Crazy for Loving You A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy - Pippa Grant Page 0,103
my black-and-white checked Sketchers instead.
“I’m hitting the beach,” I tell them.
West and Jude share a look, and West falls into step on my heels. “Daisy—”
“Don’t. Don’t try to make me feel better.”
My pulse is on hyperdrive. I can’t feel my feet.
And I can’t stop wondering if Remy’s crying. If he knows what’s going on. If he’s scared.
I take the back staircase and land on the beach, scanning the horizon for ship lights. Boat lights. I’ve docked right up on this beach in a dinghy before. It’s possible. Which means anyone could’ve been hiding in the mangroves between our properties, just waiting for a chance to sneak in.
West doesn’t speak while we go up and down the beach. Around the paths between my house, Luna’s house, Cam’s house, and Emily’s house, and repeat. Checking bushes. Flashing lights into the mangroves.
Searching.
Fruitlessly.
His phone dings.
My phone dings.
Always the same.
No news. You?
From Cam and Jude. Derek and Emily. Luna and Beck. All of their security. West’s family. Residents in Bluewater who woke up at the SOS.
Tyler and his teammates join in too—they’re not flying home until morning, and all of them claim they don’t need sleep.
They’re as bad as I am.
Around two AM, though, I finally break.
I’ve lost my baby.
I drop to the ground in the sand behind my pool house and I let the sobs overtake me.
West sits next to me, and even though I know he’s hurting too, that he’s panicked too, that I promised him I’d never hurt him, that I’d take care of him, I let him take care of me.
This is what I do.
I let people down.
I play a good game. I pretend I’m worthy. I pretend I can do it.
But when push comes to shove, I can’t keep up.
His phone dings.
My phone dings.
I ignore it, because I know what it says.
No news. You?
Maybe, You need to keep your energy up. Stop by my house for kombucha. Because that’s so Luna. Thinking of getting us strength in every holistic way possible.
“Daisy,” West chokes out. “He’s safe.”
My head whips up so fast I almost crack my skull into his face. “What?”
“He’s safe.” He turns his phone so I can see, and there he is.
Remy.
Wearing the sailor pajamas I put him in before bed. Screaming himself red in the face. Clutched in Beck’s arms.
I leap to my feet, relief and dread coursing through my veins.
Relief, because he’s safe.
Dread, because I know what I have to do to make sure he stays that way.
“Where?”
West grabs my hand and tugs me up the beach to the back of my pool house. “The marina. Hiding in a boat. They’re on the way. Suspect in custody.”
The next ten minutes are the longest ten minutes of my life. I can’t get through my house fast enough. It’s too big. Too much.
Too unnecessary.
I burst out the front door, and I head down my driveway, West right beside me, even though it hurts to have him here, because I don’t deserve him either.
I can’t drive. I can barely walk straight. But I keep going until the flash of headlights shines over me. I squint, watching as Cam’s souped-up golf cart slows, then stops. Jude’s driving.
And Cam—
She’s in the passenger seat. With Remy cradled in her arms.
“Oh my god, he’s safe,” I gasp.
“He’s safe,” Cam confirms, handing me the sleeping bundle. “He liked the ride.”
She wraps her arms around me and Remy. “It’s okay, Daisy. It’s okay.”
A Range Rover stops behind the cart, and more of my friends and half of West’s family descend on us. Police cruisers follow.
I squeeze Remy tight and lean into Cam while West strokes my hair, letting all the sobs fall out while I soak in every second—every millisecond—of this moment.
Holding my little boy. The one who was never supposed to be mine, but who stole my heart, completely, with that gummy smile and pure, simple acceptance.
“I’ll do better,” I whisper. “I swear I’ll do better.”
I will. I know exactly how I’ll do better.
And it’s going to hurt like hell.
But for Remy’s sake, I have to.
Thirty-Nine
West
Relief isn’t the right word.
Even though he was only missing for three, maybe four hours, having Remy home feels like having my whole fucking life saved. Like I’ve stood on the edge of the cliff, on crumbling rocks that could truly destroy me the way Sierra couldn’t, the way Becca couldn’t, the way losing most of my hearing in my right ear couldn’t, and staring into true, bleak, empty desolation.
This baby might not have been born mine, but he’s mine