Chapter 29
Gavin
ONLY A WOMAN COULD COMMAND THE WORSHIP OF MEN
Ifucking hate this guy.
And I don’t throw the word hate around loosely, but some people are deserving of it, him being one of them.
After lunch, Scottie got tied up with Maggie, touring the house and the grounds, while Carl trapped me in his shop to show me his boat.
It’s late now, the sun is beginning to set, and we’re on the small beach near the dock gathered around a bonfire.
I was hoping Andy—or Andrew, or whatever the fuck he wants to be called—would steer clear the remainder of our stay, but unfortunately he’s joined us, seated by his parents, directly across from my wife, and the fucker hasn’t taken his eyes off her this entire time.
“Stop.” Scottie nudges my arm, giggling. “You can’t kill him with your stare.”
“I can try,” I mutter, poking a stick into the sand.
She laughs again and then loops her arm through mine, cuddling up against me.
It feels so good to be like this. To touch each other when we want.
To be in this secluded bubble where it’s just us.
I need to figure out how to make it permanent.
Because I may have said I only wanted to try this for the weekend, but what I really meant was I want to start this weekend and never stop.
I want this forever.
Her.
Us.
I want Lily to know. I want us all to be a family.
But just because I want it doesn’t mean she does.
It’s too soon to even have this conversation. I don’t know where her head is at, but I know I’m further ahead.
I’m not some immature twenty-something—I’ve lived life. I’ve done the bullshit, meaningless dating. When it comes to Scottie, I’m not fucking around.
But asking her to take on a step-parent role to a very curious and energetic little girl is a big ask. Scottie has dreams and goals and a full life, and I don’t know how to merge ours without asking her to give something up.
When she mentioned the theater director job, it was the first I’d heard of it. And now I’m wondering how true that was. If that’s something she actually wants, or something she said because it fit neatly in the moment.
Maybe it’s pointless to hope.
But right now, it’s all I have.
Scottie looks at me with a small smile and leans in to give me a soft kiss.
No reason behind it, just because she wanted to, and I’m left with a hammering heart, falling more in love with her every second that passes.
At some point she changed and is now wearing a cotton tank top and matching shorts with a thin cardigan over the top.
You’d think with more of her covered up I wouldn’t be as wound up as I am, but I’m still one wrong move away from dragging her into the house and sinking my cock into her.
The blowjob from this morning is barely holding me together.
“Want me to roast you a wiener?” Scottie whispers in my ear.
I snort, choking on a laugh. It’s never dull with her, that’s for sure.
“Interesting word choice,” I tell her, grinning like an idiot.
She bumps her shoulder into mine. “I’m just trying to make you laugh. You’re over there plotting murder.”
“Only a little.” I brush my thumb along her knee. “A casual amount of homicide.”
Her laugh is soft as she shakes her head like I’m ridiculous.
The fire crackles, sparks lifting into the purple-orange sky. The lake is calm, glassy, catching the colors of sunset. It’s quite the view, but the way Scottie’s eyes shine as she takes it in is a view I could stare at forever.
Unfortunately, Andrew-Fucking-Rolex clears his throat.
“So, Scottie,” he says, chin propped on his hand like he’s interviewing her. “My parents said you used to be an actress.”
She shifts beside me, sliding on a polite smile. “Yep.”
“I have a buddy who’s a big-time producer in L.A. I could connect you two. Get your foot back in the door.”
My jaw clenches so hard it could crack. He’s talking to her like she needs a favor.
Scottie’s expression doesn’t change, but I know her well enough to know she’s not interested. “That’s really kind of you, but L.A. wasn’t for me. Thanks, though.”
Andy smirks, smarmy and condescending. “Well, I guess not everyone is cut out for it. Takes a certain type to make it in Hollywood. Not everyone’s got it.”
I answer before she has to.
“She’s been incredibly successful. And your ‘buddy’—who you conveniently didn’t name because he’s probably a nobody—isn’t going to help her with anything. If she wanted to, she would.”
Maggie clears her throat—pointedly. “Andy. Leave these people alone.”
He laughs. “I’m just making conversation.”
That’s not what he’s doing, but fine. I let it go. For now.
Carl stands, dusting sand from his hands. “Fire’s perfect. If anyone wants to grab the stuff for s’mores, now’s the time.”
Scottie perks up. “I’ll get it.”
She starts to get up—but Andy stands at the same time.
Is he fucking serious right now?
“Let me give you a hand,” he says, reaching a little too close to her elbow. “I know where everything is.”
Yeah, over my dead body is he going somewhere alone with her.
I rise without thinking, every muscle tight. “We’ll figure it out.” I step between them just enough to draw a line.
Scottie looks up at me, her lips lifting at the corners as she slips her hand into mine.
We head up toward the house, hand in hand, leaving Andy in the dust and the bonfire behind us.
Inside, it’s still, but there’s the faint sound of music drifting through the air. Something on the guitar. Maybe from the neighbors, or someone left a speaker on inside.
The s’mores supplies are right on the counter in a small woven basket, so we obviously didn’t need the greasy-haired douche to help find anything.
I grab it to head back out, but stop when I notice Scottie. Her palms are flat on the kitchen island, eyes closed, head tipped back as she sways gently to the music.
The cardigan sleeve is falling down her arm, hair slipping over her shoulders.
So pretty.
She opens her eyes and finds me already looking at her. Color rises in her cheeks.
“Sorry,” she says, laughing a little. “I love this song.”
I set the basket down and step closer.
My hand slips to the small of her back as I guide her hand up to my shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
We fall into a slow sway, fitting together without effort.
Her smile spreads, soft and delighted. “That was sneaky. I didn’t even notice you were easing me into a dance.”
I grin down at her. “I’ve got a few moves. Us nerdy guys only break them out when absolutely necessary.”
She laughs softly, the sound warm and breathy, and I feel her smile against me. “If by nerdy you mean glasses and brains, then I guess I’ve always had a thing for nerds. One in particular.”
We sway—slow, lazy, like the night has all the time in the world.
Her fingers curl around the back of my neck. My hand settles on just above her hip. Our foreheads touch.
“What song is this?” I ask. “I don’t recognize it.”
“It’s the acoustic version of ‘Slow Dancing in a Burning Room’ by John Mayer,” she whispers quietly, her warm breath fanning against me.
“I like it,” I say back.
“The lyrics are kind of sad.” Her voice is so soft I barely hear it, eyes drifting from mine.
I swallow as I tighten my grasp on her, like she might slip away. “What’s it about?”
“The end of a relationship. The moment you know it’s over.” Her gaze meets mine. “Two people who love each other, but they can’t be together. They’re doomed.”
The hair on the back of my neck rises, air freezing in my lungs, heart clenching.
That won’t be us.
I don’t believe in signs or destiny or fate. I believe in choices. And I choose Scottie. In every circumstance, against all odds, against distance and jobs and family and obligations.
I will always choose her.
“Is that what you think?” My throat strains against the burn. “Do you think we’re doomed?”
She eases back, locking her eyes with mine.
“I think it’s just a song with a pretty melody.”
A small, sad smile pulls at her mouth. “I’ve never been good at relationships. I don’t trust easily, and I usually leave before I can get left. And on the rare occasion I don’t catch on fast enough”—she exhales—“I get cheated on.”
She shakes her head, almost at herself. “Sometimes I think I pick the wrong people on purpose. If I don’t like him that much, I can’t fall in love. And if I can’t fall in love, I can’t get hurt.”
I brush a piece of hair behind her ear, slow, like I’m touching something delicate.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
Her eyes flick up—hope and fear tangled in the deep blue of her irises. “I know,” she whispers. “That’s the scary part.”
I close the distance between us and kiss her.
I kiss her because I have to.
Because I’m in love with her.
And I need her to love me back.
And maybe she never will, but she’ll kiss me.
So I settle for what she’ll let me have.
She opens for me, head angling, deepening the kiss. Her fingers cling to my shirt, fisting it like she needs something to hold onto.
I stroke my tongue against hers, a moan crawling up my throat from somewhere deep.
I get lost in her. Lost in an imaginary world where I get to keep her.
“Oh—oh! I’m so sorry!”
We break apart as Maggie freezes in the doorway. She’s smiling so wide her eyes practically disappear.
“No, please don’t stop on my account,” she says, flustered but bemused. “I was just coming in to grab the s’mores stuff. I thought you two might’ve turned in for the night.”
Scottie’s face goes pink, her forehead dropping briefly to my chest as I laugh under my breath.
Maggie just beams brighter. “Don’t mind me,” she says, grabbing the basket before making a swift exit. “As you were,” she sings over her shoulder as she walks back out the door.
We only stayed around the bonfire for another half hour before calling it a night.
It’s been a long day, and I think both of us are ready for some privacy.