Page 62 of Discretion at Its Finest

“I…” My heart hammered at the memory. “I don’t know what I saw.”

He waited for me to continue. Thankfully, he didn’t rush me to get the words out.

“I don’t know what I’m seeing when he’s with Cheryl and doesn’t come home. He smiles easily with her. He treats her daughter better than his own son.” I dragged in a breath, willing my words to slow. “I don’t know what I’m seeing.”

His thumb brushed once across the back of my hand, slow, but there was nothing comforting about it. At least that’s what I was repeating over in my mind. I could see it in his eyes: he was choosing which version of himself to be with me in this moment. The vengeful man who wanted to rub my choices in my face… or the man who used to love me. Who knew everything about the person I was.

“You’re seeing him be the man he pretends to be with you… for someone else. You’re seeing him give softness,” he muttered, “give effort, his presence to another woman. Things you begged for. Things he never bothered giving to his own son.”

My fingers curled involuntarily beneath his hold.

His grip tightened around it. It wasn’t painful, now only inescapable, holding me, steadying me despite me wanting to pull away and lean into him at the same time.

“And you don’t know how to process it,” he murmured, “because for years you convinced yourself his neglect wasn’t deliberate and that this life he gave you was perfect. You convinced yourself that you were okay with his failure and his inability to be there for you.”

“I didn’t—”

“You did.” He didn’t raise his voice when he cut me off. “And now you’re watching him choose someone else. Give what you thought he was capable of giving you and your son… to someone else.”

My lashes fluttered, an overwhelming feeling of embarrassment flooding through me as I looked away from him again. His other hand met the side of my face as he turned me to look at him. A tear slipped before I could stop it.

“You’re not confused, Genevieve. You just can’t lie or deny something that’s right in front of you.” We were closer somehow, the heat of his body radiating off of him in waves, his eyes darkening as he watched me. “The only reason you’re angry and tired now… is because you finally see him the way I always did.”

His thumb caressed my face. “Even though I forced you onto this plane, you still came willingly. You came with me,” he murmured, “because staying behind with him felt worse.” My breath shivered. “And you can’t admit that yet,” he added.“But you will.”

Silence settled between us as the engines hummed beneath our feet, the cabin vibrating through the quiet. Somewhere behind us, Eugene’s voice carried faintly, chattering to Cara about superheroes and the snacks she’d bribed him with to sit still. And I was here, breaking in front of the man I couldn’t get to leave my mind.

Reid’s hand slid from my face, from my fingers, retreating like he’d given too much in that moment. He leaned back, picking upthe folder again, eyes lowering to the page, pretending nothing just happened between us again.

“We land in a few hours. You’ll need your head on straight,” he said, tone turning flat, businesslike.

I stared at him, my mind still refusing to catch up.

He noticed. His gaze lifted to mine one final time. “Get some rest while you can, Vieve.”

I turned toward the window, heart still pounding, my reflection faint in the glass. Clouds drifted beneath us, soft and distant.

I had let Reid leave before because I wanted to stay with the safety net, the façade, the life I’d convinced myself was enough.

But here I was, running back to the one man I should’ve stayed away from.

Because he was right. Staying had felt worse.

Chapter twenty-five

Genevieve

The landing gear hit the runway with a muted thud, jolting me out of whatever half-sleeping haze I’d slipped into. My neck ached, my blouse wrinkled at the shoulder. A hair strand or two had fallen loose and tickled my cheek.

Reid barely reacted as he snapped the folder shut and slid it into his briefcase. No tired sigh or acknowledgement that he’d spent six hours awake on a plane.

His eyes skimmed over me, quick and dismissive before settling on the buckle of his seatbelt as he took it off.

I ran a hand through my hair anyway, trying to smooth it and look like I hadn’t fallen asleep in front of him.Not like he didn’t watch you sleeping the entire time, Genevieve.

Once we were cleared, Cara unbuckled Eugene in the row behind us. Her bright voice chirped something about “gentle steps,” but he still launched out of the seat like a rocket.

I stared out the window at the tarmac, my stomach tightening.We sure weren’t in New York anymore.