He’s everything I’ve secretly wanted while telling the world I didn’t need a man. And I don’t need a man.
But I do want Flynn.
Not want in the sense of mind-blowing sex and can’t-keep-our-hands-off-one-another anticipation, although I thoroughly enjoy that. But I want him for his teasing smile and sweet breakfast deliveries and the way he wakes me up after I’ve fallen asleep on the couch with coaxing kisses and wandering hands and the most indulgent look in his eyes. I want him for how much he cares about his family and his work, for the difference he wants to make in this world. For his loyalty and ethics and his strong-minded, goal-setting nature.
I want him. Not just now. Not just tomorrow.
Forever is too terrifying to think about, but... I can see us there.
“I know how much she means to you and then you were repulsed by the idea of me meeting her.” I resist the urge to wring my hands, because even though I’m showing him my weak spots I need to remain strong. I need to go in knowing this might be the end.
“I wasn’t repulsed by the idea, Drew. It’s...complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
His blue eyes are like an interrogation spotlight, and I can’t hide. I can’t squirm or move away. He sees everything.
“After her mother left, Zoe struggled with abandonment issues. She would cry hysterically whenever her father left her anywhere and anytime I came over, she’d cling to my leg when it was time to leave.” Pain flashes across his face like lightning. “Whenever an adult woman came to the house, Zoe would imprint herself like a duckling. She’s extremely sensitive to the idea that people are going to leave her. It’s...something I’m very familiar with.”
Oh, Flynn.
I want to hold him close and soothe that pain, but my instincts tell me there’s more to come.
“Gabe and I agreed that we would avoid bringing people to the house and introducing Zoe unless it was either A, vitally necessary, or B, the relationship was well established, and we could minimise the chance of Zoe growing attached only to feel disappointed again. It’s the whole reason I don’t date casually, because my family is everything to me and I knew this conversation would come up.”
The reality of what he’s saying is like a trickle of ice water down my back. “So you don’t want me to meet Zoe because you’re confident I’ll leave and she’ll end up feeling abandoned.”
I can see the confirmation all over his face. I’m not surprised, but no matter how much I anticipate what he really thinks of me, the truth is still like an ice pick to my ever-tender heart.
“A lot of men would keep their dating life separate, but I’m an all-in kind of guy. If I’m dating someone, I don’t want to live two separate lives.”
“Did you ever consider what the other person might want?”
His Adam’s apple bobs. “Is that what you’re really asking?”
“Why didn’t you give me a chance?” It hurts to say that kind of question aloud, no matter how many times I’ve asked it in my head—to my mother, to boys I dated when I was younger, to everyone who underestimated me.
“You live your life with one foot out the door.” He rakes a hand through his hair, disturbing the neat style. “And I don’t take chances.”
There’s a lump in my throat as big as a boulder. I was supposed to tell him how I feel, to tell him that this time I could stay...but it feels so fraught. So risky. What if I offer and he says no?
“I like you, Drew. It’s been so long since I even considered breaking my rules about dating, and I’m totally and utterly enamoured by you. But that doesn’t change my circumstances and finding that ticket, it just...it solidified why this won’t work.”
The words twist in my chest, cutting and slicing me up. “You’ve already written me off.”
“I’ve written us off, because we’re not compatible. I want long-term and you crave adventure. I’ve set down roots and you want to see the world.”
But I don’t. I mean, sure, I love to travel and that desire won’t ever go away. It’s part of the reason I wanted to be a flight attendant, but I’ve been running. Not searching. Not seeking. Not exploring.
Running.
“I like you so much I know it will kill me when you leave.”
“When, not if.” His choice of words tells me everything.
Flynn’s face is a slipping mask, his emotions finally revealed for their raw reality. He’s hurting, and so am I. Because we don’t trust one another yet. There’s something here, something special and good, but neither one of us are brave enough to nurture it.
“You said it yourself,” he says, his voice thick. “You never tried to hide that you live a different life. That you want different things. Fuck, you didn’t even want me to know your name.”
“Because this wasn’t supposed to go anywhere.” Tears are threatening again, but I will not let him see me cry. Never, ever again. “I guess...it hasn’t gone anywhere.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you.” He looks anguished, guilty. There’s a deep crease between his brows, but as I’m about to walk away, there’s a blur of colour. Pink. And highlighted hair.
“Drew!” Annaleigh’s frantic voice cuts through the heavy tension simmering between Flynn and I. “Have you seen her?”
“What?” I whirl around. “Who?”
“Presley.” Annaleigh’s eyes are wide. “She’s gone.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Flynn
HALF AN HOUR LATER, the bride is nowhere to be found. If I needed a more dramatic representation of why I never let people get close, this is it. The groom’s side of the bridal party is sitting in a parlour room, dumbfounded that the day’s festivities aren’t going ahead. My cousin is spouting off in fist-shaking fury, vowing to drag Presley back here to save face.
I doubt that’s going to work. I also doubt a marriage that started off in such a fashion would be destined to last.
“I can’t fucking believe it,” Mike rages. “She was supposed to be the reliable one—it’s her sister that’s the attention-seeking hot mess. I bet she got in her ear about me.”
“Don’t drag Drew into this,” I growl.
My brother shoots me an arched-brow look across the room. His bow tie is hanging loose around his neck and his hair is askew. The two other groomsmen, friends of Mike, attempt—unsuccessfully—to calm him down.
“How could she do this me?” He white-knuckles a crystal glass and when it looks like he’s about to hurl it across the room, one of the groomsmen pulls it out of his hand.
“Why don’t you take a walk, blow off some steam?” I suggest. “Because if Presley does call and you’re in this mood, it’s not likely you’ll entice her back.”
Mike looks at me with daggers and then storms out, his two minions following with identical strained expressions. I slump down into a chair and drop my head into my hands.
“What a clusterfuck.”
Gabe laughs and shakes his head. “Mate, I think we passed clusterfuck about a half hour ago. This is a shitpocalypse.”
I snort. “What happened? A bride doesn’t suddenly run away on her wedding day without some kind of red flag.”
“I have no idea.” Gabe shakes his head. “Although I’m clearly not the best judge of who to marry, so what the hell can I say? To be honest, what Mike was saying about Presley... I’m not sure I disagree with her actions.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“He was talking shit about how the marriage would bolster his chances of taking over the family business.” Gabe rolls his eyes. “Dad told me recently that Uncle Pat was thinking about retiring soon, which means someone has to take over. There’s one CEO position and two sons, and given I know that Uncle Pat has complained about Mike being immature...well, it appears his solution has been to get himself a wife.”
I gawk. “Serio
usly?”
“Disgusting, right?” Gabe shakes his head. “I feel like that poor woman dodged a bullet.”
“How are we even related to him?” I cringe. Mike has looked up to Gabe and me ever since we were kids. He never got along with his stepbrother, Sebastian. But Mike was always the kind of kid to take the easy route in life rather than putting in the hard work. “I’m here out of obligation and because Uncle Pat was always kind to us...but that’s it.”
“Same.”
“Do you think Presley overheard something?”
Gabe shrugs. “It’s possible, if she came past the room. Mike loves the sound of his own voice and he talks loud enough to wake the dead.”
“Imagine saying that on his wedding day.” It’s low, even for Mike.
“And don’t think I missed how you jumped to Drew’s defence, either.”
“He shouldn’t have said that. Drew wants Presley to be happy.” Even as I reply, I know I’m giving too much away—but the conversation from earlier is still fresh. Still weighing on me.
Truth is, I feel miserable for how I barked at her when she offered to help with Zoe, and for doubting her. Mostly, I feel miserable because I know she’s leaving tomorrow.
I don’t want her to go.
“You like her,” Gabe says, watching me the way only a big brother can. Like he knows all my secrets and he’s ready to call me on any bullshit. “You like her a lot.”
“Yeah, I do.”
“So that whole time at the rehearsal dinner, while I thought I was playing wise matchmaker...”
“I was already seeing her.”
Gabe snorts. “I should have known. You’re such a dark horse with that stuff. Why were you keeping it a secret? She’s great.”
“She’s leaving.” I ball and flex my hands—it’s a habit that’s stuck from all the dark times after my mother left our family. “Tomorrow. One-way ticket to Fiji.”
“Did she tell you?”
“I saw the ticket.”
“Ouch.” My brother nods, but I know better than to assume he’ll take my side for the sake of brotherly camaraderie. Gabe doesn’t play like that. “I assume you stormed out without giving her a chance to explain.”
“I didn’t storm out,” I reply. “I swiftly exited in a decisive manner.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“It was the day you called about Monique turning up. Drew asked if she could come and help with Zoe and I kind of...well, I made it clear she wasn’t welcome.”
“Because of that agreement we made about introducing people to Zoe?”
“Yeah.”
Gabe watches me for a moment, his expression guarded. When we play poker, the game seems to go on forever because we’re two stone pillars. Hiding our emotions is what we’re good at. “I’ve decided to let Monique have partial custody of Zoe.”
“What?” If my eyes were any wider they would pop straight out of my skull. “Have you forgotten what she did?”
Gabe holds his hand up in a gesture that is such a “dad” thing to do. “Zoe’s life is different to lots of other kids’, and that means I need to be a different father for her than I would be for another child. She doesn’t have time for grudges or fear or regrets, because we won’t have four or five decades with her. We won’t have years to change our minds and find forgiveness. I have to be a better person now. Because now is what matters to her, so it’s what has to matter to me.”
Watching Gabe talk about his daughter always chokes me up, but I’m holding it all in. Being silent as the dead of night. Even though I want to shake him and tell him that Monique is poison and that she’ll only leave again.
“What if she can’t handle it?” I ask.
“That’s a possibility. She might leave,” Gabe admits. “She might decide again that it’s all too hard. But she might not. She might stay and give Zoe a chance to have a mother who cares about her. I can’t control any of that.”
“Aren’t you worried?”
“Of course I’m fucking worried.” Gabe laughs. “I’m shitting bricks at the thought of my little girl getting hurt. But I sat Zoe down and talked to her. I told her that I’d love her no matter what, that I will always be there for her. But sometimes people do bad things because they’re frightened or because they’re trying to protect themselves. She looked at me dead in the eye and asked me if we were giving her mother a second chance.”
“Where did she get that from?”
“Disney, probably.” He crosses his legs and bounces his foot. “But I said yes, we’re giving her mother a second chance. I almost can’t believe it—I never thought I’d see Monique again. I could be making the biggest mistake of my life, letting her back in.”
“But?”
“But it’s a risk I’m willing to take, because the potential payoff could be that Zoe has both parents in her life. Here’s the thing—the whole risk-reward equation isn’t set up to tell us to always avoid risk. It’s to help us figure out if a risk is worth it. If the potential payoff is worth it.”
In some areas, risk is where I excel. I quit a job that would have set me up for life to pour all my money into research knowing the chances of finding something in Zoe’s lifetime are not in our favour.
But that risk is worth it. The chance—no matter how minuscule—that I might be able to help her is worth it. Because that little girl is the light of my life and I’d do anything for her.
But being with Drew isn’t worth the risk?
Can I imagine my life with her in it?
Yes.
The answer comes so quickly and without hesitation that it takes my breath away. I can imagine my life with her. I can imagine us being old and still crazy hot for one another. I can imagine her sleepy, sooty eyes being the first thing I see in the morning. I can imagine her leaving me dirty notes in my laptop bag and sending me naughty texts while I’m at work. And I can imagine me counting down every second of every workday until it’s time to see her again.
I’ve never imagined that before.
“People can always walk away, Flynn. The second we stop trying to control that, the happier we’ll all be.” My brother knows my mind is drifting. He’s always been able to sense when I’m grappling with an issue—big brother magic, perhaps.
“I don’t like not being able to control things.”
My brother shakes his head. “People aren’t things, Flynn.”
“You’re such a smartass.”
But he’s right—people have their own minds and make their own decisions. I could never imagine trying to water down a woman like Drew by controlling her decisions. And I guess that’s the scariest part—trust. I need to trust that she’ll stay if I ask her to, that we’ll both be equally invested in making things work. That this heat won’t burn itself out.
You know it won’t.
Because the fact that Drew has even gotten this far under my skin is telling. I never let people slip past my defences. Ever. I never give people a chance to know me. To see me beyond my fancy suits and my stoic expression. I know there’s something between us, something that could be everything.
The question is, can I take that risk?
Outside the room, I hear arguing. A second later one of the bridesmaids bursts in, still clutching her bouquet and holding the length of her pink dress in one hand. Two other identically dressed women stand in the entrance, watching with twin frowns.
“We have to let people know what’s going on,” Sherilee says. “They’re getting restless. Drew finally got through to Presley and they’re speaking now but...”
I raise a brow. “But?”
“She’s not coming back.”
Shit. I stand and suck in a deep breath—this is going to be awkward as fuck. I’ve never been at a wedding where someone’s been jilted before. All the failed marriages I know dissolv
ed after the vows.
“Where’s Mike?” Gabe asks, standing and coming to my side.
“He’s outside in one of the private gardens with his parents. They’re trying to calm him down.” She toys with her earring. “But he’s yelling a lot. People can hear.”
“Okay, we need to shut this down now.” I head out of the room, and the rest of the bridal party follows me. The two other groomsmen are waiting in the hallway and Drew is walking toward us, phone in hand.
I meet her eyes and she gives me a resigned nod. It’s over and we need to let the guests know. I hold out my hand and she lifts her silvery-blue eyes to mine for a second before taking it. For now, we’re a team.
And after this is all done, I’m going to ask that we remain a team.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Drew
THAT WAS LITERALLY the most awkward thing I have ever done in all my life. Having all those faces gaping like stunned fish while I tried to tactfully say that my sister had decided not to go ahead with her wedding...
Yeah. Major awkward turtle.
Now the courtyard is empty, save for the celebrant who stands talking to my mother. After the guests were all ushered out, Sherilee, Annaleigh and Pauline hung around for a while, looking a little dazed and confused. The day ended up not being capital P Perfect.
Luckily for me, that’s the story of my life. I have plenty of experience with shit not going according to plan.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful to have Flynn by my side as we addressed the crowd—he held my hand through the entire thing, letting me speak first and supporting what I had to say. He then took charge of thanking everyone for coming and helping the venue coordinator guide the guests of this ill-fated event out to the car park.
My mother demanded to know where Presley had gone and why she called the wedding off—but my sister made me swear not to say. So I didn’t. It’s her information to share.
Still, I’m reeling.
She’s supposed to be the strong one. The stable one. The one who gets married and has babies and does the family proud. Maybe us Richardsons are not destined for the white-picket-fence life—it never worked out for my mother, and it hasn’t worked out for Presley. If my sister can’t make it happen, then what hope in hell do I have?
The Fling--A Scorching Hot Romance Page 15