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At that moment, someone hammers on my door. I jump and my eyes widen. Saxon strides over, looks through the peephole, then yanks the door open. It’s Reggie, drunk, as usual, and probably high as a kite too.
Saxon pushes Reggie hard on the chest with both hands so he stumbles back and crashes into the opposite wall of the corridor, then holds him there with one hand. Whoa, Jesus.
“What the fuck?” Saxon barks.
“Sorry, man,” Reggie says, “I didn’t know she had a dude.”
“Yeah, she has a dude, but even if she didn’t, you don’t ever go banging on a single woman’s door, you fucking moron. Go on, fuck off.” Saxon pushes him back along the corridor, and Reggie staggers away.
Saxon comes back in, closing the door with more force than is necessary, and walks over to me. Next door, the music goes up a notch, and above us, there’s an almighty crash that suggests someone’s knocked over a piece of furniture.
“Fucking hell,” he says. He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. I’m shaking like a leaf, and I know he spots it, but all he says is, “Right. This is the important bit. What do you want to do? Do you want to stay here? Or do you want to come with me?”
I stare at him. I’m so overwhelmed. I’m trembling, and I can’t seem to make it stop. I know he won’t force me to go with him. He wants me to make the decision.
“I’m metaphorically giving you the glass slipper,” he says. “Tell me—does it fit?”
I listen to the music, and the yells from upstairs. I think about Reggie, and the guy outside in the silver car. And then I look at Saxon. This gorgeous guy wants to give me and our children a better life. If nothing else, he wants to look after me, to keep me safe. I’m frightened of staying here, bringing up these babies, alone. Am I really so proud that I’m going to say no?
“It fits,” I say in a small voice.
His face lights up with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. He slides a hand to the back of my neck and gives me a quick, hard kiss. Then he says, “Right. Come on, princess. Let’s get you home.”
Chapter Nineteen
Saxon
I need to get this girl to Island Bay. She’s white as a sheet—all her freckles have vanished—and shaking like a leaf. I’m not surprised, I came on pretty heavy, but I had to make her understand.
“Give me your keys,” I tell her. She collects them from the desk and passes them to me.
Taking her hand, I take her to the door, go out, and shut the door behind us. I lead her along to the stairwell and down the stairs, trying not to think about how she was going to cope with a double buggy in this place. We cross the lobby, then go outside.
Kip is sitting on the wall, hands in the pockets of his jacket, but he stands as we come out.
“Let me put her in the car,” I say, and he nods. I take her to the Aston and around to the passenger side, open the door, and wait until she gets in. She’s still shaking. Dammit, I should have brought her jacket.
I lean across her to the back seat and retrieve a light-blue sweater I left lying there a day or two ago and pass it to her. “Put this on,” I tell her. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
I close the door and go back to Kip. He studies me for a moment, and I blow out a long breath.
“All good?” he asks with a smile.
“I’m getting there.” I look down the road. “Any sign of the silver Toyota?”
“No. Must have moved on.”
“Okay.”
“Are you taking her to Island Bay?”
“Yeah. She’s moving in with me.” I wait for him to challenge that decision.
But he just says, “Yeah. This place sucks. What are you going to do with her stuff?”
“She doesn’t have much. I’m guessing the furniture comes with the place.”
“You want me to pack it up? I could get Damon to come over with a few boxes.”
