Chapter 26 #2
“You never asked to see the land Daddy gifted me. That place means the world to me, just like your home meant to you. Yet you never saw it. You asked me about work, but only to distract yourself from your feelings.” I shook my head and sniffled.
“I want a guy who’ll stay with me even if we lose our house and have four little girls to take care of.
I want a guy who’ll be by my side through the decades.
I want a guy who won’t leave me until he physically can’t stay anymore.
” I lost the battle against the tears. I’d gotten two sets of parents who’d shown me exactly what I dreamed of.
I fought the urge to dive into the car, soak up the warmth of the heater, and drive home so I could hide under my covers with my cat until the alarm went off for work tomorrow.
“You don’t want to be that guy, Gideon.”
“Autumn.” My name came out strangled.
“Did you ever tell your work you got married?” When he glanced away and his Adam’s apple worked up and down, the stabbing pain in the walls of my chest made it hard to breathe. “Taya?”
The shake of his head was barely noticeable.
None of this was real and I’d been right to protect my heart. Didn’t mean the hurt was any less. I started backing up. The tears were going to come fast and hard.
He took a step, but I put my palm up. I should’ve had my gloves on, but my skin could be as exposed and raw as the rest of me. “Good luck with . . .” The investment group? Taya? Your life? “Everything. Just have your lawyer send me those divorce papers.”
With that, I dove into the car and left him on that cold sidewalk. I dared to peek in the rearview mirror. He hadn’t moved.
But he would. Montana wasn’t his home.
Gideon
The view was stunning. I stood in front of floor-to-ceiling windows that created a rustic yet elegant frame around the mountain scenery. The caps were tipped with white, the snow continuing all the way down to the sprawling countryside.
You don’t want to be that guy, Gideon.
The visceral reaction when she’d said those words had been staggering. I never yelled, but I’d been about to holler, Bullshit! You’re the only one giving up on us.
How could that be true when I was boarding a plane soon?
The absurdity. Autumn was nothing like Taya. I was friendly with Taya. Physically and intellectually, we were compatible, but the absence of a spark was noticeable. Hence why we’d never been more than casual and occasional bed partners.
I gripped the handle of my suitcase.
I want a guy who’ll stay with me even if we lose our house and have four little girls to take care of. I want a guy who’ll be by my side through the decades. I want a guy who won’t leave me until he physically can’t stay anymore.
Autumn didn’t talk a lot about her birth parents. She’d been young when they’d died, but she knew enough to admire her father’s connection with her mother. Darin and Mae’s relationship had been the envy of Bourbon Canyon. Apparently, it still was.
Bitterness raged through me until the taste of metal coated my tongue. The Baileys and their happy fucking family.
For a few fleeting moments, I’d been part of that family.
Autumn was wrong. There was too much between us. This could work.
I’d return to Vegas, hear what Harold Washington had to say, invest in a business that had a chance of being around long after me—
I’m no closer to knowing the real reason why you don’t want kids than when I first asked.
Fuck. How could I discuss something I didn’t know myself?
Percival’s your legacy, Gideon. It’s for you and your children.
My grandfather’s words were etched in my psyche.
They’d formed me. I’d dedicated my life to working for that place.
I could afford any price Dad asked. I’d kept my anger buried deep, knowing he wouldn’t just sign over what should rightfully be mine.
The farm and ranch were no longer mine. Today, I’d failed on both accounts.
And I felt no different. Just another day.
Those kids I didn’t want to think about happening? Didn’t matter now.
My shoulders tightened. I rotated my head from side to side, stretching my neck. I’d get back to my plush office chair.
My back started to ache too. Fuck.
Maybe I needed to play more golf.
I hated golf. People said the best networking took place on the golf course or the tennis courts. Whenever I heard that, frustration would well over. I’d grown up on the back of a horse. I’d sprinted across open fields. Heaven had been my backyard.
I hadn’t known a similar feeling until I’d sunk deep into Autumn. Until I’d woken up with her in the morning and known I’d go to bed with her at night.
“Look, Mom. Mom! Look.” A little boy skidded to a stop next to me.
“Yes, Caleb. I see it. Be careful.” His mom’s voice was harried.
She had a stroller with a googly-eyed little baby.
A guy trotted behind her, various bags hooked to limbs.
A duffel was around one shoulder. A tote with giraffes on the side hung from his other shoulder.
A camera bag wound his neck, and a backpack poked up from behind him.
“Excuse me,” the mom said breathlessly, gripping her boy by the shoulders. “He’s excited for Disney.”
The boy tipped his excited gaze up to me. “Are you going to Disney?”
I blinked at him. Was he asking me? I looked like I should be on that golf course.
His dad dressed like he could step off the plane and into the line for the roller coaster in loose tan pants, white athletic shoes, and a shirt with some football team logo on it.
Maybe from Vegas, but since I hadn’t been able to play in high school, I’d quit following football.
Since Mom had died, I’d quit a lot.
“No.” I spun on a heel and walked away. It was rude, but the seemingly happy, completely standard family had me suddenly and irrationally irritated.
Good thing Silver catered to a more adult crowd.
Only I might not be at Silver that much longer.
A few minutes and one frustrating TSA line later, I was at my gate. I continued to stare out the window at the white plane ready to take me away from my home state.
“We’re pleased to announce boarding for the following sections . . .”
I would be one of the first to board. But I didn’t move.
I was returning to everything I knew. Everything I’d worked for. I took my ring off and stuffed it in my pocket. I did not need to explain my marriage, or the dissolution of it, to anyone.
Only the reason why I had worked so hard was gone. And so was Autumn. All I had left was . . . my career.