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I looked down at her, surprised to find that I didn’t give a shit.
“Especially one as outspoken as her,” Tessa sniped. “She’s not built for discretion.”
“But you are?” I inferred, catching her hint.
She licked her ashen pink lips with a hint of a smile on her face. “I think I’m everything you need.”
And that’s when it hit me. I had things I wanted but didn’t need and things I needed but didn’t want.
There were only two things I needed and wanted at the same time: Easton and my kid.
I spun on my heel and charged onto the dance floor, heading straight for Blackwell as he started to sway with Easton.
I stepped between them, forcing him out of the way.
“I’m leaving.” I turned to Easton, telling her, “And I’m taking you with me.”
Her worried eyes turned on me, and she shook her head. “Tyler, no,” she urged, telling me I shouldn’t be doing this.
But Blackwell stepped up, reaching for her.
“Keep your hands off of her,” I warned, turning my scowl on him.
He backed off, crossing his arms over his chest. “I didn’t realize she was here with you,” he said calmly.
I was sure he was loving this, but I didn’t give a damn anymore.
I took Easton’s hand with my left and tilted her chin up with my right.
“Tyler, don’t,” she begged, looking around at whoever might be watching us.
Tessa’s voice came up behind me. “Listen to her, Tyler.”
I held Easton’s eyes, seeing the tears pool there.
“You love me,” I whispered softly enough for only her to hear.
“What’s going on?” my father interrupted, stopping his dance next to us as he and his wife looked between Easton and me with concern.
Easton searched my eyes, still worried.
“I don’t care,” I told her. “I don’t want to make trouble for you, but I don’t care about the campaign if I can’t have you. I don’t fucking care.”
Her desperate eyes pooled with more tears, and I cupped her face in both hands, caressing her cheeks.
“Aren’t you the teacher that was featured in Newsweek?” my stepmother asked, inching forward in our tight circle as dancers moved around us. “You teach at Braddock Autenberry, right?”
“Braddock Autenberry?” Blackwell repeated, squinting at me. “Doesn’t your son attend school there?”
And now it was done.
He knew, everyone would know, and Easton and I would have to weather this storm, but fuck it.
“Well, well, well,” he mused. “My night just got better.”
Easton started shaking her head, but I held her with my steady gaze, looking into her eyes.
“I don’t care,” I maintained. “I need you.”
Mason Blackwell could ride this scandal to kingdom come. It would be a small price to pay to have her.
She clasped my forearms, and I grabbed her hand, ready to get her out of here.
“I almost feel sorry for you, Marek,” Blackwell gloated when I turned around. “We all have our dirty little secrets, but most of us have the sense —”
“Yes!” my stepmother gasped, cutting Blackwell off. “You’re the teacher who was a tennis player, right?” She gestured to Easton as my father listened with a stern set to his features.
“I was so sorry to read that part about your parents and sister. Oh, my goodness.” She placed a hand on her heart, giving Easton a sympathetic look.
“Thank you,” Easton choked out.
“What a horrible tragedy,” Rachel consoled. “I can’t imagine being eighteen years old and losing nearly your entire family.”
Blackwell’s eyebrows nose-dived as he listened.
Rachel continued. “And then you and your brother divided your parents’ estate between several children’s charities here in New Orleans?” she went on. “So generous when you had already lost so much.”
I faltered, having not known that part.
“My brother must’ve told them that,” Easton admitted, looking embarrassed.
I raised my eyes, locking on Blackwell’s, and I saw it in his eyes. He could try to sling mud, but Easton’s record and character spoke for themselves.
“You truly have given a lot to this city,” Rachel stated, smiling. “I can’t wait to see where your career goes, Ms. Bradbury.”
Easton nodded, giving her a small smile. “Thank you.”
“Excuse us for a moment.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her away from everyone, rushing out.
Jay was somewhere. Her brother was somewhere. But we were leaving. I dug out my phone and quickly texted Patrick to bring the car around.
“Tyler,” Easton urged as I jogged down to the stairs, holding her hand. “Tyler, what are you doing?”
I pulled her along, hearing her heels clack-clack-clack as she kept up.
Reaching the bottom, I pulled her around the banister and led her out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk.
The Quarter was filled with people, and photographers from a local news station waited outside, covering the ball.
I scanned the area, but I didn’t see Patrick, so I continued to lead her down the street. She pulled her hand out of my grasp, stopping me.
“Tyler!” she burst out. “We can’t —”
But I interrupted her, taking her face in my hand. “I love you, okay?” I rushed out. “I love you like crazy, and I’ve never said that to a woman before, but I’m completely in love with you, Easton Bradbury.”
