Chapter 3 #2
‘Gee, you’re touchy tonight,’ I tease, though the only person getting teased here is me.
Because Axel looking less like Axel makes him feel less like my off-limits best friend, and more…
possibility. Throw in my sudden hankering for a baby, and I barely recognise myself right now either.
‘Tiramisu not sitting right, or is it just the wedding-day fun bringing out your inner grouch?’
‘Says the woman who couldn’t—’
A high-pitched giggle cuts him off, and I glance past him as two women stroll on by. One leans into the other with the easy sway of tipsy confidence, sandals hooked on their fingers, eyes hooked on the man at my side.
They’re part of Sadie’s We Rise team; the foundation she set up a few months back to help more people like her. They’re lovely, smart, kind… and I’ve got no right to judge their ogling when I’ve been doing plenty of the same.
He’s my best friend. I’m the last person who should be doing it.
Bad Tay!
‘You don’t fancy a moonlit stroll with your fans?’ I say, head twitching in their direction while he barely spares them a glance.
‘Not with women who cry during slow songs and call me “brooding”,’ he says dryly. ‘No.’
A laugh slips out; he’s brooding, I’m broody, go figure.
‘Did they really?’
‘More than once.’
‘Well, you are brooding. You’ve said five words all night. And even your best man speech was—’
‘Mercifully short.’
My laugh comes easier now. ‘That’s one way to put it.’
‘People hate speeches.’
‘People also hate dental surgery. Doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate a little finesse with it.’
‘Says the woman who was too choked up to say a word.’
His eyes pin me to the swing and I gawp up at him. So much for keeping the tears to myself. I take a steadying sip of cocktail: sweet, strong, perfect.
‘I think you’ll find I was too busy chasing this one around.
’ I gesture to Lottie. It’s not a complete lie.
I was chasing her around, while being choked up.
Because now my tear ducts have found their purpose, they’re at it every damn chance they get.
‘Apparently, four-year-olds can’t sit through one wedding meal without trying to scale the cake. Who knew?’
‘You’re loving it, though.’
‘You think?’
His eyes dip to Lottie again and it takes him a moment to answer.
‘Yeah. I think.’ His dark eyes return to mine, the air thickening with his voice. ‘She adores you.’
‘She’s four,’ I say, laughing it off. ‘She adores unicorns, insects, and breadsticks.’
‘You know what I mean.’
Yeah, I do. But it’s still not enough to fill the hole in my chest.
‘And it’s pretty ingenious if you ask me,’ he says, his gaze drifting to Theo and Sadie now kissing in the shallows.
‘Ingenious?’ I mean, yeah, I get kids have their obsessions, and maybe I’m one of Lottie’s latest, but ingenious?
He nods. ‘Your sister and Theo inviting us to be guests at their wedding, then keeping us trapped here for the week.’
‘Trapped?’ I cock a brow. ‘You really do hate weddings, don’t you?’
‘How many divorces come with a hefty side of wedding debt, do you reckon?’
Okay, so he has a point, but…
‘Theo can afford it,’ I say automatically.
Not that it’s something they’ll ever have to worry about. Wedding budgets or divorce bills. I’m pretty convinced they’re in it for life. Odd, considering my own stance on marriage, but nevertheless true.
He makes some sound low in his chest. All grave and serious, and I’m not sure why. Is he thinking the same as me? Comparing his beliefs to what he sees for them? Thinking about his past, and what he sees in his own future?
‘At least your sister kept it small. But a whole week, with that going on?’
I chuckle. ‘It irks you that much, hey?’
‘Don’t tell me it doesn’t bother you, too. A day, sure. But five days? With that in our faces…’
‘I don’t know… It is kind of nice.’
‘Wow.’ He turns to face me full on. ‘You really have changed your tune.’
‘No. Not changed. Just… open to possibility.’
‘Possibility?’ he echoes, holding my gaze, and my heart picks up speed again. The desire for a child beating its way to the surface, my desire for him to be the one to make it happen, quick on its tail.
‘For them, at least,’ I rush out, tearing my gaze away and swallowing it all down with my cocktail. Now isn’t the time to get into babies and baby-making requests. ‘I fail to see what’s ingenious about it, though.’
‘Really?’ His eyes are back on Lottie, his mouth twisting to the side. ‘A wedding week with babysitters on tap?’
‘You think that’s all we are to them? Glorified babysitters?’
‘You, absolutely. Me? I’m the human equivalent of a safety gate. Functional but not exactly cuddly.’
‘Ha, you do yourself a disservice. She adores you, too. Maybe not for your lullaby skills, but still…’
‘Is that why she hides between your legs every time I come on the scene and calls me the giant?’
I laugh softly. ‘She calls you Uncle G, and let’s be honest, it beats Uncle Asshole any day of the week.’
He chuckles into his glass. ‘I think it came out Assel.’
‘No, it definitely sounded more like asshole.’
‘Whatever you say, Tay.’
‘Yeah, well, you should take it as a compliment that she’s named you after the BFG.’
‘The BFG. Let me guess, the B stands for big?’
‘And the F stands for friendly. It’s an important distinction, don’t you know?’
His eyes spark. ‘That’s what the F stands for?’
‘Yeah, what did you think it meant?’
He shakes his head.
‘Jesus, Axel, she’s four!’
‘How was I supposed to know that’s what it stood for?’
‘Everyone knows what it stands for. It’s the BFG! The Roald Dahl book?!’
Shit. Of course he wouldn’t know. He hardly had a childhood stuffed with bedtime stories. But then, neither did I.
Sadie, however… I read to her every night. First to calm her tears, then to make her smile, and then I carried on. It was our nightly routine for years. While Dad hit the bottle and her mum legged it into oblivion, I stepped in.
‘Would you prefer she called you the Hulk instead?’ I say, changing things up.
‘The Hulk?’
‘Sure, you’re big, broad, fierce…’
‘And green?’
I laugh. ‘Okay, maybe not, but the rest, definitely.’
‘Is that your opinion or hers?’
‘Everyone’s.’
His eyes tighten at the corners, his mouth too. I have the sudden urge to take it back, to remind him of the man I know exists beneath the surface, but then he’s already looking away. His focus back on Sadie and Theo, and I let it go.
I’m not sure he’d want to hear it anyway. He’s Axel. He’s made a life being as tough as they come. To even hint at the tiniest crack in that armour would probably feel like an insult. Or worse, a threat.
‘She’ll be okay, you know?’ he says, catching me off guard.
‘Who?’
‘Your sister. They all will. Sadie, Theo, Lottie – you can quit with the worrying.’
‘I’m not,’ I say truthfully.
‘Then what’s wrong?’
‘Who says anything’s wrong?’
‘I do.’
He turns, his gaze hitting me with the quiet precision of someone who’s spent years reading danger before it appears – stripping every layer until he finds the ache I’m hiding.
And it’s not worry over Sadie. It’s longing.
‘Am I that obvious?’
‘Not to everyone else, no.’ His voice drops, softer and somehow more powerful. ‘But to me…’
His gaze drifts down my body and my breath stumbles, heat skating along my spine. God. How women must feel when he gives them that look seconds before he—
Nope. Hard stop. Do not go there.
‘Every time you look at Lottie, or at your sister and Theo, something comes over you…’ He strokes a curl back behind my ear and I trap a shiver. ‘Are you sure you’re not the one a little green tonight?’
My brow furrows, struggling to process his meaning when my body’s stuck in freefall from his touch. ‘I’m not sure what you mean…’
‘Wanting what your sister has?’
‘Hell, no,’ I blurt.
Though that’s not quite true, is it…?
‘Then what’s going on? Because I ain’t the only one being all brooding.’
‘I’m broody, more like.’
It’s out before I can choke it back – and God, it feels good to unleash it. Even if Axel does look like I’ve just smacked him in the face with a leftover cannolo.
‘I know. Shocker, right?’
‘You mean…’
‘Yeah.’ I take a steadying sip of sweet orange and nod. ‘I want a baby, Ax.’
He takes an audible breath, blows it out slow. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay? Is that all you’re going to say?’
He pockets one hand, shrugs the other shoulder. ‘So what’s stopping you?’
I blink up at him. Of all the things I expected him to say…
‘You’re not going to tell me I’m crazy? Or that wedding fever’s melted my brain?’
‘No. You don’t say anything you don’t mean. If you say you want a baby… you want a baby.’
‘But I don’t want a partner. I don’t want all this.’ I gesture towards Theo and Sadie. ‘The life, the love, the happy ever after. That’s not me. But this.’ I glance down at Lottie. ‘This is different. I want this.’
‘So… adoption?’
I shake my head. ‘I thought about going to a clinic, plucking a guy out of a database…’
‘The turkey-baster route?’
And I want to laugh, stunned at how steady he is. How he’s not baulking, not judging, not telling me I’m mad.
‘Yeah.’
‘Safe, sensible…’
‘Emotionally compartmentalised,’ I add.
He arches a brow. ‘Sounds like you.’
And then I do laugh, because it does. It sounds exactly like me. Only… I hold his gaze, courage building with his reassuring calm.
‘But I don’t think I want it to be a stranger.’
A faint line appears between his brows, and I ignore the way my heart flutters up my throat.
‘I want it to be someone I know, someone I trust. I want it to feel more known, more real. I want…’
I want it to be you.
It’s there on the tip of my tongue. But how do you ask someone that? Is there a right time for a request like this? Can there ever be a right time?
‘You want…?’ he presses.
I take a shallow breath. ‘I want to know how you’d feel about it?’ Hurrying to add, ‘Hypothetically speaking?’
‘Me?’ He blinks. ‘It’s your body, your life. You do what you want.’
‘I meant…’ I lick my lips, and his eyes flick south? the swiftest move as he takes in my edgy state. Come on, Tay, get a grip, don’t be chicken. The worst he can do is say no, right?
‘If I were to ask you, would you maybe consider…?’
His head jerks up, every muscle pulling taut as I quit speaking, possibly breathing, too.
‘Are you asking me to be the father of your child?’
He stares at me like I’ve sprouted three heads.
‘Hypothetically speaking?’ I stress. ‘Yes.’
‘There’s nothing hypothetical about this, Tay. Either you’re asking, or you’re not.’
He’s got you there.
‘Then I’m definitely asking.’
He exhales, clearly incredulous. ‘Then I definitely think you’ve lost your mind.’
‘Why?’ And I’m straight on the defensive now. ‘I trust you. I know you. You’re the perfect person to ask.’
‘Nothing about me is perfect.’
‘I disagree.’ And realising just how much I disagree, I race on with parameters because parameters keep things clean and contained and, above all, safe. ‘Knowing you and trusting you makes you perfect. And we’re talking no strings. No co-parenting. Just… your DNA.’
‘That’s not nothing.’ It comes out rough, almost broken – too broken for him.
Shit.
‘I know it’s not,’ I say softly. Not when he’s a man who, like me, swore he’d never marry, never love, never have a child.
‘But I don’t want or expect anything more from you.
You’d be the man who made it possible, and I would be forever grateful.
But as far as the future goes, I know you don’t want that, and neither do I.
I want to do this alone. I just need… I just need the means to get there. ’
‘You mean my sperm. Let’s just say it how it is, Stone.’
I wet my lips again as the flicker of something comes alive down low. Something that says more about having that part of him inside me than it does my nerves in asking.
‘Yes,’ I whisper.
His gaze locks onto my mouth, tracking the damp trail my tongue left behind, though I’m sure he’s blind to everything but the words forming there.
‘Why me?’
‘I told you. Because I trust you. And I know you.’ My voice softens even more. ‘And if I could choose any man in this world, it would always be you.’
‘Tay…’
My name catches with his breath, dark eyes flickering, throat jerking. His knuckles whiten around the glass, veins rising against ink as he fights to stay steady.
But I’m not taking it back, because it’s true. He’s more solid, more real, more dependable than any faceless donor. He’ll always be there: for me, for any child I may have. He doesn’t need to be Dad for that. Heart flutters and inner fireworks aside, he is the perfect choice.
‘Hey, sorry to interrupt, kids…’
We both jolt as Granny Anna appears out of nowhere, her dress a flurry of summer flowers, her smile warm and apologetic.
‘I thought I’d take the little one off your hands.’
Her sparkling green eyes flit between us as she gestures to Lottie.
‘I’m ready to turn in,’ she adds, ‘and I believe I’m on babysitting duty tonight.’
I look at my niece curled into me. Then at Axel, who’s staring at me like I just handed him a live grenade and dared him to pull the pin.
I hesitate, arms tightening.
It’s not about letting her go.
It’s about what I just said, what I just unleashed.
And I don’t usually lose my nerve, not when it comes to going after what I want.
But then… I’ve never wanted something this badly.
And I’ve never felt so exposed in asking for it either.
‘Darling?’ Theo’s mum prompts gently. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, absolutely, of course.’ I kiss Lottie’s curls and rise, easing her into Anna’s arms.
‘I can take her,’ Axel offers, clearing his throat.
Anna waves him off with a warm laugh.
Is he trying to run? Using Lottie as cover?
‘I may have twenty years on you, Axel, but I can carry my granddaughter just fine.’
Granddaughter. I love it when she says that. Knowing my niece is Theo’s kid in all the ways that matter. Loved beyond all reason, too.
She tucks Lottie beneath her chin and glances back at us. I can’t tell if it’s emotion from the day in her gaze or concern about whatever she thinks she just walked in on, but I hope it’s the former.
‘You two enjoy the rest of the night.’
‘Goodnight,’ we say together, watching her disappear.
Silence stretches: too long, too loud, too raw.
The two women are gone. The newlyweds too. Even the bartender’s AWOL.
It’s just us.
And the ocean.
And… crickets.
‘Axel?’ I whisper. ‘Say something… please.’
He turns. Face set in stone.
‘You have no idea what you’re asking for.’
His gravel-like voice scrapes along every exposed nerve I’ve got, but he’s wrong.
‘I do.’
Because now I’ve put Axel into the equation, I can’t imagine swapping him out.
‘No, Taylor.’ Hard eyes pierce mine. ‘You don’t.’
And then he walks.
Silent. Final.
And I stay frozen, watching him go, wondering how something that was never mine can hurt this much to lose.