Page 16 of Hold You Close
Since the whole truth isn’t an option, I give her a partial one, retreating into the role of Insensitive Asshole, which is what she thinks I am anyway. “To shut you up.”
Her jaw drops, and she puts a hand on her chest. “To shut me up? Did those words really just come out of your mouth? Because that’s a new low even for you.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” I shrug. “Told you I’m a smart guy.”
“You are unfuckingbelievable.”
“You know, I believe I’ve heard that from a woman before. Of course, she was wearing much less clothing than you are . . .” Just to be an even bigger jerk, I drop my eyes from her face down to her black high heels and slowwwwly bring my gaze up again. “But I’m pretty sure those were her exact words.”
She parks her hands on her hips. “See? This is exactly why you are not fit to raise those kids. I cannot imagine what your sister was thinking.”
That pisses me off. “Maybe she was thinking that she knows what’s best for her children—to be raised by a blood relative who loves them, who can give them every advantage, and who will teach them not to be condescending, judgmental assholes that think they know everything.” A little harsh, maybe, but I’m sick and tired of her treating me like dog shit on the bottom of her shoe. Just because I don’t reveal my feelings very often doesn’t mean they don’t exist.
She’s taken aback, and for a second I think she might hit me again. I don’t back away. Let her do it if she wants to.
But she doesn’t. She drops her arms to her sides, gathers herself up and takes a deep breath. When she speaks, her voice is calm. “I am going to be the grown-up in the room and stop fighting with you. You want to move the kids into your house? Fine. You think they’ll be happy to leave the only home they’ve ever known? Fine. You think your lifestyle is suitable for children? Fine.”
“As a matter of fact, that’s exactly what I think. So you can just turn around, and walk your little grown-up ass right on out of here.” I gesture toward the door. “I don’t need you to tell me how to raise my nieces and nephew. And I don’t need your help.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “You don’t think you need my help?” Her expression is almost amused, which pisses me off even more.
“No. I don’t.” I stand up a little taller. “You can see them whenever you want to, but I’ve changed my mind about sharing them. Sabrina and David left them to me. And the last thing I need is you in my face all the time, telling me I’m doing things wrong. They’re my blood, my family, my responsibility.”
Tossing her head back, she laughs. “I didn’t even know you knew the meaning of that word. Good for you.” She turns, grabs her purse from beneath the conference table, and heads for the door. I can’t help but look at her ass, and I hate that it’s fantastic. I don’t want to want her like that. How many more fucking years will I have to fight it?
When she reaches the door, she looks over her shoulder at me. “In case you’re wo
ndering, I’ll find another ride home. Oh, and make sure the kids buckle their seatbelts. I’d forgotten what a reckless driver you are.”
She’s gone before I can bite back.
Damn it.
I rub my face with both hands, feeling the days-old scruff against my palms. I need a shave. I need a haircut. I need a grip on my life.
I stare out the window without seeing anything as reality sinks in. Ten days ago I was on top of the world and loving every second of it. Rich. Single. Fearless. Old enough to know better, but young enough to do it anyway.
Now I’m a divorced “father” of three. Clueless. Sad. Scared.
Defeated, I sink into the chair at the head of the conference table and pinch the bridge of my nose. What am I going to do now? In the past when I needed advice, I went to my sister. I can’t do that anymore.
My throat closes up, and I swallow hard, squeezing my eyes shut. “What were you thinking, Sab?” I whisper. “I wish you were here to tell me. I need you.”
But the room stays silent except for the quiet whoosh of the central air conditioning and the tick of a clock on the wall.
Sabrina would argue with me, wouldn’t she? She was always on my side unless London was involved. She’d tell me my ego was too big, my attitude was shitty, and my pride was getting in the way of moving forward. She’d be furious that I was being a dick to London, but goddammit, she deserved it. Calling me selfish, accusing me of being a bully, bringing up Jolene. London’s hatred of me has nothing to do with Jolene and she knows it. She’s just bitter about the past, as if there’s anything I can do about it now. She doesn’t even know why I did what I did, and she has no idea I did it for her. She should thank me. But no—to do that would mean listening to my side, and she’s made it perfectly clear she’s not the least bit interested in that.
I wish I hadn’t kissed her just now. All it did was stir up feelings in me that were better left buried in the past.
“Ian?”
Startled, I jump up from the chair to see my mother coming through the door of the conference room. Her eyes are red and puffy, her complexion ashen, and she looks older than her sixty-six years.
“Yeah?” My voice is scratchy.
“Daddy and I are leaving. We’re going to take the kids back to their house so they can pack up some things. Chris says they’re moving in with you?” She studies me carefully, and I feel as if all the cracks in my armor are showing.
I clear my throat and speak firmly. “Yes. My house is bigger, they love the pool, and . . . London will be close by.”
