“Which is why I told them there are rules. Public place. No surprises. If either of them wants to leave at any time, we let them. And you just talk to your daughter. No leverage. No guilt.”
“I don’t want to use leverage,” he says, hurt flickering at the edge.
“I know,” I say quickly. “I told them that, too. But I also told them the truth: that you don’t want anything from her except to talk.”
He turns his face into my hand and kisses my palm like he did earlier, slower this time.
“What did she say?”
“That she hates you,” I say, and he flinches, and I press on, “and that she misses you. She said both things in the same breath, which means she’s honest. She said she doesn’t want to be dragged back into the past. I told her the past is already following her around, and a single drink in a casino bar won’t make it worse.”
A corner of his mouth lifts. “You’re very good at this.”
“It’s my job,” I say lightly, then soften. “And I love you. That helps.”
He breathes in, holds it, lets it go.
“What do I say first?” he asks, and there’s the real thing—the vulnerability he hates.
“The truth,” I say. “Hello. I’m nervous. I’m glad you came. I love you. I’m sorry.”
“That simple,” he says, as if simple is the scariest word of all.
“Simple isn’t easy,” I admit. “But it’s best. No explanations she doesn’t ask for, no justifications. If she wants details, she’ll ask.” I nudge his shoulder with my nose. “And you listen more than you talk.”
He grunts. “So I say four words and then shut up.”
“Maybe a few more than that. Add, ‘What do you need?’” I tilt my head. “Then whatever she says, you accept it. If she needs to leave, you let her. If she needs to yell, you take it. If she needs a hug—”
“Don’t assume,” he cuts in, a wry edge to it.
“Correct,” I say, amused. “Ask first. Always ask.”
His thumb sweeps over my knuckles, slow, thinking. “And Dixon?”
“Nick will be there, yes,” I say. “He’s protective. I don’t blame him.”
“Will she—” The words catch in his throat. I know what he’s going to say, but I wait for him to say it. He needs to learn to say the hard things. “Will she bring her girls?”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “No. Not this time, anyway.”
He nods, but his expression is bitter. “Right,” he says. “Of course.”
“This is just first things first,” I add quickly. “You and her. No audience. No pressure.”
He stares at the ceiling again, jaw tight. “I don’t deserve to see them anyway.”
I shift up on my elbow so he has to look at me. “Don’t say that. It’s not the same anymore. Tomorrow is a new beginning. Not a verdict.”
He huffs out a breath that could be a laugh if it weren’t so tired. “You’re such a lawyer.”
“I am, yes,” I say, smiling.
His hand sweeps my belly, then finds mine and threads our fingers. We lay there for a long time, enjoying the peace and quiet, the time together without the complications. My eyes start to drift shut.
“Order the fries,” I murmur, drowsy now, snuggling closer into him.
“Of course, Bella,” he says, pressing a kiss to my head.
