Grumpy Romance: Chapter 17

KENYA

“Hey, dad.” My eyes skate to Felice. “I didn’t know you were both coming.”

“Why would your father have brunch without me?” Felice says breezily, sliding her sunglasses to the top of her hair.

I swear, it’s my first time hearing that snobby tone from her. Felice has always been nothing but kind to me. No Cinderella step-mother here. I still remember the way she dolled me up for my first homecoming.

No one had asked me to the dance that year. I’d been crying because it felt like all my friends were getting roses, while no boy wanted to talk to me.

Felice found me crying in the bathroom and wrapped her arms around me.

“Is it because I’m too dark? Or because of my acne?”

“Absolutely not. Those boys are idiots. They just haven’t seen how stunning you are yet.”

That night, Felice whipped out her makeup kit and hired a black hairstylist to take care of my hair. She became my fairy godmother and sent me off to the ball.

She was always like that. Never pushing to replace my mother’s memory in my life, but being a mother figure at all times. I hardly remember that she’s not related to me by blood.

But today, I’m keenly aware of it.

Disapproval glints in her brown eyes and she holds herself stiffly when I hug my dad. I hesitate before wrapping my arms around her too.

She pats me on the back and then edges away. “Let’s sit down. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“I’m surprised you two are still in the city.” I grab a menu and lift it.

“Yes, well, there’s a lot to do with the wedding and Sasha can’t handle it all alone.”

I set the menu down roughly.

Dad pats her hand. “Felice, let’s not discuss that yet.”

“Why?” Felice’s voice rises to an offended shriek. “Can’t I mention Sasha’s wedding now? One of the happiest moments of my daughter’s life and I’m expected to brush it under the rug?”

I dig my fingers into the laminated page until it crackles.

Dad clears his throat. “Let’s talk about that after we eat.”

“Talk about what?” I snap. “What exactly are you here to talk about, dad?”

He glances down.

Felice leans forward. “Sasha doesn’t have a lot of friends.”

“Gee? I wonder why? Maybe she slept with their boyfriends too.”

Felice’s jaw drops. “What did you just say?”

“Felice.” Dad tries to tug on her arm.

She wrenches her elbow back. “Why can’t you just let that go, Kenya? It happened so long ago!”

“Let that go?” My eyes nearly pop out of my head. “How do you expect me to get over something like that?”

“Sasha cries herself to sleep every night. It’s tearing her up the way you’re treating her. She’s supposed to be joyful and excited. Instead, she has to worry about you.” Felice shakes her finger in my face. “How selfish can you be? Don’t you feel anything for your sister?”

My insides rearrange.

Selfish?

I hate that Sasha is crying and upset. I’m her protector. I was the one who talked with her for hours when something distressed her. I’d jump into a fight to keep her sane. It didn’t matter who or what I had to face if it made her smile.

That sister side of me, it’s still alive and kicking.

But I just can’t breeze over the fact that she betrayed me.

“It’s not fair to me,” I speak through clenched teeth, “to expect forgiveness so soon. I’m still working through my feelings. It’s only been a few weeks.”

“And her wedding is in four months.”

My eyes flicker up to her. “Why is it so soon?”

Crimson flushes her cheeks. “The point is, Sasha really wants you to be a part of it. For the sake of your sister, you should get over whatever issues you have and be there for her.” Her eyes gleam wildly. “That’s what family does.”

I want to toss out a dig. Something about the fact that she’s not my family. That she’s not my mother.

But my tongue is heavy.

I can’t find the words.

Felice stepped into my life when I was feeling insecure and lonely. She and Sasha were my people. We formed a girl team against my dad, constantly ganging up on him so we could choose the girliest movies on family night or blast cheesy pop songs on family trips.

My eyes lower to the table. “Dad?”

He jumps as if he didn’t expect this conversation to involve him.

“Is that what you think too? That I should just forget about Sasha betraying me, lying to me and hurting me? Do you think I’m selfish too?”

Dad remains silent.

I glance up and look into his face. Age formed deep wrinkles in his forehead. His cheeks are bigger now, pressing against his eyes. Dark skin, a shade like crushed blueberries, stretches over a stout body and a beer paunch.

He’s my father. I got my eyes from him. My love of reading. My determination to work hard and succeed at whatever I do.

My voice cracks. “Do you, dad?”

“I think Sasha needs you right now,” he says. “This isn’t the time for our family to be divided.”

My heart shatters into a million pieces. I can hear it breaking like glass crashing to the floor.

Felice gives him an approving look and I watch the regard I had for these two people burn to the ground.

I’m not Felice’s little girl.

I get that.

I understand that, sometimes, blood is thicker than water.

But it doesn’t seem to be true in dad’s case.

He chose Sasha.

His baby girl.

I blink rapidly, feeling the tears forming but refusing to let them loose. Is there anything more pathetic than weeping because you’ve finally come face to face with the truth?

I plant my palms on the table and rise as regally as I can. “I’m not hungry anymore. But you two enjoy yourself.”

“Kenya,” dad calls my name.

I ignore him.

Felice yells out, “Will you be at the dress fitting?”

She’s delusional.

I stomp out into the bright sunshine. It’s Sunday afternoon, but the sidewalk is filled with people enjoying a stroll or heading into restaurants.

My heart aches so much it feels like it’s brushing up against a thorny gate. I brush away the tear that falls down my cheek. It’s followed by another and I smack that down too.

No crying.

There’s no use bemoaning my fate when I can’t change a thing.

My family is firmly on my sister’s side and I’m the bully for not caving to whatever Sasha wants.

Fine.

I guess I’ll just stay by myself then.

But the tears keep coming. I pump my arms and run down another street, trying to get away from the pain that’s clinging to my heels.

When I slow down, I realize my legs are burning.

The sun beats the top of my head like it’s trying to teach me a lesson.

I glance around for a bench to sit and catch my breath, when I notice a little girl seated alone. She’s small and adorable with two pigtails tied at the end with yellow ribbon. The dress she’s wearing is fluffy, almost like a tutu.

Tears roll down her cheeks that are bright red—either from sunburn or her weeping. I glance around. Where are her parents?

When no one seems to be paying the kid any attention, I inch closer to her. Dropping to my haunches, I speak in a gentle voice. “Hi, sweetie. Why are you crying? Where’s your mommy?”

“I don’t know,” she bawls. Then her mouth opens again and she starts crying louder.

Someone walks by and gives me a funny look. I want to raise both hands and tell them I didn’t make the kid cry, but I resist the impulse.

Leaning toward the baby again, I say, “It’s alright, sweetie. We can find her.”

“No we can’t.” The child sniffs. Her eyes are familiar.

I stare into them, trying to place where I’ve seen them before. “Why not?”

“Because my mommy is in heaven.”

My heart rearranges. Oh, you poor thing.

I give her a comforting smile. “My mommy’s in heaven too.”

She blinks and finally stops crying. “Really?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“You think our mommies are together in heaven?”

“Oh definitely. I think our mommies are best friends. They probably have coffee together every afternoon. And read books. And play games.”

She looks intrigued. Though her eyes are still glistening with tears, they no longer fall down her face.

“I’m Kenya.” I offer my hand to her.

She stares at it and pulls her pudgy hand to her stomach. “My daddy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

“Your daddy?”

She bobs her head.

I smile. So she has a parent. I just have to find a way to contact them. Or maybe I should call the police so they can locate the dad sooner.

“Sweetie, do you know your dad’s number by chance?”

She opens her cupid’s bow lips and starts to sing a jingle. I realize she’s reciting a phone number. Her dad must have taught her how to memorize it in a song. Smart man. If only he were more responsible. How did he lose track of his kid?

“Hold on, baby.” Excitedly, I rush to open my phone and touch the call button. “Go ahead?”

She sings it again.

I type in the first five numbers and my eyebrows start to hike.

Why is my phone telling me I know this number?

With trembling fingers, I continue to type in the number and my jaw drops.

Evil Boss

My head whips up.

It’s Alistair’s number.

I stare at the precious little girl with new eyes.

So this must be… Alistair’s daughter, Belle.

“Belle, you scared me so much.” Alistair whips his daughter into his arms and crushes her to his chest. For the first time ever, he looks frantic. Like he’s coming apart at the seams.

He kisses Belle’s cheek and hugs her even tighter. “Why would you let go of Mrs. Hansley’s hand? Huh?”

“I was looking for mommy,” she says, all innocence and big brown eyes. No wonder she looked so familiar. Her face is a carbon copy of Alistair’s. I’m sure Belle has her mom’s features too. I just can’t see it yet.

“And I found her,” Belle says excitedly.

Alistair’s eyes lurch up and fall on me.

I stiffen in shock.

“She’s with Miss Kenya’s mommy.” Belle gives her father a brilliant smile. “They’re having coffee.”

Alistair blinks and blinks.

I feel heat rush through my cheeks.

A thin, elderly woman with greying hair and tearful eyes pounces on Belle before anyone can move.

She starts bawling. “You sweet girl. You almost gave me a heart attack. Never do that again, you hear me? Never.”

“I’m sorry.” Belle pats the older woman’s back as if she’s the grown up.

“Thank you for finding my daughter,” Alistair says to me, his eyes glistening like the sunset.

“Of course.”

Another car careens next to Alistair’s. A tall, handsome man stumbles out. He’s wearing a plain T-shirt and pressed slacks, but he might as well be wearing military gear.

His steps are sharp and determined. His back ramrod straight.

He rushes to Belle and the older woman. “Thank God. Are you alright, Belle?”

“Uncle Darrel.”

“Is she okay?” Uncle Darrel asks Alistair.

He nods. “Kenya found her.”

At his words, all three adults turn and look at me.

Pure relief spreads across Uncle Darrel’s face.

The elderly woman looks at me as if she wants to dress me in gold. Her bottom lip quivers and she tightens her grip on Belle like the little girl is the only thing stopping her from grabbing me and kissing my cheeks.

I squirm. They’re making it a bigger deal than it was. All I did was run crying in this direction. I’m not a hero.

“Thank you,” Uncle Darrel says.

“Uh, it was mostly a coincidence.”

“My mom and Miss Kenya’s mom are reading books in heaven,” Belle announces. “Miss Kenya told me.”

I wince. She’s adorable. But I don’t normally go around broadcasting that I lost my mother.

Alistair scoops his daughter in his arms and walks over to me. Belle tucks her head into her father’s shoulder. It’s clear Alistair adores her, but it obviously goes both ways.

“I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, but I promise I will.”

“Alistair really,” I shake my head, “it wasn’t anything worth talking about. You could even say that she found me. She’s an extremely smart girl.” I smile at Belle who offers me a shy grin in return. “She remembered her daddy’s number and gave it all to me without forgetting a beat. She’s the hero.”

Alistair’s smile is soft. Softer than I’ve ever seen on his gorgeous face.

He’s not buying my deflection.

“Daddy,” Belle pushes out her bottom lip, “I have to pee.”

“Okay, princess. When we get home—”

“No, now,” she hisses.

He shares a helpless look with the older woman.

“I can take her,” she says.

“I’ll go with you.” He tightens his hold on his daughter. It must have torn his heart out of his chest to hear she was missing. He still looks rattled. Turning his hazel eyes on me, Alistair says, “I’ll find a bathroom around here. We’ll be right back.”

“Sure.”

“You’ll stay, right?”

My jaw drops. I don’t think I’ve heard Holland Alistair ask me for anything since I’ve known him.

Growl at me? Yes.

Demand his way? Definitely.

But ask in that I won’t be able to breathe if you don’t say yes way?

Never.

While he and the older woman walk off, I notice Uncle Darrel… well, Darrel—he’s too young and too hot to be my uncle—staring at me.

Although I’ve seen him in passing, I don’t think we’ve formally met. I decide to introduce myself. “Hi, I’m—”

“Kenya Jones.” His expression gives nothing away and yet, I can tell that he’s pleased. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh? From… Alistair?”

His smile is cryptic. I get the feeling that no one can pry any information from this man, even if they tortured him for days.

I tap my fingers against my arm. “You, uh, you’re Alistair’s brother?”

“Brother-in-law.” His green eyes peruse my face as if he’s taking note of every one of my micro-expressions. “Claire’s brother.”

I blink in shock.

He nods to the chair. “Would you like to sit?”

“Uh…”

He gestures to the bench and I follow him. Not because I want to talk but because my legs are about to give out. The excitement of meeting Belle distracted me from my exhaustion, but I’m starting to feel the strain again.

We fall into the bench together. Darrel glances out at the buildings around us, his back straighter than an arrow.

“Were you military?” I ask, unable to stop my curiosity.

“No. My dad was. It rubbed off on me and Claire.”

“I see.” I lean down and punch my fists against my thigh to beat out the knots. “No wonder she built a successful company from scratch. It takes discipline.”

“She was amazing.”

I glance away. “Alistair never talks about her.”

“He blames himself.” Darrel squints in the sunlight. “He was in the car the night she passed. He was driving, actually. After that day, he’s never gotten behind the wheel of a car again.”

My eyes widen. It feels like I’m getting an inside look into the man behind the Godzilla boss suit.

“So he never drives? Ever?”

Darrel shakes his head. “After Claire, he locked himself up completely. Didn’t talk much. Didn’t laugh. Barely ate and drank. We had to convince him to keep holding on to life so he could be there for Belle. It was only then that he showered, shaved, and started eating again. Belle saved him.”

“She adores him.”

“It’s mutual.” He dips his chin. “She’s the air that he breathes. Everything he’s doing, beating himself into the ground for Belle’s Beauty and trying to raise profits, it’s so he can give it to her.”

“That’s why he’s hell-bent on being personally involved in Belle’s Beauty,” I mumble.

“It wasn’t his vision at first. He had a hard time thinking about that company after Claire passed but, at the same time, he couldn’t let it go.” Darrel’s green eyes fall on me. “He only recently decided to be more hands-on and that’s when he found you.”

I shift under his probing stare. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but you have it wrong. I’m not that important in the company.”

“No?”

“I’m a freshly promoted second-assistant.”

“Come on, Miss Jones.” His face breaks into a sliver of a smile. He’s absolutely stunning and, if my heart wasn’t already caught up on my beast of a boss with a surprising soft side, I’d probably fawn over him. “We both know that’s not true.”

My eyes dart away from his.

Darrel shifts toward me. “Alistair’s been on a long, hard path. If I’ll be honest, I thought he’d never find a new direction. But he found it in you. You’re his light at the end of the tunnel, Miss Jones.”

My heart skips a beat.

Just then, I notice Belle, Alistair and the older woman returning. Belle is all smiles as she drapes an arm around her daddy’s neck.

When she sees me, her head whips up. “Miss Kenya!”

I smile and hop to my feet. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Can we have coffee like our mommies?”

“I think you’re a little young for coffee, Belle,” Darrel says, giving her a fond look.

Belle pushes out her bottom lip.

She’s too adorable.

My heart melts. “I mean… we can have tea.”

“I thought you hated tea?” Alistair says.

I slant him a sharp look. “I’ll put sugar in mine. It can’t be that bad with artificial sweeteners added.”

He looks amused.

“Daddy, daddy, can Miss Jones have tea with me?”

“I don’t know.” He strokes his chin. “That depends on whether you can promise me that you’ll never run off by yourself again.”

“I promise,” she says exuberantly.

The older woman clutches her hands to her chest and sighs. “How precious.”

Same, lady. Same.

Alistair pretends to think about it and then nods. “It’s alright with me.” He arches an eyebrow in my direction and gives me a hot look. “Miss Jones, would you like to have lunch with us?”

I can’t catch my breath. With the sunshine bouncing over his thick hair and his arms wrapped so protectively around his daughter, he looks like he could be the father of my children.

Which is ridiculous.

I gulp. “Are you sure?”

“I’ll make a feast,” the older woman says. “Something deserving of today’s hero.”

“Please don’t call me a hero. Really. I didn’t do anything.”

Alistair strides over and slides an arm around my waist. “Then what should I call you?”

“Call her Miss Kenya,” Belle says.

I laugh, absolutely charmed. “She’s so cute.”

“She’s my daughter. Of course she’s cute,” he says. “All the people who belong to me are perfect in every way.”

I blink rapidly.

Alistair steps back and grabs my hand. “Bernard is waiting. Mrs. Hansley, let’s get back home.” He glances over his shoulder. “Darrel, are you coming?”

“I’ll skip this one. I was on a mission before you called about Belle.”

Alistair stops and gives him a surveying look. “The client with the kids?”

He nods slowly.

“Has their mom been found?”

Darrel shakes his head, his lips tight.

A story’s there, but I don’t get to ask because Alistair ushers me into his fancy car and whisks me away to his castle.

After playing with Belle all day, Mrs. Hansley—Belle’s nanny—invites me to stay for dinner. Since Mrs. Hansley sent me straight to food heaven during lunch, I’m quick to jump on that offer.

Turns out, what she did this afternoon was only a taste of her skills. This woman put her soul in tonight’s meal. I’ve never had an experience like that.

Growing up, nobody in my house liked to cook. It was a chore we all approached with a lot of grumbling. But, with Mrs. Hansley, I finally understand how a meal can reveal someone’s heart. She could have found a less fattening way to say thank you. My thighs will never forgive me. I flop back in my chair and undo the button on my jeans.

A loud yawn drags my attention to the little girl across the table. Belle’s head is rolling around like her neck lost a few muscles. She jerks up, her eyes at half-mast. It’s clear she’s trying to stay awake and failing spectacularly.

I chuckle. “Looks like someone needs to get ready for bedtime.”

“Come on, Belle.” Alistair pushes away from the table.

“No.” She shakes her head. “I want to stay with Miss Kenya.”

My eyes widen in surprise.

Alistair smirks. “I do too.” He leans toward his daughter. “What do you say we don’t let her go home tonight?”

My mouth hangs open.

Mrs. Hansley chuckles under her breath.

I feel like melting into the ground. Especially when Alistair gives me a wicked smirk full of bad intentions. What on earth is he talking about in front of his daughter?

Mrs. Hansley pushes to her feet. “Come on, Belle. Let’s brush your teeth.”

“No.” She squirms. “I want Miss Kenya.”

I rise slowly, not sure if I’m infringing. “I don’t mind helping out.”

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Hansley looks dubious.

Alistair rests his chin on his palm and gives me another hot look. “If you stay and put Belle to bed, I’ll return the favor.”

I narrow my eyes at him.

Mrs. Hansley pushes his shoulder. “Alistair.”

“It’s a good deal.” He nods at his daughter. “Right, Belle?”

“Yeah!”

“Continue, Alistair, and I’ll put you in time out,” I spit.

He gives me a playful grin.

My heart almost stops beating. This man is six feet of solid rock and sculpted muscle. He’s the monster that stomps down the halls and sends employees skittering for cover. But, when he’s here with his daughter, he’s soft. Casual. His hair is mussed and his shoulders are relaxed. It’s like seeing a different side of him. A privilege. And one that’s still so confusing. Why is it being offered to me?

I shake my head because Alistair is not going to see how much he’s affecting me.

Offering my hand to Belle, I lead her from the kitchen and take her into her room. It’s a little girl wonderland full of plush toys, a child-sized kitchen and even a mini-mart.

Belle leads me to her walk-in closet—which is about the size of Sunny’s entire apartment—and shows me the pajamas she wants to wear. I help her change and then let her lead me to her attached bathroom.

This little girl is living better than eighty percent of the adults in the world.

“All done!” I hoist her so she can spit out her toothpaste into the sink.

When she’s finished, Belle clasps her arms around my neck. Her tiny fingers are soft and warm. I feel my heart lurch even more in her direction. She smells like baby powder and mint. I hold her a little closer as I walk her back to her princess bedroom.

Alistair is there, turning down the duvet covers. He looks tall and extremely manly next to the bright pink princess blanket.

“There are my girls.”

I arch an eyebrow at him.

He winks and takes Belle from me. “Ready to go to sleep, sweetheart?”

“Miss Kenya.”

“Mm?” I lean over her bed.

“Do you think our mommies have sleepovers?”

I exchange a look with Alistair.

He gives me a tender smile.

“Uh, yeah. I do. My mom loved slumber parties.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, Belle?”

“Did my mommy like slumber parties?”

His face gets tight for a second. And then he nods. “She sure did.”

“Daddy?”

“Belle,” Alistair says with just a hint of a demand in his tone, “you need to stop asking questions and go to sleep.”

“One more.”

He sighs, but I can tell that if she’d asked for a hundred more, he still would have said yes. “What is it?”

“Can I see Miss Kenya again?”

Alistair glances at me. “If I have my way, you’ll see Miss Kenya at breakfast tomorrow.”

Flames light up in my veins.

I swallow hard and glance away from him. “Goodnight, Belle.”

“Goodnight.” She raises her arms to me. I lean down and hug her. With that last embrace, what’s left of my heart tumbles right into her pocket.

Alistair smooths the blanket over her when I step back. He caresses her hair, his eyes dark in the shadows. His touch is gentle, almost like he’s handling a priceless vase.

He’s sexy when he’s barking orders at the office. Annoying, but no one can deny the charisma that shoots out of him like sunbeams. Yet, I prefer this contained, tender Alistair.

It’s authentic. It’s raw.

I can practically feel the love for his daughter flooding out of him. And it does something to me.

He takes my hand, leads me out of Belle’s room and closes the door, leaving it slightly ajar. Mrs. Hansley is finishing the dishes when we walk into the kitchen.

I frown. “I wanted to help you clean up.”

“Oh, you’re such a sweet girl. But there’s no need.”

“I have to do something to repay you for that meal,” I insist. “My soul left my body at least twice during dinner.”

She laughs, her cheeks flushing. “You’re a sweet talker. No wonder Alistair adores you.”

I stiffen.

Alistair comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. “You’ve got it wrong, Mrs. Hansley. It was her dirty mouth that got me.”

I smack him.

He laughs and kisses my cheek.

She looks pleased. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see Alistair dating again. At one point, I thought he’d become a monk.”

“He’s no monk.”

“Because I’m too sexy?”

“Because monks are all about peace and harmony. And you give everyone in the office an aneurysm.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You see what I mean? Even when I’m nice, she still gives me sass.” He pulls me tighter. “I already told you that mouth would get you in trouble, Miss Jones.”

A thrill travels down my spine. How much trouble are we talking?

Mrs. Hansley chuckles. “Good for you, Kenya. He needs someone to cut him down a size.”

He frowns. “Belle is already on her side, Mrs. Hansley. You can’t jump ship too.”

I laugh loudly. This Alistair is… wow. He’s so loose and at ease.

I’m absolutely intrigued.

“I’ll leave you two alone now.”

“Let me walk you out.”

“No need.” She waves a hand.

He insists and follows her to the door.

While he’s gone, I stroll around the living room. There are no pictures of his wife and I wonder if it’s too painful to look at them.

According to Darrel, Alistair blames himself for the accident. It’s hard to imagine my untouchable boss withdrawing into himself. He seems like someone who’ll go down kicking rather than let himself be dragged into the darkness.

His footsteps patter back to me.

I gesture to the mantle full of Belle’s baby pictures. “She’s even more adorable now than she was then.”

“Yeah.” He picks up a frame. “She used to bawl her head off all the time. We couldn’t figure out what she was crying for. We read every online article and countless books to figure it out.”

“What was the answer?”

“Some babies are just fussier than others. Belle had the loudest pair of pipes and she wanted to use them.”

I chuckle.

He stares at me like I’m some mystical creature who’s about to grant all his wishes.

Shyness steals over me. I glance away. “Does she look a lot like Claire?”

I expect him to stiffen again or change the subject. His voice remains even. “Yes. She’s a blend of both of us.”

“Do you still miss her?” I ask casually, walking down the line of pictures.

Alistair remains quiet.

I glance behind me, wondering why he’s suddenly got nothing to say.

Without warning, my crazy boss marches forward, sweeps me right off my feet and hauls me to the couch. Before I can protest, we’re sitting on the expensive white sofa.

He curls me into his lap. “If we’re going to do this, I need to touch you.”

My heart patters. He’s staring at me like he wants to suck the soul out of my body.

“What kind of touching?”

“This much.” His voice darkens. “For now.”

I swallow hard.

He grazes his fingers over my forehead. “I haven’t told anyone except Darrel this. Not Mrs. Hansley. Not Claire’s parents. No one.”

Expectation builds in the air. Like a balloon flooded with water, stretched to it’s limits. Like something about to explode. That’ll coat me in something new. Something I can never come back from.

I wrap my fingers around his neck. The big, growly Alistair with the penchant for driving me crazy is not the one sitting in front of me. This man is a father. A husband who lost his entire world and had to learn how to keep going.

“I’m listening.”

“That night,” his fingers tangle up in mine, “Claire and I were out-of-state attending a conference. I had a meeting early the next morning and I wanted to be there in time.” He stalls as if the words are clogged in his throat. “Claire begged me not to drive that night.”

His eyes shake.

His fingers tighten around me.

I brace myself even though I know what’s coming.

“I insisted. Told her that I had it handled. She warned me that I hadn’t slept. That it was dangerous. I told her it would be fine.” His Adam’s apple bobs.

I curl into him, trying to give him my warmth. My strength.

“I regret that choice every day. If I’d just listened to her. If I’d taken the early flight like she wanted, she’d still be here.”

Watching this strong, capable man fall apart shakes me to my core. I want to fuse myself to him and put him back together in any way I can.

Alistair inhales a shuddering breath and holds me as if I’m the only thing keeping him sane. “Claire would still be alive if it wasn’t for me. And I can’t help thinking that I should have died instead of her.”

“Alistair.”

“She was a better person than I could ever be. Giving. Loving. Always willing to help. They took the wrong one.”

I feel tears pricking the back of my eyes.

He clears his throat and pastes on a smile that barely hides his pain. “I had nightmares about it. Consistently. I’d keep reliving the moment she told me to stay. Then uh…” He rubs the back of his neck.

“What?”

“One night, you showed up.”

“Me?”

He nods. Looks at me intently. “In my dreams.”

I blink in shock. I don’t know how to respond to that.

“I thought it was a one-time thing, but it wasn’t. You kept barging in and you snapped at me.” He chuckles and brings my fingers to his lips. “In your own, Kenya-way, you remind me that I’m not stuck in that hotel room.”

I hold my breath.

“At first, it terrified me.” His voice rises. “And it angered me. I wanted you out. I wanted to stay in the darkness because it’s what murderers deserve.”

“Alistair.”

He shakes his head. “But you didn’t care about what I wanted. You kept showing up with your sass and your smiles and your crazy ideas that somehow work out. That night, when I said I couldn’t get you out of my head, that wasn’t some line to get into your pants. I meant it. You’re in my head, Kenya. You’re freaking embedded in my skull.”

My mouth forms an o.

“I don’t show weakness. And I don’t let anyone near my daughter.”

“Trust me, I know.”

He chuckles. “But if I’m going to open myself up and show this mess to anyone, it’s going to be you. Only you.”

Moved beyond comprehension, I turn in his lap and cradle his chin. “Holland.”

His eyelashes flutter.

Surprise creeps over his chiseled face.

My heart beats so hard it’s about to fly out of my chest. I hold onto him and say his name again. “Holland.”

He sucks in a breath.

I lower my voice and whisper, “Even if it hurts, I want you to know that I’m glad you survived.”