bloodstream, soothing the bubbling acid burning through my veins. How did he know? How could he possibly know? How could he read the words in my head like he could feel the heartbeat in my chest?
Tears marbled my eyes. Could he read the words inside my head? Or had my heartbeat become so loud it was Morse code, betraying my feelings to him.
His grip slipped from my chin, sliding to the back of my neck to push our foreheads together. His other hand slid from my back to my stomach, and then the first beautiful thing since this awful day began happened, she kicked—with her father.
Our eyes collided.
Hope.
He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple lurched.
With his palm digging into my stomach, Grayson continued, “I don’t know what you see in him. But I know it’s your curse to see what others can’t.”
I wanted so badly to kiss him in this moment.
Didn’t he see? This was why I could never let him go.
Forty-Four
GRAY
Didn’t she see? This was why I couldn’t let her stay. This was my hell, and I never should have dragged them in.
“What if we don’t find it?” Her fear came out a strangled cry. “I can’t lose you.”
“You’ll never lose me, Snitch.”
Her eyes searched mine frantically. “You said something similar when we learned I was pregnant. I don’t want a life of you watching me a thousand miles away. A life where we never see you.”
She tried to pull back and I gripped both sides of her face, thumbs digging into her cheeks—
“I should have known I’d find you with him. You really are quite unfaithful.”
Our little bubble popped as West came stumbling out of the hedges onto the beach, a bottle of champagne in his hand.
I put Story behind my back, shielding her from West. He scoffed, taking a drink straight from the bottle.
Behind us, Lottie all but waddled up from the shore, a hand on her lower back. “West? Are you drunk?”
“Off his ass,” I gritted.
West laughed. “I’m just here to collect my fucking mistress. I think I’ve been really goddamn lenient. Do you know the rules she’s broken? The things I could have done—”
“Can’t you just go away?” Lottie yelled, cutting him off. “Why are you ruining things even more? It’s shitty enough having our parents; why are you trying to become them?”
West paused, then stumbled down the beach, grape vining on the sand.
“I’m the bad guy in the play.” He didn’t speak to any of us, he slurred a whisper into his drink. “I’m the one the crowd boos when he enters the stage.”
He swayed back and forth.
Suddenly, he jerked to Lottie. “But what about my sister?”
She sucked in a breath, backing up at his attention. I stepped in front of her, putting both Story and Lottie behind me.
West waved the champagne bottle in her direction. “My sister,” he continued. “So obsessed with not becoming our mother, so scared to marry a man who didn’t love her, she gave up everything else about her. Her purity. Her kindness. Her wholesome heart. Everything that makes Lottie, Lottie. And why?” He grinned into the bottle, eyes flickering to me. “She was hoping you’d love that instead.”
Story grabbed my bicep, maybe sensing I was ready to end his diatribe.
“Enter stage right, our main lead, Grayson Crowne!” West jerked the champagne bottle toward me, gold liquid drenching the sand black. “Grayson didn’t want to be his father, didn’t want to be disloyal to his wife, so instead, he became a coward and abandoned his wife in a loveless marriage. Will you abandon your unborn child too?”
West tilted his head, eyes narrowing as if waiting for me to respond. Story’s grip on my bicep tightened.
“He’s wrong,” she whispered.
He was fucking with me. His words shouldn’t bother me.
Yet, they did.
“Shut the fuck up, West,” Lottie said, but it came out a weak whisper.
West laughed at my silence.
“And my loving, loyal wife…I mean, ex-wife.” He grinned at Story. “You didn’t want to be some man’s mistress and steal what didn’t belong to you, so instead, you became my mistress, the guy that stole the thing that mattered most from you. Or…” He laughed. “Maybe it didn’t matter that much.”
At that, I lunged, Story’s grip slipping easily. I had West’s shirt between my fists in seconds. He held his arms wide, not even bothering to fight back.
“He’s not worth it,” Story yelled to my back. “This is what he wants.”
“I’m not worth it, Playboy Gray,” he said, mocking Story’s distressed yell.
I shoved