I squeeze his hand, my heart aching for him the way it always does when I think of how good we should be together. “He told me to find my sun,” I say. “Maybe it’s time you found yours.”
Preston looks away, but not before I see the grimace on his face. “I don’t think my sun would want to be found. Not by me.”
“I bet you’re wrong.”
“I couldn’t ask her for that,” he says quietly.
“For what?” I ask. “To love you?”
“To live with this,” he says, gesturing to his face.
“She won’t care,” I say. “Not if she loves you.”
He glares at me, retracting his hand. “We both know that’s a lie.”
“I’m not going to pretend looks don’t matter,” I say. “It’s part of the attraction, sure. I’m just like any other girl. A hot guy gets me going. I love the way Royal looks. But it’s not the reason I love him.”
“But you love the way he looks.”
“True,” I admit. “But I wouldn’t love him any less if he didn’t look like that.”
“Would he still ask you to love him, though?” Preston asks. “If he looked like a monster, would he want you to be stuck with that for the rest of your life?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
“Then he’s a selfish bastard.”
“True,” I say. “But I love him just the same. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re beautiful. If she’s your sun, she won’t care how you look, either. She’ll love you just the same.”
“If I love her, I couldn’t ask her to,” he says.
“Then maybe she’s not your sun,” I say. “But there’s someone out there who will be. You should find her. Find your sun. That person who shines just for you.”
“I don’t know,” he says. “I did something pretty bad to her.”
I can’t help but laugh.
He gives me a look. “You think that’s funny?”
“If I can forgive Royal for what he did, I’m sure she can forgive you for whatever you did to her.”
“She deserves a happily ever after with the perfect Prince Charming,” he says. “All I can give her is the Beast.”
“Not every girl wants the perfect Prince Charming,” I say, standing and snagging Royal’s T-shirt from my suitcase. “Some girls prefer the Beast.”
twenty-one
Devlin Darling
I straighten from bending over the crib and move slowly backwards, waiting for the wail of ten thousand banshees to erupt from my little princess. I have to walk her to sleep, then lay her down while hovering over her, keeping her pressed to my chest where she can feel my heartbeat. Then by increments I let go, moving slowly up from her until only my hands cradle her. Getting the hands out and her covered is the hard part, but sometimes, she waits until she’s all tucked in and snug and I think I’m in the clear before she wakes the neighborhood.
Just as I back into the hall, a knock comes at the front door. I wince, my first thought that it’ll wake the baby.
The next thought is far more terrifying.
Every muscle in my body tenses, and I freeze, listening for a sound past the drumming of my heartbeat in my ears. We don’t like people knocking on our door.
Crystal steps out of our bedroom, her eyes wide. “Did you hear that?”