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“Deacon,” I confirm.
“I thought it wasn’t serious between you two?”
“I lied,” I say simply. “To myself as well as RJ.”
“I see…”
“I love him,” I admit. It’s the first time I’m saying that out loud and it’s ridiculous that it’s to my daughter, but I need to say it to someone. “I really love him.”
“Okay…um…well…”
Her discomfort is radiating off her in waves and I can’t help letting out a soft chuckle. “It’s okay, baby. You don’t need to do anything to fix this. And I’m not going to make you sit here while I bear my soul.”
“Oh, thank god,” she mutters, expression full of relief.
“I just need to be sad for a while,” I tell her. “It’s my own fault, I totally fucked it up. And I just need some time.”
Her brows draw together. “You don’t mean…time like this, right?”
“I didn’t sleep a wink last night,” I tell her. “I really was feeling like shit today. But no, I definitely don’t plan on making this a regular thing.”
“Oh, thank god, because there is seriously little stink lines coming off you right now. Don’t even think about hugging me goodbye.”
Ah, there’s nothing like the unconditional love of your first born child.
Once she’s satisfied that I’m not dying, Piper makes a hasty retreat from the penthouse, and I return to the couch and flick the movie back on.
Tomorrow will be better.
Hopefully.
***
The next day sucks ass just as much, although to be fair I do at least put in more of an effort to connect with the world. I skip work again, but this time it’s because Izzy’s running a fever and I can’t bring myself to ask Kit to put in even more hours when she’s already done so much overtime lately.
Fortunately, Izzy’s not badly ill, but caring for her does at least give me something to focus on that isn’t my catastrophic fuck up of what could have been and incredible relationship with Deacon.
That is, until Jazz shows up at the house, freshly back from his trip to LA.
As usual, he strides right into the house without knocking—neither of my older kids do; this used to be their home, after all—his brows shooting up at the sight of me snugging on the sofa with a sleeping Izzy. “You don’t seem like a total wreck,” he muses. “Piper made it seem like you were barely clinging to your sanity.”
I wince as I recall my visit at the penthouse from Piper yesterday. “I wouldn’t go that far, but yesterday wasn’t a pretty sight. What are you doing home, anyway? I thought you were staying there for Thanksgiving.”
He shrugs. “Piper called in an SOS.” I have a feeling there’s more to the story than that, but I’m not going to push him. “So…does your “friend” need any more advice?” he asks with a smirk, lifting his hands to form air quotes.
I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. I should have known as soon as any information about me and Deacon came to light Jazz would put two and two together in an instant. At the time of our last conversation, the thought of anything going public with Deacon seemed ludicrous. Now I can’t believe I was ever so reluctant to get more involved with him.
“Dad, I’m not judging,” Jazz assures me. “And if that’s what works for you, then go for it. I’m assuming this guy was the one with all the kissing and the freaking out?”
I nod. “Yeah, but I got over that. Things were going really well.”
“So what happened to fuck it up?”
I glance down at Izzy, feeling a little weird about having this conversation in her presence. She’s asleep in my arms, though, and I really don’t want to move her. I can keep things G rated, I’m sure. “He found out about Natalia. And when I tried to explain the situation, I just…froze. The anxiety just took over and I couldn’t get the words out. And all he heard was that I’m married and I don’t plan to divorce her.”
“Have you tried talking to him since then?” Jazz asks.
I shake my head. “No.”
