Southern Comfort - Natasha Madison Page 0,57

perfect.”

“Everything about you is perfect,” I say, and she shakes her head.

“Be better, Olivia.” She mocks her mother. “You can do better than that, Olivia.” She looks at me now, and I see the tears rolling down her face. “I never want to have children because I don’t think I am going to be a good enough mother.” It’s that line that breaks me. I pull over the truck, and she looks over at me. Getting out of the truck, I try to calm myself before I open the passenger door. But nothing could calm me down, so I unbuckle her seat belt and turn her in the seat.

“Look at me, darlin’.” I try not to grab her too hard, but my hands grab her face to make her look at me in the eyes. “You are going to be the best mother I know,” I say, hoping she hears me. “You,” I say, and she looks at me, and my thumbs catch her tears. “You put everyone before yourself. You are caring and kind, and most of all, you have so much love to give.”

“Casey,” she says my name softly, putting her own hands on mine.

“Listen to me,” I say. “You are going to have all the babies and be the best mother.” Just saying the words makes my stomach burn. Knowing that eventually she’ll move on, find someone who loves her and who can give her all the babies she deserves. “They are going to have the best mom. You know why?” I ask, and she just looks at me. “Because you’re you, and that,” I say, my voice going down, “is everything. You …” My thumbs rub her cheeks as more tears fall. “You are everything.” I lean forward, and I kiss her, a soft kiss. A kiss for her to feel everything that she should feel. I want her to feel safe, I want her to feel comfortable, but most of all, I want her to feel love. Even for a brief time. I try not to think about her getting married, and I try not to think about her pregnant with someone else’s child. I try to live in the moment except I can’t. I already feel her loss, and she’s not even gone yet.

“Cowboy,” she says, letting go of my hands and running her hand through my hair. “I was always told there was no such thing as a perfect man.” She starts to tell me, and she looks into my eyes while she does this. The blue of her eyes going soft. “They were wrong,” she whispers and leans forward to kiss the side of my mouth. “He does exist; he’s just deep undercover.” I try not to let her words get to me, but they do. They seep into my bones along with her touch.

“We should get you something to eat.” I try to avoid her eyes this time and build a wall around my heart. Except it doesn’t go up as easily, and I have a feeling the more time I spend with her the longer it will take me to get over her. She smiles at me, and I get lost in her once again. “What do you want to eat?”

“Anything you want to feed me.” She winks at me, and I throw my head back and laugh. “Hint, hint.” She laughs, and I shake my head and turn her around in her seat, closing the door as the sound of her laughter fills the air.

I walk around the truck, glancing over at her to see that she is looking in the mirror and dabbing her eyes with a Kleenex. “You look perfect,” I say, and when she looks over at me her whole face lights up.

“You know, in all this time, no one has ever said that to me,” she says, looking back in the mirror. “I was told I’m beautiful, and outstanding, exquisite, but I was never perfect.”

“That’s because you weren’t asking the right people.” I turn back and make my way over to the hotel.

“So does this hotel have room service?” she asks, and I have to laugh.

“If it doesn’t, they need to rethink their prices.” I pull up to the front of the hotel. I park the truck, and two bellhops come out right away.

“Welcome to the St. Regis Hotel,” he says, and I hear a gasp from beside me.

“Sorry, it’s not the Waldorf.” I wink at her, getting out. One of the bellboys grab the