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I desperately wanted to tell him—to show him the ultrasound picture from a few weeks ago. To explain how I was ten weeks along and that the heartburn was killing me. But I couldn’t—not yet. He needed to figure out what he wanted first, and then we could talk.
“Actions speak louder than words,” he croaked out and nodded. “I’ll prove it to you.” He spun around, walked to the door, pulled it open, and left.
Only then did I let the tears fall.
Chapter Eleven
BRODY
I’d been naive to think I could turn up at Lola’s apartment and that she’d be waiting there with open arms. I’d hurt her. I’d hurt the one person who mattered most in this world, and now I had to fix it.
Actions speak louder than words.
She was right. I could have talked until I was blue in the face, but she needed me to show her I meant what I’d said. She needed proof that she wasn’t second. She’d never be second prize to me.
The first thing I had to do was explain it to Moira and Cade and leave the house. I hadn’t gone back last night. Instead, I’d stayed at a hotel because Lola was right. I needed clarity. There was no doubt in my mind how I felt about her, but she wasn’t the only one in this situation.
I walked inside the house and pushed my keys into my pocket. It was so silent, I wondered if anyone was here, but Moira’s SUV in the driveway told me she was.
My footsteps pounded on the floors as I walked into the living room, spotting Cade half lying on the sofa as he watched TV.
“Cade.”
His head lifted, and he clicked pause. “Dad.” He puffed out a breath. “Are you finally here to get your things?”
I frowned at him. “What?”
“Jeez, Dad.” He sat up, looking just as tired as I felt. “Even I know that you two shouldn’t be together. All you do is argue when you’re home. It’s okay for a day or two, and then”—he made a bursting motion with his hands—“bam. Arguing again.”
“Son—”
“You know you’re making it worse by staying. You know that, right?”
“I—”
“Go to your room, Cade.” Moira’s voice was like whiplash, and I spun around to face her. Her face was perfectly made up, not a hair out of place on her head, and her clothes pristine. She didn’t look like a woman who was hurting. She didn’t look like a woman who was feeling anything.
“I’m good here,” Cade said. “I’ll only listen if I go up anyway. May as well hear it from the same room.”
“Cade,” Moira warned.
“He’s right,” I said, not letting Moira get another word out. “He should know what’s happening.”
Moira scoffed, placed her hands on her hips, and raised a perfectly styled brow. “You want your son to know you’ve been fucking the waitress from the diner?”
“Jesus Christ, Moira,” I spat. “Do you have to be so—”
“Honest?” she interrupted. “You want me to stand here and pretend that it’s okay? I gave you the chance yesterday, and you shit all over it. So you can get your things and get the hell out of my house.”
“Your house?” I laughed. “I pay for every goddamn thing in this house.” Her face crumbled, and I cursed. “Shit, Moira, I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole.”
“Yeah, you are,” Cade answered for her.
“I’ll leave, but I just…I needed to tell you I’m sorry.” She stared at me like I was nothing, and part of me relished in that. If she were screaming and crying, I’d have second-guessed myself, but Cade was right: we hadn’t been a real couple for years. It wasn’t an excuse, but we’d been pussyfooting around it and pretending it wasn’t happening.
“For what?” Moira asked. “What exactly are you sorry for, Brody?”
“For being away so much that we didn’t stand a chance.” I pulled in a breath and flicked my gaze to Cade, who was watching us with wide eyes. “For not being the dad I should have been to Cade.” I looked back at Moira. “For letting you down.”
