Page 131 of Point of Contention

I sighed. “What isn’t?”

“No.” He set his fork down, his Belgian waffles still mostly untouched, then waved his finger toward my face.

I acted like I was going to bite it, but he didn’t laugh.

“You made a face.”

I thought back to what I’d been thinking about before he asked me what was wrong. Oh.

Stella.

My lips curled again.

“That’s the one.” He motioned again toward my face.

“Stella.”

Cabot frowned. “She’s a non-issue.”

Oh, if only.I wished I felt the same, but she’d had him for, what, ten months? Almost a year? I doubted she’d ever be a non-issue for me. Even if I lived with Cabot the rest of my life and got to love him every day until I died, she will always be the woman who had him first.

“Rylan.”

I lifted my gaze from the noodle I’d been assaulting with my fork.

“What we had was nothing.” His gaze flicked back and forth between my eyes. “What we have…” He paused and pulled in a deep breath, then whispered, “it’severything.”

My heart swelled in my chest, trapping the air in my lungs. I nodded, because words failed me. Every so often, this man threw me a curve ball that knocked me off my feet.

This was one of those moments.

I brought my fingertips to the diamond at my throat and Cabot nodded.

He’d given Stella his time, but never his heart.

I could be worthy of that love, worthy of his heart, by being who he needed.

I’d move forward with Cabot Reed by being everything that no one else had ever been for him.

As I decided on that plan, I realized that maybe therewassomeone who had been there for him… before me. Bracing myself for his reaction to this personal question, I breathed deeply and motioned around us with my hand. “What was your mom’s role in all of this?”

Cabot pulled in a stuttering breath, as if the question caught him off guard, then his gaze flicked around the penthouse.

“I mean, all of this like, the publishing house, the corporation… your father…”

He bit down on his lip, then met my gaze. “She was the heart of it all.”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the counter as I waited for him to continue. He’d spoken of her a handful times during our months together, and it had always been with veneration and love. He respected his mother more than anyone else in his life. And, after what I’d learned about her, how prolific she was to his career and the reason why he regarded Simona Steele with such respect, I truly hated the fact that I hadn’t known her.

“I think I told you he’d given her the publishing house to placate her, give her something to do. A hobby for a bored housewife.” He chuckled bitterly. “He never expected her to turn it into what it is today.” Cabot quieted for a moment, lost in thought. “Or for me to follow in her footsteps, rather than his.”

He smiled ruefully and my heart ached for him.

“She loved to read, and, as I grew older, I learned that she loved to write as well.” He met my gaze and I smiled at the mention of my favorite author of all time. “I think it was around the time he realized I was her protégé, not his, that they began to drift. She nurtured Reed Publishing—and me—while my father turned generational millions into billions.” He paused and I braced myself as his eyes dropped to his plate. “But as my father focused on everything but the woman who loved him, she self-medicated with alcohol and painkillers.”

His eyes met mine.

The moment felt heavy, thick with this raw truth.

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