Page 28 of Vegas Baby

Ty snorts and I can’t help smiling a little. I rise from the bench, resigned.

“Going with asshole, then?” Ty teases. I roll my eyes. “Good choice, bro. Better an asshole than a pussy-ass doormat.”

“Someday, Ty,” I murmur as I walk past him. “Someday. You’re going to fall stupid for some chick. And when you have to choose between being an asshole and a pussy —”

“You’ll be there to rub it in my face?”

I don’t answer that that’s not what I meant at all. That what I was going to say was then he’ll really know what it costs you to forever want to put someone else’s needs before your own. Even when it hurts. That’s the power you give someone when you love them. I simply walk out, ready for more pain.

* * *

When I open the door to her hospital room, the sight of her hits me even harder than it did yesterday. Because this time she beams up at me with a tiny, wiggly bundle in her arms. My brain had somehow skipped over the whole baby thing, focused as I was on just seeing her. I force a smile and walk in.

“Hey,” I greet her lamely.

“You came,” she replies, gesturing me forward.

My feet feel like lead weights as I force myself toward her.

I stop at her bedside and take in her glowing face and the little bundle in her arms that has a shock of dark hair and pink bow lips just like her mama’s.

“Beautiful,” I murmur.

“Thank you,” Kira says, cooing down at the baby. “I named her Nadia. It means ‘hope.’”

I smirk and sink into the chair next to her bed. “It’s a good name. How are you doing?”

Kira turns her full gaze back to me, scrutinizing my face.

“I’ve never been better. But I think maybe we need to talk about whatever it is that brought you here yesterday.”

I lean back in my chair with a sigh. “You sure?”

She nods. “I think I need to hear it. To know what my actions did to you. I deserve to, anyway.”

“You deserve peace,” I murmur, shaking my head. Even now still protecting her from the question I know I need to ask. “And hope.”

“Please.” Her plea is simple and quiet, but forceful. So, I lean forward.

“Did you ever care for me at all or were you just using me the whole time?” The words tumble out just as bitterly as they’ve felt rolling around in my mouth all day.

I don’t look at her. I can’t. I know it’s a totally unfair conversation to expect her to have right now. But when I see her hand reaching into my space, I look up. Tears fill her dark eyes, and mine follow. I reach up automatically and take her hand.

“I cared for you very much. More than I even knew until I left. Because aside from being terrified and needing to make the decision on my own, I also didn’t think it was fair to ask more of you than you’d already given.”

I take a deep, shaky breath and hold back my response, letting her words sink in. Because I’d have gladly done whatever she needed, and we both know that. Even if it meant taking care of another man’s baby.

I nod, and the motion sends a single tear skittering down my cheek. Her brows bunch together.

“Are you crying because you don’t believe me?” she asks, concern lacing her tone.

“I don’t know,” I admit.

Her frown deepens. “You don’t know if you believe me, or you don’t know if that’s why you’re crying?”

A broken laugh escapes me. “I believe you.” Simple words. True words.

“But?”

---