to follow his instinctive inclination to claim them and protect them. He wanted to be a father . . . something he’d never dreamed possible. He wanted to be a husband—something he’d been horrendous at for the most part.

He wanted a second chance.

But he didn’t deserve one, so he had to settle for second best. He just didn’t know what second best entailed yet.

“I’ll go. I’ll be back in about an hour. I think the hardware store is open until eleven on a Sunday; I’ll pop around there for some stuff.”

“I’m paying for whatever you’re buying,” she stated, her voice brooking no argument. That didn’t stop him from trying to argue.

“That’s not necessary; it’ll just be a few things.”

“You pay for anything, and you can forget about the handyman routine,” she warned.

Check. And mate. There was no arguing with that. He hadn’t made any secret of the fact that he was desperate to make himself useful. But she could take that away in a second.

He shut his mouth but couldn’t stop himself from glaring at her.

“If you call in a professional behind my back, so help me God, Greyson . . . there will be hell to pay.”

Not keen to find out how much more hell she could dish out, Greyson dipped his head in surly acquiescence. He was a reasonably intelligent guy—a renowned problem-solver and troubleshooter. He could do this.

“Whatever you want, Olivia,” he agreed softly. “I’ll add that warm water to her bath. Then I’ll head out.”

She didn’t say anything in response to his words, just kept her focus on Clara. Greyson waited for a moment, but she had already dismissed him.

So now he knew how that felt. It was a move he had used on so many others; perhaps it was poetic justice to have the old freeze-out practiced on him for a change.

He turned away and left.

Clara was bathed, changed, and on her back swatting at the little safari animals dangling from the mobile above her playpen.

It was still pouring outside, and Libby had emptied the bucket beneath the leak twice in the thirty minutes since Greyson had left. Her only solace was that no other leaks had sprung up overnight.

The air conditioner sounded even worse than it had last night, and Libby feared the thing was on its last legs. No surprise, really—everything in the house seemed to be on its last legs.

Her phone chimed, and she reached for it, swiping at the screen to check her messages. It was from Greyson.

I’m buying a new handle for the front door, also adding two dead bolts.

She grimaced, thinking of the cost.

One is fine, she typed back quickly.

Two is better.

I want one, Greyson!

FINE!

She shook her head, swiping to check the rest of her messages. Her shoulders fell when she realized that Tina hadn’t messaged her. Then again, Libby wasn’t sure if she would have responded if she had messaged.

But at the same time, after the way they’d left things last night, Libby had expected more from the woman who was supposed to be her best friend. An explanation, more of an apology . . .

Something.

She sighed, tempted to send a message and find out if Tina was okay. She couldn’t help recalling the misery in her friend’s eyes, along with the dejection in her voice, just before Libby had left last night.

Tina was profoundly unhappy, and Libby recognized that it was an unhappiness that had been building over the years. The other woman rarely made the effort to go out and only ever went to family events, which meant she wasn’t meeting new people. It was frustrating to watch. Libby had always been the more gregarious of the two, but she couldn’t recall Tina being this bad when they were kids.

After Libby had returned from London last year, she had been keen to spend more time with Tina. But Libby was honest enough to admit that during her first two months of marriage, she had been wholly preoccupied with Greyson. And then, when she had discovered her pregnancy, which had been swiftly followed by Greyson’s emotional abandonment, it had been all about Libby. But Tina had been there, to hold Libby’s hair back when she puked, to hold her hand during doctors’ appointments, and then to simply hold her up after Greyson had flipped her world upside down.

Libby knew that Tina deserved more than the cursory and dismissive discussion they had had yesterday. But she needed to curtail her mother-bear instincts the next time she and Tina spoke. Libby knew she tended to be selfish . . . but she would have to curb that inclination, because something was fundamentally wrong in Tina’s life. It had taken Libby way too long to recognize that fact.

Decision made, she was lifting her phone to send Tina a message when it chimed again.