Page 45 of Crocodile Tears
Deacon let out a soft, husky laugh as he licked the remaining frosting off his fingers—an act that felt incredibly intimate in the quiet night. I had just accidentally sucked Deacon Harrow’s fingers. What the hell? And then he’dlickedsaid fingers afterwards! The thought made me press my thighs together and shudder.
“Are you cold?” Deacon asked, noticing the action instantly.
“No.” I drummed a little faster on Simon’s bum. “I’ve got my little hot water bottle. He seems happiest when we’re outside.”
Deacon grinned. “Well, he’s definitely a Lachlan then.”
“Definitely.” I smiled back. I took another deep inhale of his sweet baby scent. “God, he smells amazing.”
“You look like you’re huffing him.”
“It’s seriously baby crack,” I said. “For real. You’ve got to get in here and smell his head.”
Deacon’s eyes crinkled as he stood and leaned over to sniff Simon’s head, his cheek grazing across my own as he did. He let out a satisfied hum as he returned to his chair. “Oh boy. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why not?”
“Because he smells too good and now I’m going to want to have one of my own.”
I guffawed. “I think that is biology working its magic on you. You’re no match for baby pheromones.” I shook my head as he held my gaze. “I could see it though, for you, one day, being a dad. I think you’d be good at it.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe one day when life calms down, if I ever find the right person.”
“I’m sure there’s a bevy of supermodels who would line up to have your babies. You’d have to come up with some ridiculous celebrity baby name, though,” I joked. “Suitcase Harrow? Apostrophe Harrow?”
“You know, Apostrophe has a nice ring to it,” he teased. “No, I don’t think that’s for me. If I can’t have a cat with my lifestyle now, I definitely can’t have a baby. And just because there might be a few volunteers,” he added with a chuckle. “I guess I’m a traditional sap. I’d want to fall in love, get married, have a life together just the two of us first. It would be nice to put down roots somewhere—somewhere far from cities and paparazzi—andthenmaybe have a family.” He cleared his throat, leaning his elbows on his knees and looking out into the shadowed garden. “Is that . . . something you’d ever want? A family, I mean.”
My stomach flipped at the way he so delicately asked that question. “I think the bigger question is could I ever find someone who’d want to settle down with someone like me.”
“I can’t imagine that would be hard,” he mused, and I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious! You’re a catch. You’re funny and smart and beautiful—and terrifying,” he added, and we both laughed. “Although the dating pool must be awfully small on an island.”
I shrugged, trying not to think too hard about the way he’d called me funny, smart,andbeautiful.Ever the charmer.
“Prickle Island just might be the world’s smallest dating pool,” I said with a huff. “But I don’t think I’m going to live here forever.”
Deacon stilled. “You’re not?”
“I mean, maybe I’d keep Prickle Island Zoo as a home base, but I want to travel and see the world and have jobs that take me to new places and do large scale conservation work, more than I can achieve here,” I said. “I don’t know. What I want my life to be and what I think it’s actually going to be are two very different things.”
Deacon nodded. “NowthatI understand.”
I shot him a look. “How?”
“It’s the world’s tiniest violin, I know.” He let out a long sigh. “But sometimes I feel like I’m the ambassador for someone else’s dream.” I could feel the weariness in his words as he spoke. “I mean, I don’t want to complain. I have so much and?—”
“You’re allowed to complain with me,” I cut in. “I know I’m hard on you but?—”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“Butit’s just because I know who you really are. I guess I want to hold you to that standard,” I admitted. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have bad days. You can be real with me.Especiallyme.”
He looked at me, grateful. “I just feel like I’m being given all these opportunities and I have no choice but to take them because so many people work so hard their whole lives and never get this lucky.” He stared up at the starry night sky. “But I keep wondering, what now? I’ve achieved all of my career goals in the first quarter of my life. Like, am I meant to just keep grinding because I should always want more? Is there a bottomless pit I’m meant to be filling for the rest of my life? When do I get to step off this treadmill? When do I get to eat cake?”
“Whoa.” I blinked at him. “I didn’t realize you were feeling that way.”
“I sound like such a douchebag, I know.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful.”
“You don’t seem that way to me.”
