Gilded Lily (Bennet Brothers #2) - Staci Hart Page 0,113

without even putting up a fight. You are just so—”

“Dumb. Yeah, I got it.” I raked a hand through my hair. “She really quit?”

She rolled her eyes so hard, I was pretty sure she saw the sunset. “No, she fake quit. Of course she quit, mouth-breather. She doesn’t ever want to step foot in that place, never mind work with all of them. Never mind put herself on television. She almost did, you know, but not for herself. For you. For Longbourne. She thought it could help you make the money you needed to buy out Bower. Not for personal gain.” Her steam finally ran out, and she sighed, breathing out the last of it. One hand moved to the lump I assumed was the baby’s butt. “Come on, Kash,” she said wearily. “You know her better than to believe that.”

“Maybe I don’t.” Regret, heavy and thick, filled my ribs. “I was so sure she’d taken it.”

“Just like you were sure she would sneak around with Brock? Or that she would ever tell Addison Lane the truth of her feelings?”

When she put it like that, my regret turned to shame.

“You’re smarter than that,” she said.

“I dunno. I think your little speech convinced me I have the IQ of a worm,” I joked, not at all feeling funny.

“Well, you are a worm right now, but usually you’re at least a beetle. Or a gopher.”

“Graduated to mammal? I’ll take it.”

She chuckled, but my half-smile fell.

“I was wrong.”

“You were so wrong. About everything, except punching Brock. Man, I wish I’d been there. Thank God for the internet—that video has been going around social media on a loop since you hit him.”

I held up my hand, knuckles out, to show her the damage. “Worth it.”

“I bet it was. And it meant a lot to her too. You were the only person who didn’t lie to her.”

“And then I dumped her for lying to me.”

She gave me a look that said, Yeah, dummy.

“What do I have to do?” I asked half to myself. “Will it even matter? Have I ruined everything?”

“Of course not,” she said gently. “She loves you, Kash. All you have to do is tell her you love her too. Oh, and apologize for being a soft-headed ass monkey.”

“Ass monkey?” I said on a laugh.

“Dingus. Dickasaurus. Asshat. Dumbassador. I can go on.”

“I think I’ve got it.”

“Good.” The baby mewled, and Ivy bounced gently, her hand on the baby butt patting in time. “Now, figure out how to make it right. And if you ever hurt her again—and I mean ever—I will not just call you names. There are a lot of things in this greenhouse that can be used as a weapon.”

“I dunno, Ivy—your name calling is no joke. And your mom voice is scary.”

“I know, right? It’s exciting to wield this kind of power.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

For a moment, we were silent as I tugged that thread between Lila and me at last, figured out how to reel it in, pull her to me.

I should have trusted her. And I vowed never to make that mistake again.

I only hoped I had the chance to prove it to her.

As a plan unfurled in my mind, a smile spread on my face.

An answering smile spread on Ivy’s. “You have an idea.”

“Maybe. Will you help?”

And that smile split until I could see her molars. “Of course, dummy.”

30

First and Always

LILA

“That’s it. Get out of bed,” Ivy said just before my comforter was ripped away with a snap and a rush of cold air.

“Hey!” I squinted at her, blindly patting for it so I could pull it back over my head. “Give that back!”

“Nope.” She rolled it up in her arms and tossed it out the door. “Up.”

I curled into a ball and groaned.

“You smell like a dumpster, and all this sulky, sad panda business is freaking me out. So get up. Shower. We’re meeting Luke at your apartment in an hour to talk about construction.”

I groaned again, but this time it came out closer to a whimper.

“Don’t gimme that. You’ve had your allotted moping time, and in forty-eight hours, I’ll allow another wallowing session. I’ll even climb in bed with you for as long as you want.”

I lifted my head so I could see her. “As long as I want?”

“Days even. I’ll bring the takeout and John Hughes movies.”

“And Dirty Dancing.”

“Sure. Dirty Dancing, Sixteen Candles, Pride and Prejudice—whatever you want.”

“Not the Colin Firth one,” I warned.

She rolled her eyes long enough that

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