Page 92 of Stay With Me Forever

And sobbing for all the years I’d lost, weighed down by the guilt of my parents’ death. Which I was only starting to believe hadn’t been my fault.

West merely stroked my back, murmuring soothing words. At some point he guided us to the sofa in the living room, pulled me onto his lap, and held me close.

When I’d cried myself out, I sat silently, cuddled against West’s warm chest, and listened to his heartbeat. Steady and strong, much like the man holding me.

It hit me then how much I wanted more of this. To have him around always, being my rock when I fell apart, and for me to be there for him when he had tough days too.

I also wanted to be there for his kids, who were starved for attention from a mother-like figure and needed someone to love them and be proud of them and help tell them bedtime stories.

Could I do it, though? Really accept it was okay for me to be happy? To risk my heart for him and his kids?

My heart screamed yes, but my brain was still muddled.

As West’s arms tightened around me, I sighed. I didn’t have to decide about forever right now. I just wanted to enjoy the present.

I finally sat up and looked into West’s blue eyes. They were full of concern. For me.

After raising a hand to his face and brushing his jaw, I finally croaked, “Thank you for coming.”

He wiped away the remaining tears from my cheek and kissed me gently. “Anytime, Emmy. I’m just glad you don’t hate me.”

I frowned. “Why would I hate you?”

“Well, I’m not good at being gentle and subtle. I could’ve maybe told you my thoughts about Rafe a little less forcefully.”

The corner of my mouth ticked up. “But that wouldn’t be you.” I stroked his cheek, loving his late-night stubble under my fingers. “And I need some honesty every once in a while to break through my stubbornness.” I paused, took a deep breath, and reminded myself I’d wanted him here and needed to stop keeping things from him. “I’m starting to think…well, maybe there was nothing I could’ve done that night.”

He didn’t crow about being right. No, the wonderful man merely kissed me and tightened his hold on me. “Does that mean you’ll reach out to Rafe?”

“Maybe, but not right now. I’m still trying to convince myself it wasn’t my fault and to not feel guilty.”

He kissed the top of my head. “The last thing I’d ever do is pressure you, Emmy. But just promise me one thing—if you need to talk about it, or to go over the facts of that night to maybe help convince yourself of the truth, then call me. Anytime. I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

West was too good to be true. I couldn’t believe how any woman would want to cheat on him like his late wife had.

And yet, I knew the upcoming months would be busy. West might not be that patient or want this to work as much as I did. Still, I was done keeping things from him. “I have something to tell you.”

He placed a finger under my chin and lifted my gaze to his. He raised his brows and grunted.

I snorted. “I thought with me, at last, you were using your words more.”

And then West did something I’d never have expected—he stuck out his tongue.

I broke into giggles, and he chuckled, and it took us both a few minutes to calm down. When I had myself under control, I cupped his cheek. Staring into his eyes, I realized my feelings for this man were intense, and I wasn’t quite ready to face them.

After pushing them aside, I bit the bullet. “I want to date you, West. I do. But I snagged this wedding, you see, and…”

He listened as I told him about Zara Jones and the short notice for her wedding. When I finished, I waited to see what he’d say.

West kissed my lips before murmuring, “I know your business is important to you, Emmy. But I can’t not see you or bed you or touch you for that long.”

My heart plummeted, and I moved to rise from his lap. But his strong hands kept me in place as he added, “Let me finish.”

I nodded, unable to look at him as he said, “I suggest a compromise. Once or twice a week, I can come over late, after my kids are asleep, and spend the night with you. Even if it’s just holding you in in my arms as we sleep, I’ll take it. Although I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wanted to strip you and lick your perfect pussy every now and again too.”

My eyes shot to his. “So you don’t want to give up on me?”

He frowned. “Of course not. If I were the type of guy to scoff at supporting your career, then you should rightly kick my ass to the curb. But I think a few breaks to yourself, a couple times a week, is reasonable. It’ll also give my hand a break in the shower, in my bed, and everywhere else I can squeeze in a few minutes of privacy.”

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