Page 25 of Tangled Kisses
She tilts her head, lips curving. “That’s a shame for the world as a whole, because you seem like the type of man who’d love being married with a houseful of kids and a couple of dogs running around the yard.”
A smile tugs at my mouth, but it’s tinged with sadness. As much as I want those things, I always assumed they’d never come my way. “That’s my dream.”
“How many kids?”
The question startles me, and I let out a short laugh. “I love kids, so at least four.”
“Four? Wow.” She takes a sip of wine, eyes dancing over the rim of her glass. “That’s a lot of kids.”
Her teasing loosens something in my chest. “Three, then?”
Reese smiles, and the warmth that floods me is sharp, uninvited, but impossible to push away. For a heartbeat, I letmyself imagine it—her, me, three kids, a noisy kitchen filled with light.
“Sure. Three is doable.” She shakes her head, laughing at herself. “Look at me. I barely know you, and I’m dictating how many kids you’ll have. Typical bossy New Yorker, right?”
I can’t stop grinning at her. “Nothing is typical about you.”
In my mind, the picture sharpens: a sunlit kitchen, soup simmering on the stove, a cool breeze drifting through the open window. Reese barefoot, in worn jeans and one of my old T-shirts, her hair mussed from my hands. A toddler banging a pan lid on the floor like it’s a drum, the sound blending with the smell of fresh bread and the low hum of a life that feels whole.
I’m sitting here with a woman I barely know, already building a future around her in my head. The crazy part? It doesn’t feel crazy at all.
Chapter Seven
Griffin
“Enough of my tale of woe.” Reese tucks her legs under her, fixing me with her dark eyes. “Your turn. What areyoudoing here, Griffin? How did you wind up in this line of work, since it’s obvious you don’t enjoy it?”
“That’s an understatement.” I release a slow breath and steel myself to explain my story. “I owned a construction company for a few years. Good work—restorations, remodels. But then the economy tanked, and the jobs dried up. Clients stopped paying, and I was left holding the bag. At twenty-six, I was broke, with nearly ten grand a month in bills.”
Reese gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “Ten thousand? Jesus, Griffin. How many kids are you supporting?”
I bark out a mirthless laugh. “None yet. Remember, we agreed on three.” At her faint blush, I add, softer, “I take care of my sister, Pearl.”
Her expression softens. “How come?”
“It’s my fault her life changed that night.” After all these years, the words still taste like iron.
“What does that mean?”
Everyone close to me knows about Pearl, but I rarely delve into the specifics regarding that night.
“My parents asked me to babysit, but I threw a fit because I wanted to hang out with my friends and play video games. So they took her along to their party instead. Got drunk. Drove home. Hit an embankment. Mom and Dad walked away without a scratch.” My voice hitches at the memory of that night. “Pearl wasn’t that lucky.”
Reese sets her glass down with deliberate care, like she’s preparing herself for the worst. “What happened?”
“She was thrown from the vehicle. Broke her back. A T8 fracture. Complete. She’s used a wheelchair since she was eight.” I drag a hand over my jaw, wishing I could erase the number from my head. “If I’d just stayed home, she wouldn’t have been in that car. I know it wasn’t really on me, but hell if I haven’t carried it every day since. Hindsight’s a bitch, right?”
“It’s not your fault, Griffin. It was a terrible accident, and I’m sure Pearl would tell you the same.”
I nod, although I’ve never allowed myself to believe it. “She has. More times than I can count. You’d love her, Reese. The woman is pure sunshine. The strongest, funniest person I know. Stubbornest, too.”
Reese chuckles. “A force of nature, huh?”
“Total understatement. But two years ago, I damn near lost heragainto pneumonia. Scared the hell out of me. She had to do rehab after, and she dreaded it. Hated rehab after the accident. But this place was different. They specialized in treating people with spinal cord injuries. Cutting-edge equipment, staff who actually gave a damn. The place looked more like a resort than a rehab. Pearl flew through it, coming out stronger than before. Happier, too.”
“Wish all rehabs were like that,” Reese murmurs.
“Then she found out about the independent living side—apartments on the grounds, a built-in community if she needed it. She wanted to stay there so damn badly. But the catch? Ten grand a month. Insurance doesn’t cover a dime. Watching her face fall…” I shake my head. “She’s my best friend in the world and I’d do anything for her. Since Mom died, we’re all each other has.”
