Let me love you, p.10
Let Me Love You, page 10
“Yes.” My smile widens.
“Then, what’s mine is yours, Baby Thorne. In sickness and in health. In richer and in”—he lets me go and waves his hand toward the shack—“whatever this is.”
I laugh and look out the window. “It’s not so bad.”
“It’s one hundred percent bad. Now, what do you really want? Because we both know you found at least one perfect house worth drooling over, and it sure as shit isn’t this one.”
“Well…what’s your—our—price range?” I question him carefully.
He rattles off a number, making my eyes nearly bug out of my head. “Are you serious?”
“You’re gonna marry an NHL player, Blakely.” He pushes the driver’s side door open. “Let’s meet the realtor and tell her what we actually want.”
I nod, unable to help the dopey grin spreading across my face. “Okay.”
“Hey, stranger, how are you?” the realtor greets me as I climb out of the car. “I’m Amy. Amy Poulton. We spoke on the phone earlier?”
“Yes. Hi,” I return, shaking her hand. “I’m Blakely, and this is Theo.”
Her dark blue eyes shoot to Theo, and she gives him a smile. “Hello. Nice to—” She pauses, her polite exterior breaking when she recognizes him. “Wait. You’re Theodore Taylor.”
“Uh, yeah. Hi.”
“Hey,” she repeats. “My husband and I are huge hockey fans. Sorry if I’m being weird, but seriously. We are so excited you’ll be playing for the Lions this season.”
Theo chuckles yet has the decency to look sheepish. “Uh, thanks. Maybe if this whole thing works out, I’ll be able to get you guys tickets to one of the games.”
“He would die,” she returns with a grin, and I can’t help but immediately like her. She’s nice. Friendly. Laid back. And she isn’t drooling over Theo because of his looks. She’s gushing because she and her husband are hockey fans. Yup. I really like her.
“Are you guys ready to go inside?” she adds, hooking her thumb over her shoulder toward the entrance to the fixer-upper from Theo’s Hell.
“Actually, we were thinking of maybe looking at something a little more…” My voice trails off, and I grimace. My guilt over bringing us here in the first place makes me feel like a child instead of a serious buyer, which is the last thing I want.
With a laugh, Amy waves me off. “Don’t worry. This happens all the time. We show up to a place, and it gives off a different vibe than the pictures online. Not a big deal.”
My shoulders relax as I breathe out a sigh of relief, grateful for her kindness. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing. So, what are you looking for?”
Theo and I exchange a look, and I blurt out, “We have no idea.”
“All right. Not a big deal,” she repeats. After tucking her strawberry blonde hair with pink highlights behind her ear, she taps her finger against her chin. “Hmm… Let me ask you a few questions, and we’ll see if I can find you something. Question one. Do you need a yard?”
A yard?
Good question.
“Um…no idea,” I admit. I should’ve thought these things through.
She laughs. “It’s totally fine. Let me ask you this. Do you have any kids?”
“Nope,” I answer.
“Do you have any dogs?” she prods. “Or are you thinking of ever getting any dogs? Because my dog, Tonka, would die without a yard.”
“Then, yes. We need a yard,” Theo announces.
“Perfect. Hmm…” She clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “How many bedrooms are you thinking?”
Theo turns to me, his brow quirked.
“Um…three?” I offer.
“Maybe four,” Theo adds.
“And bonus points if there’s an in-home gym,” I add, anticipation buzzing through me.
Her smile spreads. “I know the perfect place. But first, how do you feel about the color green? Personally, I love it, but…” She turns to me, and Theo does the same, putting me on the spot.
“Um…I think I like it?” I answer with a shrug.
“Perfect.”
Nope. I don’t like green. I love it. The front of the house has ivy growing up the tan stucco, and the front door is painted a mossy color making it stand out against all the other ones we’ve driven past. Not to mention the freshly mowed green grass and planters filled with lush green foliage. It’s freaking gorgeous. And unique. And, dare I say, classy?
Yup. Definitely classy.
After Amy gave us a quick tour, where we learned she isn’t only a real estate agent, but a teacher, too, she gave us some space to explore the house by ourselves. I want to put an offer in to be sure she receives the commission.
But even if she didn’t, I’d still want to put an offer in. Because hands down, it’s the prettiest house I’ve ever been in. And the in-home gym?
Squeal.
It’s perfect.
“What do you think?” Theo asks, watching me as I check out the master bathroom, complete with dual shower heads and heated Italian marble floors.
Yup. This’ll do just fine.
“Blake?” he prods.
I drag my fingers against the dark counter and face him again. “I think it’s pretty gorgeous. What do you think?”
“So, it’s a yes? You like it?”
“Uh, I kind of love it,” I admit. “But you never answered me. What do you think?”
“Amy!” he calls, not bothering to answer me. “Let’s draw up the paperwork.”
I squeal again and jump into Theo’s arms, kissing the shit out of him as he cups my ass and lifts me up until my legs are wrapped around his center.
Yup.
This’ll do just fine.
15
COLT
My knee bounces up and down as I stare at my phone. I called the lawyer’s contact information on the subpoena while Ashlyn was with the girls yesterday. After a quick chat where I explained I wasn’t going to be a dick and would cooperate, she gave me two options. One, I can pay for a private lab to perform the paternity test and receive the results sooner. Or two, we can wait until the court sets everything up, which could take up to three or four months.
Pretty sure neither Ash nor I can stomach that long of a wait without knowing the truth.
Am I gonna be a dad?
Do I want to be a dad?
I opted for the private lab. Apparently, Eleanor agreed because her lawyer, Ali Marshall, just sent a text with the time and place.
Resting my ass on the bed and my elbows on my knees, I hang my head as the bathroom door opens, revealing a freshly showered Ashlyn in nothing but a fluffy gray towel wrapped around her torso and knotted between her breasts.
“Hey,” I mutter.
She pulls her wet hair over one shoulder and starts combing it. “Hey.”
After I picked her up from Blake and Mia’s house last night, she passed out and slept in. I still don’t know if it’s because of the alcohol or if she’s avoiding me on purpose.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I’m okay. Should probably be worse,” she admits with a soft smile. Sobering slightly, she adds, “I’m sorry I got mad at you.”
Her apology makes my chest ache, and I shake my head, pushing to my feet. “You had every right to be mad at me.”
“Yeah, but I get it.” Her movements are strained as she sets the comb back onto the counter. Our gazes collide when she faces me again. “How are you feeling? About the whole thing?”
“Stressed. I talked to the lawyer.”
“And?”
“And I’m gonna have the test done on Monday.”
Her eyes widen. “So soon?”
“Yeah.” The familiar sense of being suffocated washes over me, making it hard to breathe. I tug at the collar of my T-shirt. “Will you come with me?”
Her pretty, full lips pull into a frown as she hesitates. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“You know I d—”
“Do I?” she interrupts.
“Ash,” I plead.
“No offense, but you hid this from me. Doesn’t exactly make me feel like you want to include me in any of this.”
“I was scared.”
“Yeah, well, so am I,” she argues. “Which is ironic since I know this has nothing to do with me, but—”
“It has everything to do with you.” I rush toward her and grab her hands, hating how they shake. Hating how I’m the one who made her feel this way. The one who’s making her uncomfortable. Anxious.
Fuck, this is all my fault, and I’d do anything to fix this. To make it better. To erase the little divot between her brows. But there’s no going back. There’s no fixing this. Our only option is to move forward. And dammit, I need us to move forward.
“We’re in this together, Sunshine. I want us to be in this together.”
Her attention falls to our laced fingers. She closes her eyes. Pained. Insecure.
“Are you sure?” she whispers.
“Can’t say it any more bluntly, Sunshine.”
A breath of laughter spills out of her, but she looks like she’s about to cry, leaving me feeling helpless.
“How can I fix this?” I beg.
“I’m scared,” she breathes out. Her declaration fans across my face.
“Me too.” I fight the urge to pull her against me. To sweep us away and never look back. But I can’t. I can’t run. I can’t escape. No matter how much I want to. I have to face this, but I need Ash by my side as I do. If she leaves? If she calls it quits? I’m not sure I’ll survive.
“I don’t want this to come between us, Ash,” I tell her. “I need us to face this together, or I’m scared I won’t be able to face this at all.”
And it’s the truth. I can’t do this. Not without my Sunshine.
“Okay.” She gulps. Then, her eyes meet mine. “I’ll go with you.”
“Thank you.” I move slowly, giving her plenty of time to reject me. When my lips brush against her forehead, and she doesn’t jerk away from me, I breathe a little easier, the vice around my chest loosening. And fuck, a tiny spark of hope ignites inside of me as I repeat, “Thank you.”
Her body sags against mine, and she nods.
“The baby will be there too,” I add. “Just so you know. I don’t want you to feel blindsided or anything.”
She nods, digesting the curveball. “And your ex?”
“She was never my ex.” I squeeze her hand.
“I mean, technically…” Her voice trails off as if she can’t stomach the idea of me being with someone else. And honestly, I get it. I can’t stomach the thought of her being with anyone else, either. It doesn’t matter that we both have our pasts and wish we could erase them. They’re still there. They’ll always be there. Even when the reminder is a bitch to swallow. And mine is glaring down at us. My past. The reminder I’ve been with someone else before I even knew she existed. But she doesn’t get it. I could’ve been with a thousand women before her, and none of them would’ve mattered. Because they weren’t my Sunshine.
My Adam’s apple bobs in my throat as I try to find a way to help her understand it, but I don’t know how.
Her wet hair hangs down her back, and I toy with the strands as if they’re my lifeline. “You gotta understand who I was back then, Ash. I was a different guy. A stranger. Couldn’t even look in the mirror most days. I was her dirty little secret, and she was…” I shake my head, unsure of what else to say.
“What was she?” Ashlyn prods.
“She was a distraction. From the guilt I’d been carrying around after my dad passed.”
With a small nod of understanding, Ash asks, “Will she want me there? I don’t want to make anything more awkward than it already is.”
“I want us to be a united front throughout all of this. And I’m not letting you go, Ash. Not for anything.”
Her sad smile greets me, but she nods again. “Okay.”
“We’re gonna make it through this. You and me.”
“You and me,” she repeats.
My arms hold her a little tighter.
You and me.
16
ASHLYN
Colt’s death grip on my hand makes my fingers tingle, but I don’t pull away as we walk inside the building. It’s gray and old, the smell somehow riding the line between bleach and stale air.
The waiting room is mostly empty. A few metal chairs are spread around the edge of the room, and there’s a woman behind a reception desk, her gaze glued to her computer. Another woman stands when we cross the threshold. She adjusts the top of her cream-colored blouse and walks toward us. I don’t recognize her.
“Mr. Thorne?” she asks.
“Yeah. Colt,” he answers.
“Hello.” The stranger offers her hand. “I’m Alexandra Marshall, Ms. Elshner’s attorney. You can call me Ali. We spoke on the phone earlier. It’s nice to meet you.”
She looks young. Gorgeous. With dark chocolate eyes and curly brown hair reaching her collar bone and framing her face, and a conch and daith piercing.
I’d expected a stingy old dude in a suit with a constant frown etched into his aged, weathered skin. But Alexandra Marshall? Yeah, she’s pretty much the opposite of who I expected to be dealing with. I warm up to her almost instantly.
Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
Colt takes her offered hand and shakes it. “Nice to meet you, Ali. This is Ashlyn, my future wife.”
My eyes pop as Ali greets me. “Congratulations, Ashlyn. When’s the big day?”
“No idea,” I answer, forcing a laugh as I shake her hand too.
If Colt wanted to toss a bomb on me this morning, he’s succeeded, but Ali simply takes it in stride. “I understand you’re—”
“Sorry I’m late,” a feminine voice calls out. We turn around to find a gorgeous brunette middle-aged woman with a baby carrier hanging from her right forearm. She strides toward us in black heels and a black pencil skirt hugging every inch of her curves. Not gonna lie. When I pictured a mysterious professor’s wife, she was a stern woman with a slicked-back bun, a type-A personality, and a fetish with rulers. But this woman? She’s—I gulp—stunning.
“Jaxon was hungry, and I had to make a quick bottle,” she continues.
I step back, not wanting to intrude when she walks into the little circle we’d created while chatting on the opposite side of the room. Colt’s attention falls to the car seat, but he doesn’t say a word.
“Have you unblocked my number yet?” Eleanor asks him. There isn’t any malice in her question. Only genuine curiosity and a dash of remorse.
She has his number?
Duh. Of course, she would have his number. They’ve slept together, remember?
I attempt to swallow the lump of jealousy in my throat, but it doesn’t dissipate.
“Not sure this is the time, Eleanor,” Colt mutters.
Ali clears her throat and announces, “I’m glad all of you could make it. Now, if you’ll follow me, we’ll get started.” She takes a step toward a closed door but pauses, almost apologetic as she glances at me. Turning to Colt, she addresses him. “Mr. Thorne, do you mind if your fiancée waits out here? Unless Ms. Elshner is all right with her accompanying us?”
Eleanor’s smile is guarded as she looks at me for the first time and adjusts the car seat on her forearm. “Um…sure? I guess I don’t mind.”
“All right, then. Follow me, everyone.” Ali heads through a thick black door to a private room in the back of the building, and Eleanor follows behind, giving us a peek at Jaxon as she walks in front of us. A bright blue binkie wiggles back and forth while he takes in his surroundings, catching Colt’s stare. Curious, Jaxon stares right back at him with wide eyes.
Colt’s steps falter when their gazes connect.
And it kills me.
I want to know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. If he knows how much Jaxon looks like him or if he can’t see the same similarities I do. Hell, I don’t even need to know the paternity test results anymore. Jaxon is clearly one hundred percent Thorne.
The baby disappears into the room a second later as Eleanor carries him inside, but Colt stays in place, his breathing shallow. My grip tightens for a brief second on Colt’s hand as I urge him forward, and we follow everyone into the room.
It’s similar to a doctor’s office with a gray swivel stool and a small computer on the counter lining the back wall, along with a massive chair that looks like it turns into a bed in the center of the room. Black picture frames hang on the wall, showcasing smiling families I can’t help but envy. I tear my attention from a father and son photograph to take in the rest of the room.
This laboratory is larger than most. Past the oversized chair in the center of the room, there’s a small, rectangular table along with four chairs placed around it. Colt pulls out a chair for me, and I sit down, watching as Eleanor sets the car seat on the table. She sits next to Ali on the opposite side.
Ali pulls an iPad from her leather bag and begins explaining the details and what to expect moving forward, but I don't hear a word. I’m too busy staring at the baby boy’s eyes and round cheeks. My heart feels like it slipped into an automobile crusher.
I care about him already.
He isn’t even mine.
But he’s Colt’s. He’s a piece of Colt.
And it breaks my heart that he’s never met his father until today.
He deserves so much more.
They both do.
I squeeze Colt’s knee beneath the table’s surface.
Everything’s gonna be okay, Colt.
No matter what.
17
COLT
“The lab technician will be in any minute,” Ali announces. She gives us a step-by-step breakdown of how everything will play out, but I can’t pay attention. I’m too distracted by the baby in the car seat to hear any of it. Eleanor set it on the table, giving me a front-row seat to the little boy she’s convinced belongs to me.
He looks like my baby pictures. The ones my mom has tucked away in a photo album. But maybe I’m imagining it. Maybe we aren’t so similar. My teeth grind together as I take in his little hands. The pudge of his fingers. The tiny knuckles and short fingernails.
