Chapter 3
3
Gage
I return to the family table after leaving Amelia and making sure Luna and Sarah are still safe on the dance floor. Ethan, my youngest brother who just got married, sits next to his wife who’s five months pregnant, his hand resting possessively on her thigh while she talks excitedly with our mother about their upcoming honeymoon.
I take the seat next to him and lean in to say quietly, “Mom hates that you guys are going away for a month. I think she had plans to help Madeline decorate the nursery.”
Ethan turns to me, grinning. “I’ve no doubt she’ll let herself into our condo and decorate without Maddie.”
“You gave her a key?”
He shakes his head. “Fuck no. My wife gave her a key.”
Our brother, Hayden, overhears. “From what I’ve heard, they’re besties now.”
“That’s pretty accurate,” Ethan agrees.
I arch a brow at Hayden. “Besties? Since when do you speak in slang?”
He reaches for his scotch, and before taking a sip, says, “Since I’ve had to listen to Liv go on and on about it at work.”
Olivia is one of our other sisters-in-law. Callan’s wife. She was our neighbor growing up, our lives all intertwined long before she married our brother last year. Liv’s a lawyer and works for Hayden at his law firm.
“Olivia and Madeline are close?” I ask. This is information I would usually know. However, my custody problems with my ex-wife have been taking up a lot of my attention the last few months and I’ve lost track of some family dynamics.
Olivia hears her name and joins our conversation, “What?”
Ethan looks at her. “Gage was asking if you and Maddie are close.”
She smiles. “Oh, us girls are all close. Though your mother might be winning the race for Maddie’s favorite family member.”
“That’s because Mom’s already taking over the nursery planning and Madeline loves all her ideas,” Callan comments from across the table, drawing everyone at the table into the conversation now.
“I’m not planning anything,” Mom protests, but her eyes light up at the mere mention of it. “I simply showed Madeline a few Pinterest boards. And some paint samples. And possibly called my interior designer?—”
“Mom.” Ethan’s voice carries that mix of affection and exasperation I’ve heard him use with her since Madeline joined our family and won our mother’s heart. “We talked about this.”
“What your son means,” Madeline cuts in, her hand resting on her bump, her smile directed at her husband before she glances at Mom, “is that we’d love your input when we get home.”
“A month,” Mom sighs dramatically. “What could possibly take a month?” This is the frustration of a woman who only had sons. She now has three daughters-in-law and is more than making up for not having had girls to dote on until now.
“Well,” Callan drawls, “when two people love each other very much?—”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Olivia warns, but there’s a smile in her eyes.
“I was going to say that they need time to see Europe,” Callan protests as he places his arm across the back of her chair and grins at her.
Olivia rolls her eyes but angles herself closer to him so she can brush her lips across his.
“Speaking of vacations,” Bradford, my eldest brother, cuts in smoothly, “where are you two starting your honeymoon?”
“Paris,” Madeline answers, but Ethan shakes his head.
“No,” he says, smiling at his wife’s confusion. “I’ve got a surprise planned in London first.”
“Another camera shop?” Kristen, Bradford’s wife, teases, referencing the time he dragged us all on a shopping expedition that was meant to be a quick stop before lunch on one of our family weekends away.
“That was one time?—”
“Two hours, baby brother,” I remind him. “Luna almost finished an entire coloring book while you drooled over vintage lenses.”
“It was a rare find.” He shrugs but the grin on his face says he regrets nothing.
“Everything’s a rare find with you,” Callan points out. “Remember when he convinced Maddie that vintage guitar he found was ‘investment shopping’?”
“Oh, like you’re any better?” Olivia challenges. “Mr. I-need-another-watch-because-this-one-only-tells-time-in-three-zones.”
The conversation shifts into my family good-naturedly teasing each other and I find myself watching them rather than fully listening. Bradford and Kristen with their subtle touches and shared looks. Callan and Olivia sharing a connection that is twenty-plus years deep. Ethan and Madeline, still in their wedding-day glow but so in tune with each other.
While I’m taking it all in, a familiar feeling surfaces. The one I do my best to ignore. The one I’ve been outrunning for a long time.
For years, I’ve told myself I don’t want this. That I don’t need it. That Shayla and I gave it our best shot, and I’m better off focusing on Luna, on work, on anything but the wreckage I left behind.
But watching my brothers now, happy and settled, it’s harder to ignore the thoughts creeping in. The ones that whisper late at night when Luna’s asleep and everything’s too quiet. The ones that ask if maybe I do want this. If maybe I always have.
Today, though, the feeling is different. It’s the hollowness that comes from the realization I’ve never really had any of this. Not the way they do. Shayla and I burned too fast. The honeymoon period barely had time to settle before we were preparing for a baby, trading late nights out for sleepless nights in. And somewhere in the middle of all that, she changed. Or I did. Or maybe we both did, and neither of us knew how to fix it.
I shift in my chair and scrub a hand over my jaw, forcing the thought away. It’s done. No changing it now.
Still, sitting here, watching my brothers build the kind of lives I thought I didn’t need, I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’ve been lying to myself. And worse, if Luna’s missing out because of it.
Movement catches my eye and my attention shifts. Amelia glides through the ballroom toward the exit in that black dress, breathtakingly beautiful, and for a moment, my mind goes completely blank. The fabric moves with her like it was created for this purpose, emphasizing curves she usually keeps concealed under casual jeans and T-shirts. Her long dark hair falls in waves past her shoulders and her pale skin is a striking contrast against the dress.
She walks with grace, head high, but there’s a slight uncertainty in the way she smooths down her dress.
“Interesting,” Hayden murmurs beside me.
I drag my focus back to the table. “What’s interesting?”
“You watching Amelia.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. The moment I see my ex-wife’s name, tension coils in my shoulders.
Shayla:
Michael and I have to fly to LA unexpectedly. We won’t be home until Thursday, so you’ll have to have Luna until then. I also need you to take her on Friday night because I have a work thing now. I’ll switch and have her next weekend.
The familiar surge of frustration rises. Another change to our agreement. Another disruption to Luna’s schedule. Another fucking game.
“Everything okay?” Hayden asks quietly.
I show him the text.
Like she’s been doing for longer than I care to admit, my ex is changing plans at the last minute. And while I’d happily have my daughter full-time, Luna needs her mother, and she needs her consistently. She needs to know she can count on the routine in place, which isn’t something she’s had since Shayla’s fiancé, Michael, has been on the scene.
I’ve allowed a lot of these plan changes, not wanting to alienate the mother of my child, but I’ve reached the end of my patience.
Hayden looks up from the text. “You need to hire Blair.”
“No.”
“She’s the best family lawyer in New York.”
“She’s a fucking shark, Hayden.”
“Sometimes you need a shark.” He gathers his thoughts in the way he always does before speaking. Hayden isn’t one to speak rashly or without consideration. “This has been going on for too long, Gage. The constant schedule changes, the last-minute demands. Luna needs stability and, I hate to say it, but Brett isn’t cutting it.”
He’s right about all of this. Brett, my attorney, is the best at what he does, but family law isn’t his specialty. However, Blair is the last attorney I’d hire. Mostly because she would cause a divide between Shayla and me, but also because she and I can’t be in a room together without arguing over something.
“What about Justine Brown?” She’s one of the best, and she works for Hayden, so I’m not sure why he hasn’t suggested her.
Hayden shakes his head. “She’s just started maternity leave.” His eyes bore into mine. “Hire Blair. Let her fix this for you.”
I stand abruptly, needing space from both the conversation and the knowing look in my brother’s eyes. “I need some air.”
The tension in my shoulders eases slightly as I step out of the ballroom, but my mind keeps circling back to my problems with Shayla.
I’m in the middle of sorting through this mess in my mind when I spy Amelia standing a short distance from me, reading something on her phone. Even from where I am, I can see she’s agitated, and as I move closer, I hear her agitation.
“Unbelievable,” she mutters. “Un-fucking-believable.”
Interesting. I’ve never observed Amelia like this or heard her swear. I find myself moving even closer to her as she starts stabbing at her phone, typing something in an angry rush.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She startles, nearly dropping her phone. “Oh! I—” For a moment, I see her trying to slip her mask back on, but then something in her snaps. “Actually, no. Everything is not okay. My mother— my absolutely infuriating mother —is texting me about how excited she is that James and I will be attending her anniversary party together next weekend. Together ! Which is fascinating news to me since I’m definitely not attending anything with my ex-husband. But apparently, he’s been having lunch with my parents and helping my father with his golf swing—his golf swing!—and now my mother is sending me links to dresses she thinks would be perfect for me to wear to the party with him. As if there’s still an ‘us.’ As if he hasn’t—” She cuts herself off, eyes wide, lips smashed together.
I watch as she catches herself, her cheeks flushing. It’s the most unguarded I’ve ever seen her.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. “That was . . . a lot.”
“Don’t apologize. Seems like you needed to get that out.”
Her phone buzzes again and she closes her eyes briefly, exhaling slowly. “That’ll be another text about china patterns or seating arrangements or how James always remembers which wine my father prefers.”
“Want me to reply? I guarantee your mother won’t harass you again.”
A laugh bubbles out of her unexpectedly. It’s real, not the polite chuckle I’ve heard from her before. “Don’t tempt me.” Her eyes hold mine, all her walls down. “Thank you. For earlier, and now.”
“For what? Offering to destroy your relationship with your mother?”
“For not . . .” She waves her hand around like she’s trying to pluck the right words from thin air. “Most people either tell me I need to try harder with James for Sarah’s sake, or they launch into a speech about how I should take him back because he’s such a ‘good man.’” The air quotes are audible in her tone.
“People who think they know what’s best for others usually don’t know shit,” I say, and watch surprise flicker across her face at my bluntness.
Luna’s voice carries from behind us. “Daddy! Come see what Sarah taught me!”
“Go,” Amelia says softly. “I should deal with this.” She holds her phone up.
I nod but find myself hesitating. “Sometimes the right choice is just saying no.”
She doesn’t respond, but the look in her eyes says she’s contemplating what I said.
Inside, Luna’s waiting to show me some complicated dance move that apparently requires trying to spin in three different directions at once. But my mind keeps drifting back to Amelia, to the vulnerable moments with her today.
Since my divorce, I’ve kept things simple with women. A date to a gala. Dinner. Sex. Nothing more. Clean edges, no complications. The whole marriage and divorce clusterfuck taught me that lesson well.
I don’t let women matter beyond the moment. It’s been a rule I’ve chosen to live by.
Somehow, though, Amelia Sinclair has slipped past those defenses. She’s on my mind like no one has been since Shayla and I’m not sure I want to do anything about that.