Page 89 of Promise Me Forever

“Chad,” I say slowly, not standing up to greet him or offering a hand to shake or any of that other polite male-posturing bullshit. I see him eye my open bottle of Scotch, but he can go fuck himself. I’d rather pour it down the drain than let him get a taste. He’s already proved that the good stuff in life is wasted on him. “What are you doing here?”

To give the man his due, he has balls. He’s never once backed down from me, even though I’m much bigger than him. Even though I’m right now baring my teeth and growling at him in a way that most would find intimidating. He sits down opposite me, the cheeky fucker. I ponder breaking his fingers one at a time and wonder if that smarmy grin on his tan face would fade as I snapped them.

“I came to talk to you, Drake. About Amelia.”

I narrow my eyes at him over my glass. “I don’t like her name on your lips, you jerk. Say your piece and fuck off, or I’ll smash those shiny veneers down your throat.” I deliver this vicious speech in a calm and reasonable tone, presenting like I do in court. He flinches slightly but shows no sign of leaving.

“Okay—this is my piece. She’s my wife, and I want her back.”

My pulse shoots up into the stratosphere. Is this joker for real?

“She’s your ex-wife, and if I recall correctly, you gave her away. You cheated on her, broke her heart, and you’re now engaged to your mistress. Did I leave anything out?”

“A lot. For a start, I’m not engaged. We broke it off. It was… a mistake. A stupid mistake. You wouldn’t understand this, but marriage is complicated.”

“I might not have been married, Chad, but I’m not a simpleton. Try me.”

“Right. Well, it’s like this—Amelia and I are meant to be together. We’ve loved each other since we were sixteen. Yeah, I fucked up, but I’m human, and that’s what humans do. This thing with Edith, it’s made me realize how much I still love her. You might think I’m a dick, and I can’t argue, but I mean it. I still love her, Drake. She’s amazing.”

I bite back a snarl, because I don’t want him to see that he’s getting to me. “You don’t have to tell me that.”

“You know she wants kids, right?” The sudden change of subject confuses me. I don’t show it, though, and simply nod. I know she does, but Amelia and I haven’t discussed it properly. We had sex without a condom that day on my desk, with Chad bleating in the background, but she’s had her period since. Was that a lucky escape, or was she secretly disappointed? It’s something we do need to discuss, because while I’d love nothing more than to see my baby growing inside her at some stage, I’m not sure we’re quite there yet. At least I’m not. I think I’d like her all to myself for a little while longer. Hell, maybe forever. I guess you could say I’m conflicted.

“Are you ready for that?” he asks. He gestures around him. “Are you ready to give up all of this? To give up your fancy bachelor lifestyle and be a husband and father? You live in a hotel, for god’s sake.”

“That’s got fuck all to do with you, Chad. Is there a point to any of this?”

“My point is that Iamready for that. I’m ready to love her the way she deserves. I’m ready to have kids, to give her what she wants. You don’t just throw away the kind of history we havetogether, and I know that deep down, she still wants us to work. She’d be willing to give us another chance and become a mom, just like she always dreamed of. There’s only one thing in the way.”

I sip my Scotch and ignore the frantic beat of my heart inside my chest. The sense of panic that’s rising in my throat. “Let me guess,” I say, smoothly and calmly. “Me?”

“Yes, you—you’ll never be able to give her what she needs because you can’t ever know her like I do. You won’t be able to make her happy. If you really love her, you’ll let her go.”

He stands up to leave, and I force myself to stay where I am. If I rise to my feet, I will kill him. I will beat his smug face bloody and choke the fucking life out of him. I will squeeze his throat so hard he will never be able to say her name again.

Instead, I stare at his back as he strides away, fighting down my anger and my anguish. My self-loathing and my doubt. The self-loathing is doing its usual thing, lurking around and telling me I’m not quite good enough. And the doubt? The doubt is eating me alive.

Because as much as I hate to admit it, part of me wonders whether motherfucking Chad Poindexter might actually be right. He’s been a damn sight better than me at consoling her in her grief—could it be that he’ll be better at all the rest too?

Chapter

Forty-Five

DRAKE

She stares at me like I’ve grown an extra head, the confusion on her face ranging from her uncertain eyes to her parted lips.

“What?” she says, finally able to form words. “I don’t understand.”

She came to see me as soon as she got home from her trip, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Chad’s visit last night. I hate that he’s undermined us like this, but I also can’t ignore the fact that he might have a point. I’ve felt like crap recently, like I haven’t been able to give Amelia what she needs—fuck, I don’t even know what she needs.

“Look, mi rosa, I don’t want to hurt you, but I think we need to take some time. Really think things through.”

Her lower lips wobbles, and tears fill her eyes. “You don’t get to call me mi rosa and say you don’t want to hurt me while you break up with me, Drake.”

“I’m not breaking up with you, Amelia, I’m just… Fuck! Can we be honest with each other?”

“I suppose we should be,” she replies, a touch of snark in her voice that is spoiled by the impending tears. “If you think you’re up for that.”

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