Chapter 19
Nineteen
Briar
“And then Magnus walked out, and his entire car was wrapped in plastic.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I say, setting my wineglass on the table.
He grins, and I can’t deny it’s a wonderful smile, one that used to make my heart skip a beat.
Now…I like it.
Like it a lot—that he smiles easily and laughs often, that he shares and is sweet and patient and open with me.
But now I can’t help but feel like something’s changed.
Because the thing I let go, the person I said goodbye to is currently occupying my guest room.
Mentally groaning because that thought—along with the guilt it’s so joyfully wrapped in—is completely unwelcome. Especially right now, especially when West and I have finally been able to make up for our canceled date.
During the season, his schedule is shit.
Mine is always busy, what with Frankie and work and travel.
But now Colt is back, and I don’t have to do it on my own—or do it on my own as much as Dash, Atlas, Royal, Banks, and the girls had ever allowed me to.
It’s different with Colt, though.
There’s no guilt, not like I battle when the guys and girls watch her. He’s Frankie’s dad and they’re settling in slowly together and they need to make up for lost time.
But part of me wonders if that’s really why I’m so comfortable.
Or if it’s just because Colt and I have started to settle back into our old selves.
Meals together.
Talking about everything and nothing.
Sharing looks across the dinner table that only we can decipher, slipping back into inside jokes and quiet smiles and—
“Earth to Briar,” I hear and jerk.
Realize I’ve been staring into my wineglass like it holds the key to the universe, tracing the bottom of it—around and around the circle of glass.
“Sorry,” I say, deliberately shoving Colt and all the complications he brings me out of my mind. “I was thinking about how many rolls of plastic wrap it would take to cover Magnus’s car.”
His mouth tips up. “Scuttlebutt says it was only five.”
“Five?” I pick up my glass, take a sip. “I was thinking it would be more like thirty.”
“Apparently those rolls go a long way.”
I grin at him. “Good to know.”
“Planning something?”
“You never know when you might need to plastic wrap a car.”
“Don’t forget the Vaseline?”
I pause, wineglass poised on my lips. “Um, excuse me?”
He chuckles. “They put Vaseline all over his windshield, baby. Apparently, it was a pain in the ass to clean off. So,” he reaches across the table, laces his fingers with mine, “if you’re planning teenage-esque antics, make sure to add Vaseline to the shopping list.”
“Another thing that’s good to know.”
He winks at me then lifts the bottle from the table, takes my glass, and tops it off.
We’ve finished eating, a delicious meal of Caesar salad (West) and minestrone soup (me), pasta for our mains (fettuccini alfredo for me and pesto for him) with loads of homemade focaccia, and tiramisu for both of us for dessert.
I’m stuffed.
I’m slightly buzzed.
West insisted on paying even though, like always, I’ve offered to treat him—or at least pay my fair share.
And, like always, he wouldn’t hear of that.
So, like always, I gave in.
“I missed you,” I whisper.
He stills for a heartbeat then sets the empty bottle down and looks over at me. “You’ve had an eventful couple of weeks.”
I squeeze his hand. “I’m not the only one. The road trip, home games and all those extra practices…”
“Yeah,” he agrees and then his face goes gentle in a way that has my heart squeezing. “And I missed you too, baby.” He picks up my glass, passes it to me. “But now we’re back here. Together. So, tell me what drama is happening at work while we finish our wine.”
The drama this week is far less old flames reappearing from the dead, and more…
Contract negotiations and meeting after meeting after meeting.
But at least that means I manage to come up with a funny story about Atlas scooting in late to one of those meetings.
With bright red lipstick on his collar.
“Being with Lily agrees with him,” West says.
“You’re not wrong.”
I’ve never seen Atlas happier.
Or working this little.
It’s a good thing—for him to finally have balance.
We talk more as we finish our wine, and that, at least, is like it’s always been with West.
Easy and fun and enjoyable.
But then our glasses are empty and he’s helping me push back my chair, holding my coat for me to slip my arms into.
“I don’t know if I told you, baby, but you look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs as we walk to his car.
I glance up at him. “You did tell me.” I touch his cheek. “But thank you again.”
A wink. “Thank you for giving me that view.”
His eyes drag down my body and I can’t lie.
It responds back.
Heat blooming in my middle as I drift closer to him.
West is hot. West is a great kisser.
West has an incredible physique.
I shiver, thinking about all the incredible things we’ve done with his incredible physique…even though we haven’t quite gone there yet.
Not with the busy schedules and the four-year-old and my need to take things slow.
That shiver catches West’s notice, and he’s bundled me into the passenger seat of his car only a few moments later, the butt warmer on, the heater blasting as we head out of the restaurant parking lot.
All because he thought I was cold.
God, he’s such a good guy.
And I’m—
“Baby?”
“Hmm?”
“Are we heading to your place or mine?” It’s a casual question, a careful one.
As though he’s bracing himself for my answer.
My stomach twists.
Because I want to say his place—want to prove to him that he’s the only man I’m thinking about, the only man I yearn for.
But the twist proves that’s not true.
Because…
The thought of going to West’s place while Colt is at home…
I can’t.
“It’s been a long week.”
Those were the words I was thinking, but he’s the one who says them out loud.
God, I hate that he can read me so clearly.
Almost as much as I hate what I’m feeling right at this moment.
Guilt.
So much damned guilt.
It sits heavy on my chest, stifling the easy conversation from earlier, and by the time he parks in the driveway and walks me up to my front door, I’m having a hard time drawing in a full breath.
I need to get my head straight.
I need to put Colt behind me so I can move on with my life.
Or maybe I need to let West go so he can move on with his?
Or—
Knuckles running lightly over my cheek. “Make sure you get some sleep tonight, honey.”
“I will,” I whisper. “Thanks for a great night.”
His mouth curves. “Anytime, baby.”
Then he bends down to kiss me…
Right as the front door swings open.
With Colt standing on the threshold.