“Does Harper mind?”
“Not at all. She counts the minutes I take out here and makes sure she gets her alone time, too.”
I laughed. “That seems fair enough.”
“It works for us both. But I also make sure Harper and I spend time together—it’s so easy for it to become all about the kids.”
Max shared his experiences as if he believed it was inevitable that Grace and I would start a family. For so many couples, it was the natural course of events. As much as I wanted to try to open up with Grace, I just didn’t think it would be easy after a lifetime of doing everything I could to avoid personal entanglements.
“It’s a lot of pressure.” I mumbled almost to myself.
“What is?” Max asked, snapping shut his box of fishing tackle.
“Clearly, having three kids has logistical challenges, but do you find yourself worrying about losing it all or something happening to one of them?” Were my fears irrational, brought on only because of what I’d experienced, or did everyone go through it?
Max’s brow furrowed as he tipped back his beer. “Every day. Amanda going to high school nearly killed me—all the exposure to drugs and alcohol, you know?” He squinted in the sunlight as he glanced across the water. “She’ll be driving in just over a year.” He sighed. “I have to try not to think about what the hell could happen to the babies. Harper may seem like she’s super cool with everything, but she’s anything but. A few weeks after Amber was born, I insisted on taking Harper to dinner while my mother was visiting.” He sat back in his chair. “Now, my mother has had three kids of her own, and she had Amanda with her. She can drive, use a phone and is far calmer than either Harper or me. But still, Harper cried all the way to the restaurant because she was terrified something horrible was going to happen to Amber in the two hours it was going to take us to eat dinner.”
He bent and fiddled with the fishing rod. “Being responsible for another human being is the scariest thing you’ll ever do, but it’s also the most rewarding.” Max smiled. “It’s a legacy, and infinitely more important than any business you might build.”
I took another gulp of my beer, finishing it off, and set the bottle down in the grass. I understood what he was saying, but I doubted he’d ever had to endure time in a group home. He would never understand the freedom that financial security brought—and that’s what my business had given me. “But I can control the success of my business to a certain extent—I can make decisions that keep my money safe. The same’s not true of people.”
Max didn’t say anything for a while. We were both content to watch the surface of the water, and the bob of the floats. “You a football fan?” he asked after a few minutes had passed.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Baseball? Any sports team?”
“Hockey. New York Rangers. You?”
“The Red Sox.”
“Really? In a land of Yankee fans?” I bet he kept that quiet in the office.
“What can I say? I like to take risks. I mean, Jesus, you’re a hockey fan. Anyway, you don’t follow a team knowing they’re going to win every time, do you?”
“Definitely not if you’re a Red Sox fan.”
He chuckled. “That’s life, isn’t it? There are no guarantees. But it’s something else when your team wins, right? You know you’re not going to win every year. You still support them through the rough times. Kids are the same. You know a lot of it is going to be hard, and you’re going to worry a lot. But it’s all worth it when they smile and tell you they love you. Trust me.”
My parents must have worried about me all the time. But they’d never let it show. They’d still taught me to ride a bike and cross the street. They knew they couldn’t protect me from everything and they didn’t try and stop me from going out into the world because they knew it was dangerous. Still, I understood now that my happiness was always their priority. And I was sure that if they were still alive they’d still want that—want me to love and be loved.
Had I been letting them down by keeping myself so closed off all these years?
And even if I was, could I risk my sanity, my heart, my life, with no guarantee life wouldn’t snatch everything I loved away from me? Again?
One thing was for sure, I’d survived loss once, but I wasn’t strong enough to do it twice.
Chapter Eighteen
Grace
“It’s so good to be home.” I kicked off my shoes before the door was even closed. The drive back from Connecticut had been almost twice as long as on the way out and I was ready for a bath and my bed.
“You didn’t have a good time?” Sam asked, taking my coat and hanging it up for me.
I grinned at what had become a habit of ours when we got back to Brooklyn. “Of course. But I’m always happy to come home.”
“Do you know what I missed?” Sam asked, stopping me from going into the kitchen and circling his arms around my waist, pushing his erection against my stomach.
“How long have you been in that state?” I asked.
He dipped his head and kissed my neck. “All weekend,” he replied. “It’s been torture.”
I giggled. “Thank you for not dry humping me in front of Max and Harper.” After our argument, sex hadn’t been on the agenda. But despite the lack of physical intimacy, after our discussion in the pool house about Sam’s parents, I felt we were closer than ever.
“Well, my control is up.” He walked me backward toward the bedroom. “I want to show you what you’ve been missing.”
As we walked, he pulled off my top and unzipped my skirt. I bounced as my ass hit the bed and watched as Sam stripped off in double time before me.
“What are you looking at?” he asked, standing on one leg as he peeled off his socks.
I shrugged. “Some guy.”
“Some guy who thinks you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet?” he asked as he stood naked, sliding his finger behind my knee. How could one touch in such an innocuous place get me so wet?
“Maybe,” I breathed. I’d told him I’d loved him and he’d freaked out. I could settle for him calling me beautiful for now. I knew he cared about me, and I had to be sensitive to how different our relationship was for him.
He leaned over, forcing my back to the mattress. Rather than drive me away as Sam had feared, the things he’d told me about his past only made me love him more. To have endured what he had as a child and be the man he was, floored me. I was in awe of him. “Some guy who is the most special man.”
“Some guy who’s going to work really hard at being the man you deserve,” he said.
My body and mind turned to jelly.
He placed small kisses from my stomach up between my breasts, then yanked down my bra straps, enveloping my hardened nipple with his tongue. My fingers threaded through his hair as he sucked and scraped, bit and licked. I twisted my hips in frustration. I needed him to know how wet I was. His palm spanned my belly, holding my hips to the mattress.