Chapter 58
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
mia
Someone’s trying to cut short the best night’s sleep of my life, but my body’s not having it. I burrow deeper, snuggling into the world’s warmest pillow. It smells faintly of sugar and shampoo, and it lulls me back asleep. Pure bliss.
The annoying noises become more persistent and so does the itching on my neck. The sound is now intelligible and decipherable. A low, teasing voice. A hand brushing my skin.
“If you don’t get up now, I’m joining in.”
God, that voice. I’d recognize it in my deepest dreams. And apparently, that’s exactly where I am—cozy, in the dark, and clinging to something alive. My eyelids fight their weight. I crack one open and blink at reality.
The pillow I’ve been drooling on is Lily. I fell asleep in her bed again, curled around her, holding too tight to someone I’m supposed to let go.
I don’t miss the smile and temptation in his voice. Not going to lie, I’m tempted too. But that’s been my state for weeks now.
Tempted to admit to my feelings and how fast they’ve escalated. Tempted to admit what I dream about, both asleep and awake. To admit the fears that make me cry when I’m alone in this house.
So I do what I’ve been doing. I deflect.
Getting untangled from Lily, I turn to Preston before I get up. He’s crouched behind us, grinning like this is his favorite view in the world.
“Hope you don’t mind,” he murmurs, brushing hair off my face, “but I took a picture before waking you.”
“Can I see it?”
“Now or after I print it and hang it on the wall?”
“Now. And print two copies, please.”
He shows me, and damn it—it’s perfect. The nightlight’s soft glow, my arms locked around her so tight it’s a miracle she’s breathing. And smiling.
That’s when it hits me: this might be all I ever get.
A picture won’t be enough. I need this burned into the inside of my eyelids. Who am I kidding? I need this to be my routine.
But someday soon, this may not be a part of my life. I’ll wake up in London with no little girl pressed against me, no man stealing kisses in empty rooms, no sound of laughter down the hall.
And it’ll wreck me.
That ugly voice in my head doesn’t whisper; it roars. There’s no guarantees you get to keep this.
By the time we make it upstairs, I’m barely holding it together.
Preston sits on the edge of the bed, eyes soft in that unbearable way that right now makes me want to cry and scream and kiss him all at once. God, I’m a mess.
“They know,” he says. So happy, so relieved. The final piece of a 799-piece LEGO project just found and placed.
My stomach drops, pressure suffocating my lungs. “Of course they do. Callie couldn’t keep it in, could she?”
“Not in her nature, no. And I could hide it from them, but I’d never lie to them.”
He watches me, confused. His smile falters. “You okay, baby?”
That’s what does it. That question. His softness.
“No,” I snap. “No, I’m not okay.”
He watches and waits, ready to calm a storm.
I pace, hands in my hair. “None of this was supposed to happen, Preston. I was supposed to be a Band-Aid, remember? Temporary. Help you heal, help Lily laugh again, get you both going, then leave.”
My voice breaks, but he doesn’t interrupt. He just listens.
When I stop, he stands and takes a cautious step forward, but I shove him back. Hard enough that his big, stupid, solid body actually stumbles back onto the bed. Because he lets me. Because he respects my need for space. Because he’s too damn good, even when I don’t deserve it.
“And now?” My throat closes around the word.
“Now I love that kid with every fiber of my being. I’m losing my mind over the idea of waking up and not getting her laugh with my tea.
And you”—I jab a finger at him—“you made me believe I belong here. You showed me a future you can’t even guarantee. How dare you?”
He opens his mouth, but I don’t let him speak. It’s my turn. I can’t keep this inside any longer.
“Have you even read the immigration rules, you romantic asshole? I can’t just renew my visa and stay for brunch.
I’d have to go back home and wait three months before I can even apply again.
Three months away from you two.” My lungs—no, every organ hurts to even imagine it.
“How am I supposed to survive that, huh?”
My throat burns. I’m shaking, can’t stop pacing in front of him. “You selfish bastard. You didn’t think of that, did you?”
He exhales, slow and steady, careful not to disturb me or too many air molecules. Pres just sits there, eyes full of something too gentle to bear, letting me unravel.
“I’d like to change my answer, if it’s not too late.
” Heat stings behind my eyes. “Back at that rooftop, in the pool, you asked me what scared me the most. Fuck my career. It’s losing you.
Losing Lily. I’m fucking terrified of having to leave her behind after what Blake did to her.
I don’t want to make that kid cry, Preston. Ever, if it’s up to me.”
That’s what finally cracks him. His shoulders drop. He stands, slowly, purposefully, as if any sudden move might break me completely.
He gets up and kisses away my tears—the ones on my face, anyway. Too many others have pooled on my shirt and toes. Jesus, I’m weeping. I wipe my nose on my sleeve.
“You’re fixed.” A hiccup. “Cock is working just fine. Plenty of women out there to prove you’re very much wanted.
” Two more very embarrassing hiccups. I wanted to sound much more confident and unshaken saying that, but that’s not happening today.
“You’ll have no problems finding a younger, more qualified nanny.
You’ll move on. I’ll be the one stuck, alone, hurting. ”
The motherfucker laughs, and I turn homicidal. “Are you la…”
He holds my snotty face in his hands, thumbs sliding behind my ear.
“Mia, there’s no moving on. There’s no one else for me. I love you. I. Love. You. Will you please let me love you?”
I sob at his words. “I’m so scared, Pres.” I sniff as more tears dampen my shirt. “I’ve never been so happy. Never felt so cherished.”
“Do you trust me?”
I rub my nose clean again as best as I can before kissing him silly.
We break for air, and he asks again, “Do you trust me, Mia Thorne?”
“I do. I don’t know what you’re talking about now, but I’ll take the leap with you.”
“I do,” he echoes, smiling. “Those are the words I long to hear.”