“All that other shit,” I repeated. “You mean life?”
“I mean death.”
We fell silent.
I wanted to ask about her. What she was like, how’d they met. Instead, I asked, “So you still keep in touch with Millie?”
“On my way home from Idaho, I stopped off in Nebraska to visit her. I didn’t want her to be alone on the anniversary of her daughter’s death.”
My throat was tight with pain, and I released him from my clasp. “You should’ve told me the truth.”
“I should’ve?” He turned to stare at me. “I should’ve told you I was going to visit my dead wife’s mother?”
I flinched like he’d sucker-punched me. “That’s not fair. You don’t get to assume you know how I would’ve reacted if you’d told me.”
“Fuck, Brooklyn. I didn’t want to open up about any of this so soon.”
“You think I want to talk about it? You think I want to talk about the fact that you loved another woman enough to marry her and have a child with her? And that you kept it from me?”
“I didn’t—I wasn’t ready to share it with you.”
“You weren’t ready to share the most important thing about your past with me? This is a big deal, Slash. I told you about my mom leaving. I told you about my dad dying. I told you about why that building is so damn important to me. I opened up, I was vulnerable and you gave me nothing.”
“Bullshit.” He rose. “I gave you everything I have. I stayed, didn’t I?”
“Oh, fuck you,” I seethed, empathy and compassion melting away to reveal anger and hurt. “I made it very clear you didn’t have to stay. Now I know why you did. This was aboutyoursecond chance at having a family, wasn’t it? Do you even love me, Slash? Or do you love that I remind you of her?”
His face went chalk white, like my words had pierced beneath the veneer of armor he wore.
“Are you still in love with her?” I asked quietly. “Because I won’t compete with a memory. I deserve more than that.”
We stared at one another. Slash, bare chested, with the story of his life inked on his skin; me, sitting on the bed, growing our child in my body. Our future was unclear but barreling toward us anyway.
Slash picked up his shirt and threw it on. He grabbed his keys and marched to the door. Without a word, he left.
And I curled into a ball and cried.
Chapter45
A full bladderpropelled me from the bed. I sat up, swiped tears from my cheeks and then forced myself to rise. I grabbed the nightstand to steady myself and then I went to the bathroom. After I did my business, I splashed cold water on my face. I dried my cheeks with a towel and stared at my reflection.
He’d walked out, and he’d taken my heart with him.
It didn’t matter that he didn’t love me. I couldn’t stop loving him. I didn’t even hate him for it. But I was sad. So fucking sad for what that meant for me. For our baby.
I slid my hands down my body and cradled the tiny swell that had just started to appear. “We’ll do it on our own. We’ll be fine. Better than fine. I’ll give you everything, little acorn. I promise. You won’t even—” My voice broke, but I forced myself to continue speaking. “You won’t miss him. I’ll be enough for you.”
How easily I’d let myself entangle my life with Slash’s. How fast I’d fallen for the man who’d shown me passion and attention. For the man who’d rubbed my feet when they hurt, who’d given me orange juice after morning sickness, who’d taken care of my problems to protect me.
I’d find a way to live without him. I’d find a way to plug the empty hole in my heart. I’d love my baby and pray that it would be enough to sustain me.
Because I wasn’t doing this again. I wouldn’t risk being hurt like this again. I’d be a mother and I’d be a successful business owner. I’d shut out everything else.
But what about the friends I’d made? The Blue Angels had taken me in as family. They’d helped me when I was in a pinch. They hadn’t let me fail.
Had they known? Had the Old Ladies known about Slash’s past and who he’d visited?
It was late. Too late to text Mia or Darcy and ask.