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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
tucker
Beer in hand, I sit at a table at the edge of a huge outdoor dance floor under the night sky, with the full moon high overhead. I wasn’t sure what a wedding in Vegas would look like, but Willow’s mom and aunts created magic in the middle of the dessert. Strung lights on tall poles weave back and forth over the dance floor, and each table has a glittering centerpiece with rustic flowers and pompous grass. Even I have to admit it’s beautiful.
“If I ever get married, I’m asking Willow’s mom and aunts to plan that shit,” Dalton says, plopping down in the seat next to mine with a plate piled high with food.
“They did good.” I focus on the dance floor when the DJ announces Clay and Willow will be having their first dance.
“Did you ever think you’d see him so happy?”
“No,” I say instantly.
“Me neither, but I’m thrilled he fucking found something to focus on that has nothing to do with the past,” he says, and I know he’s talking about our foster sister Arya, who we had all been close with until she was adopted by a family from another state. Losing her then had been hard, but finding out years later, when we aged out of the system and went looking for her, that she had been trafficked and went down a path that eventually killed her changed all of us.
I think after that we all kind of settled for just being okay. Or I did. I don’t even think I know what being happy is. If it’s what Clay has with Willow, or even if it’s what Miles and his daughter Winter share, I know I don’t. At one time, I thought I could build it with Naomie, but I was wrong about that.
“You finally wanna tell me about the woman from the bar?” he asks quietly after a couple of minutes, and fuck if my gut doesn’t clench.
“No,” I deny promptly, because each time I think about Miranda, about that fucking kiss, about letting her walk away without even attempting to stop her, I want to kick my own ass. I fucked up, and when I saw her face after I reacted like I did, I knew there wasn’t going to be any smoothing that shit over. And I shouldn’t want to because she deserves a better man than me.
“Who is she?”
“Who’s who?” Miles asks, joining us.
“I’m asking him who the woman was he was with at the bar,” Dalton answers.
“That’s Bowie’s wife,” Miles mutters, and I take my eyes off Willow and Clay, who are slow dancing, to glare at him. “What? I saw you with her.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Dalton leans past me to look at Miles. “The wife of the dude Naomie was fucking?”
“One and the same.” Miles grins, and I pick up my beer, shaking my head at the two of them.
“What the fuck?” Dalton elbows me.
“What the fuck nothing. She’s Bowie’s ex. We connected over the fact that our exes were having an affair, and that’s all,” I say low, hoping to end this.
“I saw you with her, bro. Lie to yourself if you want, but that’s not why you connected with her,” Miles says, then adds, “And if the woman wearing my ring had an affair, the last person I’d be getting cozy with is the wife of the man she cheated on me with.”
“She’s his ex-wife,” I bite out. “And you and I aren’t the same.”
“I know, because I don’t lie to myself.”
“You sure about that?” I raise a brow. “Since you’re so open to talking about shit, let’s talk about you and Leah.”
“That’s different.” His jaw twitches.
“Is it?” Dalton asks, sounding doubtful. Then again, we’ve all seen him and Willow’s best friend in the same space.
“She’s a friend, nothing more.” He finishes off his drink, then meets my eye. “And, this isn’t about me. It’s about you pulling your head out of your ass. If you like the woman, then go for it.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“It’s only as hard as you make it, brother.” With that, he pats my back, gets up from the table, and walks off.
“He’s not wrong.” Dalton stands. “You like her, go for it. Fuck whatever it is that’s holding you back.”
“Sure,” I mumble, looking at the beer in my hand.
Fuck, I need a stronger drink.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
miranda
Holding Kingston’s hand, I shuffle him outside, then maneuver us both around to shut the door, making sure to keep hold of him so he doesn’t take off. Not that he’s done that again since the whole parking lot fiasco, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.
“Mommy?”
“Yeah, Lovie?” I look down at him as I lock the door to our apartment.
“Why do I haf to go to Daddy’s?”
“Remember, Daddy has the day off work tomorrow, so he wants to spend time with you.” I adjust his bag and mine on my shoulder, then start walking toward the parking lot.
