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“Maybe,” she whispered, and he nodded. He wouldn’t push her on it right now. They had time to discuss. But he’d get his way.
“Anyway, her birthday is coming up and Beck said he’d like to buy one of your art pieces for her.” She just stared at him. “Pretty girl?” Nothing. She wasn’t moving. Just staring. “Abbie?”
He didn’t think she was breathing. Shit. What did he say? He needed to stop fucking up.
“What’s wrong? What did I say?”
“Beck Carver wants to buy my art for Roxy Bandera.”
That was it?
“Is that a problem?” he asked. “I can tell him no. But we were talking about your art, and he said he’d love to take a look, maybe buy something if you’re willing to sell.”
“He can have it!” She sounded frantic. “He can have it all. He doesn’t have to buy it. Just take it. Oh my God. No, wait. He can’t. I’m not good enough to have my art hanging in Roxy Bandera’s house. Could you imagine?” She pressed her palms to her cheeks, breathing deeply.
“I can imagine it,” he said firmly. “You’re talented and she’d be lucky to have your art hanging up.” She shook her head, her eyes on the ground. “Abbie, look at me.”
Reluctantly, she turned her gaze to him. “If you don’t want to sell anything, that’s okay. But don’t talk badly about yourself. I never want to hear you put yourself or your art down again. You understand me?”
Her breath hitched. Was that too much? He hadn’t punished her earlier, even though he knew he should’ve. But he couldn’t bring himself to, not after she’d told him he’d scared her.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl.” He kissed her cheek, breathing in her soft, sweet scent. “If you don’t want to sell, that’s okay. I’ll tell him to fuck off. But if you do?—”
“He’s never even seen any of my pieces,” she blurted. “How does he know Roxy Bandera would even like it?”
“You can just call her Roxy,” Jett teased. The look Abbie sent his way told him she thought he was nuts. “He’ll love it.”
“But what if he doesn’t?”
“He will.”
She didn’t look like she believed him. At all.
“Does he want a custom piece? Oh God. When does he need it by? I need to have time to paint her something perfect.”
“I can give him your number so you can work everything out,” he offered and she shook her head so hard he was worried she’d give herself whiplash. “Okay, not that. How about I call him again and let you two talk? I’ll be with you the whole time.”
“Really?”
“He’s just a man, baby,” he said softly. “A stinky, annoying man. Just like every other man on the planet.”
“But he’s famous. He’stheBeck.”
“Don’t tell him you call him that,” he groaned. “He has a big enough ego.” She laughed, resting her head on his chest and relaxing into him again, and he sighed happily.
This felt right. Everything about this moment with his girl was perfect.
“Let’s go back to bed, pretty girl. You need your sleep.” She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his shirt.
“How come you couldn’t sleep?” she asked as he lifted her in his arms, cradling her against his chest.
“A lot on my mind.”
“Anything I can help with?” He blinked down at her, finding her staring up at him with wide, unguarded eyes.
That’s when he realized he didn’t have to do this alone anymore. He had someone. Even if he wouldn’t bog her down with his bullshit, it was nice to know he had someone in his corner. That he didn’t have to go through life by himself, he could lean on her when the shit in his head became too much. And she would do the same.
