Page 61 of Teasing a King

Wyatt nods, thoughtful. “You’re probably right.” He sighs. “So, you’re back to square one. With no clue what went wrong.” He claps me on the back. “I feel for you, bro.”

I grab a second glass from under the bar and pour a drink for each of us. But Wyatt shakes his head and pushes the glass back across the bar toward me.

“No liquor for me today,” he says. “I’m still recovering from last night.”

I scoff. “Since when has that stopped you?”

Wyatt chuckles. “Since I got tired of hangovers. Around about the time I turned 30. And you might want to pace yourself too. There aren’t many Ubers in this town.”

I roll my eyes, starting to get annoyed with Wyatt. Since when is he the responsible twin?

"What's with you? You've changed."

Wyatt only smiles. He's not angry or defensive. That somehow pisses me off even more. Why isn’t he arguing or annoyed? Why does he look so damned content?

"Maybe a little," he says, unbothered. "But not as much as you think. I've never been as wild and crazy as people thought. You know that. I just developed a reputation in college."

He looks thoughtful before giving me a shrug. "But now? I don't need that. I’m happy. I don't care what people think of me. I don't need to impress strangers. The people who matter most to me know who I am. Hope knows me. She's what matters. She's it. You know?"

I do know. That's the problem. Mya is that person for me. I'd thought she felt the same. Sure, she hadn't said the words, but I could sense it. Or I thought I could. Right up until she ended things today. I still don't get it. The only thing that changed between us is me telling her I love her.

Wyatt puts a hand on my shoulder, pulling me out of my thoughts. "What matters most to you?" he asks. "Once you figure that out, the rest is simple."

I already know what matters most to me. Mya and our baby. They're it for me. But I don't know how to convince Mya of that. I remember my conversation with her brother. How he'd said she puts up walls. I hadn't really needed him to tell me that. I've seen it all along. She's always tried to keep me at a distance, even when we were in bed together. I'd thought I was beginning to break down some of those walls. So, what changed? And how do I fix it?

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mya

I wait for the tears to come, but they don’t. Instead, this strange numbness settles over me. I’m doing the right thing, right? This is what’s best for everyone. Van will understand that in time. He’ll find someone who’s his match and he’ll be relieved that I didn’t try to trap him into a relationship with me just because we’re having a baby. He might not see it now, but in time he’ll understand. I pace the living room after he leaves, wondering why the tears won’t come. Wondering what to do next.

I picture living here with Van for the next year or longer. Can we go back to what we were? My mind and heart rebel against the idea. I don’t want to go back. I want Van. There’s no denying that simple truth. But I’m not what’s best for him. He hasn’t realized it yet because he’s infatuated with the idea of becoming a father and this little family we’ve created. But one day, he’ll figure out that this isn’t where he’s meant to be. And I don’t want that to ruin our child’s life. Better that we end it now, when the only casualty is my heart.

After another trip across the living room, I look around and sigh. I can’t stay here right now. I don’t know why I’d let Van leave. I should have gone. This is his house. I grab my purse and head for the front door, already dialing Hope’s number as I walk to my car.

“Hey, Mya,” Hope’s voice says after one ring. “What’s up?”

“Can I come over?” My voice sounds small, and I realize that the tears I’d kept at bay are closer than I’d thought.

“Of course,” she says immediately. I can hear the question in her voice, but she doesn’t speak it. “I’ll see you soon.”

I take a shuddering breath as I end the call and turn the car toward Hope’s house. Somehow, I manage to keep from crying until I see her standing there on the front porch waiting for me, phone in hand. She ushers me inside just as the dam breaks. Hope doesn’t ask questions. She just hands me tissues and waits patiently until I stop crying and blow my nose. When I’m finally dry-eyed and I’ve demolished half the box of tissues, she gives me a sympathetic look.

“Want to tell me about it?” she asks softly.

Something in her tone makes me feel like crying again. I take a deep breath and manage to hold back the tears this time. Now that I’m here, I find that I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to tell her how badly I’ve screwed things up this time. But I should have known better. Hope knows me well enough that I don’t have to say it.

“Is it Van?” she asks.

I nod.

“Do I need to kick his ass?” She asks, her tone hardening a bit.

I shake my head. “This one’s all me,” I say, feeling that lump in my throat returning.

Hope puts a hand on my back, rubbing gently. “I’ve been there,” she says. “The girls are on their way over now. I texted them after you called.”

I smile, grateful that Hope knows what I need without my asking. Being surrounded by my friends is exactly what I need right now. I know they’ll be straight with me. They’d never intentionally hurt me, but they won’t lie to me. They’ll tell me how badly I screwed up and whether I can fix it. I just need to tell them what happened without breaking down crying again. God, I hate pregnancy hormones. I never used to be a cry-baby.

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