Catch - Deborah Bladon Page 0,74

the ends of the earth for you, Maren. I love you.”

***

I stare at him with the moonlight falling on us. The sky is clear tonight. The air is perfectly crisp.

I took a step toward him when he said those three words.

Those three words.

I love you.

Keats loves me.

“Can we go inside?” He glances behind me at the open doorway of the cabin.

I look around. “How did you know where to find me? How did you get here?”

“Bianca,” he says her name quietly. “I ran into her in the lobby of your apartment building. She drew me a map, so I got my driver to bring me.”

I take that all in. Bianca wouldn’t have sent Keats to find me if she didn’t believe that it was the right thing to do.

She’s always protected me.

“I can drive.” Keats chuckles. “But, my hands have been shaking since I saw you tell me that you love me.”

I scrunch my brow. “What?”

“You were on my stoop the day we were supposed to host the Newmans for dinner.” He shakes his head. “The day I fucked up.”

“You swore,” I point out with a slight smile.

He nods. “My doorbell cam recorded you standing there, and I read your lips.”

“You read lips?”

His gaze stays on my face. “I do.”

I take a chance because isn’t that what life’s about? Aren’t we supposed to dive into the deep end and trust that good things are waiting for us when we surface?

“I love you,” I say silently without a sound escaping me.

He leans forward to rest his forehead against mine. “I love you too, Maren. I fucking love you.”

Chapter 59

Maren

“I know about the baby, Maren.”

I absorb each of Keats’s words one-by-one. I don’t look at him. I hold onto the burst of pain that always courses through me when I think about the son I never got to see alive.

Taking a deep breath, I let go and reach for Keats’s hand.

He’s sitting next to me on the bed. He shed the hoodie he was wearing and his shoes and socks. He’s dressed only in jeans now.

His hair is a mess, and I can see something in his eyes I’ve never noticed before.

Peace, maybe. Or perhaps it’s hope.

I feel it too.

“I was going to name him Timmy after my dad.”

That was the plan. I hadn’t told my dad that before I miscarried. I’ve never mentioned it since.

We don’t discuss that loss.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Keats reaches for my hand. “I’m sorry about my text. It was thoughtless. I should have called you that night.”

I wrap my fingers around his. “You were upset about losing Fletcher as a client.”

Lifting my hand to his lips, he kisses my palm. “I was seething with jealousy because I saw you hugging a man in a diner.”

I exhale a breath slowly. “That was Royce.”

His eyes lock on mine. “I didn’t know that. All I saw was the woman I love more than anything wrapped in another man’s arms.”

“You thought I was…”

“Cheating?” he finishes my thought. “I thought he was a better man than I am. I was scared that I was losing you.”

“I don’t cheat,” I say clearly. “I wouldn’t do that to you. I’ve never done that to anyone.”

Leaning closer, he kisses my cheek. “I should have known that. I let my past dictate my actions. I was rude to you. It was wrong.”

I try to piece together everything he’s saying.

“So, you saw me with Royce, and then you found out that Fletcher chose Finn over you?”

“Us,” he corrects me.

I smile softly. “Us. Do you know why he chose Finn?”

His gaze drops. “It doesn’t matter at this point.”

It matters to me, so I tell him that. “Tell me.”

He gathers both my hands into his lap, holding them firmly in his grasp. “Some friend of Patrika’s overheard you talking while you were having a coffee at a café in midtown. You were discussing the fact that the Newmans assumed we were dating, and that got back to Patrika pretty fast.”

“Shit.” I close my eyes. “I blew it.”

Keats lets out a loud chuckle. “You didn’t blow it. It happened. It’s over.”

“You wanted him for a client, Keats.”

“I want you, Maren,” he counters. “Fletcher was work. This right here is life.”

“You’re not upset?”

“About losing Fletcher?”

I nod.

“Hell, no.” He shakes his head. “Finn will do right by him. He’s in good hands.”

I move his hands to the center of my chest and hold them there with mine. “I’m in the best hands.”

He darts up to his knees. “Damn right, you are.”

My