Westley settles in place, allowing the moonlight to touch his face. “And what’s that?”
“Makes me feel strong. Confident. In control.” I look away as I hide a smile. “Pretty.”
“You’re always those things.”
I don’t feel very in control when he’s around.
“Westley?” I murmur.
“Yeah?”
“You don’t still have feelings for your ex, right? This isn’t about making her jealous?” It feels as though an earthquake is rumbling under the surface, or thunder is cracking through the night sky, but I’m pretty sure it’s just my hands trembling as I wait for his answer.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I moved on from Phoebe a long time ago, and I truly hope she’s moved on, too. I’m sure she has. What went wrong in our relationship, the way it ended, always stuck with me. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. It doesn’t feel great to hurt someone you care about, or used to, and I do care that she’s happy. We both deserve to be.”
“What’s she going to think if she hears that I have a daughter?”
Westley blows out a breath, his big hand running back through his hair and messing up the dark brown waves. “I never said I didn’t want kids, I just didn’t want to father my own. My parents gave me a chance at a better life. Some kids are out there waiting to be loved, to be given a safe space. That’s what I want to do.”
“But I give that to Aurora.” At least, I try to. “It’s not like she’s a kid you’ve taken in.” I rest my face in my hands with a groan, feeling flustered that I’m going to ruin this for him. “Are we going to pull this off?”
“Hey,” his warm voice coaxes. “Mae, look at me.” My heart clenches at the new nickname. It sounds too sweet falling from his lips. “Don’t worry about who believes it, or what they might be thinking,” he says softly, the side of his mouth teasing a smile. “What happened to the confident woman in the club?”
She’s off gallivanting with another version of myself who doesn’t catch feelings.
“All we gotta do is spend the weekend convincing people we like being in each other’s company. And that’s already true. At least for me. So we’ll be fine. Don’t worry, okay?”
I give him a nod, but my stomach is swirling with nerves. Because it’s true for me too. I do like being in his company. So does my daughter.
We’ll be spending the weekend convincing his friends we’re a real couple, while I’ll be wondering if it could ever be more. Or am I too complicated for happily ever after?
21
“What are your relationship deal breakers?” I ask Westley as we drive along the highway to the farm where his friends are getting married.
Aurora is staying with Callie while we’re away for the night. They both had the biggest shit-eating grins as they watched us pull out of the driveway. Westley’s arm reached behind the back of my chair as he reversed. His cologne washed over me, and I think the way it affected me was written all over my face as my daughter threw her head back and laughed. The little shit.
“Well, you know my stance on kids,” Westley starts, and I hum my agreement. “I would say I’d need her to get on with my parents and to be open with communication. Tell me everything: fears, feelings, goals. I need it all laid out on the table.”
My heart thumps in my chest, like an echo of regret. I’m used to being scared and disappointed when I think back on my past. But now, for the first time, I hate it. Hate that my parents continue to rob a life from me before I even have the chance to decide if I want it.
“What are your relationship deal breakers?” he asks.
“I’ve never had to think about that before.”
“It’s a good thing we’re going through these questions, then. You need to know what you want.” There’s a light-heartedness to his words, mixed with something else. Curiosity, perhaps? As if he wants to possess the answer and make it true.
I fiddle with my bangles, imagining myself in a world where it could be possible. “He has to like Aurora as well. We’re a package deal.”
“Absolutely.”
“And I won’t tolerate drug use.” I can feel West’s eyes on me, but I continue staring out the windscreen.
“That have something to do with your parents?” he asks, and I give him a small nod. “And perhaps with Aurora’s dad?” he adds slowly, as if he’s not sure how far he should push.
I nod again, then clear my throat. “What are your parents’ names?” I ask.
“Chris and Sherie, but everyone calls my mum Chev.”
