“You knew this was a possibility.”
“I didn’t call you for you to rub it in my face,” I snap.
I close my eyes, self-hatred consuming me. I let this happen. This is all my fault. Brantley doesn’t deserve my anger. Shit, he doesn’t even know the full truth. It’s one thing to admit that she’s dating, but it’s another to admit that she’s thinking about leaving me completely. Leaving Williamson Group.
“Well, what are you going to do about it?” he asks after a moment.
“There’s nothing I can do. She made her choice,” I tell him, dejectedly.
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. She loves you just as much as you love her. You just need to pull your head out of your ass and show her. Fucking win her over, man.”
“And if I don’t?” I voice the fear that has been plaguing me.
What if I can’t push myself to do something?
“Are you prepared to lose her from your life forever? Can you honestly tell me you could handle watching her marry another man? Having his children? All while you sit on the sidelines by your fucking self?”
My blood boils because, no. I can’t. It would kill me.
“You’re an asshole.”
“If you wanted to be coddled, you wouldn’t have called me. You would have called Mason,” he points out. “Now answer my question.”
“No, no, I don’t think I could handle it,” I say quietly.
I can’t handle her dating someone else. I can’t handle not seeing her every day. I can’t handle her moving away. Nothing. I can’t handle any of it.
“Then get your fucking girl.”
He’s said it a thousand times before, but for some reason this time it clicks. Maybe it’s because this isn’t some far-off possibility. It’s something that is happening in the present. Whatever it is, it is what I needed.
She’s mine. Plain and simple. I’ve been an asshole with my head buried in the sand. I can’t let her walk away. Not without telling her how I feel.
She could still decide she wants someone else, but at least I will know I did everything I could to keep her for myself.
She needs to know.
“You’re right,” I tell him.
“Can you say that again? I want to record it so the guys can hear you say that,” he teases.
“Fuck you.”
“Sorry, you’re not my type. Now tell me, when are you coming home? I think we need to talk this out face-to-face so I can nut-check you when you are being an idiot.”
I shake my head, but there’s a smile on my face. That’s Brantley for you.
He and I chat for a few more minutes, and by the time we get off the phone, the idea of telling Iris that I want her doesn’t seem quite as scary. In fact, it feels right.
Now I just need to make it happen.
Chapter
Thirteen
IRIS
Fuck,London is expensive.
