Page 50 of Burn With Me

A sudden series of coughs racks his body, and he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket to cough into it. When he’s done, he continues, “Maybe if we’d spent a little more time getting to know each other, I wouldn’t have taken her forgranted. I would have realized she deserved better than me and wouldn’t have put her through the hell that I did.”

His admission jars me. It’s the first time I’ve heard him speak of my aunt this way. I know he misses her, and I know he still loves her, but I didn’t know he actually regrets the way he treated her.

“She’s happy now. That’s all that matters. All I’m saying is, if you think Ginny is a woman worth getting serious with—and make no mistake, I’m very fond of her and believe she would make you a better man—then take things slow. Navigate it together. You both deserve that.”

A loud slurping sound has us both turning our heads to look at Michelle, who is watching us with wide eyes as she sucks the rest of her slushed coffee through the straw. “Don’t mind me,” she says.

My uncle and I let out a simultaneous chuckle. Nodding my head toward the interior of the building, I tell him, “Your words are noted. Thanks for the advice, old man.”

“No problem. Oh, I was gonna text you later, but since you’re here, I need you to go with me to California this weekend for the Schlemming merger.”

Going to California means no time with Ginny at Désirer. But it isn’t like I can tellhimthat. He’d be suspicious if I made a big deal about it.

Fuck.

“Yeah, okay,” I sullenly agree.

He gives me a nod before turning to leave. “Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.”God fucking dammit.

Michelle makes no protests as I walk through the door to the back like I own the place. I have no idea where I’m headed, but there are balloons with signs that guide me, and after a few turns down random halls, the smell of cotton candy and hot dogs assails my senses. Descending the wide set steps into the basement-turned-gym of sorts, Ginny’s shock of red hair stands out in the crowd, drawing my eyes to her immediately.

Her hair is pulled half-up out of her face, and her left cheek is adorned with a giant glittery butterfly. She’s got a toddler on her hip, and her lips are pulled up in a smile that brightens the room as she attempts to hold the little girl’s attention while someone paints the kid’s cheek.

Something in my chest warms—at the same time, my hands grow clammy.

Being a father was never something I wanted to experience. It isn’t that I don’t like kids. I just don’t want to raise them. I didn’t grow up in the traditional sense—I’m not really sure what a father is.

But watching Ginny as she interacts with another group of small children who rush up to show her the prizes they’ve won from the games…

It paints a picture in my mind.

Broad strokes with bold colors.

A canvas filled with reds and oranges. Yellows and blues. Tiny footprints and even smaller hands. Lazy Sunday mornings wrapped in silk sheets until a toddler interrupts and demands pancakes while we all watch cartoons.

The mangy cat I’ve quickly become attached to curled up on Ginny’s round, swollen belly.

Cornflower blues drift across the room as if in slow motion, and our gazes lock. Smiling at me, she signals for me to come to her.

Like a dog, I willingly obey.

“Hi! What are you doing here?” she asks brightly, reaching out to hug me.

Wrapping my arms around her, I lean down and kiss her unpainted cheek softly. “Finished work early and thought I’d come to see if you wanted to join me for dinner later.”

Ginny laughs as she pulls me away from the face-painting station. “After the last time we saw each other, I didn’t think you’d be that eager to see me again.”

“Are you kidding? You left me with a raging hard-on inthe middle of my living room. I nearly chased after you and demanded you finish what you started.” My fingers stroke her side through her thin black shirt. She’s wearing tight black pants that look as though they’ve been painted on her body and knee-high black boots with heels that bring her eyes level with my mouth.

“Istarted?!You’rethe one who grabbed me and put me on the counter!” She looks around as she whisper-yells at me, a playful smile gracing her lips.

“And it wasyouwho kissedmefirst.” I pull her closer, bending my neck in hopes she’ll let me kiss those luscious pink lips of hers.

Shrugging, she places a hand on my chest to stop me. “Can’t argue with that, I guess. Not here, Jackson. This is my job.”

“If I recall, you showed up at my job and promised me some afternoon delight just the other day.” My fingers continue to stroke her side as I brush my thumb across her cheek with the other hand.

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