The Millionaire Affair (Love in the Balance 3)

Something told him eighteen years wouldn’t do it. That he might love her forever. And how much worse would it be to see the living, breathing evidence of how compatible they’d been once upon a time? Having a human being, half him, half her, around reminding him what he could have had if their relationship hadn’t started and ended with a list?

“Oh. Okay. Good.” She sounded surprised by his reaction. She’d probably had a speech in queue, probably expected him to stand his ground. Start with talking her into moving in with him again, or argue that moving her store to the Magnificent Mile was the best course of action. He wanted to do all of those things. But to what end? Her decision was made. Even if he could coerce her into one or two things, what would be the point? She’d made up her mind. And he’d make it as easy on her as possible.

“Want to start today?” His voice was neutral, his shoulders pulled down in defeat. Getting through this part was paramount for him, a stage of grief he wanted to get through as soon as possible so he could move on to the next. Her casual response kicked him while he was down.

“Yes. That would be best.” She opened the fridge and pulled out a container of orange juice. “Look, I went to the grocery store.” She smiled proudly. She was taking this better than he was. That hurt.

She couldn’t be more beautiful. With her natural, wavy hair draped over her shoulders and the casual V-necked shirt coasting over her narrow shoulders. His eyes veered to her stomach even though it was too soon for her to have a “baby bump.” Would he be around to see that happen? The thought made his heart sink because he wasn’t sure. She poured a glass of juice and took a drink, and all he wanted to do was taste her lips. Breathe her in for a minute and pretend she hadn’t completely marginalized him or his unspoken feelings.

But he couldn’t. He wasn’t allowed.

“Um, okay.” She licked her lips, her eyes bright. Unaffected. “Let me think. We should probably start with—”

“Legal pad?” He had no tone, lacked the energy to fake one. Reaching into his jacket, he extracted a pen and glanced around the room for something to write on. “Lists are what I’m good at,” he added dryly.

Kimber didn’t smile or laugh or offer any acknowledgement of a list before this one. The list. Whatever they had—or had started to have—was over. His gut twisted.

“I have printer paper.”

“Fine.” He accepted the sheets she pulled out of the printer on the kitchen counter. A printer on the kitchen counter.

Why wouldn’t she let him move her into his larger, roomier penthouse? Then she could decorate the office to her preference, buy whatever she needed. Like a desk. For her printer.

But this wasn’t about her having an office or about him providing what she needed. The issue, the real one, is she didn’t want him. He wanted her so badly he thought he might throw up at any moment.

Why won’t she love me?

Whatever. That conversation wasn’t happening. Pressing his lips together, he vowed to compartmentalize. He laid out the paper and jotted down a header. Communication.

He wrote a second header: Custody.

The word made him so sad he wanted to die.

A third column he titled Privacy.

This is how arrangements were done. He knew because he’d set the terms for an arrangement with Lissa. With Megan. With Natalie. The three girlfriends he’d had since Rachel had ruined his heart. Although, now, the title of “Heart Ruiner” could be awarded to Kimber. She’d not only destroyed his heart—hey, he had one, go figure—but she would continue to destroy it for years to come. He traced the line of her delicate neck to the arms that had once held on to him like he was her port in a storm.

You deserve this.

He did. He deserved this hurt. For attempting to marginalize her. For ignoring his true feelings each and every time he sank into her body. For lying to her right now instead of admitting how unfair this was. For both of them.

For the three of us.

But he couldn’t change who he was this late in the game, could he? If he was Evan, he could swear and yell, and slam doors, showing his feelings through overzealous behavior. If he was Aiden, he’d have the right words, be brave enough to tell Kimber the truth, and bare his heart.

But Landon wasn’t his brothers. He was stuck with his own personality. An air of control, a penchant for order and organization, and a past that had primed him to expertly execute the arrangement Kimber had asked for.

And that’s what he’d do.

Because he loved her.