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I can’t keep writing, I’m crying so hard I’ve given myself a headache. Just know that I love you and Wes so dearly, and I know our daughter and any other children we might have are in the best hands.
Lauren
* * *
I read the letter three times before folding it up and placing it back in the envelope. I walked into the bathroom to wash the tears from my cheeks and as I looked at my reflection in the mirror, eyes puffy and hair escaping from my ponytail, I felt more lost than ever. I’d let Lauren down. Her babies needed me, and when things had gotten hard, I’d run back to New York, convincing myself there was no other way.
I couldn’t have it all. I had to make a choice—my career at Willow, or the kids and the possibility of a relationship with Wes. And I had to make that choice now.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Wes
South Beach was a fucking shit show. Even on a Monday night in early May, the streets, restaurants, and hotels were packed. My parents had flown in to spend a few weeks at their condo there and with nothing to do in St. Louis, I’d flown down to join them. I hadn’t seen them in over a year since they’d spent the holidays in Europe last year, and it had been nice catching up for a couple of days.
I was over it now, though. My mother was pulling out all the stops to find me a wife, calling pretty much everyone she knew with an eligible daughter that might pique my interest. It was like a revolving door of debutantes, parading past my lounger at the pool, stopping by our dinner table at restaurants, and even dropping by unannounced at my parents’ condo. At first, I hadn’t realized what was going on since my parents had a lot of friends here, but I’d finally caught on and now I was just annoyed and resigned.
“Seriously, Mom, enough,” I told her, after yet another potential future Mrs. Kirby stopped by our table at lunch.
“Really? Not even Rosalie?” she asked in disappointment, daintily dabbing her lips with her napkin. “She graduated from Yale, has a degree in engineering, and is going to be on three European magazine covers next month. What more could you possibly want? Brains, money, and beauty?”
I sighed. “The last thing I want right now is a woman.”
Dad arched his brows. “Is there something you need to tell us?”
It took me a second, but then I realized what he meant and chuckled. “No, Dad. I’m still straight. What I meant was, I have feelings for someone else and another woman isn’t going to make those feelings go away. Not this soon anyway.”
“Hadley.” Mom fixed me with a look. “All right, it appears we’ve missed quite a bit over the last several months. Why don’t you catch us up on exactly what’s been happening since losing Ben and Lauren.” My parents had known Ben almost as well as his parents knew me.
“It started out sad and overwhelming and hard as fuck,” I said, staring out at the busy street. “It turned into a family, with two people who adore those babies and potentially each other. Then fucking Patrick and Susan stepped in trying to make us look bad, got temporary custody of the kids, and ruined fucking everything.”
“That’s a lot of fucking for so few sentences,” Mom said, chuckling. “So you’re upset about losing the kids. Do you really want to go back to that kind of responsibility? Seems to me this was your out.”
“I don’t want or need an out,” I growled. “I love those kids and I’m falling hard for Hadley too. I need them and they need me.”
“You’re sure?” Dad gave me a stern look.
“Yes!” I threw up my hands. “What do you want me to do to prove it, sacrifice a virgin to the gods?”
Dad smiled. “Not necessary. But if this is what you want, I don’t understand what you’re doing in Florida then.”
“What do you mean? The judge gave them temporary custody and—”
“What I mean is, you’re a Kirby. My son. You have both your own wealth as well as money in a trust from us. Why aren’t you using your resources to put those people in their place?”
“I hired an attorney with a fantastic reputation for family law and he didn’t do shit,” I protested. “I don’t know how this happened.”
“Technically, you and Hadley were supposed to decide which of you was getting the kids,” Mom reminded me. “I’m guessing the judge wanted to light a fire under the two of you to make that decision.”
“She’s decided to go back to New York,” I admitted quietly. “And I let her go because her career is important to her.”
“What does she do?” Mom asked.
