I quicken my pace through the lobby and outside to the valet. Pushing through the doors, I’m hit with a wall of desert-summer heat. I scan the busy porte cochere. People jump in and out of cabs, while others load and unload suitcases. A flash of blond catches my eye.
You’ve got to be kidding me. D’lilah’s leaning up against the wall in the designated smoking area with a few guys half her age. They’re all talking too loud and using wild hand gestures.
’Li catches my approach and her drunk smile falls. She takes a long drag off her cigarette and stares right at me.
“Come on, beautiful. It’ll be fun,” one of the dicks says.
“I’d love to.” She practically purrs and looks right at me.
“The fuck you will. You’re going home. Now.” My muscles are so tense I could split my damn shirt.
I’m so sick of following her around, taking care of her out of duty or obligation. I told myself as soon as she got on her feet, got herself sober, I’d walk away. I always thought it was what I owed her for what I’d taken from her. But this is bullshit. It’s been fourteen years, and she’s worse than she’s ever been.
“D’lilah. Now.”
One of the douchebag guys whispers something to his limp-dick friends about getting the hell out of there. Smart.
“No, Cam.” Her eyes glisten with tears. “No way. I don’t want to go home. I can’t go back there. I can’t.” Drops slide down her face to cascade off her jaw.
The guys slowly back away, and I step in closer to her. “Don’t do this. Not now. Not here.”
“Don’t make me go back there. I can’t.” She shakes her head, her body crumbles in on itself, and I move quickly to keep her from dropping to the ground.
Hell, this is an impossible position. I’m so angry at her, but also feel too responsible to walk away.
“Shh, it’s okay. Let me take you home.”
She nuzzles into my chest as sobs rip from her throat. “I can’t go there tonight. I . . . I miss her. My baby.” Another wave of tears and her body quakes with the force of it.
My heart seizes behind my ribs, and I pull her closer and hold on with all I have. It’s not her I want to be holding, but fuck if I don’t grip something I’ll drop.
“Sir, can I get your car?” The valet who took my keys when I got here shifts uncomfortably, and I notice that we’ve drawn a small crowd.
I nod, and he moves quickly to pull up my car, which thankfully was parked right up front. He leaves both doors open.
“Car’s here, ’Li.” I rub her back and try to get her to loosen her hold on my waist. “Come on, you can stay at my house for the night.”
Her arms let up a tiny bit, just enough for me to get my hands on her shoulders and peel her off the front of my body. She keeps her head ducked, and I usher her to the passenger side of my car. My skin prickles with the feeling of eyes on me from all angles and whispers of who I am and what’s going on.
Once inside the Maserati, I point it toward home. Damn, this is going to be a long night. And if I know Eve, my little ball buster’s going to have a few choice words for me once I call her.
This is crazy. I need to come clean and tell Eve everything about my past, but there’s no way I’m doing it over the phone. I need to be there to lock her in my arms if she tries to run away after she finds out I’m responsible for robbing my daughter of a future.
*
Eve
Everything’s blurry and my throat burns. No matter how hard I try to stop the tears from falling, they ignore me. I can’t breathe.
Fuck, what was that? I left to grab a cab only to see Cameron and D’lilah hugging so tightly they looked like lovers. She seemed upset, but he was comforting her in such a physical way a stab of jealousy shot right through me.
They’re sharing something. Most likely mourning the death of their marriage. Being together as a family with me there must’ve hammered the point home that they’re over. I can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t telling me the whole story where she’s concerned. Tonight, surrounded by their family, it was obvious they’re all aware of something I didn’t have the privilege of being a part of. But what?
Do they still love each other?
He says no, but that’s the only explanation I have for the tender way I watched him rub her back and tilt his nose into her hair, just as he’d do to me. Oh God, how could I’ve been so damn stupid? He’s not over her. And the worst part of it all is that I can’t blame him. They share a past and a love that brought about a child. They’re the same fucking age!
As soon as D’lilah leaves the same way I showed up—in Cameron’s car with him—I push through a crowd of whispering onlookers. I hum loudly to avoid hearing what they’re saying word for word. I don’t want to know what they’re assuming because it’s probably the worst and most likely the truth. A row of cabs is my escape and I hop into the first one I reach.
I can’t do this: wonder how long it’ll take before he leaves me, waiting for the day I push him too hard and send him into the arms of someone else. So many things can go wrong, and if history proves correct, they will. Eventually.