He leans against the counter. “So? How’s our girl?”
I rub the back of my neck, staring at the amber liquidin my glass. “She had a breakdown. In Katya’s kitchen. After Mom, after Diana, after…me.”
Huxley whistles low.
“She started sobbing. Said I broke her. Said she felt like she wasn’t enough…like I left her because she couldn’t have a baby.”
He doesn’t joke, which is his usual go-to when things get emotional.
He doesn’t smirk.
He just pours more scotch into my glass. “That woman loves you like breathing. And you made her doubt everything she is. That takes a special kind of dumb.”
I swallow hard. “I know.”
“And now?”
“Now I have eight dates to prove to her that I see her. That I choose her. That I know who she is. That I love her.”
He lifts a brow. “And you think you can pull that off?”
Can I pull it off?Like I have a choice in the matter. I can’t live without her. My chest is tight, my heart hollow, my insides empty.
“I have to.”
He gets up and walks to the window, looking out at the lake like it might give him answers. “Tell me why you love her.”
I look at his back and consider his question. It’s not hard to answer.
“She believes in me when I don’t…well, she used to. She trusted me to close a deal, even when my father told me it was a mistake. She held my hand when I thought I couldn’t survive Winter Financial. She stood next to me. She told me I could. Not with pop psych pep talks but with her love, with her faith in me.”
Huxley turns, studies me. “You ever tell her that?”
No. I didn’t. I was a fool.
I shake my head.
“What about the sex? That used to be your brag reel.”
I chuckle softly. Amongst all my married friends, Inevercomplained about sex, which in itself becamethebrag reel.
“Yeah. It was more than sex. It was fire and comfort. It was…being seen. Every time. No hiding.”
“Still want her?”
I walk up beside him and look out at the vast darkness littered with lights and life.
“More than ever. I want itallagain, Hux, but better. I want to watch her cook and then watch a movie with her. I want to be there when she worries about her kindergarten class. I want to be there when…I’m happy…when she’s sad.”
He nods, then clinks his glass to mine. “Then don’t half-ass this, brother. You have eight shots to win her back. Don’t waste a single one.”
Miles Davis croons aboutfinding the nextway in a silent way.
“I won’t.”
He grins. “Good. Because if you do, I might ask her out myself.”
I know Hux. He’s loyal to a fault when it comes to his friends. With his lovers, however, he makes questionable choices.
