“Believe what you want, but you know it’s true,” she said with equal ferocity. Clara stopped babbling and stared up at her mother uncertainly, and Libby gentled her tone. “Thank you for being honest. About the plumber.”
She knew how much that must have cost his pride, and it did mean a lot that he had been truthful over something he could easily have hedged about.
“I’m trying to be different. Worthy. A good father and husband.”
“Greyson, please . . . stop,” she said on a broken whisper. “You still have the chance to be a good father.”
“But not a good husband?” he elaborated, and she sucked her lower lip into her mouth, her gaze not faltering from his intent stare. His shoulders sagged, and he cleared his throat before turning away quickly.
“I’ll get that dead bolt on the front door,” he said over his shoulder.
“You don’t have to,” she said, and he stopped, his back to her. He just stood there, not saying a word. The defeated droop of his shoulders and head got to her. She screwed her eyes shut, biting the inside of her cheek hard, before continuing, “Not now. Why don’t we have some lunch or something? You can give your hand a break and spend some time with Clara.”
He turned, the movement so swift it nearly unbalanced him. “Really?” he asked, the expression on his face boyishly keen and hard to resist.
“Greyson, this isn’t easy for me. You hurt me. You hurt us,” she said, dipping her chin toward Clara. “I don’t know how to . . . to move forward. How to forgive you. I don’t think I ever can. But Clara, she’s innocent in this, and I don’t want her hurt. You have to promise me. Promise me you won’t hurt her. You won’t make her love you and then abandon her.”
Like you did with me. Libby blinked fiercely, forcing her tears to remain at bay as she determinedly bit back the revealing words. They remained unspoken, and she hoped he wouldn’t find them lurking between the lines. She had never told him she loved him. Had never really known if she did. But she knew now. His betrayal had hurt as much as it did because she loved him.
“I’m so sorry you think I’d do that.”
She sighed impatiently, and he halted. “Another apology for the wrong thing,” she pointed out, and he made a soft sound of distress in the back of his throat.
“I promise you, Olivia,” he continued quietly. “On my life. On her life, which is more precious to me than you would ever know . . . I will never again intentionally hurt her. Or you.”
“I don’t matter,” she said, and he shook his head.
“You do.”
“No. I don’t. Clara is all that matters. You don’t hurt her, Greyson. You love her and protect her.”
“Of course,” he said. “Of course I will, Olivia. How could I not?”
Greyson stared at them, his daughter and the wife who no longer wanted to be his wife, and once again felt the urge to wrap them both in his arms and never let them go. Olivia, so fierce and beautiful and proud, didn’t want to need him, didn’t want to want him . . . and he couldn’t blame her for that.
But he still had one small glimmer of hope. Fifteen months ago, sex had been the driving force behind their relationship. It had brought them together and kept them together. For a time.
In the end it hadn’t been enough to build a foundation strong enough to support a marriage. They had needed more than just great sex. They had needed commitment, respect, understanding, trust. Mutual admiration—what some would call love. Those fundamental building blocks had been missing, and their marriage had crumbled at the first real test. But the sex . . . it had allowed them the opportunity to try.
And it could again.
Greyson wasn’t one to make the same mistake twice, but after that kiss he knew she still desired him. He saw how her eyes lingered on his body. Yes, she still wanted him. And if that was all he had to work with, he would damned well use it again. But this time, he’d make sure they added the other essential ingredients into their relationship. He’d make their bond so damned unbreakable even an earthquake would not be able to shatter it.
They had great, almost irresistible chemistry, and they had Clara.
He could make this work. He had to make it work.
Chapter Nine
“I’ll get lunch started. You’re definitely not staying for dinner, so I think we can put those steaks to use now,” Olivia said after a long, fraught moment of silence.
“Wait, I thought you said I should prepare the steaks.”
She laughed at that and shook her head. “I’m starving, and after what you did with breakfast, I’d rather you didn’t set foot in my kitchen again,” she said.