Page 59 of The Cost of Love

“Of course not.” I rub a hand down my face before pressing my forehead to the desk.

“There, you answered your own question.” I can hear her getting up, likely leaving the room so she doesn’t wake her wife. I regret forcing her to move when she is on bed rest.

“But can’t I do both? Our situation would have been a lot worse if we had the parents we have and were also poor. Why does it have to be one or the other?” I hear water, and I know she is putting a kettle on for tea. It makes me want coffee.

“It doesn’t have to be one or the other, but you do need to remember which is more important. If she doesn’t want your money, that’s fine. You can still give her your support and shoulder. Most women prefer a good man over a rich one because, in the end, that is what matters. Who knows, maybe if she feels loved by you, it won’t feel like a burden to be financially taken care of. I know it helped me a lot when it came to accepting your money.”

As much as it’s not the answer I want, it’s the one I need to hear. At the end of the day, this isn’t about me. What will make me feel better is not the point. I will just have to find other ways to make sure she is okay. I just hope it’s enough, because losing these kids is going to break her.

“Thank you.” I finally turn on my desk lamp, ready to see the reality of the situation. If this is what is best for her, then this is what I will do.

I let Liv talk about her birth plan while I send off emails to my assistant and vice president. When she is done, so am I, having addressed everything important.

“Can I say something?” she asks, and I prepare myself for a talking down.

“Sure.”

“It seems to me like you really care about this woman, so I am going to ask you what you asked me. Is she worth it?”

I lean back and think of the right words to say. Searching the ceiling for the answer. I know she is asking me about more than just the progression of our relationship, knowing very well what it will mean if I choose to be with Chanice. It’s the same question Carter has been asking me for months.

“Yes, she is, and so am I.” I echo what she said that day, back to her, and let her know in so many words that this is about more than just this woman.

This is about my happiness.

I can hear the smile in her voice as she bids me goodnight. After I finish up the call, I get to work preparing the reports that are due tomorrow. I’ll have to pull an all-nighter to get the work done, but if I am going to stay home with her tomorrow, then I need to do it.

Chapter 24

Chanice

As soon as I open my eyes, last night comes rushing back to me. The sex, tears, and trauma-dumping that led to me spending the night. I feel my cheeks heat and my chest constrict at my stupidity. I have no idea what I’m going to say to him. This is supposed to be light and casual, and I keep asking him to bear witness to my heavy life. What am I even giving him in return? Not a title, not even consistent sex. He’s such a good guy to be putting up with this.

I roll over and see he isn’t in the bed, making me wonder if he ever ended up joining me. Maybe he went to work, hoping to avoid a repeat show. When I look for my phone, I find it on the nightstand stand, plugged in and next to a bottle of water. It shows me that even still, he is taking care of me.

Checking it, I see that Imani saw my text and got the kids to school. I shoot her one back, promising I will be home tonight. Then I text my boss at the café that I won’t be in today. I know I need the money, but I really need a day to process everything that is going on.

I down the water and pull at my hair, wondering how I let myself sleep without a bonnet. I can only imagine how flat and equally wild my curls look.

After peeing, I confirm it is, indeed, crazy-looking, and all I have to fix it is a ponytail. Safely securing it in a pineapple, I walk out ready to face him if he is here. Not bothering with my pants, I am more comfortable in his shirt and my underwear. At this point, it doesn’t matter as we have passed the boundaries of casual.

Before I even get up to the main floor, I can hear him. He is singing along to a Bowie song playing lowly in the background. I also hear the sound of an oven beeping, which makes sense because, as soon as I get upstairs, I can smell something delicious.

“Morning,” I shout over all the noise.

Turning to face me, a wide smile peels across his face. He puts whatever is in his hands down and takes off the oven mitts. In a few long strides, he is in front of me, pulling me into his arms. He smells freshly showered, only making me more self-conscious. Not at all bothered by the stale smell of my skin, he nestles his face into the crook of my neck.

“I made an English breakfast,” he says while pulling me back in the direction of the kitchen.

He places me in front of the island chairs, gesturing for me to sit. I look at the full plates of bacon, eggs, baked beans, tomatoes, and toast sitting on the counter and smile. It looks great.

“Let me just finish cutting the fruit, and we can eat.” He turns around, giving me a view of his ass in briefs.

Still not dressed, I am getting breakfast and a show as this sexy man cooks for me in his underwear. The taut lines of his back form muscles going down that match the ones that flex in his arms as he moves. He looks damn good in a suit, but even better with nothing on.

His beauty aside, the thoughtful gesture of waking me up with food is just another reason on the long list of why I should just date him. It’s obvious that he will give more than he takes. Isn’t it worth the time and effort to see?

“So, I don’t want to upset you again, but what exactly did they say about the situation?”