Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92140 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“I know,” I muttered, dropping my eyes to the marble. “I know.”
“Okay, so I have one more thing to ask you. You love this woman. And by the way, that’s not the question, because I already know you do. You love this woman. So how could you possibly trust that someone else would take care of her like you would, or keep her as safe?”
“I couldn’t,” I said, looking up at him again. “No one would ever take care of her like I could. The thought makes me sick.”
Jackson’s arms went out. “So what the fuck are you still doing in my kitchen?”
I was awake all night trying to think of what should happen next. Obviously, I needed to go back to Michigan, but I needed to prepare. First, I’d have to have a conversation with Mason. I’d admit the truth, apologize, and explain that while I’d never meant for any of this to happen, I was in love with Millie and wanted to be with her. Since I knew Mason cared for Millie, I was hoping he’d want her to be happy—and I could make her happy.
I just had to convince her.
Not that I thought she’d deny it, but I wanted to do something to show her that I didn’t just miss her or even just love her—I needed her in my life. Always.
As I tossed and turned, I kept thinking about what Sophie had said. Sometimes you just have to believe everything happens for a reason, and trust in the people you love to protect and guide you.
Trust the people you love to protect and guide you.
There was something about those words that embodied Millie and me, but I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. I fell asleep toward morning knowing the answer was there somewhere, but I still hadn’t figured it out.
It was when I was getting dressed after my shower that it hit me. I caught a glimpse of my upper body in the mirror before I pulled on my shirt, and the sight of my tattoos never failed to remind me of the way Millie touched them—reverently, tenderly, curious about the story behind each one.
I knew what I wanted to do.
CHAPTER 28
ZACH
On the afternoon of December thirty-first, I knocked on Mason and Lori’s door.
It was Lori who pulled it open. “Zach,” she said, obviously surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“Hi, Lori. Can I come in?”
She glanced behind her. “Ah. I don’t know.”
“Please. I know I hurt Mason’s feelings, and yours too, by leaving so suddenly on Christmas Eve. I’m really sorry, and I’d like to make it up to you.”
“That’s not—I mean, you don’t have to—” She sighed and closed her eyes for a second. “You should really talk to Mason.”
“Is he here?”
“Yes,” she said, backing up and opening the door wider. “Come in.”
I entered their house, and she took my coat, hanging it in the closet by the foot of the stairs. “Have a seat in the living room,” she said, still looking a little uneasy. “I’ll tell Mason you’re here.”
As she headed up the stairs, I took a seat on the living room sofa and rubbed my sweaty palms over my knees. I had no doubt that I was doing the right thing, but I was nervous about how this was going to go—I was here without Millie’s permission, and this involved her. But I didn’t want to go to her without having done the honorable thing where my son was concerned. And even if Mason was upset, he wasn’t vindictive. He wasn’t the kind of person to spread ugly gossip.
Still, a lot was riding on this conversation. I had to do it just right.
The minutes ticked by, and Mason still didn’t come down. I was beginning to wonder if something was wrong when I heard some heated voices from upstairs. Had I come at a bad time? Were they having a fight? I was thinking I’d come back later when Mason finally appeared on the stairs, visible from where I sat.
He descended slowly, his arms folded across his chest, and I could instantly tell something was way off. His jaw was set, and his eyes were devoid of their usual warmth. “Zach,” he said.
I rose. “Mason. How are you?”
He shrugged. The air hummed with tension.
“Will you sit?”
He hesitated, but then lowered himself to the opposite end of the couch and sat back, his arms still crossed. I perched on the edge of the cushion.
“I’m sure you’re surprised to see me,” I said, “and I apologize for showing up without any notice. I’m also sorry about Christmas.”
Another shrug. “It’s fine.”
“I’m here because I need to tell you something.” I leaned forward, my body angled slightly toward his. I kept my focus on my hands, tapping my fingertips together between my knees. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but—”