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There’s a creaking, the sound of a door opening. What an ideal time for Delilah to make an appearance.

I may as well be watching my life end in slow motion as the disheveled Delilah peers out while Xander’s eyes widen as understanding settles in.

“I’m sorry,” she murmurs. Her cheeks go pink while her gaze darts from him over to me. “I heard voices out here.”

Xander’s face hardens. “So this is what you’re doing in your off hours nowadays.” His eyes are cold, and his mouth twisted in a smirk. “No wonder you have no time to handle important matters.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeats, staring at me. Her chin trembles like she might be tearing up. The sight of it sends every protective instinct I possess into overdrive. I’ll be damned if I let anyone make her feel small and threatened.

“Like you said, these are my off hours, so I can’t see how it’s anyone else’s concern.” While Xander continues to sneer and snicker, I turn to Delilah. “Clean yourself up. Get dressed. Then stay in the room until I come and get you.”

There’s no room for questions, though it doesn’t seem like she’d ask any if there was. At a time like this, it’s a good idea to make a quick exit. She’s smart enough to do so.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed. For a number of reasons.” He has the nerve to shake his head at me, mournful. “Especially when you know what she’s capable of.”

“Leave her out of it. Whatever you’re here for, she’s no part of it.”

“Not part of this? She is the entire reason. Did you forget the conversation we had?” He looks me up and down, his lip curling in distaste. “Don’t bother answering that. I wouldn’t be surprised if you did. You’re falling to pieces in front of me.”

“Feel free to explain at any point why you visited.” Despite my bare feet, I begin picking items up from the floor. Anything is better than being forced to look at the man another second.

“In a way, the theme is the same. Why haven’t you done what you need to do?”

Leave it to him to bring this up with her in the next room. “I told you. I’m not going to—”

“I’m talking about Charlotte and Aspen.”

He could’ve taken a swing at me and surprised me less. I straighten up, forgetting the mess again. “How did you know she was here?”

“Does it matter? What I want to know is, have you told your daughter her mother is alive?” He directs a very obvious glance toward the bedroom. “Or have you been too busy doing other things? Like Delilah?”

I can barely get the words out with my teeth gritted like they are. “As I said. Leave her out of it.”

He shrugs blithely like it doesn’t matter. I suppose to him, it doesn’t. “Well? Have you?”

“What business is it of yours?”

“Considering how special she is to my son, let’s say I have a vested interest. Especially because I know Quinton. If he finds out Charlotte is here, he won’t be able to keep from telling his wife. But you and I both know you’re the one that should come from. She deserves to hear it from you.”

He’s right, the arrogant bastard. I want him to be wrong more than I want a drink, but there’s no changing the truth. If there’s one person my daughter deserves to hear this from, it’s me.

Here I am, cursing myself for letting her down in the past. I’d only let her down again if I let Quinton do the dirty work for me.

“I’m working on it.”

“Exactly how much work does it take? Simply tell her.”

“I will, Xander.”

He waves an arm around, indicating what’s still spread over half the apartment. “This can’t go on. You know that, don’t you?”

“I don’t exactly make a habit of breaking the place up.”

“You don’t need to make a habit of it,” he retorts. “Once is enough. But don’t act like this came out of the blue. You’re unraveling. A man in your position can’t afford to unravel.”

“I appreciate your concern.” It takes everything in me to keep from taking one of those chair legs and beating him to a pulp with it. A man in my position can’t afford to unravel. What the hell does he know about it? Who is he to tell me what I can and can’t afford to do?

That sort of reaction might fly if this were nearly anyone else but the man standing in front of me, wearing what looks like a touch of pity in his eyes. Anything but pity.

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