Page 77 of Hold You Close
“London, calm the fuck down. You’re not even making sense. I have no idea what this is! So stop yelling at me and use your goddamn words.”
“Don’t you tell me what to do, Ian Chase.” She says through gritted teeth and heads inside the house.
Can I turn the boat around, because we went from understanding, sweet, smiling London to batshit crazy in two seconds. That was some alien invasion shit right there. I understand that I didn’t exactly fess up to the fact that I love her, but at the same time, the last time I told her that, I fucking lost her.
I. Lost. Her.
So, no, I’m not exactly jumping at the opportunity to tell her again. Maybe I’m being a pussy, I get that, but at the same time, I can’t fucking survive that again.
I hear banging in the house, and my stupid mirrored windows are suddenly working against me. Damn it. I need to go in there and see if she’s tossing plates or who the hell knows. She’s obviously pissed at me and if there’s one thing I learned from my ex-wife, it’s that it is usually my fault.
The bottom line is I don’t want to see London upset. I want to be the one that makes her smile.
I look at Chris, who’s sitting in a chair looking at his phone. “You stay out here and watch your sisters. I’m going to . . . I don’t know, walk into the lion’s den, but just don’t take your eyes off them, got it?”
Christopher nods. “Sure thing.”
Morgan laughs. “Good luck, Uncle Ian. You’re going to need it.”
If she wasn’t already in the pool, I’d toss her ass in right now. “You better sleep with one eye open tonight, kid.”
She shrugs. “Keep Aunt London waiting and stewing and you should be doing the same. She’s scary.”
Of all the things that irritate me about Morgan, the fact that she’s usually right about handling London is at the top of my list.
“Whatever, I’m the man of this house.”
Morgan laughs. “Sure, whatever you tell yourself.”
If she wasn’t my niece, I would really hate her. Instead of arguing with her, I head inside where the real fight is. I brace myself for whatever wrath could be waiting as I enter, but find London standing at the kitchen island. She’s foregone the glass and is drinking the wine straight from the bottle.
I really screwed up, and yet I can’t tell her what she wants to hear. I thought I knew what love was once. I thought I had my shit together but I fucked it up.
I don’t want to do that again. Am I a little scared? You’re damn right I am. The minute I give myself permission to love her fully, and say those words out loud, there’s no going back. London Parish will own me, as if she doesn’t already. Hell, I’m not even sure she ever stopped owning me.
This is too important to mess up. There’s no rush. We can take things slow and get it right this time.
I make my way to the island and wait. After a few second without her even acknowledging me, I decide to start this conversation. “Look, what I said back there—”
“Don’t start, Ian. Just don’t.”
This is going great already. “If you want to talk about us—”
Her eyes narrow and she glares at me. That whole saying if looks could kill, I’d be dead. “I don’t want to talk.”
I put my hands up. “Okay, I’m just trying to help here. I don’t want you to be upset.”
“Help? I’m drowning, Ian. Are you going to help me when I’m under water? Huh? Are you going to fix the tanking of my career?”
Okay, so her bad day was clearly much worse than she let on. Maybe this fight was not just my fault. “If you want me to, then yes.”
She laughs. “Right.”
Anger, I get. I was full of it for a very long time and this is the exact shit I would do. Sabrina was always my go-to when I needed a kick in the ass, now it’s London. She has no problem calling me out on my shit but I have to tread carefully or she may explode again.
“Talk to me, baby,” I say gently, placing my hands on her hips.
Tears fill her eyes. “I just . . . I always knew what I wanted. I had a plan, and my plan was built to give me the best opportunity at success.”
