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“I wouldn’t mind going for a short walk along the beach.”
He rolls his eyes and moves toward me, picking my fake UGGS up from the floor.
I love the beach but hate the sand constantly getting in my shoes so I’d purchased these boots—problem solved. When I’d first arrived, it hadn’t been a problem since the snow and ice had hardened the sand but now, with the early arrival of spring, the sand filled every pair of shoes that I owned, and it was still too cold to walk barefoot.
Max shoves them on my feet before holding his hand out to me. He makes a fake groan as he hauls me from the sofa. I laugh and swat at him . . . I’m so not that big . . . yet.
Sometimes, I feel like a beached whale and I still have close to five months to go.
The swell of my stomach has seen me investing in a few yoga pants and tee shirts so that I’m comfortable.
Grabbing a sweatshirt Max tosses to me, I pull it on to keep the slight chill of the evening away. It can be breezy walking along the beach.
Taking his hand, he leads me down the path to the beach and our very own piece of heaven.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ryder
Gripping the steering wheel in my fists, and with my forehead pressed tight up against it, I find I don’t give a shit if anyone sees me with tears running down my face.
It’s taken weeks to finally get here to Dahlia. My intention had been to find her and check on her weeks ago, but then Evan had called, saying Brittany’s last request was to spend some time with me, her husband.
So with a heavy heart, I’d spent each day with her until she passed away while I’d been holding her hand three weeks ago.
I’d read to her and we’d talked. A lot about Dahlia because she’d asked, and continued to ask. She’d apologized for screwing up my life, and told me that no matter what happens, I had to go after Dahlia as soon as she’d left this world.
In the end, we’d become friends of sorts, and yes I’d cried when she’d died. No matter what her lies cost us both, in the end, she didn’t deserve the life she’d been dealt. How could I not have compassion? I’m not an uncaring bastard, which I’d tried to be for years. I’d been running in fear.
I couldn’t come after Dahlia as soon as I was free because I needed to get my head on right. I need to be focused. My wife, who I’d spent most of our married life hating, had died after we’d made a truce. It was a hard transition to make, and I couldn’t come to Dahlia while my head was screwed up.
Unfortunately, for Reece, he found me when I was going through the angry, denial stage and by the time we’d both finished, it was a tossup as to who was hurt the most.
While Callie had been patching us both up, I’d admitted the truth about everything, and the fact that Dahlia had no idea about what had been going on, and about the way my screwed up mind had been thinking.
That’s why, yesterday, Reece gave me Dahlia’s address.
And now I wish he hadn’t.
Seeing her wrapped up in the arms of another guy with both their arms resting on the large swell of her stomach has just ripped what’s left of my heart right out of my fuckin’ chest.
She’s supposed to be mine. She’s supposed to be pregnant with my child, not someone else’s. I’m obviously so easily replaced.
Lifting my head, I notice they’ve disappeared so, grabbing a shirt from my bag, I use it to wipe my face. The last thing I need is to get in a wreck.
I head back to the airport and hope I can get a return flight today because I’m sure as hell not hanging around any longer than I need to.
But how the fuck can she do this to me? To us?
I swipe at another tear with anger as I try to calm down.
It’s a short ride to the airport, which I’m thankful for.
As soon as I enter the small terminal, I go to the restrooms to wash my face. Glancing in the mirror above the sink, it doesn’t look like me anymore. My eyes are red rimmed with heartbreak, and my jaw is tense from holding my emotions in check. God help anyone back home who gets in my way.
Grabbing my bag, I make my way to the check-in desk and manage to get a flight back.
While going through the motions of the ticket, security, boarding and then the flight, and landing back home, there is a part of me that says I should have stayed and called her on it. Asked her what the fuck she thinks she’s doing?
