She stepped away, creating the distance she desperately needed to get her shit together. After removing the towel from her head, she turned her full attention on him.
“You blame me,” she said. “Now… you only have yourself to blame. You and I both know the truth. I was just as innocent as you when our lives spun out of control.”
She hitched an eyebrow and sauntered out, his heated gaze burning a hole through her as she entered the bedroom. There, she slipped on a black thong. As she was hooking her bra, he stalked into the bedroom.
The fury rolling off him could have scared her, but she knew the truth. He was angry at himself. Angry because, all these years later, he knew she was right.
They dressed in a seething silence. She slipped into a black, sleeveless, one-piece romper. He tugged on running shorts and a T-shirt. He was ready in seconds, but he waited for her. When she finished, he opened the door.
As she walked past him, he murmured, “It’s better this way.”
You got that right.
Silence followed her until he caught up with her. “I’m a monster,” he murmured. “I could never make you happy.”
“You don’t know me, Carrera. Not anymore. I’m not a teen. I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman who had to figure shit out alone. My life would have turned out very differently if it hadn’t been for your grandmother. She is the absolute best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“I know,” he murmured.
“You,” she said, “are still a jackass.”
A tornado of hostility followed them down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Hey,” Brit called from the family room.
Brit and Rebel were on the sofa. He, on the middle cushion, while Brit sat beside him, her legs draped over his thighs.
“We can get outta here—” Carrera said.
“You guys were up there a long time,” Rebel said.
“Sorry about the confusion,” Brit said. “We meant to send Carrera downstairs to the in-law suite.”
“No worries,” Carrera said. “We’re all adults.”
“Nope,” Slash murmured. “Not you.”
Rebel cupped Brit’s chin. “We’re going for a run. Back in an hour, wife.” He dropped a tender kiss on her lips. “Love you.”
“Love you, baby,” she said before kissing him and pushing off the sofa.
“I’m getting the party started with a glass of wine,” Brit said.
After the guys left, Slash eased onto a stool at the kitchen island. Brit set down the baby monitor before pulling a bottle of white from their wine cooler and a bottle of red from the mini-bar off the kitchen. When she set them both on the island, Slash pointed to the white.
“My choice too.” Brit handed Slash the corkscrew before pulling two glasses from the cabinet.
“How long do the twins sleep?” Slash opened the wine, filled two glasses.
“An hour, maybe a little longer.” Brit grabbed the baby monitor. “Let’s sit on the screened porch.”
Outside, Slash raised her glass. “Love you, Brit. Thanks for being there.”
“Love you back,” Brit replied. “You haven’t even finished telling me what happened.”
“It’s okay.”
Brit smiled. “Just tell me and we’ll move on to whatreallyhappened upstairs in the guest room.”
